When Richard woke in the morning he found he was in his overnight cot, although he had no clue as to how he got there. His last memory was of him working at his desk. However, it wouldn't be the first time he had woken up in somewhere other than he remembered. Many a night he had collapsed onto this very bed with no memory of it only to wake in the morning for another patient. During the war he rarely left his office for the comfort of his cottage.
As he pushed back the blankets and sat up, looking down he saw his shoes beside the bed in a neat row. On the nights he slept here he generally removed his shoes and kicked them underneath the cot, letting them fall where they may. Unless he had sleepwalked from his desk to the cot and then methodically taken off his shoes it was more probable that someone else had removed them for him and placed them here. This suspicion was further heightened when his hand went to his waistcoat to check the time and he found his pocket watch missing.
He smiled when he came to the only conclusion-Isobel Crawley. While the nurses had access to his office they would have woken him if needed and he would have remembered that! Isobel had the access and the compassion to put him to bed, also if he were honest she would be the only one he would allow to do those things. He stood and padded over to his desk where the files were stacked and in the middle of his desk was his watch.
When the door behind him opened suddenly he nearly fumbled his watch onto the floor. Luckily he was able to regain control of the wayward timepiece. Isobel entered looking sheepish at having frightened him. Her apology came in the form of a steaming mug of tea.
He took a sip before gesturing to the desk with the mug, "Being there was the last I remember. Do you know anything of how I got into bed?"
She said nothing, but the blush that colored her cheeks and good portion of her neck let him know that his suspicions had been right. He left her in charge while he went home to change. Isobel chuckled as her mind replayed the scene from a just a few hours ago.
The way his head had come to rest in her midsection like a child seeking comfort. In his sleep addled state he had somewhat easy to move, he followed her suggestions without protest. As his body sank into the mattress he groaned, wanting to soothe him she ran her fingers through his hair again before loosening the laces on his boots before removing them. Out of habit she squared them up beside the bed. The fob on his watch caught her attention and she removed it so it wouldn't be damaged. As she pulled up the blankets he turned onto his side muttering something in his sleep, again her fingers found themselves in his hair. With him asleep she had no fear about touching him.
It was during the noon day break that a letter was delivered to the hospital.
"What's that?" Clarkson asked off hand.
"I asked Mrs. Hughes if she had Ethel's forwarding address. I want to find her." She answered.
At this Richard abandoned his sandwich and came near to Isobel, "Don't the police have that information?"
Isobel scoffed, "I heard her in the station when she was giving her statement. The address she gave is actually for a seedy coffee house in York. Apparently all the girls use it when they are picked up for solicitation."
"I have a half-day coming, I can drive you." He said softly.
He didn't say, "Absolutely not." or "Why do you need to go?"
It was his simple understanding of her need and his want to help her in it that had her wanting to reach out for him. However, her hand stayed by her side. It was stupid her mind screamed that the truth that Richard would never hurt her but she just couldn't make herself make contact. All the other times that she had touched him were brief, safe and to stop him some way. Never for herself, not for pleasure.
When that man had hit her he had taken from her the ability to freely touch and be touched by another man. For a moment she thought how worse it would be if he had done more damage. Her stomach threatened rebellion and she thought back to what she would say if she found Ethel.
The trip to into York passed in silence, Isobel found she couldn't engage her voice for small talk. A million thoughts were racing through Isobel's head. This was the first time she had been back since the assault. Had all the prostitutes fled? Had the ones she'd been aiding gone back to the street? Would she be able to work with them again? Would Ethel be found? She tried to mentally address each one of these concerns so it could be boxed away in her mind instead of running free like a wild animal.
Isobel pointed to an area where he could park the car. As he stopped the engine she exited and he went to join her, "No, please stay here."
His eyes widened, "After what happened you must be mad. I'm coming with you."
Isobel controlled her voice so she wouldn't shout at him, "I may look like I stick out but they know me here. You look too intimidating...you'll scare them off."
Richard narrowed his eyes before stripping off his coat and tossing it along with his hat into the car. He then rolled up his sleeves, unbuttoned his waistcoat, hid the chain of his pocket watch and loosened his tie before running his hands through his hair to tousle it. Reaching into the back of the car he withdrew an item which Isobel couldn't see. She watched in awe as a cigarette was screwed between his lips and he struck a match to light it. The professional look of Doctor Clarkson was transformed into that of a common man. No one would pay any attention to him. "Better?" He asked as he exhaled a stream of smoke.
She nodded and went off in the direction Mrs. Hughes had provided. Richard followed behind her, keeping her in sight at all times. He would make damn sure no one touched her.