So, here it is, the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it and I also hope I could surpise you with the ending. I know some of you want this story to go, but I really have to finish a story, before I get tired of it, and I think I found the right moment to do so.

Chapter Twenty-One

Downton Hospital, the next day

It was a strange congregation that gathered in the men's ward in Downton Hospital that late morning. Dickie, Isobel, Helen, Larry, and Doctor Clarkson had been summoned by Sergeant Willis and stood around Amelia Cruikshank's father's bed. The man's jaw was heavily fixated and he was unable to speak, which didn't keep him from flourishing his hands in an attempt to make himself and his feelings known. Isobel noticed with amused satisfaction that the man's face was flustered from the frustration of not being able to express himself. The man clearly wasn't used to be in the weaker position and he didn't look as if he appreciated the new perspective.

"Why don't you let me explain why we're all here, Mr Cruikshank?" the policeman asked in his usual slow manner.

"I have to advise you to keep quiet," Clarkson said to Cruikshank. "Otherwise your injuries won't heal and the more you try to speak, the more it hurts."

"I don't understand why we are here," Larry said, visibly bored.

"You are here, Mr Grey, because Mr Cruikshank has written a complaint to the police." Willis reached inside his pocket and unfolded a letter. "He says the two of you…," he pointed at Dickie and Larry, "have brutally assaulted him, which led to his unfortunate condition. I thought it's maybe best we try to clear this up face to face."

"That's ridiculous!" Isobel said quick-tempered and gave Cruikshank a nasty look. "If someone should make a complaint, it's Larry. After all Mr Cruikshank trespassed Cavenham that night."

"I agree!" Helen snapped.

"Well, according to Mr Cruikshank's statement here, he wanted to visit his grandson when young Mr Grey here first denied him entrance, threatened him, and then Lord Merton punched him, which led to a broken jaw."

Cruikshank nodded with whimper and clenched his fist at Dickie who instinctively bent a bit backwards.

"Is there anything you want to say to defend yourself, Lord Merton? Assault is a serious accusation." Willis looked at Dickie who seemed a bit overwhelmed.

"Do you really want to know what happened?" Isobel jumped to her husband's defense. Her hand lay on his wrist; a soft order for him to keep quiet.

"If you were there, Lady Merton, and saw what happened, please, enlighten us," Willis said, pulling out his pen and a small notebook.

Everyone suddenly stared at Isobel who cleared her throat and said, "Well, when Mr Cruikshank entered the house, Lord Merton and I were upstairs. We heard the noise Mr Cruikshank made and went downstairs to see what was going on. Larry and Mr Cruikshank were arguing about the baby. Mr Cruikshank became more and more upset, lost his temper, and hit Mrs Rouquette when she wanted to interfere. As a result she was bleeding."

Helen nodded pointed at the small, but still visible cut at her temple. "That's true. In a fit of temper, he hit me and I stumbled backwards. He came after me and stumbled over the leg of a chair. He hit his jaw at the table. It made a horrible noise!" She pretended to shudder and said, "Aside from that, how could Lord Merton have punched anyone? He's been wearing a sling since Christmas."

"Right!" Isobel agreed and Dickie opened his coat to show Sergeant Willis his injured arm.

"May I ask what happened to you on Christmas, Sir?" Willis asked Dickie.

"That was a rather embarrassing accident, Sergeant," Dickie said slowly.

"He fell down the staircase at Cavenham," Larry explained nonchalantly. He pointed at his nose. "I fell as well, when I tried to help him up."

"Doctor Clarkson was there that night. He can confirm it," Isobel said quickly and hoped her lie wouldn't backfire on her. Clarkson was the only one who could help them to discredit Cruikshank's statement, but she wasn't sure he would lie for them, even if Cruikshank had threatened the Doctor more than once since Amelia died. Clarkson established eye contact with her and she instantly knew he wasn't happy with her hasty lie.

"Can you confirm that?" Willis looked curiously at the Doctor.

"Yes, I can," Clarkson said with a sigh. "With his bad arm Lord Merton couldn't have punched anyone. I think Mr Cruikshank has mixed up some of the facts. It happens when people hit their heads."

"All right then." Willis ignored Cruikshank's outburst and closed his notebook. He seemed satisfied with Clarkson's explanation. "I figured it must have happened that way." He bent down to the unhappy patient and patted his shoulder.

"Mr Cruikshank, I think you should try to get some rest - unless, of course, Mrs Rouquette here wants to make a complaint. In that case I would have to arrest you as soon as you're ready to leave the hospital."

Now everyone looked at Helen who glared at Cruikshank. "I think I'll put mercy before justice," she said after a short hesitation. "After all, Mr Cruikshank was just worried about his grandchild. I'm sure he's sorry for everything he did that night."

"Well, that's very generous of you," Willis said and looked down at Cruikshank who was either out of energy or too shocked to protest.

"If there isn't anything else, I have to go back to my patients," Clarkson said. Willis nodded and bid the doctor goodbye.

"I think that settles everything." The policeman said and looked at his watch. "Almost time for lunch. Have a good day!"

With a tip against his head, he bid the others goodbye and left. Larry looked down at Cruikshank, as if he were ready to punch him.

"Let's go. Leave him alone. Sooner or later someone will kill him anyway."

"Maybe, but until then I'll make sure, he won't see his grandson. Not once," Larry hissed. Gently Helen took Larry's arm and led him outside.

"I think going home is a good idea," Dickie said and offered Isobel his healthy arm.

"Why don't you follow Helen and Larry, while I go and thank Doctor Clarkson?" she asked.

