As industrial architecture faded from the sides of streets to be replaced by hedges Isobel began to relax. however, when Downton loomed her anxiety reasserted itself. She began to fidget wringing her hands in her lap. Richard could see this out of the corner of his eye. Knowing that it was a few more miles until Downton was reached he pulled to the side of the road.
He didn't want to deal with passenger suffering a panic attack in an automobile. He had comforted soldiers though panic attacks but never a woman from an assault. There was no training for it in Medical School and the thought of one actually being mandated made his stomach turn for the reason for the class should never happen. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She shook her head.
"All right, when you're ready we'll go." His hand went to switch off the engine when she covered it with one her own. The touch seemed to last for only a millisecond before she pulled her hand back. She exhaled and pointed at the road, "let's go."
He obeyed her command and put the car back onto the road to Downtown. Getting her into the hospital was easy, number one it was dark and number two if she had been seen she had reason to be there. Richard decided to cloister her in his office, he directed her to the small cot and she sat down. He left to retrieve some items from the medicine cabinet. She watched as he placed bottles before her. He took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands in the basin in the corner. He then approached her slowly, "If you would like I could have one of the nurses help?"
She shook her head in the negative, her silence made him itch. His hand reached out to her chin to tilt it up at this her eyes slammed shut and she sucked in a breath. Instantly Richard's hands went to his sides and the itch blossomed into rage. He wanted to tear the man who did this apart with his bare hands. Isobel opened her eyes to see that Richard had gone still.
She began to cry, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry" She babbled.
Kneeling down so he could look up at her he met her gaze, "No, no, no, no. Don't be sorry. You don't have to be sorry. Would you like to tend to yourself? I can leave."
Her hand touched him again briefly, this time on his exposed forearm, "No, don't leave. Could you hand me the cotton wool and antiseptic please?"
He passed over the items without a word. Isobel applied the antiseptic to the cotton wool and applied it to her lip. She gasped at the stinging sensation. Behind him Richard reached for a small bowl and held it out to Isobel who placed the used cotton into it. She then repeated the process of soaking the cotton. Her hand went to apply it to the cut on her forehead. Richard could see that she was going to miss the area, without thinking he covered her hand with his and guided it down to the cut. What was remarkable was that she didn't break free from his grasp, it was only when she hissed at the contact of the antiseptic did he realize that he was holding onto her and let go. Soon her face was clean. Rising from his position he fetched a headache powder and glass of water, he showed her both items and she nodded before he tore into the packet and emptied the contents into the glass. He made sure she could see his actions, she watched as his left hand swished the glass in a small circle letting the force of the water dissolve the clumps of the powder. He offered her glass and waited patiently for her to take it which she did. Calmly she swallowed the mixture and handed him back the glass.
In the corner, over the hand washing basin, there was small mirror and she went to it. Normally her fringe was swept up and away out of her face, if she let it hang down it would cover the worst of the cuts on her forehead. The split lip and bruise to her cheek could not be hidden so easily. She could probably lessen the bruise by wearing her hair down but she quickly dismissed that idea. Another way to minimize the damage was with cosmetics but she didn't own any and the thought of buying some made her think of Ethel with her rouged cheeks.
Ethel, the police had told her the name. The housemaid with the baby. The hospital office seemed to fade away and she thought she could smell the odor of the street in York. She must have made a noise for he said her name. She turned to face him, letting his face remind her that she was in Downton.
"Ethel Parks." Was all she could say.
Richard remembered the name for the officer had mentioned she was the one who had made the statement. He kept his mouth shut, letting her lead. "She was a housemaid at Downton Abbey, she had a child by an officer who a patient in the convalescent home."
Richard bullied his memory, there were many soldiers who were flirtatious with the nurses and staff at the Abbey. Suddenly he knew, the redheaded housemaid tucking in the blanket, "Major Bryant" he uttered to himself. The Spanish Flu, while he was caring for the dying Lavinia Swire and the gravely ill Lady Cora. There had been an outburst, he hadn't been privy to all of it but word travels fast among servants. The Bryants had been there for luncheon. Now things made sense, why Isobel knew the prostitute and why she was so compelled to follow.
She turned back to the mirror and regarded herself once more. Her image made her tired and she turned away from the mirror. Richard watched as she went back to the cot pulled down the covers and got in shoes and all! Her body shifted so she was turned away from him, her back was facing his desk. This was new territory for Dr. Clarkson, he went to his desk and sat down. He switched on his desk lamp and began reviewing charts. Isobel could hear the scratching of his pen as it moved across the paper. This noise gave her comfort, the powder was swirling nicely in her brain taking away the headache she carried, she felt her eyelids closing and she didn't fight it.