Happy New Year, everyone. :) As always a huge thank you for reading and for the many lovely reviews. You're all much too kind. :)
I apologize for taking so long with this chapter, but it just took longer than expected. However, it's also the longest chapter, and I really hadn't thought that it'd be so long. But ah well - don't see that as a bad thing, and I hope that you don't either. :) As I only just put the finishing touches on this chapter now, I don't have anything written on the next chapter, so I have no way of knowing, when that'll be posted. But I'll do my best to be quicker about it, than with this chapter though I'm not making any promises. :D But happy reading and I hope you'll like it. :)
Chapter 12
They sat cuddled up together on the sofa with her head resting on his shoulder. Since leaving the sitting room a few hours earlier, they had shared everything that had been going on in recent months. Richard had told Isobel how he felt, when he thought she was courting Lord Merton. She had then told him of the conversation she'd had with Violet in the car that led her to seek him out at the hospital, which had let him to tell her about the conversation that he'd had with Violet. He had then explained how things had been for him, when she was in London, while she'd told him exactly how the conversation with Lord Merton went in the park. Lastly Isobel had told him of the conversation that had taken place at Rosamund's, which made her take the first train back to Downton.
Isobel shook her head a little still astounded by it all. "Goodness," she said, "I still can't believe that Cousin Violet told you those exact things," she told him.
"I know," Richard agreed still not feeling too comfortable with how emotional he'd gotten. "I suppose this means we are forever in her dept now," he said pursing his lips in thought.
She rolled her eyes at the thought. "Yes, I doubt she'll ever let us forget," she said sighing. "But," she went on more softly, "I'm not entirely sure I mind so much knowing that it brought us to this."
Turning her head to look up at him, he also turned his head. He then leaned down and captured her lips in a soft kiss. "I quite agree," he then said before kissing her again, and then let her snuggle back against his shoulder.
"Nor can I believe the things Mrs. Levinson said," she told him a little quietly a few moments later, remembering what Martha had said about thinking that Lord Merton was her lover, and that she and Richard would probably be very busy to bother with anyone else.
He chuckled a little loudly at that, not noticing the difference in Isobel. "No, I can imagine that must have been rather uncomfortable as well. For everyone." He chuckled again. "She really does sound like quite the character."
"She is," she agreed. "But she's actually also rather nice." She felt him nod against her head.
"Did you want to call them to let them know how things went?" he asked.
"Good heaven's no," she chuckled heartedly feeling more relaxed. "I have no desire to let them know just yet," she told him smiling. "Besides, I think it's rather late now to be calling."
"I hadn't even realized the time," he said and then looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. He then sighed sadly. "It's late. I better walk you home," he told her regrettably.
Sitting up straighter he pulled her with him in the process. But when he tried to stand up, she grabbed his hands preventing him from going anywhere.
"I am home," she told him softly. "When we're married I want us to live here," she explained.
"You want to live here?" he asked utterly surprised.
"Yes," she answered plainly.
"But Lord Grantham gave you Crawley House for life," he reminded her.
"Just because he did, it doesn't mean that I should take him up on the offer," she told him teasingly.
He rolled his eyes slightly but smiled in the process. "I realize that," he said shaking his head at her. "But wouldn't you prefer to live at Crawley House? It's much bigger compared to this little cottage," he said taking a look around to prove his point.
"Richard, what a terrible thing to say," she scolded him gently. "Your home is by no means small."
"I gave you the grand tour earlier," he reminded her. "So compared to Crawley House you know that it is."
"Yes, but it's a nice seized cottage. Your sitting room is bigger than the one at Crawley House. And besides," she went on, "this isn't about what I want, but about what we want." She then smiled knowingly. "Do you honestly want to live at Crawley House, when it in reality belongs to Cousin Robert? Could you honestly feel content and at home in such a place?"
When she saw him open his mouth to argue, she raised her eyebrow making him sigh in defeat immediately. "No," he admitted and saw her smiling a little triumphantly, but he merely smiled back at how well she knew him. "But what about all the memories, you have in that place? You and Matthew lived there for a long time, and it's also right next to the graveyard," he pointed out. "I would never want you to part with that. I would want you to be happy above all else."
She smiled lovingly at him being deeply touched that he'd sacrifice his own happiness, just so that she could continue living in a house that held so many wonderful memories for her. It also reminded her of what he'd told Violet during their conversation, about only wanting her to be happy.