"Just don't thank him for too long," Dickie said, as he kissed her cheek. "But thank him for me. He saved me from a lifetime in prison."

"Now, don't exaggerate. Perhaps he saved you from a week in prison."

Isobel found Clarkson in the hallway where he talked to one of the nurses. Isobel waited until she had left, before she approached him.

"You owe me," was all the Doctor said.

"How about a bottle of Scottish whiskey?" Isobel asked. "I'll even make sure Mrs Kent delivers it!"

"Very funny."

"I mean it," she said as they strolled down the corridor. "I'm grateful. Without you Mr Cruikshank could have made life very difficult for us."

"I can't say I approve of violence, but it seems he asked for it. Anyway, it seems the matter is closed."

"Hopefully," she mused.

"There's something else, I've been thinking about," Clarkson said. "Yesterday you were talking about mixing up love with nostalgia."

"I remember."

"Well, I'm sure that's not what happened - at least not to me." They stopped in front of his office.

Isobel, now a bit flustered, shrugged. "Well, even in that case, my advice still applies. Luck favours the brave."

"I believe, you're right."

He smiled, nodded, and entered his office.

Downton Village, Church of St. Michaels of All Angels,

five months later

The day of the wedding was a beautiful spring day. For the first time in weeks the sun came out, finally defeating the cloudy, English sky and its customary rain.

The congregation in the church was small, but so it had been at Isobel and Dickie's wedding almost two years ago. It was just the family and a handful, well-picked amount of guests. After the announcement of the wedding about four weeks ago, there had been a lot of wagging tongues around the village. Isobel had rather enjoyed to observe how people had risen their eyebrows in surprise or in disapproval, depending on how everyone looked at the liason. Truth was, it was a strange situation for everyone involved. Dickie seemed glad, things were about to get settled once and for all. Helen seemed opaquely uncaring, and Larry was almost tame as a kitten these days. After Dickie had told him the truth about his inglorious true Irish heritage, Larry had been more humble than Isobel had ever believed him to be, but she strongly suspected, it was the pure fear of being exposed as an Irish bastard that keeped him and his temper in check. The one person who really had a field day with the wedding plans was the Dowager Countess. Her delight as soon as she news about the upcoming ceremony became common knowledge had been almost unbearable.

"So, how does it feel to be rid of him?" she had asked, almost choking on her tea.

"How should it feel according to your imagination?" Isobel had returned the question with growing annoyance. "I hope for Doctor Clarkson, Annabelle is serious about her commitment to him!"

"I'm sure she is, and if not, the Doctor won't have to worry about his about his financial future. I heard Mrs Kent is richer than a Rothchild. She could maintain three of his sort, if she wanted too."

"How reassuring for her," Isobel had said, perfectly aware of how rich Annabelle truly was after her son-in-law had agreed to buy her shares of the company. Part of the settlement had involved for Annabelle, Helen, and her children to leave Canada once and for all. It was a compromise everyone could live with. As a result the divorce proceedings went quite smoothly and as it looked Larry and Helen could be free to marry by the end of the year or even sooner.

Isobel looked next to her and took Dickie's hand. "You've been so quiet," she said lowly. "Are you all right?"

He gave her a smile and squeezed her hand, "Of course. I was just wondering."

"About what?"

"Do you think it's wise idea for them to get married so quickly?" He nodded to the altar were Clarkson was standing near his best man and Reverend Travis, waiting for his bride.

Isobel shrugged, "I admit it's a bit quick, but why not… what do they have to lose?"

"I just hope, they're not deluding themselves," he said. "Or think they have to prove anything to us."

Isobel moved a little closer and said. "I think it did them well that we went on our trip to Egypt so soon after New Year. That way they could concentrate on each other instead of us."

Dickie chuckled, "In that case, I suggest we leave Downton again as soon as possible. Who knows what else happens when we are not around."

"Where do you want to go?" she asked when she realized he was serious about his suggestion.

"Violet mentioned a couple of friends of hers who invited her to the South of France. Why don't we join them?"

"I haven't been in France since the war," she reminisced. "And the Bretagne is barely the south."

"So, it's settled?"

Isobel looked at the other side of the church were Violet was sitting next to Robert and Cora. Dickie raised his hand and greeted her with a smile. "I have this feeling you and Violet have already settled everything," she said.

"Well, we've talked about it," Dickie admitted. "My guess is, she wants to make sure, you won't be away for too long, leaving her back on her own."

"Did she say that?" she asked astonished.

"Of course not. It's just my own interpretation of her motives."

"I see. How very observing of you."

The sound of the organ rose and so did the gathered guests.

"The next time we return home, hopefully another wedding will take place," Isobel whispered.

"You mean Helen and Larry? I guess they will marry sooner or later. I've been thinking about something my late Papa used to say about women and weddings when I argued with him about Annabelle."

"Well, what did he say?" Isobel wondered once they had settled down again.

"He said, never marry the first one you fall in love with, not even the second one, settle for number three, that way your heart can never rule your head."

Isobel crooked her eyebrow. "Sounds rather coldblooded to me."

"I thought so, too. Today I know he was right, but probably for other reasons than he thought were true."

Again she squeezed his hand and leaned a little closer. At the altar Travis cleared his throat and considered everyone present with one of his blatant looks.

"Dearly beloved…."

"I love you, too," Isobel mouthed at him and returned her attention to the couple at the altar.

*****The End*****

So, let me know what you think. And who knows, maybe we'll meet Isobel, Dickie, and Violet again in the south of France one day... ;-)