**I am simply overwhelmed by the reviews for Chapter 14. THANK YOU all for such kind words! I hope you enjoy this next installment…I wanted to include a bit of Mary in the mix again :)

It was a gloomy day, the clouds having rolled in after breakfast and casting a grey haze over the vast acreage that was Cavenham Park. And on this particular afternoon, the weather seemed to reflect the mood of Lord Merton spot on.

"There you are! I was wondering where you'd gotten to," Isobel said cheerily, walking in to the drawing room to find Dickie looking out the large window, hands clasped behind his back.

He turned and offered her a small smile. "How is Harry?"

"Resting," she answered, coming to stand beside him. "Dr. Frederick feels he will be up and about by next week."

"I'm sure Hamilton will appreciate it," Dickie replied, turning sad eyes from her to look out the window once more.

Isobel had sensed his unease all morning but hadn't pressed him to tell her what was wrong. It was her last morning here, as Harry no longer needed constant supervision. The boy was a true fighter, not wanting to stay put in bed. He longed to be out in the fields with Hamilton and the horses, but his head injury would keep him cooped up for a few more weeks.

She smiled remembering how he had taken her hand earlier and begged her not to go. She promised to come back every few days to help him through the painful therapy treatments needed to help mend his broken ribs. And to test him on his studies, as Dr. Frederick wanted to be sure and prevent any memory loss after such a harsh concussion.

Harry had thanked her shyly, saying he was very glad she was to be Lady Merton. And to her, Harry's acceptance meant more than any other staff members'…even that of the testy Mrs. Crane.

And now, as she stood beside Dickie, she was torn between her need for a full day of rest and the want to stay here at Cavenham. The latter, she surmised, may be the reason her fiancée was looking so glum this afternoon.

"I told Harry I'd be back on Friday to see how he is faring. Perhaps you could help me test him on his geography. Dr. Frederick feels it is best to push him a bit…he doesn't want Harry to lose what memory he regained since the concussion."

"Of course," Dickie answered softly, continuing to look out the window.

Isobel allowed a moment of silence, not knowing what to do to help him out of this mood. Sighing, she clasped her hands in front and looked down.

"I suppose I should be off. Mead said the car is ready."

Dickie said nothing, causing Isobel to look up at his profile. She could see his jaw clenched, keeping whatever thoughts he might have silent. She reached a hand out to touch his arm but pulled back, suddenly unsure of what his distance meant; had she said something wrong…done something he disapproved of…not behaved properly….?

Her own worries unsettled her as she turned and hurried for the drawing room door. Before she could open it, she felt his hand on her arm. His look betrayed his emotions as she turned back to face him. The poor man looked defeated, and it was all she could do not to reach out to hold him close.

Dickie dropped his eyes, unable to hold her questioning look any longer. He knew doing so would cause him to falter when trying to explain his odd behavior all day.

"Forgive me, Isobel. I suppose I'm feeling a bit self-interested today."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, her eyes softening as she took a step toward him.

He shook his head. "I should be thanking you for all you've done over the past few days…for Harry, for Hamilton, this house…for me…"

He looked up to catch her cheeks tinting pink, her own eyes suddenly interested in the carpet.

"But instead, I stand here in silence….thinking of nothing other than how utterly sad I am that you are leaving."

Her eyes widened as she raised her head to meet his eyes. He looked pitiful, standing in front of her like a lost little boy not knowing which way to turn. She hadn't realized he might miss her as much as she would miss him.

He stepped forward and took her hand. "You have made this house a home again…made it whole. I cannot imagine what it will be like without you here."

"It will only be for a few months longer…" she soothed, squeezing his fingers and offering a reassuring smile. "And I'll be back every few days to check on Harry. I'm sure you will all want to be rid of me by the end of it."

"Never," he said firmly, taking a step closer to her. He gently placed both hands on her cheeks, his eyes softening as he continued, "I will never wish to be rid of you, Isobel."

