Thank you so much, my lovely readers! You're the best :-) I hope you will enjoy the next chapter! my wonderful friend and beta Gemenied: you know the drill! Hugs and kisses!

Chapter 3

My heart is sick of woe ~ Anne Bronte

Dickie sank into an armchair next to the fireplace and sighed out in frustration. Tired of the day and his whole life he rubbed his face. He washed down the bitter taste in his mouth with a large whiskey. The evening had not turned out the way he had hoped for. Larry and his unexpected appearance at the Grantham dinner party had spoiled everything for him and for the Granthams and their guests as well.

"I'm sorry Larry created such a scene," Elizabeth said, as if she had been reading his mind. She was sitting on the couch opposite Dickie and gave him a comforting smile.

"There's no need for you to apologize," Dickie dismissed her sentiment with a swift wave of his hand. "He's the one who has to make amends. Especially to you. His behaviour was outrageous! I should have known him better and prepare you for his vile temper."

"Don't mind me. Nothing Larry throws at me, can really hurt me," she shrugged, but Dickie noticed the slight shadow that crossed her face.

"I'm sorry, you didn't have the chance to talk more to Mrs Crawley."

Dickie leaned his head back. "I'm not sure how sensible any of it really is."

"Mrs Crawley was certainly not happy about my presence. That means she still cares."

"That's just it. The last thing I want is hurting her. She's had enough pain to endure. I don't want to add to her misery by dangling another woman in front of her nose." He exhaled and looked at Elizabeth. "And what kind of misery do I put you through? People shouldn't think that a beautiful, young woman like you is about to marry an old fool like me."

Elizabeth chuckled softly, "You are wonderful and don't you worry about me or my reputation. I won't be here to watch the English upper class gossiping about me once you've dumped me again. You know my ticket for America is already booked."

"Still, it's not right. After tonight the whole city will be talking about us. We should leave London and wait until people have found another scandal to occupy themselves with."

"And Mrs Crawley?" she asked. "You shouldn't give up so easily."

"Believe me, my dear, so far none of this has been easy," Dickie said and rose. "Forgive me, but I think I will call it a night now."

He bent over and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good night. And think about what I said," Elizabeth added gently. "I mean it. Fight for her and don't let Larry or anyone else dictate what to do."

"You're a good soul, Elizabeth. I wish Larry had more sense – and heart to know what he had in you."

"I wish you would stop pestering me about this," Isobel snapped at Violet when they climbed into the car the next afternoon.

"Well, don't tell me it doesn't bother you to hear that your former fiancé and this girl are living under the same roof!" Violet returned.

"That's gossip. I don't believe it for a minute." Violet crooked her right eyebrow. "Denker told me about it and she knows better than lying to me about something like this."

"Perhaps someone lied to her then," Isobel suggested coldly. "You shouldn't believe in every piece of gossip you hear."

Violet sighed, but gave in. "All right. Let's just try to get this afternoon's soiree over with God knows I hate exhibitions. If I wanted to see dead things from the past, I'd go to cemetery, not the National Gallery."

To her annoyance Isobel had to admit that Violet was right about the exhibition. It was incredibly boring indeed and after half an hour, she contemplated going back to Grantham House.

"Who would have guessed...," Violet touched Isobel's arm. "Look, who's standing over there, asking herself why she decided to attend this remarkable event of boredom."

Isobel followed Violet's gaze and saw whom she was talking about. Elizabeth Grant, impeccably dressed in a dream of white linen, was here and apparently she was on her own.

"She looks a bit pale, don't you think?" Violet asked. Isobel didn't answer, because she didn't want to give the Dowager the satisfaction of showing interest in Miss Grant. Yet, she should have known Violet wouldn't just stand by and watch. Before Isobel knew what was happening, Violet was sailing across the large room and approached the young woman.

"She wouldn't...," Isobel mumbled furiously, but, of course, the Dowager did and only a few heart beats later, Violet had Miss Grant on her tails when she returned to Isobel.

"Isn't that a nice coincidence, dear?" Violet chirped with the same bright smile Isobel knew to be the Dowager's most mischievous.

"Indeed," Isobel nodded, trying to be most polite. "Miss Grant."

"Mrs Crawley, I had hoped to talk to you last evening, but unfortunately... that wasn't possible."

"Well, how good the two of you have met here then," Violet said. "If you'll excuse me, but there's an old friend of mine, I need to greet." Violet vanished with the agility of a fawn and left Isobel and Elizabeth back in an atmosphere of uncomfortable silence, until Elizabeth finally broke it.

"I hope you don't find me impertinent, Mrs Crawley, but I was wondering, if... while you're here in London... don't you want to talk to Lord Merton?"

"Why should I?" It sounded harsher than intended and Isobel added quickly, "I mean, I'm not sure, it would be sensible."

"I think it would be very sensible," the younger woman disagreed politely "As I understand, there are a lot of things that need... to be talked about."

"I'm not sure what you mean..."

"Oh, Mrs Crawley, I think you do know what I mean and what I do know is that he's waiting for you."

Isobel blushed, embarrassed by the way the younger woman was getting at her. She suddenly hated, how well Elizabeth Grant seemed to know Dickie and how much he had obviously told her about their past. "I have to say you're..."

"I want what's best for him," Elizabeth interrupted her quickly. "As I hope you do, because otherwise a lot of heartbreak could be prevented. For all of us. So, please, go and see him. Talk things out. If you'll excuse me now, I think I've said enough to embarrass both of us for the time being."

Isobel watched the young woman leaving and it took her a few minutes, before she had restored her inner balance enough to face Violet again.

"So, what did she want?" Violet asked with barely contained curiosity.

"I wish I knew...," Isobel admitted flatly. "I wish I knew."

When Isobel and Violet returned home some time later, Carson presented them the evening post on a silver plate. It was just one letter and it was addressed to Isobel. She recognized the handwriting instantly and quickly hid the envelope in her purse, hoping Violet didn't see it. Which, she did, of course.

"I won't say a word," was everything the Dowager said, before she went upstairs.

Isobel sighed and looked wearily at the letter. The day had been tiring enough already and she was doubtful, anything in Dickie's letter would improve her mood. At first she contemplated throwing it away, but then she took it upstairs with her and read it while she was taking a hot bath.

My dearest Isobel,

it pained me to realize that my son ruined another evening for you and your family. I can only extend my sincere apology for his behaviour and hope you won't think even worse of him than you already do. All I can say is that he must be hurting immensely to cause such a scene. Please, forgive him and me for making the whole situation worse than it already is. I know I speak out of turn, but I desperately wish to talk to you in person and I hope an invitation for tea the day after tomorrow isn't too much asked from you.

Yours truly,

Dickie

~tbc~