We're almost at the end of this story, which has outstripped the original 'Long Needed Holiday' in terms of word count already! I can safely say that this one has been much more fun to write, and I hope that you have all enjoyed reading it.

I have decided to change the character listings for this one, as Daisy and Mrs Patmore have been delightful but definitely sidelined characters in this tale. Isobel has more than earned her slot as the extra 'named' character, and will certainly be central in this chapter to come.

Chapter 22 will follow up and, hopefully, wrap up the remains of the story. Don't worry, I won't keep you waiting too long.

As always thanks for the reviews and messages, they are warmly and gratefully received.

Within five minutes of him going out into the snow with his torch, Barrow could hear the voices of the other adults of Downton Abbey calling out the children's names in the distance, and see brief slices of torchlight swinging back and forth between the storm. Gradually, every lit window on the downstairs became visible, the curtains thrown back to allow to light to stream out, aiding the search and rescue attempts. The upstairs windows remained shrouded, except for one. The Ripon Room.

Barrow could never remember snow like this having happened at Downton before. There had been ice, freezing temperatures and treacherous roads, and the occasional smattering of flakes dancing in the air, but nothing like these arctic conditions. To top it all, the stables were unfamiliar territory to Barrow. He'd hung around the courtyard outside the rear entrance, and occasionally helped with outdoor duties on the day of a big hunt meeting, but by and large his duties had kept him inside. In the past he had considered this to be a blessing. Right now, it was a hindrance of the highest order.

Every building looked the same, swathed in darkness, swamped in snow. In desperation he stumbled between the different structures, frantically peering into windows and rattling locked doors, with little idea of what he was looking for.

The other voices were spreading out, but two female voices were coming towards him.

"George! George, where are you! George, it's Mumma, answer me!"

"Josephine! It's Aunt Isobel, darling where are you..."

Mary and Isobel. Barrow felt a sigh of relief escape through his frozen lips. At least Mary might have a fighting chance of locating the stables in this storm.

"Milady! Mrs Clarkson!"

He waved his torch in the air, shouting towards the two women.

"Barrow! Barrow have you found them...?"

Isobel was sensibly dressed for the cold, in her own overcoat with a scarf wrapped around her greying hair. Meanwhile, Mary could not have looked more different to her earlier glamour this evening. Swathed in what was clearly her husband's overcoat, stomping through the snow in rubber boots with a large furry hat pulled down over her hair, Barrow might have been tempted to laugh if it were not for the panic etched into her face, the worry draining the light from her eyes and pulling her features into a tight mask.

"I think they headed for the stables Milady, which way is it...?"

"This way... Come on..."

"Stay together," Isobel's voice rang out clear. "No sense in us all being separated and lost. Everyone else is searching in pairs..."

Mary knew the outdoor buildings of Downton better than anyone else, having spent many happy hours in the stables with her own pony and later her horses. With sure feet and the determination of a frightened parent, she threaded her way through the maze and found her way toward the door.

"It's barred... they're not here, they must be somewhere else...!"

The hysteria rose in Mary's voice at the sight of the door, solidly closed with the bar lodged in place.

"Mary! Look!"

Isobel pointed up towards the window. A soft dim light was shining through.

"Are there usually lights in the stables?"

"No..."

"Right... Stand aside, ladies..."

Barrow blew what little remained of the warmth in his breath back into his fingers and flexed his hands. Siezing the bar, he heaved upwards, raising it and pulling forward to open the door, kicking the snow aside with his boots. The door creaked open, the light seeping out, turning the snow to pale gold.

All three rushed inside, their voices dropping to whispers as the horses stamped and harrumped at this unexpected intrusion of human noises and cold bitter air.

"George! Josie!"

"Lady Mary... here..."

Barrow gently pushed the door to the empty stall open, pointing to the navy and red blanket that lay in the straw. Two little blonde crowns peeped out of the top, while one set of black boots poked out of the bottom.

Mary gave a soft cry, peeling back the blanket gently to reveal George, fast asleep in the hay, his arm protectively wrapped around Josie, who was snuggled up into the crook of his shoulder, also sleeping peacefully.

"Overcoats..." whispered Barrow, half of a relieved gasp of laughter whistling through his tone. "And boots... Oh what clever little monkeys..."

"What lucky little monkeys!" exclaimed Isobel as Mary bent down to gently rouse her son.

"George... Georgie darling..."

George blinked sleepily, shaking his head a little to wake up.

"Mumma..." the relief in his childish reedy voice was enough to move the assembled company near to tears. "I knew you'd find us... the door got stuck, and the snow was all deep, but I looked after her and cheered her up and kept her warm..."

