"Are you quite sure about this, Mrs. Crawley?" young Clara asked, helping Isobel on with her coat.

"If I'm not, it won't make any difference now," Isobel replied, thanking the maid as she gathered her bag.

"I do hope you have a nice time, ma'am," Clara said quietly, looking down and clasping her hands together in front.

"Thank you, Clara," Isobel replied kindly before heading out in to the cool afternoon. Dickie Merton had sent a car which was now parked outside her gate. Taking a deep breath, she strode forward with determination, quelling the bubbling emotions inside.

"Mrs. Crawley, milord," the Butler announced, causing Dickie to stop pacing and look towards the entryway.

"Thank you," he replied, nodding to the Butler and smiling at Isobel. "Please, come in."

He motioned for her to take a seat on the settee. Thanking him softly, she obliged.

"It was good of you to come," he said, taking a seat across from her.

She forced a smile. "Yes…well…it was good of you to ask."

He could clearly see she was nervous, as was he. He sat forward and clasped his hands together over his knees.

"I suppose I should get to the heart of the matter…rather than allow this cloud of anxiety to hang over the both of us," he explained.

And finally, he saw the real Isobel come through as she laughed softly and looked down. "Yes, I suppose that would make things more comfortable," she answered, her lips curling in to a grin.

He nodded in agreement. "I mentioned that things have changed since we last saw each other. Larry and Timothy…Larry especially...have taken a great interest in America. Many of their friends and colleagues have gone overseas, and they wish to try their hands at investment trading. Larry has already booked his crossing, and I doubt it will be long before Timothy follows suit."

He stood and clasped his hands behind his back, pausing to allow her time to absorb the information. When he looked up, he saw her eyeing him intently; clearly curious as to what he would say next.

"And with their decision to move to America, they seemed to have changed their feelings on certain subjects. Perhaps it is the prospect of a new adventure that has mellowed their former thoughts on our…on our getting married."

Isobel's head shot up in shock. "You mean…"

Dickie nodded, his smile widening. "They would like to meet you, properly and with no underlying opinions.'A fresh start' Timothy called it. That is….if you…"

He sensed her unease and saw her face dropping in to a frown.

"I do not mean to press you…" he said quickly, coming to sit beside her on the settee."I suppose I was so relieved when they boys approached me with the idea, I never thought…"

She smiled weakly and shook her head. "Please don't apologize. It is very generous of them."

Dickie agreed but could see she was still hesitant. "Isobel…I know they hurt you. I wish I could take it all back…to forget the whole thing ever happened. But I assure you, my feelings have not changed…if anything, I've only grown to love you more since we last met. It is all I can do to get you off of my mind."

"Please don't," she whispered, turning her head to look away. She closed her eyes, willing away her tears.

Confused as to her reaction, he cautiously reached over to touch her arm. "Have your feelings changed? Have I ruined everything?"

She turned quickly, her moist eyes meeting his. If anything were true, her feelings had also deepened for the Lord Merton. She missed him desperately since calling off their engagement, and she did not wish him to feel he was at fault.

"Not at all…forgive me," she replied, looking away from his concerned gaze. "I suppose this is all a bit overwhelming."

He sighed in relief, his hand reaching down to clasp hers. "I do hope you mean that; because I wish for nothing more than to marry you, Isobel Crawley."

He cares…and he has a right to know…

Dr. Clarkson's words rang through her mind as Dickie squeezed her hand gently. Should she tell him…could she make him understand?

"I'm sorry…but I can't," she whispered, leaving go of his hand and quickly crossing to the far side of the room. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, trying to maintain some sense of composure.

A tense moment of silence passed before she heard his voice behind her.

"I don't understand," he said quietly. "I thought if the boys agreed…you said you would be happy to get married."

Memories of the conversation they'd had in her drawing room after Rose's wedding came to mind…how happy she'd been at the prospect of becoming his wife. When he'd asked if she had any other reason for not marrying, she had dismissed the notion, saying she would be very glad to marry him. She hadn't thought of it since her last check up with Dr. Clarkson….since her diagnosis.

"What has changed, Isobel?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his tone.

"It is not you…nor the boys…" she replied, "...it means so much to know that you still want to marry after everything that has happened."

She turned slowly and met his eyes. He was mere inches away from her, so close she wondered he didn't hear how loudly her heart seemed to be beating. If ever she hated herself, it was in this moment. She did not wish to crush both of their dreams…but either way, he would be hurt in the end. This was the only way….