"No matter where I am, I take those precious memories of Matthew with me," she told him softly. "I haven't lived in the house in Manchester for years, and yet I can still clearly visualize him running around the house as a little boy," she smiled fondly at the memory causing him to smile, too. "So you see, it doesn't matter where I live. It matters that we live where we'll both be happy living," she explained. "Besides, you don't have any large paintings of deceased family members all over the walls, whom I've never known, like Crawley House does. And I'm glad of that," she said smiling and then looked around. "I quite like the décor of your home and everything adorning the walls."
The walls in the sitting room were dark cream colored, and the furniture all quite dark in colors, but in different earthy colors. The paintings on the walls were mostly of landscape, and Richard had told her that they were of the Scottish landscape, which she quite liked. There were a few poems framed hanging on the walls as well, and some were of Robert Burns, while others were made by his maternal grandmother and a few by a friend of the family. Then there were some drawings made by Richard's uncle that were of the area, where he grew up.
He looked at her taking it all in again, and he was honored and humbled that she was so pleased with his home. She'd been genuinely interested and happy, when he'd given her the grand tour earlier and explained everything to her. It had warmed his heart, when she'd complimented his home, and cared about what he'd told her and even asked questions to what he had explained.
"Well, I'm pleased that you seem to like it so much," he said a little shyly.
She turned her head, so that she could look him in the eyes. "I do," she told him imploringly. "You may not think there's much to your cottage, but I do. This is a home, whereas Crawley House is just a house. I've enjoyed living in Crawley House, and I have felt enough at home there in all these years," she told him. "However, there's something about this place that makes it feel more like a home."
"How so?" he asked slightly puzzled but generally interested.
She shrugged. "Perhaps it's the furniture along with the colors of the walls and the colors of the paintings. Your furniture is more comfortable than the furniture at Crawley House," she explained. "For instance this sofa is much more comfortable than the one at Crawley House. And your armchair," she said looking at it smiling, "looks like it's quite comfortable to curl up on with a good book and a cup of tea." She then looked back at him. "As is this sofa. I know we've been quite comfortable cuddled up together here, but I can imagine that we could curl up even more with a book and a cup of tea." He smiled at the thought.
"I imagine that, too," he said.
She then continued. "As I said your furniture is more comfortable. They're not stiff like the ones at Crawley House. It's like the furniture there is meant to represent the standard of the house or the people they really belong to. And while I may belong to that family," she said raising an eyebrow knowingly referring to their earlier conversation, "I don't prefer that kind of living. I prefer this," she said gesturing with a hand around the room. "The bookshelves going from the floor to the ceiling over in the one corner, and the other comfortable over seized armchair nearby that is at the one window overlooking the garden. That also seems like another great place to cuddle up with a good book." She looked back at him smiling lovingly. "Or to cuddle up together." He smiled lovingly at her too. "Then there are the blankets and pillows on the sofa and armchairs, which also make it more of a home," she went on. "Not to mention the gramophone player in the other corner, and the paintings, drawings, and poems on the walls that have a significance to who you are, and where you're from. Everything about this room and the cottage in general, makes me feel more at home than I've felt in all my years in Downton." She then took hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze. "And I really mean that."
He squeezed her hand in return. "I believe you," he said raising her hand to his lips kissing her knuckles twice. "And I'm honored that you wish to live here. I really am," he told her. "But what about the garden? My garden hardly compares to the one at Crawley House, and I know that you love that garden."
"I do," she said nodding. "But your garden is lovely, too. And again it seems more comfortable, if a garden can feel that way," she said chuckling slightly.
He chuckled at that as well, but then got more serious. "But this place doesn't have that much room. There's room enough for the two of us, but hardly more than that," he said carefully.
She knitted her brow in confusion. "Who else would be living here besides the two of us?" she asked not understanding his point. "You're the only one, who has been living here so far, and as you say there's plenty of room for the two of us. So I don't see what the problem is."
"I realize that, and if it were only the two of us that would be just fine. But what about your staff?" he asked. "I know that Mrs. Field is leaving soon, but I would assume that you'd be getting a new cook after her. And then there's your maid, too. There would be no room for any help to live here, if we were to live here," he explained. "Well, there are the two extra bedrooms upstairs. But those would be close to our own bedroom, and I'm not sure I'd be comfortable having anyone that close by," he told her grimacing a little at the thought. "And one of the bedrooms is much smaller than the other one," he pointed out.
"But would you really be happy having any sort of staff?" she asked. "You're used to taking care of most things on your own. Mrs. Turner comes in a few times a week, but only to clean and to make a few errands, when you don't have the time. But you cook your own meals, answer the door yourself, make your own tea and coffee, and walk around the cottage as you please not having anyone around, you need to consider. You can be yourself completely with no help living here with you," she explained. "You can't tell me, you still wouldn't prefer to live like that," she said smiling knowingly.
