Not for the first time did Isobel have Greek Myths running through her head. Instead of the tale Perseus and Andromeda she thought of Orpheus and Eurydice. The husband and wife torn apart on their wedding day by a death.
Isobel felt like Orpheus with Richard as Eurydice behind her. She knew he was there for she could smell the smoke from his cigarette and hear his boot heels on the ground yet she felt such anxiety that she wished to turn her head to actually see him but knew she couldn't. In the myth if Orpheus turned Eurydice would disappear forever. Here in this place if she turned and acknowledged Richard the street would see and word would spread. The street was a living being with ears and eyes of its own. It had taken time for Isobel to become accepted here, at first she ignored or laughed off. Slowly women had come to her, in the beginning it was for a bite to eat or a warm place to sleep for a few hours. Her lessons with sewing did attract the attention of a few who were able to leave the life of a prostitute behind. From these shaky beginning she had become accepted by the women, it wasn't all encompassing she had taunts and jeers lobbed at her but these were more from the prostitutes saving face in front of each other. Isobel truly believed that no woman would actively choose this way of life but encountered those that fiercely defended the choice they had made to be a streetwalker. Ethel had come to her aid when she was most vulnerable it was time that favor was repaid in full.
Richard's half-day meant they had gotten into York well into the afternoon, the sun was beginning to sink lower and the light was giving way to more shadows. The area where she was attacked was nearing, it had to be crossed for the time it would take to circumnavigate it would be too much. This would truly be like marching into the underworld. She inhaled deeply finding comfort from Richard's cigarette smoke and cautiously she made her way.
Richard kept his eyes moving, taking in his surroundings but making sure to keep a good distance away from Isobel. His lungs were unhappy with him, he hadn't smoked a cigarette in decades. Yet it occupied his hands and helped him blend in with the others. Other men were filling the street, some having gotten out of factory shifts. He watched as Isobel slowed before entering a walkway. At first he didn't understand her hesitance, it became all too apparent when he followed. A voice near to him called , "Hey darlin'"
He turned to view a woman, painfully thin, the manubrium prominent under the skin of her chest. His clinical mind began assessing the woman as a patient. Her diagnosis-malnutrition. Others beckoned him, needing to stay in character he winked at one, the action earned him a smile and he saw rotting teeth. Thankfully the end of the walkway was nearing, Isobel took a right and he followed.
The lowliness of the population here was apparent in appearance of the upkeep of the brick buildings, there was none. Clothes hung from line strung between buildings, rubbish was everywhere. Richard's nose as working overtime trying to catalogue each individual smell. To keep his mind focused he lit up another cigarette letting the smell of tobacco become the dominant fragrance.
Isobel stopped outside of a door, she reached into her pocket to check the number against the piece of paper Mrs. Hughes had sent. While she was doing this Richard took up position behind on the other side of the brick houses to watch. She raised her hand and knocked, the door opened and a man shot out, hastily pulling his clothes tight around him. Ethel appeared a worn dressing gown most likely made from art silk hung off her frame, her hair was a tangled mess and she was pale.
"Hello Ethel." isobel delivered, her tone was that of someone greeting an old friend.
The redhead clutched her robe more tightly around her, "How did you find me?"
"I asked Mrs Hughes, I would so like to help you." Isobel found her voice breaking, "Please. Would you let me?"
Ethel shook her head, "Don't understand Mrs. Crawley I'm not looking for help from you for myself I'm past all that."
The tone of defeat was strong in voice and Isobel felt a chill settle into her. This chill increased ten fold when a child's murmuring drifted through the door capturing her attention. She stiffened and from his position Richard knew there was a problem he flicked his cigarette away before his legs carried across the distance
"I've got to go, thanks for trying Ma'am but there's no point" Ethel said as she began closing the door. Richard got there first and pushed his way into the house.
Ethel's voice was sharp, "Cash up front!"
Isobel pushed herself through the door also and was taken aback by the scene around her. Squalid didn't begin to describe what she saw. Richard was moving swiftly before he came to a small area in the back which had been curtained off with threadbare sheet. His arm swung it aside and saw a child sitting on the floor playing with some toys. Instantly he knelt down and began checking him for injuries or signs of disease.
Ethel raced towards her son, shouting "Keep your hands off him or I'll kill you!"
Isobel reached for Ethel's shoulders, "It's Doctor Clarkson!"
Ethel heard the name and her mind brought forth the image of an older gentleman in an Army uniform. She had seen him tending to the convalescing soldier at Downton Abbey. However, the man before her looked like a punter, she looked again. The moustache was familiar and if she mentally combed his hair back and righted his clothes then yes she could begin to see it was Doctor Clarkson. Ethel then remembered that it was Mrs. Crawley who was with her and she wouldn't bring a punter here.
Slowly Ethel calmed and she told Isobel of the Bryant's filling in the missing pieces from the luncheon during the Spanish Flu. While Ethel talked Richard noted that little Charlie was relatively healthy. No doubt all the money Ethel made was going to feed her son. Nonetheless, no child should be sent to a curtained corner while his mother performed sexual acts for money. Ethel spoke for nearly an hour and through it all Isobel listened. She passed no judgement. At the end of the hour Ethel had made her decision, Isobel swore that she would help she would write the Bryant's herself.
Richard had been playing with Charlie, letting the boy open and close his pocket watch and play with the fob. When it was time to leave, Isobel went over to Charlie to say hello. While she was doing this Richard withdrew some cash and handed it to Ethel.
"I don't want your pity." She spat angrily.
Clarkson pressed the money into her hand, "It's not pity, you saved her." He said cocking his head toward Isobel. "Until we can save you let this buy your food. When we come back I will examine you and treat you."
Ethel swallowed before nodding in agreement, she knew all too well the damages that were incurred in what she was doing. She cleared her throat, "That man who did that her to her, when he got out of jail one of the other girls stabbed him. He's not dead but he won't be comin' round no more."