Isobel hadn't registered at the time that Richard had damn near fled her home. Had he had a dream? She busied herself in the hospital making herself useful trying to keep her mind occupied and from straying.
Richard's last flu patient had taken the longest to recover. She had just been getting over a cold when she had been struck by the flu. She had little to no reserves to begin with and he had thought that she would be measured for a coffin. Remarkably she had survived, yet her recovery was long and arduous. She always apologized to him during a check-up.
Normally Doctor Clarkson could shrug it off, or simply ignore it. However, today was different.
"Why do you feel it necessary to apologize?" He asked softly.
"For I knew this would happen?" She said wringing her hands.
"Ball or cards?" He asked off hand.
"Pardon me?" She said weakly.
"Crystal Ball or Tarot Cards, which one did you use?"
She ducked her head, "I had a dream I would get flu."
Richard's hands stilled "Oh?"
"A month before this I had a dream that I would get the Spanish Flu. I remember my dream felt so real." She said shaking her head.
"Had anyone around you had flu?" He inquired.
The woman's head wrinkled in thought, "Yes! You tended to our Uncle."
Carefully Richard began placing objects back into his bag, "That's probably why, it was on your mind."
His patient relaxed somewhat and he patted her shoulder in comfort. As he left the house he noted that the sun was starting to kiss the tops of the hills. It was just turning dark when his bicycle stopped rattling on the dirt road to become quiet rolling on the paved road of the village.
Richard was anxious, while little was known of dreams he didn't think that they were prophetic yet he shudder to think of his own. The hospital loomed and he dismounted to enter through the side entrance. He locked up his bicycle for the night before going through the green door. The ward was quiet, a few nurses were milling about. The shift would be changing soon leaving little more than a skeleton crew.
He hung up his coat on the coat tree in the corner of his office. As his arms came down he winced, his chest hurt. The logical portion of his brain rallied that was from all the bicycle riding he had done. The stiff arm position no doubt making the muscles of his chest wall ache. Nonetheless, the illogical portion of his brain was shouting that it was about to suffer a heart attack or some other condition that he had in his dream. The anxiety in him was building, and in frustration he grabbed his stethoscope. He went to listen to his chest only to realize that the diaphragm couldn't penetrate through his thick shirt. Not wanting to be caught as a fool he sat down on the floor behind his desk before opening his shirt and placing the diaphragm on his chest.
So absorbed he was listening to his own heartbeat he didn't hear the door open.
Isobel had been in the storeroom for the afternoon and had not noticed the setting of the sun. It was time she went home. As she walked through the ward she was tried not to think of her dream. As she neared the office she pushed on the door. The office was empty, when she went to the coat tree to hang up her apron she noted that Richard's coat and hat were there. She turned and nearly screamed when she saw a hand on the floor behind the desk.
She dashed towards him only to find him alive behind the desk. She knelt beside him and covered his hand with her own as if confirming that he was alive and well.
"Do you have pain? Shortness of breath?" She asked.
Richard removed the headset of the stethoscope before taking a deep breath, "No, none of those things. I'm just being an old woman."
Isobel seemed to crumble and tears sprang to her eyes and before he knew what was happening he found his arms filled with Isobel Crawley.
It was his turn to ask, "What is it?"
Her face was buried in his neck but he heard her, "I had a dream like this, I found you behind your desk and you had a gaping chest wound. I tried applying pressure and I shouted for help but there was no one to help me."
Richard's hand was gliding up and down her back in comfort. "And when you saw me just now you thought it had come true."
"yes" she whimpered.
Richard felt elated that she cared for him but he quickly remembered the whispered name of her husband on her lips.
"Dreams are strange that way." He murmured back.
She hiccuped and nodded into his neck and shoulder before moving back so she could see him. While his mouth was turned upward in a reassuring smile his eyes held pain. It was then that she realized that the chest wound was actually a broken heart and that she knew how to fix. Leaning forward she pressed her lips to his. Again the logical part of his brain told him that this was perfect, what he had wanted. The illogical part was screaming that she was only doing this out of pity that her heart still belonged to her husband.
As gently as he could he pushed her away.
"Don't' you want me?" She asked her voice tinged with hurt.
"Oh, Isobel" He brushed the hair out of her eyes as he had done this morning. "I want you, but I want you to want me for you."
Her eyes narrowed, "What makes you think I don't?"
"This morning I woke up before you and I touched your face, you said your husband's name. You still love him." Richard informed.
"Yes, he was in my dream but I was telling him goodbye. I love you. In fact I shouted at him my dream because he wasn't' helping me save you. Just sat there as I held your chest together."
Richard exhaled sharply. Isobel loved him. He felt his heart hammer in his chest and the words the man in the brown suit came back to him.
I suggest you find a nurse.
He had found a nurse, the most capable, the one who could and would save him. It was his turn to press his lips to hers and she moaned happily. Perhaps this act could provide her with a good memory of this place instead of the haunting vision of her dream. When he pushed her away again she understood why and didn't resist. Isobel went to fetch his coat while he put his shirt back together. They knew that they would leave together and he would go where she led him. They left by the side entrance, Isobel's hand was warm in his as they walked together. He found himself being pulled along and saw that he was being led to Crawley House.
The large house was quiet, Mrs. Bird was still at her sister's house in Manchester. Richard found he couldn't keep his hands off of Isobel. He held her hand, or wrapped an arm around her waist. He was starved for touch and now he was being presented with a gourmet meal. They climbed the stairs together before stopping inside her bedroom. She turned in his arms so she could see his face.
"I love you" She wanted to tell him again, to let him know that it was the truth.