He sighed. "I would," he said honestly. "But you pointed out that it isn't about what you want. So this isn't about what I want either," he told her. "You've been used to having help, even when you lived in Manchester. You had a cook and a maid then, just like you have now. I wouldn't want to take that away from you, and I would feel bad that you would have to fire Lucy by living here. As I said there isn't really room for her to live here, and there wouldn't be much need of her here as there would be at Crawley House," he explained.
"I hadn't really thought much about that," she said frowning.
"I would be happy to have Lucy working here, if she only worked here during the day time and she could then live somewhere else. But I wouldn't want to fire Mrs. Turner either," he said. "And it makes no sense to employ them both here. There wouldn't be enough work for either of them."
"No, I see your point," she said nodding. "I know you've said that Mrs. Turner needs all the work that she can get, so I wouldn't feel right about firing her, just so Lucy could work here." He nodded in agreement. "And I agree that there wouldn't be enough work for either of them here. Nor would there really be, if we lived at Crawley House," she pointed out.
He sighed. "No, I suppose there really wouldn't be there either. Not when you've managed with just one maid."
She sighed as well. "I really would hate to fire Lucy, but I would also prefer to live here," she told him, and then took a few moments to think things over. "Perhaps, if we wait a few months to marry, which will also coincide with when Mrs. Field leaves, we can use the time to help Lucy find another job," she told him hopeful.
"Of course we can," he told her smiling. "We've taken this long to get together, so I'm sure we can wait a little while longer. Besides," he went on, "it will take some time planning the wedding anyway, so I think that it will all work out nicely."
She smiled lovingly at him. "Thank you."
He returned the loving smile. "No need to thank me," he said caressing her hand with his thumb. "But what about a new cook?" he asked. "If we were not getting married, wouldn't you have hired a new cook after Mrs. Field left?"
"No," she said shaking her head. "I'd actually thought about not doing that."
"Really?" he asked surprised.
"You needn't act so surprised, Richard," she scolded him teasingly, which made him roll his eyes, though he kept smiling. "You know that I only had help occasionally after Ethel left," she reminded him.
"Yes, I remember," he said fondly remembering her cooking, when he'd been to dinner shortly before the fair in Thirsk.
"And you also know, how I don't really want all the fuss, and that I manage quite well without much help at all," she told him.
"I know," he said smiling. "More than well, I should say," he told her proudly.
She smiled back at him. "Well, it just so happens that I'd thought that I could do with much less help, after Mrs. Field left. I actually want to get back to a much simpler way of living, and to do more things on my own. So I'd actually thought of not getting a new cook, but instead take care of the cooking on my own with some help from Lucy," she said. "But since you're quite capable in the kitchen, I don't think there's any risk of us starving, even when it's just going to be the two of us," she told him chuckling.
He chuckled as well shaking his head. "I definitely don't think there's a risk of that either. And I must say," he went on, "that I like the idea of us cooking along side of each other. I quite enjoyed it this evening," he said smiling tenderly.
"So did I," she said speaking just as tenderly, as they sat looking at each other in silence for a few seconds. "As for Lucy," she said a few moments later breaking the silence. "I was thinking that I could ask Mrs. Hughes, if they need more help at the Abbey. Or I can go directly to Mary," she explained.
"You don't think that you should ask Lady Grantham?" he asked in puzzlement.
She shook her head. "Mary owns half the estate, which means that she'll know better than Cousin Cora, if they have the money to take on someone new. She'll also give me an honest and straight answer, if they can't, and I'd appreciate that." He nodded understanding. "But if they do have the money to take on someone new, but not really in the need of one, I think Mary might be willing to hire Lucy anyway, because she'd want to do that for me."
He raised an eyebrow skeptical of that. "You honestly believe that?" he asked and at her bemused expression with slightly narrow eyes, he quickly went on. "I mean no disrespect to Lady Mary." She smiled letting him know that she knew he didn't. "She has changed a lot over the years, and we both saw how much she helped out during the war." She nodded. "But do you think she'd want to waste the money, when they've had so much trouble in the past? Can you see her wanting to hire someone, if it's not absolutely necessary? And what about Lord Grantham? Wouldn't he have a say in this as well? Or perhaps where the household's concern maybe more Lady Grantham?"
