Matthew couldn't seem to focus, his mother had been assaulted and had seemed fit not to tell him. A thought then occurred to him, Who came for her?
The occupants in the room let out a yelp of alarm when Matthew launched up and out of his armchair and went for the telephone. Mary followed as did the others and watched as Matthew asked to be put through to the Police Station in York. With his background in the law he knew which question to ask to get the information he wanted.
As Robert watched his son-in-law he was dazzled by his use of the law. While being a lawyer might be middle class Robert was suddenly fiercely proud that Matthew was part of his family. Sybil left the circle and went upstairs no doubt to be with Radha. He then realized that attending a Catholic Baptism wouldn't kill him. Everyone was quiet as Matthew listened before ending the conversation with "Thank you very much, have a good day."
As he replaced the earpiece he could feel the stares of everyone. "It seems, Mother asked for Doctor Clarkson and he came that day and picked her up."
"Why wouldn't he tell us?" Mary asked.
"Probably doctor/patient confidentiality." Matthew said off hand.
While that might be the official reason the doctor might give a handful of people knew the real reason. Edith broke the silence, "Does it really matter? She asked for him and he did as she asked. Mrs. Crawley and Doctor Clarkson aren't the problem. We are. She didn't feel comfortable coming to us and now we have this Ms. Parks to see to."
Lord Robert turned to his daughter, while she might not have Mary's looks or Sybil's compassion she had the best common sense and knowledge. At that moment his heart broke for her, the fiasco of her wedding amongst other things that she had dealt with.
Knowing that Richard wouldn't banish her from the cottage had her willingly going back to Crawley House. Ethel greeted her and asked no questions as to where she had been. She only asked if there was anything from the village she needed to pick up for her hand.
"No, thank you Ethel. However, you should be made aware of some things." Isobel said flatly.
Ethel scrubbed a hand over her face, "I don't like the sound of this Mrs. Crawley, perhaps we should have some tea first."
Isobel was impressed, Ethel's tea was becoming better. Ethel listened as the encounter with Travis was told.
"I should just leave." The redhead said softly.
Isobel shook her head, "And go where? It's noble of you to want to go but there must be a plan." She scoffed before adding, "Sometimes the right thing isn't the smart thing." She said with a smirk.
Both went about their day, Ethel tidying the house while Isobel sat at her desk going through correspondence. Around noon the bell rang, it was Dr. Clarkson on a house call to check her wound.
In the sitting room he removed his jacket before rolling up his sleeves. The bandage was unwound and he inspected the wound. "Closing quite nicely. I doubt you need the wrappings as long as you keep it clean."
Isobel nodded at his word. Silently he placed everything back into his bag. While it was inappropriate he didn't care he kissed her lips before leaving Crawley House. When the bell rang again Isobel wondered what Richard had forgotten only to see Ethel's face white as she announced "Mr. Branson."
After the scene at dinner last night she knew it was just a matter of time before she was graced with a visit. She was just honestly and pleasantly surprised that it was the Irishman.
"Would you care for tea?" Isobel asked.
Tom smiled widely, "Yes that would be lovely."
This was going to be interesting. Both of them thought.
Having just had a cup Isobel forced herself to drink another, it helped that Ethel's tea was leaps and bounds better than when she first came here. "May I be bold and ask which short straw you drew to bring you here?"
He laughed, "I volunteered actually."
Tom took a sip before setting his teacup down, face becoming serious. "Cousin Isobel, everyone wants to apologize for last night. I saw Dr. Clarkson leaving as I was arriving, how is your hand?"
She held her hand out so he could see the scabs criss-crossing her palm, "Dr. Clarkson says it's healing well."
Tom sighed he didn't want to beat around the bush, "What can we do to aid Ms. Parks?"
At this moment she wished that someone else had come for she didn't want to bark at Tom. "Nothing, that is what you can do."
He understood but had to ask for it had been discussed, "Would a sum help?"
If it had been anyone but Tom asking she would have verbally eviscerated him but she knew these were not his words, "This problem can't be solved by throwing money at it. Now I'm sure Ethel won't be one to talk but what if she did, and told her fellow workers there was a magical place where you could get money just by showing up."
Tom knew this all too well, his stomach twisted in remembrance of Lord Grantham withdrawing his cheque book as if money would get him to give up Sybil, "You should know Mrs. Hughes told us what happened to you in York."
Isobel sighed and reached for her tea.
"Matthew had a bee in his bonnet for a bit because you didn't telephone him first but he got over it. You might think it changes things but it doesn't." Tom delivered sagely.
"Really? I'm sure there was concern but surely there is some smugness that have reaped what I have sown?" She uttered, turning so Tom wouldn't she the color rising in her cheeks. She remembered that look on Cora's face with the convalescent home. "Also don't think that I don't know where the money came from with my work with the refugees. They could care less about by work as long as it doesn't interfere with their lives. If my work follows me home like a stray dog it needs to be shot on the spot." She spat.
Sighing Tom tapped the table softly "get your coat."
"What?" She asked sharply.
"Just get a coat and come with me." He ordered as he pointing to the door.
Isobel was flying, the wind cool and bracing against her face, closing her eyes she welcomed the sensation. Tom was expertly navigating the roads, driving had always helped him think. When he discovered that he could earn a decent wage doing something he loved it had been an easy decision to become a chauffeur. Being married to Sybil his driving time was somewhat limited so any chance to control an engine had him chomping at the bit. Cousin Isobel needed this, to let her anger be taken by the wind. To let the air caress her skin and take away the sting of last night.
God! Last night had been one of the most miserable encounters he had ever had at Downton Abbey up there with him being drugged by Lord Merton's son. That foul Mr. Travis and then the display in the library. Tom reflected he knew what marrying Sybil would entail and he had seen what the Crawley household was like. However, he thought he would be protected by Ireland by being in a different country altogether. That had been destroyed by a mistake, just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Mrs. Crawley had not chosen to join the Crawley family as he had. The death of Patrick Crawley on the Titanic had taken her from a life in Manchester where she could do as she pleased to life in Downton where her actions were scrutinized. As he began to turn the wheel to negotiate a bend he realized Mrs. Crawley had made the mistake of following Ethel. He then thought of the prostitutes, women who couldn't find work. For some reason he thought of his sister-in-law. Lady Mary had had to marry to secure a position and a position meant money. Ethel had to demean herself for money. It was all about money.
Beside him Isobel was smiling into the wind, he then slowed the car, "Should I take you back?"
Isobel chewed on her lip before she showed him her hand, "Can you take me to the hospital? This itches and I want to know if Dr. Clarkson can give me something."
"Of course." His hand went to the gear stick and Isobel covered it.
"Can we go around again first?" She asked her eyes twinkling. Never one to refuse a lady he put the car in gear and turned into the wind.
"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Lord Grantham asked.
"What she means is there is nothing really we can do. Unless we can find her another position for which she will need a reference." Tom said again slowly hoping if he spoke slower the words would sink in.
Lord Grantham shook his head, "I just can't believe there isn't something."
Cora tried to soothe her husband, "Mrs. Hughes has exhausted all of her contacts and the War left many homes unable to support themselves let alone servants. In this country there is no option."