"And, I love you and I haven't done this in a very long time." He said as his head inclined towards the direction of the bed.
Isobel laughed, "You think I have?"
Richard laughed with her, it was what they needed to diffuse the awkward tension between them. The sexual tension still burned fiercely.
It had been a long time since Richard had known the pleasures of a woman's body. His spirit was willing but he had doubts about his flesh. Isobel too, had her concerns. A corset was able to push up where needed, push in where wanted and conceal everything else! What would Richard think when the busks came apart?
Since Mrs. Bird and Mr. Molesley were not present Richard squatted down in front of the fire. His hands crumpling up newspaper for kindling. Seeing him engaged in this domesticated task made her realize that she rarely saw him in this milieu. She had seen him plenty as a physician and as a soldier but rarely as a man. She hoped within the hour she would see him as a lover. Richard knew she was behind him and and he could feel a difference. Whether they made love or not she was his and he was hers. The fire was beginning was beginning to grow and it popped loudly. The sound was akin to a starting pistol and Richard rose to see Isobel who had been watching him.
He moved towards her, "What do you want?"
"you" The word was simple yet it conveyed many different meanings.
His nose nuzzled against hers, before moving to the side so he could kiss her mouth. He had always marveled at kissing. Besides the tips of the fingers and soles of the feet, lips have no hair. Not having hair allows for the lips to transmit more information to the brain, lips can gauge temperature, feel finer texture and lips had the ability to kiss back!
Isobel's mouth was warm and giving, she didn't shy away from him. The fire popped again and he pulled her closer to him. Isobel could feel the solid wall of Richard's chest but she longed to feel his skin, to feel the warmth his body could radiate. Her hands rose and she pushed off his jacket. If he thought she was being too forward he didn't say so. Truth be told he was thrilled that she being active. Following her lead his own hands roamed over her back. He wanted to feel the topography of her body and also figure out where the buttons were!
Between the two of them clothes began to pile on the floor. His eyes swept over her chest as he took in her corset. His hands went on either side of the busks before he popped open the first hook. The next hooks came quicker before the fabric and bone garment was placed onto the floor. Firelight illuminated her skin, he could see the faint white lines of stretch marks and scars and he loved it. She was real, she had lived a life and had the evidence to prove it. Reaching for her again he pulled her into an embrace and finally she could feel his body and his heat.
Skin made warm from pumping blood. He was so wonderfully alive!
Alive was how he felt. Ever since Sibyl's death he had been existing, now he felt alive. While the bed was close it seemed it had moved a thousand feet away and he groaned. Isobel took his hand and pulled him along with her. She broke the grip only to turn down the bed, as she laid down she sucked in a breath for the bedding was cool to the touch. This was remedied by Richard's warm body draping over her own.
His weight was welcome and she crossed her arms over him anchoring him to her. The solid bulk of him pressed against her and she could feel his chest expand with each breath he took. Craving more contact she tangled her legs with his. Entwined was the only word that Richard's brain could come with to express how he felt. In this moment he would give her anything, he would die for her gladly and he would kill for her without hesitation.
His left hand cupped a breast, "Tell me what you like."
She moaned in response.
The hand caressing her breast moved down, "here?"
She shook her head.
His hand moved to cup her hip, "here?"
She shook her head again yet he could see that she was biting her bottom lip. His hand moved the right, "here?"
She moaned wantonly and Richard had his answer. Fingertips explored and her mouth fell open in a pant. Richard's head was pillowed on her chest as his left hand moved. He could hear her heart. Breathing deeply through his nose he could smell her scent. Besides eating making love was the one activity where all the senses were involved. The sound of her heartbeat increased and he moved his head off of her chest to watch her. Eyes slammed shut, the tendons in her neck flexed, while her chest flushed a deep red-it was beautiful.
When she was calm he brought his hand to his lips and licked his fingers making sure all the senses had been catalogued. Her hands reached for him and he went to her. Legs shifted to accommodate him and he slid between them. The fire was warm against his back, Isobel was warm against his front and when he joined with her she warmed his heart. So long, it had been so long! Even though his length of celibacy rivaled a monks his body remembered how to seek pleasure. Palms and feet braced on the bed as his hips rocked forward. The soft skin of her thighs touched his and he threw his head back at the sensation. The feel of her, the way her body responded to his touches was intoxicating. He would gladly suffer any hangover she gave him. Isobel was trying to wrap her legs around his waist and was failing. Seeing her intent he reached above him and grabbed a pillow which he stuffed under her hips. The new angle and elevation allowed him more access. Isobel moaned as his next thrust rubbed against a certain spot. The feeling was encompassing and she cried out. Needing to hear her again he repeated his movement. Over and over she cried out and he continued his motions. Her eyes closed and he knew what was to happen next. Bracing his hands by her head he increased his pace so he could break with her.
Sybil, Reginald and Scottie were on the grounds at Downton. Sybil was pointing to a certain window. Reginald and Scottie saw a man in black suit cradling a baby.
"Do we need to help him too?" Scottie asked.
"Not yet, he's too wrapped up with her to need me yet." Sybil said.
Scottie looked down at his shoes.
Reginald and Sybil shared a look, Sybil knelt before him. "When and if I need help with Tom will you help me?"
Scottie's face lit up. "You'd let me help you again?"
Sybil laughed, "you were the one that got my mama to listen."
Reginald too knelt in front of Scottie, "If it wasn't for you Isobel wouldn't have known how to help Doctor Clarkson."
Socttie's face fell again, "He's going to be all right isn't he? I just wanted to know why my brothers can't play with me yet and he just told me was sorry."
Sybil held his hand, "Let me take care of that."