"If we'd had this discussion ten years ago, I don't think she'd be willing to help to the point that she'd hire a person, even if they didn't need the help," she explained. "But she's changed. Perhaps most can't see it. But as you know, she and I have become even closer than we were before Matthew died." He squeezed her hand a little tighter knowing that no matter how many years passed, it would always be difficult for her to talk about Matthew being dead. "And some time ago she told me, as did the family, that if I ever needed anything that they'd help in every way, if they could. That is why I'm quite convinced that she'll hire Lucy, if they can afford it," she told him with confidence.
He smiled brightly at her giving her hand another squeeze. "That sounds very good indeed then, and it certainly can't hurt asking," he said. "And if they can't hire her after all, they might know someone who can." She nodded in agreement. "But are you with absolute certainty positive that you wish to live here?" he asked again still needing to be reassured once again, hardly believing that she'd be content to live in a place that was smaller even to her house in Manchester.
She cupped his cheek with her free hand and looked at him tenderly.
"Yes, Richard," she told him imploringly yet softly. "And I don't want to hear another word of how small, you think it is," she told him raising an eyebrow, when she noticed that he was about to argue.
"Sorry," he mumbled smiling apologetically, and turned his head to kiss the inside of her hand. "I'm just finding this whole evening hard to believe. First you show up here, then you tell me that you love me like I love you, and then that you will marry me. And now you wish to live here. It's all quite overwhelming," he said smiling lovingly at her.
She stroked his cheek tenderly. "For me as well," she said softly and then letting her hand fall back into her lap. "But your home has everything that we could possibly need," she told him. "The kitchen is nearly the same size as the one at Crawley House, which I quite like. The dining room is a little smaller, but I highly doubt we'll be having any large dinner parties. Though I do hope that it will be alright that we invite Mary and George around once in a while. And Tom's been coming around Crawley House for dinner as well, so I hope that it would be alright for him to still come around, and that he can bring Sybbie. Then there's Edith. She was quite busy in the past going to London a lot, but I sense that she needs taking care of, so I hope that we can invite her, too," she said carefully and hopeful.
"Of course we can," he told her reassuringly. "You can invite whoever you wish to," he said adding another squeeze to her hand. "I want this home to feel as much yours as mine, and if you wish to make any changes, we'll do that," he said. "We can buy brand new furniture, and change this cottage completely around."
She shook her head. "No, I don't wish to make any big changes. As I already said I love the décor of it," she reminded him to which he nodded in reply. "There are a few small pieces of furniture that are in the house in Manchester that I'd like to bring. They belonged to my parents," she explained. "But as Cousin Robert and Cousin Cora supplied the furniture for Crawley House, I never did get around to having them brought to Downton," she said with a shrug. "But one is a very small desk that I thought we might be able to fit in here, so that I could have a place to write letters. That way you can have your study to yourself."
"We will share everything equally," he told her matter-of-factly. "So I'll be more than happy to share the study with you. Besides," he went on, "when I showed you around earlier, I told you that I hardly ever use the study. I mostly read in here or read in bed, and really only keep the study to store anything involving my work and books in general that I haven't made room for in here. Therefore, we can turn the study into a study and a library for the both of us. But," he said smiling, "I think that a small desk by the other window would be wonderful. It would also be a good place to write letters, as you'll have the afternoon sun there and it's overlooking the garden," he explained.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," she told him softly.
"I'm glad," he said. "We can put up any family photos of yours next to mine, and if you have any paintings or things you wish to put on the walls, we'll change things around. We'll make room for everything, so that it'll be our home," he told her already looking forward to moving her things in and making the changes that he knew, they'd both be happy with.
"I can't wait to get started," she told him happily.
"Neither can I," he replied leaning in and kissed her. When they broke apart, he took another look at the clock on the mantelpiece. "And now that we have all that settled, I think it's time that I walk you back to Crawley House," he said.
But as he tried to stand up, her grip on his hand tightened, and she used the free hand to help pull him back down.
At his confused expression she smiled a little shyly, but also showed determination.
"When I said I was home, I also meant that I wasn't going back to Crawley House tonight," she explained. "I'm staying here."
He gaped at her not believing what she'd just told him. After a few seconds of just staring open mouthed, he shook his head coming to his senses.
"But you can't!" At her rather shocked expression, he took a deep breath and spoke calmer. "People will surely have seen you come here. And if they don't see you leave again, there could very well be talk. I don't want anyone talking ill of you," he told her.
She smiled softly at him appreciating his concern for her reputation.
