A little pre-cursor to the big day!

Early November, 1925

"Now, I've had Elsa take care of unpacking your things. If there is anything not to your liking, I'll have her fix it straight away," Dickie said, opening the door to a large suite at the end of the East Hall. Ushering Isobel inside, he waited hesitantly for her reaction to what would be her bedroom at Cavenham Park.

He shifted nervously as she took a few slow steps inside the room, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she took in the grandeur of the suite. She said nothing, simply moved further in to the room and looked from top to bottom, side to side, in utter astonishment.

He cleared his throat. "Do you like it?"

She turned quickly to face him, as he took a few steps closer to her. "Like it? Dickie…it is positively beautiful. I never expected….well….this," she replied, motioning to the room surrounding them.

Sighing in relief, his face broke in to a grin. "I asked them to decorate the room in colors that I thought you would enjoy….and I must say they did quite a job of it. I want you to be comfortable."

Stepping forward, she squeezed his hands and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "It is wonderful…thank you."

He smiled down at her and chuckled as she hurried over to the bay window overlooking the estate. He could see she was as happy as young Sybbie on Christmas morning, her hands coming together under her chin to enjoy her new room.

"I do hope you have not put anyone else out for this view," she said, turning to him. He came to stand beside her.

"And if I did?" he asked with a crooked grin.

She moved to gently object, but he held up a hand. "No my dear…this room has been vacant for quite some time. And you are just the person to fill it."

"You mean to tell me you've not taken advantage of this for yourself?" she asked, looking out the window once more.

"No, I'm afraid not. My room is on the other side of the hall," he replied.

He saw her smile fade a bit and her eyes and hands both drop. "Oh…I see," she said quietly.

"Milord, is everything to your satisfaction?"

Both Dickie and Isobel turned to find Mrs. Crane in the doorway, a pile of linens in her hands.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Crane," Dickie replied.

"It is a lovely room, Mrs. Crane," Isobel acknowledged, still determined to get along with the woman. "Thank you for all of your hard work in making it so welcoming."

Mrs. Crane nodded, not replying to Isobel's statement. "If there is anything more you need, simply let Elsa know. Milord, I do hope you will forgive us but we've been a bit busy with preparations this afternoon. Your room will be ready by the gong, I can assure you."

Dickie nodded his thanks to the Housekeeper but not before noticing Isobel's eyes drop once more.

"Thank you, Mrs. Crane. We should let you get on with your duties," Dickie answered. The Housekeeper nodded and left the room, a sly grin on her face. If nothing else, she was pleased to know that Lord Merton still chose to sleep in his own bedroom…and the distressed look on Mrs. Crawley's face was just what the Housekeeper needed to satisfy her malicious intent.

"Do tell me what is wrong, Isobel," Dickie said quietly after a few moments of silence. Isobel had made her way across the room, away from him, to study the pictures along the mantle of the fireplace. Elsa had been thoughtful in placing pictures that meant a great deal to her; one of Matthew and Mary on their wedding day; one of little George as a baby; and one of her new husband-to-be.

She lightly touched the frame holding Dickie's photograph, unaware that he was merely steps away from her.

"Isobel…?"

Her hand dropped, startled by his close proximity. She looked down, clasping her fingers together in front, not sure she should be feeling as gloomy as she did in this moment. Dickie had given her a wonderful surprise with a beautiful suite all of her own….but the fact that it was her own was what bothered her the most. Never had she had her own bedroom as a married woman. True, she and Reginald never had the money to accommodate such an arrangement…but then, they had never wanted to sleep apart.

It seemed that this new life was to be very different from her first marriage. And to know Dickie did not wish to share her bed made her wary of the entire prospect of marrying again.

"Don't mind me," she answered quietly, forcing a small smile in his direction. "The room is lovely, Dickie. Truly…"

He stepped forward, not allowing her to move from her place by the mantle. "Isobel, something has changed…is there something about the room not to your liking? I can easily have Elsa…"

"No…of course not! As I told you, it is perfect," she repeated.

"It must be something," he pressed, reaching forward to tilt her chin up. Her eyes met his, and he could see instantly that she was hurt in some way. "Do tell me, Isobel…please."

She looked away, towards the large window. "It is nothing to fret over."

"But you are upset by it. Surely I can help in some way," he offered.

She shook her head, still averting her gaze. "I fear I have much to learn about the differences between life as a doctor's wife and life at Cavenham Park."

Completely confused, Dickie's eyes narrowed. "Whatever do you mean?"

Sighing, she looked back to him. "I…I simply thought we might share this bedroom. I had never thought we would be separated…I suppose it is most natural in your world but…well, Reginald and I never had enough rooms for such conveniences," she replied with a soft, strained laugh.

She took a step away but he caught her arm, quickly stopping her in her tracks.

"Isobel…look at me," he ordered, his tone suddenly serious. She had not heard him sound so firm since he had last spoken of Larry. It wasn't until she turned back to him that he relaxed his hold on her arm. But his eyes…his eyes had lost none of their passion or determination.

"I will be in this room every night if you will have me, I promise you that." His let his hand travel down her arm to grasp her wrists, pulling her a few steps closer. "I was never welcomed by the late Lady Merton…I did not feel it right to assume you would feel any different than she on the subject. But I meant what I said when I proposed, Isobel. I have fallen in love with you and if you'll have me, I wish to be your husband...in every way."

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt tears well. If one thing was for sure, she had never known an aristocrat to speak as openly as Lord Merton. She cherished his honesty…and his openness only deepened her love for him.

"And you won't mind what the staff thinks?" she asked softly.

"Never," he answered. His look did not waver, assuring her that his promise was not to be questioned.

She nodded. "Good…but I do have one condition."

His smile widened as he leaned his forehead against hers. "And that is?"

"I sleep on the right," she replied matter-of-factly.

Chuckling, he leaned down, his lips mere inches from hers. "Deal."