"Then tell me what more I can do to convince you to become my wife," he pleaded, reaching forward and clasping her hands between his. "Please, Isobel…"

"It would be unfair of me to marry you now Lord…Dickie," she said, correcting herself. She cursed herself for sounding so harsh and formal. "While things have changed for the better with the boys…I'm afraid there was more to my decision than their opinions."

He remained silent, though his face twisted with confusion.

He must know the real reason you broke off the engagement….

She shuddered at the memory of Dr. Clarkson's words but knew the doctor was right. Dickie deserved to know…if for no other reason than to understand how much she cared and wanted to protect him.

"We've talked of how busy the Outpatient Clinic has been. Before the holiday, it seemed I was there every day to help. I freely admit I was worn down…so much so that the Dowager insisted I see Dr. Clarkson."

"I remember," he said, nodding slightly, "but I thought the doctor gave you a clean bill of health, did he not? We met for tea after, and you said everything was all right."

She nodded, looking down and pulling her hands from his. "Yes…yes, I did say that. But I'm afraid that was not the truth."

Dickie's hands dropped in defeat at his sides. He shook his head, his eyes creased with confusion. "I don't understand."

Sighing, she crossed her arms and turned to look out the window again. "Of course you don't…I don't expect you to. It…it was wrong of me not to tell you from the start…but I suppose I was too shocked that I couldn't even imagine how to explain it."

Making up her mind, she turned sharply and let her arms drop to her sides. "I do care for you, Dickie…truly. And it is because I care that we cannot get married."

"But what is the problem if we both care about each other…love each other?" he asked, stepping forward and pulling her hands up. "Isobel…"

"I have a heart condition and not much time left," she blurted out, her eyes not daring to meet his. She could feel his hands tense and dreaded causing him any pain.

"A heart condition?" he asked quietly, keeping her fingers firmly in his hands. "What does that mean?"

Her chest began to constrict as the room seemed to close in around her. Deep breaths, deep breaths….

"Apparently my heart was weakened when I had rheumatic fever as a young girl. Dr. Clarkson feels that is when the damage started," she answered softly.

He dropped her hands, his mind devoid of any logical thought, as he stared down at her. "But you've not been ill since then?" She shook her head, prompting his next question. "Then this cannot be too serious, can it?"

"It is true I've not had more than a spot of influenza over the years," she answered with a sigh. "But the damage done by the fever is irreversible. And as one ages, the heart muscle does weaken…I'm afraid mine has simply worn out."

Dickie said nothing. He covered his slightly open mouth with one hand, while the other came to rest on his hip as he contemplated the situation. She felt the need to comfort him, to take his hands and tell him she was not worried. She had lived a fulfilling life and accepted that this was her fate. But getting too close now would only make leaving him more painful.

"So you see…I couldn't rope you in to a marriage where you would have to care for me or make amends because I was unable to fulfill my duties as your wife. It would not be fair to you…"

It took only three long strides for Dickie to stand front of her. Her words faded as his hands clasped her upper arms, his eyes searching hers. Her chest began to ache as her breaths came short and quick, her anxiety heightened by his close proximity.

"Dickie…" she began, hoping to break the tension.

"I won't accept this," he spoke lowly. "I will not allow you to make this decision on your own."

"But I..."

"I am going to be your husband…for better or worse…in sickness and in health." He spoke with such confidence that she feared going against him. "Isobel…whether it be one day, one month, one year or ten…there is nothing that would make me happier than to be called your husband; no matter what state of health you are in when we declare our vows."

Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes filling with tears as she looked down. Her hand came to cover her lips as a sob threatened to escape. Tentatively, Dickie pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her back.

"I won't let you go," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "Please…marry me, Isobel. Let me take care of you…let me love you."

Isobel gathered her emotions and slowly pushed back from Dickie's chest. Meeting his eyes, a single tear slipped down her cheek. "It would only cause more of a hassle…my being here and unable to help you."

"Never," he replied firmly.

"I don't want anyone's pity…I haven't told anyone because I cannot bear to have them treat me as though I'm already in the ground."

Her common sense urged her to say anything that would make him see burying another wife was his fate if they married. But her strength, emotionally and physically, was waning…and her walls of defense quickly falling.

"Pity is not what I am offering," he countered. "Simply my love. And you are more than deserving of that…with or without a heart condition."

"I…I don't know what to say," she said, grateful he still had a hold on her. Her legs felt weak and her breathing quite shallow.

"Say yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes," he answered with a grin. "Say yes."

Silence enveloped them for a moment as Isobel's mind raced with excuses, warnings, reasons why she should never be Lady Merton. But staring in to his eyes, she quickly lost all her inhibition.

"All right…" she whispered as her eyes tentatively met his. "Yes."