"While people may have seen me leave Crawley House to go to the graveyard, they didn't see me leave. I left through the back of the graveyard, and I took the back paths coming here," she explained. "I met no one on my way, and I made sure that no one saw me entering through your back garden," she said. "Not that anyone would anyway, as the cottage is at the end of the village, and not surrounded by any other houses. Nor do you have any immediate neighbors," she reminded him. When he merely gaped again, she went on. "I'll go back to Crawley House in the morning after you leave for the hospital, and I'll make sure to go back the same way that I came. That way it's also unlike that I should be seen by anyone." When he still didn't say anything, she carried on. "And if someone does see me, I can just tell them I'm out on a morning stroll," she said shrugging and smiling a little. "Before I left, I also unlocked the back gate at Crawley House, so I will go in that way. By using the back gate, it'll also make it more unlikely that someone should notice me. And even if someone did see me going to the graveyard, I'm sure no one's been watching the entire time to make sure, I came back again," she responded with a chuckle.
"But what about your staff?" he asked.
"They're still on holiday, and I have no intention of asking them to come back early," she told him. "Just because I came back before I intended, it doesn't mean that they should have their time away cut short."
"No, of course not," he said but didn't get a chance to go any further.
"And with the family in London for a long time still, and with Lucy and Mrs. Field away as well, it gives us the opportunity to spend time together, without any interruptions," she told him matter-of-factly. "That can't possibly be a bad thing," she told him a little coyly.
He chuckled at that and she did as well. "Of course it isn't," he told her.
"Good!" she stated. "Then we've settled the issue. I'm staying," she said smiling.
"But I…you cannot…I don't...I don't think…" he sighed as she raised her eyebrow with an amused expression on her face. He then nodded giving in. "Alright then. You can have my bedroom, and I'll sleep here on the sofa. I have some pajamas you can wear," he told her.
Her face fell and she chewed on her bottom lip for a second. "I don't want us to sleep separately," she told him quietly. "In fact, I hadn't intended for us to sleep just yet," she said just as quietly.
He stared wide eyed at her. "You can't possibly be implying that…that you want us to…to…to.." He trailed off being at a loss for words, but only stared more wide eyed at her when she nodded. "No!" he said shaking his head vigorously. "Absolutely not!" he replied as firmly as he could though his voice was cracking slightly.
She blinked hard at his outburst and then her face fell even more. "But I thought that you'd want…I mean I'd hoped that we would…that is to say that I…" She sighed heavily and then looked him straight in the eye. "Richard, to me a marriage involves everything," she told him imploringly. "I don't want our marriage to be based basically on companionship only, with a few kisses and cuddles thrown in. And I didn't think that that was what you wanted either. But that's what it would be like, if our marriage didn't involve everything, even though we love each other," she argued. "Don't you wish for us to make love?" she asked nervously not believing that he'd reject her but fearing it slightly.
He gaped at her again, not believing the look he was seeing in her eyes. "Of course I do!" he told her quickly to reassure her, and gripped her hand a little tighter in the process. He was happy when he saw her smile and sigh in relief. "Isobel, if you only knew how much I want to make love to you," he declared and then went on. "If you only knew how much I desire you, and the dreams I've had of us togeth.." He quickly stopped himself, when he saw her face flushing immediately. Feeling his own face going red, he quickly cleared his throat and looked away a little. "But we're not married yet, so it wouldn't be proper," he explained.
She cleared her throat as well. "But we'll be so discreet that no one will ever know," she told him. "And it's not like I can get pregnant at my age, so there's no chance of me being several months along by the time we're married," she said with a chuckle, when a thought suddenly entered her mind. "Richard, are you a virgin?" she asked him bluntly.
His head snapped back to hers immediately. "What? No! I'm not a virgin! I've been with women!" he exclaimed. Suddenly feeling embarrassed by the information and his outburst, he let go of her hands and turned his body so that he was facing the fire. Leaning forwards a bit he shook his head before looking down. "I know I've never been married," he told her quietly. "But I have been with a few women," he said feeling awkward and shy.
Reaching out her hand she stroked his arm soothingly. "That's alright," she told him sincerely. "It's nothing to be ashamed about. I think most men have been with a woman, even if they've never been married," she explained. "Reginald told me that he had been with two women before me. And I'm also quite sure that Matthew was with someone before Mary," she said. "There was one morning when we lived in Manchester, where he came down for breakfast grinning from ear to ear," she chuckled lightly at the memory. "He tried his best to conceal it, but I had a gut feeling why he was grinning."
Richard nodded and smiled slightly. "Yes, I think that was a telltale sign. It is with most young lads, I believe," he said.
"Then if the problem isn't that you've never been with a woman, then what is the problem?" she asked gently. "Because I'm sensing there is one," she told him softly.
Closing his eyes he swallowed hard, and then sighed heavily but kept his eyes closed. "I don't want to be a disappointment to you," he told her very quietly.
