Isobel had fallen asleep nestled against Richard. Her rhythmic breathing along with the warmth of the fire had Richard relaxing. He had just made love to Isobel Crawley, the experience more than outdid any fantasy he had conjured up. The fire popped and he raised his hand to stroke along her back. His had moved in counterpoint to her breathing. It wasn't long before he too surrendered to sleep.
He was washing dishes in his small kitchen as Isobel hummed as she stitched in his front room. As his hand went to retrieve a dirty dish he noticed that it was seemingly floating before him. He turned his head and saw Sybil. Keeping silent he merely took the dish from her and began to wash it.
Sybil watched as his scrubbed the dish, "I don't blame you for my death. I'm sorry if I have given you that notion. I didn't know how to talk to you so I had some help."
Richard's clever mind was putting it all together, "The man in the brown suit" and Sybil nodded in confirmation.
"I'm still sorry." Richard whispered the dish plunging back into the soapy water.
"I know, we all do." She said knowingly.
Sybil smiled at Doctor Clarkson before he nodded in acknowledgement.
"Take care of those you love doctor." Sybil said her voice striving for a benevolent tone yet her eyes held a warning. She turned to leave the kitchen.
Richard's grip let go of the dish and it hit the bottom of the sink with a clang. He strode towards her, "Who is it? Who will be next?"
Sybil couldn't answer him but he knew he was right there was going to be someone.
In the morning Richard and Isobel made love again. The words of Sybil seemed to be etched on his brain. He held her to him as if this moment was all they were ever going to have. Each kiss was moment to be cherished. Isobel was overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. When he left Crawley House for his own she watched him through the window. Watching a man-her man stroll confidently through the village.
In the coming days Cora arranged for Isobel to attend a luncheon at the Abbey. Slowly all were coming out grief.
Isobel smiled as she saw Cora spin her teacup in the saucer, her four birthstone ring catching the light. "Has Sybil spoken to you?"
Cora smiled somewhat sadly while she was overjoyed that she and Robert had reconnected she still missed her daughter. "Yes, and I did what she asked. I don't think I'll see her for quite some time."
Isobel's head hung low, while she had found love again with Richard she knew the Reginald was truly gone having walked off with that young boy.
"Scottie" Isobel whispered.
At the name Cora's head snapped up. "Scottie?" She repeated.
Isobel could see the mixture of anticipation and shock on Cora's face. "I had a dream about Reginald the other night. He walked away with a small boy who I don't know-his name is Scottie."
The color had drained from Cora's face, "Sybil did the same thing, blonde child...maybe five?"
"Toy trucks" Isobel delivered and Cora nodded in affirmation.
The two women were shocked that both had dreamed of the same child and it had been the same child.
Months passed, and Richard and Isobel wed. The night before the ceremony Isobel came to him with a box. Inside were the photographs from her wedding to Reginald. As he looked at the photographs he was struck by two things. The first was that Isobel had been a beautiful bride and the second was that he recognized the bridegroom. Reginald Crawley was the man from his dream, the man in the brown suit. Mr. Crawley had admonished him to find a good nurse and he had done.
With the news of Mary's pregnancy the dreams had all but been forgotten. Isobel and Cora were both overjoyed to welcome the baby. For Cora another grandchild would be at Downton and for Isobel she would be seeing her first.
The night before the family left for Scotland Richard dreamt of Sybil. She was in her nursing grey's and didn't speak to him in her hand he recognized one of toys of young Scott Freeman. When Richard woke he had a strange foreboding. He mentioned his feeling to Isobel but left out the vision of Sybil. She assuaged his fears over Mary.
Matthew was enjoying Duneagle, at night as he cradled his wife's blossoming body against his he felt content. His dreams were filled with children, he often wondered in his waking hours what his child would look like. Would it be a boy or a girl? His dream tonight was filled with a playground, he could hear the chants of girls as they skipped rope. As he looked at the children playing he saw a young blonde child smashing his toy trucks together. The boy saw him and waved and Matthew returned it heartily.
Tom Branson had never stopped loving his wife. As he wept tears on Elsie Hughes he knew that he could never let her go. That night as he went to bed he dreamed of the rolling hills of Ireland. He had taken Sybil along this route, as the car bumped along he reduced his speed.
"It's beautiful" A voice gasped.
Tom turned and saw Sybil sitting in the passenger seat staring out at the landscape.
"I'd rather look at you." Tom said truthfully.
Sybil placed her hand on the dashboard, "Stop"
The car slowed before stopping. Sybil shook her head, "You can love again, I want you to."
"I don't want to." Tom said bitterly.
"Yes you do." Sybil said.
"I can't bear this. Please tell me that you're coming for me." He said shakily.
She held his face in her hands, wiped his tears before kissing his lips, "Not yet. Not yet."
The dead themselves never knew the exact moment a person they had loved would be joining them they only had a vague sense of the time. Reginald knew who was coming and Sybil had felt it too. She had gone to Clarkson for her own comfort and for she knew that he was one of the few that could soothe the oncoming pain.
When Mary had come back to Downton and delivered everyone seemed to release their collective held breath. Richard had been overjoyed to see Isobel so happy at the birth of her grandson. She had happily gone to the Abbey to give the news. It wasn't until men carrying the broken body of Matthew Crawley into the hospital that Richard understood what Sybil had tried to convey...the whispers of the dead.
A/N: Unsure whether to leave it here or continue. Again I am not a mind reader.