Josie was beginning to stir. Isobel crouched next to her.

"Josephine... it's alright sweetheart, it's just Auntie Isobel..."

"Can we go back to the nursery now?" Josie's voice was high and thin with tiredness, sleep still overwhelming her.

"Both warm as toast, thank heaven," whispered Mary. "Come along darlings, let's get you home. Barrow, pass me that other blanket, we'll need to wrap them up. Isobel, can you bundle Josie into that one?"

Isobel gathered up the little girl into her arms, wrapped securely in the warm, if slightly horse smelling, blanket. A few minutes later, the little rescue party were on their way out of the stables. Barrow doused the lamp and made sure that the door was securely barred, just in case any ponies took the hint from their master to go out on their own adventure.

"Send out the call Barrow," said Mary, her arms wrapped around her little boy, treasuring his sweet weight. "Let the other rescuers know we found them."

Never had the call of 'Found' been so loud, clear and welcome. The other seekers, Tom Branson and Henry Talbot, came hurrying to join them, guided by the torch lights. In no time at all everyone was back inside, the door securely locked (and the key now placed in Barrow's big pocket for safe keeping) and both children whisked upstairs to the day nursery, where they were divested of their outer wear and given mugs of warm milk.

"We should let the Bates know..." said Barrow, heading for the door.

"It's alright," Isobel stopped him. "Let me do that. I can go in and check on Anna."

"As you wish Mrs Clarkson."

...

Heading down the corridor to the Ripon room, Isobel met John, coming out of the door and heading down towards her.

"Are they found? Did they find them? I saw torch lights out of the window, where did they...?"

"They're found, John. Safe and well. They're in the day nursery."

"Where were they?"

"George took Josie to visit the stables and see the ponies. We're not sure why, but they are back safe and sound now."

John's relief overtook his anxiety and, much to his inner dismay, he burst into tears. Fumbling for a handkerchief, he apologised to Isobel in a bluster of grief and relief.

"It's alright John," Isobel said softly, patting at his arm. "It's alright."

A couple of moments, and he had regained his composure.

"Why don't you go to her? I'll go and see how the doctor is getting on, and check on Anna, let her know that Josie is safe and sound again."

...

Dr Clarkson had seen women through many difficult deliveries, but this would make the top five of his career with relative ease. It was never going to be an easy one, with Anna's complex medical history, but now more than ever he was glad he had headed Mary's warning and consented to stay at the Abbey.

She was close to delirious, begging to know where her child was, barely able to heed any of his efforts to calm her down, to control her breathing, to slow the process that was ravaging her body weeks too early. She was already dilated, the baby was definitely on the way, but unless something could be done to calm Anna down, her body would be too tense for the process to go anything resembling smoothly.

The door opened, and he looked up to see Isobel, wrapped into her outdoor wear, red cheeked with cold but with bright eyes, obviously bearing good news after some dramatic adventure. Hurriedly, she divested herself of her coat and scarf, rubbed her hands briskly to warm them up and headed straight for Anna's bedside.

"John... John is that you..."

Anna tossed and turned fretfully on the pillow, her hand seeking her husband's. Her skin shone with sweat, far too pale for anyone's comfort, her hair was tangled across the pillow in fretful knots.

"Anna darling, it's Isobel. Josie is fine, she's been found. John has gone to see her. She is fine, sitting in the nursery, drinking warm milk with George and Mary and the others..."

Isobel took Anna's weak, damp hand in her own strong warm one, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

Her eyes asked a question of her husband. How is she doing?

Dr Clarkson's face relaxed a little at the good news, but he was obviously still concerned.

"See Anna, what did we tell you... everything's going to be fine, now just breath slowly, that's a girl..."

"Can I see her?"

"You can, once this job is done dear. John's with Josie, they can both come and see you later on, but for now, let's concentrate on getting you and Baby Bates through this..."

Anna nodded, seemed to rally, gripping Isobel's hand as a contraction took hold.

Isobel looked up to see Dr Clarkson gazing at her with a look of pure, shining love.

"And to think I said I didn't need you for this..." he said softly. "Alright ... Nurse Clarkson... let's get our expectant mother into order."

With only a smile, and no further word, Isobel set to work, reaching for a cool flannel to bathe Anna's forehead, and smoothing her hair back from her brow, all the while holding her hand and keeping up a low and steady stream of encouragement.

"That's it, good girl, just breathe through it, nice and slow..."

Dr Clarkson took Anna's pulse. For the first time since he had taken it, it began to slow, and grow stronger.

...