"What?" she said, being utterly surprised by his answer. "How on earth could you ever think that you'd be a disappointment to me?" she asked gently reaching out her free hand, and placed it on top of his nearest one caressing it.
"As I said I've only been with a few women. But it's been years, since I was last with one," he explained quietly. "I haven't been with a woman in all my years living in Downton. Not even when I've been away on holidays," he told her. "So I'm rather out of practice, and to be honest not even all that experienced to begin with."
"I haven't been with anyone but Reginald, and you know how long it's been since he died," she told him gently. "So I'm rather out of practice myself," she commented. "But I have heard that it's like riding a bicycle," she said encouragingly and a little cheerfully, trying her best to hide that she was nervous as well, and fearing that she'd be a disappointment to him. "But of course if your bicycling skills a few weeks ago are any indication to go by, perhaps I should be worried," she said teasingly trying to lighten the mood. But when she saw him grimace, she regretted it immediately. "I'm so sorry, Richard, I didn't mean it," she apologized straight away. "That was very careless of me. Please forgive me."
Shaking his head he smiled gently opening his eyes, but still didn't look up at her. "It's not that," he said caressing her hand to let her know that she hadn't upset him.
"No?" she asked surprised.
"No," he answered softly. "There was no pebble in the road that caused me to fall over that day," he explained.
"Then what was it?" she asked softly.
"As I came back from the housecall I noticed you, which made me smile," he told her which made her smile and she squeezed his hand. "But then I noticed that Lord Merton was with you. Seeing you with him made me ill, which caused me to lose my balance and fall," he said.
She gaped for a moment being surprised by his confession, and his behavior that day suddenly made more sense. However, she then smiled and gave his hand another squeeze and placed her other hand on his back.
"But then, Richard, don't you see?" she said smiling. "If seeing me with another man, who you thought I was courting, could cause you to have such a strong emotion and reaction, I believe you're capable of great passion," she explained encouragingly.
She saw him raise an eyebrow skeptically. "Really?" he said unconvinced.
"Really," she confirmed. "And I don't for one second believe that you'd be a disappointment," she told him softly learning towards him. "You never could be to me," she whispered and then kissed him on the cheek.
He finally turned his head towards her again, and with their faces only inches apart, he leaned in and kissed her.
"I hope you're right," he told her smiling a little.
"I know I am," she told him softly but firmly and then kissed him again. "Of course I don't wish to pressure you or force you, if you honestly want to wait," she went on a little carefully. "But do you honestly think there's a difference, if we wait until our wedding night to make love compared to now?" she asked.
Thinking it over for a few seconds he eventually sighed and shook his head. "No, I don't," he admitted.
"Well then?" she said smiling softly.
He chuckled softly shaking his head and then kissed her softly again. "Yes," he responded softly and then kissed her lightly. "I never was able to argue with you," he replied grinning a little.
"So why start now?" she responded with a chuckle of her own.
He laughed out loud and she laughed along with him easing a little of the tension out of both of them.
"True," he said but then sighed running a hand through his hair a little nervously, not really sure on what to do next. "Well, there's no fire in the bedroom, so perhaps I should go upstairs and start it first," he said.
She nodded. "Yes," she replied smiling a little. "I can take out the tray and tidy things up in the meantime," she explained.
"Good," he said nodding. "Then I'll come down when the fire's lit, and I'll make sure that the fire down here is out, before I come for you."
"That sounds like a good plan," she told him smiling brightly to conceal her nervousness.
"That's what we'll do then," he said nodding and then nodded a bit more firmly. "Yes, that's what we'll do," he said a bit more confidently. He then stood up pulling her with him, and this time she didn't resist him. "So I'll see you in a few minutes," he said.
She nodded in agreement. "Yes, you will," she said leaning in to meet him halfway in another soft kiss.
He nodded but kept silent, and with one last look at her, he left the sitting room and went upstairs.
After Richard had left, Isobel sighed heavily wringing her hands nervously. Although she had acted bold and confident the truth was that she was nervous. Very nervous.
She had every bit of faith in Richard, and knew in her heart that he wouldn't be the disappointment he thought he'd be. It was, however, her own abilities that she feared.
Thinking back to her wedding night with Reginald, she'd been nervous then, too. But that was naturally to be expected. And while she had still been uncertain the first few times making love to him, it had soon disappeared by their deep love for one another. Also, by how they'd become more and more comfortable with each other and knowing each other fully.
However, she'd been younger then. Much younger. And it was her age now, as well as not having shared that kind of intimacy with a man for years, which made her extremely nervous, and fearing Richard's reaction.
