That night she slept in her own bed at Crawley House, what wasn't known was that she slept again with her shoes on. Her dreams once again plagued by the eyeless and mouthless women popping out from the shadows to stare at her before the burly man came out from the shadows to cut off her escape route. When she woke she looked for Richard only to remember that she was in her own bed, in Crawley House. Come the morning she was resolved not to let the events that had happened to her overwhelm her. She chose her dress carefully, accenting it with a particular hat. The brim was wide and helped cast a shadow over her face essentially muting the bruise on her face.

Isobel rang the bell at the servants entrance to gain access to Downton Abbey. She hoped that her timing was right and that she would only encounter a few servants. With it being lunchtime hopefully all the footman and Carson were in the dining room. She did not want to have the assessing look of the butler or any of the family for that matter. One of the houseboy's passed her carrying firewood, she was virtually ignored by everyone and she felt relieved. From the kitchen she could hear the high pitched warbling of Mrs. Patmore as she shouted commands. Mrs. Hughes's sitting room was near and the door was open, she knocked softly. The Scottish housekeeper turned towards the intrusion in her hands was what looked like a list ."Oh Mrs. Crawley, we didn't know of your arrival."

Isobel plastered a small smile on her face, hiding her wince caused by her cut lip. "Actually I came to see you, I need your help."

Mrs. Hughes was stunned and pointed towards herself, "My help?" She said in disbelief.

Isobel nodded deeply, "Yes, do you remember a housemaid named Ethel Parks?"

Mrs. Hughes set her list down, the housemaid who she had caught in flagrante delicto with an officer. She had dismissed the woman on the spot. "Yes, yes I do."

"Do you have a forwarding address for her?" Isobel asked striving for a light tone.

"I might, could be anywhere." sighed Mrs. Hughes dismissively as she waved towards her desk.

Isobel changed her tone, "It's imperative that you find it, she is in a very bad way."

Mrs. Hughes was not moved, in her mind Ethel's problems were of her own making. She had tried unsuccessfully to help the woman and it had been disastrous. She remembered the ugly scene at the luncheon with the Bryant's. Once bitten twice shy.

Taking a chance Isobel lifted her hands to her head and slowly withdrew the long pin releasing her hat. When she removed it from her head Mrs. Hughes could see the damage done to Isobel more clearly and her eyes went wide. "Ethel has become a prostitute, one of her clients did this to me."

The breath left Mrs. Hughes as if she had been struck, and she watched dumbfounded as Mrs. Crawley replaced her hat. "I'll see if I can find it."

"Thank you." Isobel stated before turning to leave. Behind her she could hear drawers being opened and the rustling of paper. Her exit went unnoticed and she exhaled shakily as the door to servants entrance closed as she left.

At the hospital Dr. Clarkson had made his rounds and had given orders to the nurses, no new patients had been admitted. He would be leaving soon to check on his home patients. He stepped outside and made his way to the bike rack, he secured his bag on the back before removing the bicycle. As he began peddling through the village he saw her, he was pleased to see the look of determination back on her face but was concerned that perhaps she was trying too hard to launch back into her life. Not for the first time he wondered at what he could do to help her.

These thoughts were swept aside as he pedaled towards the home of his first patient. His day was spent pedaling from home to home making the day long and at the end of it he found himself at his desk scribbling in his patients charts. The sleepless night he had spent watching over Isobel was catching up with him.

Isobel had changed for bed, carefully she placed her shoes on the floor before climbing into bed. Without her footwear she found she couldn't sleep. Her eyes traced the shadows the on the wall and ceiling. She tried reading but her mind couldn't focus on the words to follow the plot. Swinging her feet over the bed she stuffed her feet into her shoes.

Richard had fallen asleep at his desk, with the lamp still burning bright. He woke and didn't know why, blearily he looked up and saw the lower portion of a body standing over him. Any panic he might have felt at this intruder was overridden by the fact the person leaning over him was warm and he was cold. Slowly he raised his head, his eyes still hadn't adjusted to the bright lamplight. His head was heavy and he leaned it against the source of the warmth. Beneath his cheek he could feel the slight scratchiness of wool and then he felt fingers gently card through his hair.

Isobel had left her bed and had come to the hospital, merely throwing on her overcoat over her nightgown. Silently she had let herself into Dr. Clarkson's office and saw the man she was looking forward slumped over his desk. His cheek pillowed by a chart. She didn't know if she should wake him and have him move to his cot. Through her coat she could feel the chill in the office and made a decision. At her approach he began to stir and she watched as he fought to raise his head. Her heart broke for him and she moved closer to him. When his head pushed into her stomach she smiled and raised her hand to run her fingers through his hair letting him know he was safe.