She smiled, placing her own hands on his wrists. "Then come November, you'll have nothing to worry about."

He laughed softly, leaning down and claiming a small kiss. "The day cannot come soon enough."

"Dickie…."

"Isobel, don't go," he whispered insistently, wrapping his arms around her and capturing her lips once more. This kiss was fervent, yearning, passionate…surprising her at first before she allowed her body to relax in to his embrace. Her hands inched up his chest as he pulled her closer, wanting nothing more than to show her how much he cared.

But as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, Dickie broke quickly, not wishing any damage on Isobel's reputation. They stood still for a moment, their shallow breaths the only other sound to be heard. But the door remained closed and the click of heels became softer, only then allowing the couple to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'd best let you go," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I fear I will tarnish what relationships you have made here if I have you to myself a moment longer."

She laughed lightly, allowing her hands to drop from his chest. "I suppose so."

Taking her hand, he moved to open the door but not before giving her one last, lingering kiss. Pulling back, he smiled wide and ushered her in to the hall. They walked silently to the front door, both realizing it was going to be a very long two months.

Late October, 1925

"Oh Mama, look at this one," Mary said, laughing lightly as she handed an old photograph to Cora. The pair sat in the drawing room of Crawley House with Isobel and the Dowager Countess. While the initial reason for their meeting that afternoon was to look at Isobel's new clothes for her honeymoon, it had turned in to a time of nostalgic reminiscing.

Crawley House had been cleaned top to bottom, and many of Isobel's personal belongings already transported to Cavenham Park. But she held on to an old hatbox she'd found on the top shelf of her closet. When she saw the photographs inside, she decided it might be best to give some to Mary…to help keep Matthew's memory fresh in young George's mind.

"How darling! Matthew certainly favored Dr. Crawley, didn't he?" Cora asked, looking to Isobel. Isobel nodded, continuing to sift through the stack of photographs on her lap.

"He did...very much so," she answered.

"And George favors Matthew," Mary added. "I often wonder if we'd had a girl if she would have favored me. What do you think Isobel? I'm sure a girl would have favored you, don't you think?"

Mary smiled to her mother-in-law, unconscious of Isobel's fingers suddenly turning white as she gripped the stack of photographs in her hand. Violet stole a glance at her cousin, sensing Isobel's unease.

"I don't think any of us are to know which parent a child will favor. Heavens, who would have thought that Rosamund would favor Lord Grantham," she said with a chuckle. Luckily, for Isobel's sake, Cora and Mary agreed, lapsing in to conversation about how uncanny a resemblance there had been between Rosamund and the late Lord Grantham.

While the pair continued pouring over old photographs, Violet kept her eye on Isobel. Mary's question, though asked innocently enough, had obviously troubled Isobel. Reaching over, Violet gently patted Isobel's arm, snapping the woman from her memories.

"How is that young boy you have been helping at Cavenham?" she asked. The photographs dropped from Isobel's hands back in to the hatbox, and her eyes focused downward. Violet leaned in a bit, lowering her voice. "Are you all right?"

Isobel's eyes creased in confusion as she turned to look at her cousin. Had Violet asked her something? All she could remember was the brown eyes…the dark blond hair….

"Oh Isobel, these are simply lovely. You are sure you can part with them?" Mary asked.

Isobel turned her puzzled gaze from Violet to Mary, her confusion breaking as Mary held up the pictures.

"Of course," she replied, earning a relieved smile from her daughter-in-law.

"Thank you…thank you so much," Mary said quietly, her hand covering her now quivering lips. Cora reached over and rubbed a hand up and down Mary's back.

"It will be good to use these when you tell George stories of dear Matthew. It will help him remember his father for the wonderful man he was."

Isobel's eyes moistened, and she had to look away. She pulled the lid off the floor and closed the box, closed her memories and closed her heart to that period in her life. She had to move on now…she had to leave it behind.

She couldn't afford to live through it all again….