However, knowing Richard the way that she did, she knew in truth that he'd be nothing but loving, kind, and patient with her. But she wondered if she'd be able to satisfy him enough, and if he'd be pleased with her touches and caresses.
He had briefly commented of how much he wanted and desired her, and that he'd had dreams of them together. That was why she also knew that he wouldn't be a disappointment, from the way he'd said it. And it wasn't like she hadn't had dreams of her own of them together, because she had. Many times in fact. And every time in her dreams, she'd been able to please him thoroughly.
But dreams were not reality, and the truth was that she was scared of failing. Failure had always been a big fear in her life, and while she had experienced it many times, it was never something she took lightly. But while there were different kinds of failure, and failures that didn't matter much, and that she could live with, being a failure to Richard in any sense was something she believed, she couldn't live with.
Sighing heavily once again Isobel decided to try to take her mind off her worries for a bit. Richard would be down soon enough, and so she decided to busy herself with what she'd said, she'd do. Walking over to the small table between the armchair and the sofa, she picked up the tray and went to the kitchen.
When she came into the kitchen she sat the tray down, and brought everything over to the sink that needed washing up, and began rinsing it off.
Once she was done washing it up, she picked up the dishtowel drying everything off, and then proceeded to put everything back where Richard had taken things out of earlier.
When that task was done, she dried off the table and tidied up, feeling glad about being useful and having her mind distracted.
However, soon she heard Richard's footstep approaching, and a few seconds later he entered the kitchen.
"The fire is lit," he told her quietly.
She turned around facing him and smiled brightly. "Good," she said cheerfully though her stomach was full of butterflies. "All's been taken care of here in the kitchen."
"As has everything else down here," he responded. "So shall we make our way upstairs?" he asked gently.
"Yes, I do believe so," she replied and took his hand, when he held it out for her to take.
He intertwined their fingers and led the way upstairs turning off the lights along their way.
When they came to the bedroom he opened the door for her, letting go of her hand allowing her to walk in first. Once he was inside as well, he turned around closing the door, and when he turned back around towards her again, he noticed that she seemed anything but relaxed.
"Isobel, what's wrong?" he asked walking around so that he could face her.
She shrugged. "It's nothing really," she told him.
"But clearly it's something," he said knowingly. "Please tell me," he asked her softly.
"I just didn't think that the lights would be on, that's all," she said looking around at the lit lamps in the room. "I knew there would be the light from the fire, but that's all I thought there'd be," she explained and continued looking around to avoid eye contact. "I'm just not all that comfortable revealing myself," she explained thinking it was best to finally be truthful. Then shrugging her shoulders she looked down a bit. "But I know we'd have to see each other without clothes on eventually, so suppose it shouldn't be an issue having the lights on."
He smiled at her tenderly being glad that he wasn't the only one, who was nervous.
"I have an idea," he said and then walked over to the nightstand nearest to him.
Taken completely by surprised by his remark and behavior, she looked at him as he got something from the drawer.
"What are you doing?" she asked puzzled.
However, he merely looked over his shoulder smiling at her for a moment without saying a word.
She then watched him show her a box of matches, and then watched him go to his dresser, where he lit the paraffin lamp. Leaving the matches on the dresser, he took the lamp over to the nightstand placing it there, and then turned off the electric lamp. He then proceeded to walk round the room turning off every electric lamp. When he'd done that the room was bathed in a soft glow from the fire and the paraffin lamp.
Walking back to her, he stood before her and smiled at her lovingly.
"Is that better?" he asked tenderly.
She smiled a little nervously but nodded. "Yes," she said quietly.
"You know," he started out reaching for her hand in the process, which she let him take without resistance, "one of the many things, I love about you, is that you always face anything with determination and your head held high," he told her smiling lovingly at her. "But you needn't be brave with me or even pretend to be brave," he said softly. "If something is bothering you, I want you to be able to tell me. I'll never think any less of you," he explained.
Chewing on her bottom lip a bit she smiled a little embarrassed and then nodded. "I know," she whispered.
He then tilted his head to the side. "There's more, isn't there?" he asked though he was quite sure that the answer would be yes.
Swallowing hard she nodded after a few seconds, and then looked down. "There is," she told him still whispering.
Pulling her towards him he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, letting her hide her face against his chest.
"You can tell me anything," he encouraged kissing the top of her head.
She was still for a few moments, but then sighed. "I know I appeared bold and confident downstairs," she explained quietly. "But the truth is," she said pausing for a moment. "The truth is that I'm scared and nervous. I don't want to be a disappointment to you either, and I fear that I won't be able to please you," she told him honestly yet even quieter.
