**I am overwhelmed by all of your kind reviews and will do my best to incorporate some of your amazing ideas! Thank You! Here's a short chapter leading up to a big conversation in Chapter 4**
"Well, I think you must go. At least to hear what he has to say," Violet said, handing the letter back to Isobel.
The two women sat in Violet's garden sharing tea the next afternoon. Isobel had decided it better to share the letter with Violet…even though she was still wary of Violet's opinion on her refusing Dickie's hand in marriage. Regardless, Violet was the closest friend she had in the village and the only other woman she had confided in about her troubled relationship with Lord Merton.
"Perhaps…though I'm not quite sure there is anything more to be said," Isobel answered, tucking the letter in to her handbag.
"Of course there is more to say! Do you not want to know why he disinherited Larry?" Violet asked.
"I suppose…but it won't change anything," Isobel replied, allowing her hands to wind around her tea cup. The warmth of the tea permeated through her gloves to give her a bit of comfort under Violet's piercing gaze.
"You are impossible," Violet huffed, throwing her hands up in the air. She stood and began to walk towards the entrance of the Dower House.
Isobel sighed and followed Violet, remaining silent while Violet mumbled under her breath. Isobel knew Violet meant well, but she had resigned herself to the fact that she and Lord Merton could never be married. Suddenly, Violet stopped and turned, causing Isobel to waver slightly as Violet's body became a barrier.
"You are afraid," Violet said plainly once Isobel had regained her balance.
"Afraid? Whatever do you mean?" Isobel asked, her arms crossed as she met Violet's harsh glare with one of her own.
"You are afraid that by going to Cavenham, you will have to give up the ridiculous notion that you cannot marry Lord Merton."
Isobel stood silent for a moment, shocked that Violet had put a finger so easily on the emotions she was overwhelmed by. She looked down, her stature slackening, while realization began to dawn.
Violet sensed the resignation and stepped forward, patting Isobel's arm. "It is only for tea, Isobel. He's not asking you down the aisle."
Isobel nodded and looked up with a weak smile. "You're right."
"Of course I am," Violet said, turning on her heel to head in to the house. Isobel rolled her eyes and followed the Dowager inside, hoping she was not making herself vulnerable to hurt once more.
Dickie's hands wrung nervously as he paced back and forth in the drawing room. He stopped and looked at his pocket watch again, finding only two minutes had passed since last he checked.
He had received Isobel's letter yesterday, agreeing to meet him for tea this afternoon. His driver had left late that morning to pick her up. But the chauffeur should have been back by now, shouldn't he? What if Isobel decided not to come? What if this last chance he had at winning her back was gone?
"Milord?" the Butler called, coming to the entrance of the drawing room. Dickie turned quickly, hoping Isobel would be behind the man.
But she wasn't.
"Yes, what is it Mead?" Dickie asked shortly, resuming his pacing.
"Will Mr. Timothy be dining with you this evening? Mrs. Crane would like to prepare enough if…"
"No…he caught the two o'clock back to London this afternoon. I will dine alone tonight."
"Very good, milord," the Butler replied, turning to exit.
"Mead, wait!" Dickie called, taking a few strides to stand in front of the Butler. "Have you heard anything about Mrs. Crawley's arrival? The car should have been back by now."
"I'm afraid not, milord. Perhaps there was something that held them up along the way," Mead replied, sensing the anxiety in his employer.
"Right, of course. Well, please make sure to alert me when…"
Both men turned their heads as they heard the sound of a car door slam shut. Mead smiled at Lord Merton whose face had gone pale.
"I believe the car is back, milord. I will get the door," Mead said quietly, allowing the Baron a moment or two to collect himself.
Dickie shook his head to clear his mind, straightened his tie and buttoned his coat. His fingers balled in to fists at his sides as he strode out of the drawing room and through the front hall. He was on a mission…and this time, he would not accept failure.
Mead moved to the side and nodded at Lord Merton who now stood beside him. Clearing his throat, the Baron took a tentative step on to the front landing while the chauffeur opened the back door of the car. His breath caught in his throat as she stepped out, looking lovelier than he remembered. But it wasn't until her eyes met his that a smile finally graced Lord Merton's face.