He shut his eyes tightly for a moment hating that she felt this way, and then caressed her back affectionately in an attempt to sooth her. "You could never disappoint me or not please me," he said imploringly. "Never," he emphasized.
"You can't be sure of that," she told him.
"But I am." He then pulled back a little, so that he could look at her. "Please look at me," he asked gently. But when she still kept looking down, he used one of his hands to tilt her head up with his fingers. "That's better," he murmured smiling at her softly, and then cupped her cheek, when she merely looked at him feeling quite embarrassed. "Remember what I told you downstairs about how I felt, when I first only noticed you in the village on the day that I fell off my bicycle?" he asked.
She nodded slowly. "You said that the sight of me made you smile," she said smiling a little at the thought of him doing that.
"Precisely," he said smiling. "I know we only got together tonight, and that we've always been very proper with each other. But, Isobel, if you only knew how I feel, when you touch me. The simplest and tiniest of your touches set me on fire," he declared strongly making her swallow hard at the intense look in his eyes.
She had a hard time believing that she could cause such a reaction in him at her age, even with what he'd said downstairs. And it made her blink hard a few times.
"Really?" she asked a bit disbelievingly.
"Of course," he emphasized lovingly. "But it isn't just your touches," he explained. "Just the fact that you love me pleases me thoroughly, and more than you'll ever know," he said making her smile a bit more. "And you're beautiful to me. So beautiful," he told her plainly but softly. "Always have been and always will be. And nothing will ever change that," he told her truthfully and softly. "So I won't hear you trying to argue with me on that," he scolded teasingly, though raised an eyebrow at her knowing that she'd more than likely try to contradict him.
She swallowed hard at him knowing her so well, as she had indeed intended on contradicting him. However, thinking about what he'd said, she soon blushed. Being genuinely pleased that he thought she was beautiful, she smiled a little more.
"Thank you," she told him quietly.
Smiling at her even more lovingly he leaned forward and kissed her forehead tenderly. "But we don't have to go through with this, if you've changed your mind," he told her looking at her again. "I won't ever force you or pressure you to do something, which you're not willing to do freely. So the offer of me sleeping on the sofa still stands," he said.
She shook her head. "No, I don't want you to do that," she told him honestly.
"Then we can share the bed here and just sleep," he offered.
However, she shook her head again immediately. "No, I don't want us to do that either," she said and meant it.
"Are you sure?" he asked gently. "It's completely fine that we do nothing but sleep."
"Yes, I'm sure," she answered still feeling nervous but more confident then when entering the bedroom.
Seeing the nervousness in her eyes he caressed her cheek tenderly with his thumb.
"I'm nervous, too, and still in doubt of my own abilities," he told her making her smile again at his honesty. "How about, we just take it slowly and one step at a time?"
She nodded in agreement. "Yes, I like the sound of that," she said quietly.
"Good," he told her just as quietly. "And if at any moment you feel uncomfortable, tell me and we'll stop. As I said I don't want you to do anything that you're not willing to do freely," he reminded her. "I'll never force or demand that you do anything that you're uncomfortable doing."
"I know you'd never do that," she told him and knew that he never would. "And if I do anything that you're uncomfortable with," she told him. "Or do something that you don't like," she added a bit more quietly. "Please tell me."
"What did I just tell you?" he reminded her smiling tenderly. "Fire, Isobel. You set me on fire."
"Yes, I know, Richard. But just please tell me," she said swallowing hard again.
He sighed hating that she still didn't feel that confident, but then realized that he felt exactly the same way about himself.
"I will," he agreed knowing that she needed to hear him say it. And he was glad to see her smile a little.
"Good," she told him and then leaned in kissing him softly, making Richard bring his hand from her cheek around her shoulders.
When they broke apart they rested their foreheads against each other's closing their eyes, and just stood there for a few seconds. Richard then learned back and looked at Isobel. Feeling his eyes on her, she looked at him, too.
Taking it all in from what had been said downstairs to what had been said in the bedroom, they stood there just looking at each other for a few moments.
Then wordlessly Richard looked deeply into Isobel's eyes to see, if she was still willing to make love. When he saw her nod in affirmation and give a little smile, he let go of her. Knowing that his hand was shaking a little, he reached it out nonetheless for her to take. When she took it, he was relieved to feel her hand shaking slightly in his, and it made them give out a nervous chuckle simultaneously.
However, at the same time it anchored them, and they both became aware of it. Slowly a bit of the nervousness and trepidation started to fade away, and they both felt it.
Without further hesitation, though still apprehensive, they walked towards the bed together never taking their eyes off each other.
TBC