A/N: Hi there. It's been a while, hasn't it?! Chapter 12 kicked my butt, honestly. I'm glad I wrote it, but it was emotionally very difficult. So I took a break and wrote Legacy of Love. No lightweight either, that one, but I loved it.
Then the thief sneaked in. Maybe you know him? His name is Self-Doubt. He nearly had me convinced that I should walk away from Tumblr, abandon my ship, give it all up. He and I wrestled. Hard.
In my panic I reached out. To my lovely, gracious beta, ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, who is truly becoming a friend as we work together to turn my raw material into something worth reading. To EllieRoberts and Lady Andith and luisa. m. friedrich. Their response was unanimous: you've got stories to tell! Don't give up! Do it because you love it; because you love Richobel.
And I do. EllieRoberts, I can't thank you enough for how promptly and thoroughly you answered my frantic "Remind me why we love Richobel! Why are they so well suited to one another?" It was exactly what I needed to hear at precisely the right time!
And once again, to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey and our looong late-night chats about the direction of this story. Your thoughts, suggestions, musical inspiration, your patient accommodation of my million questions, and your meticulous nurture of my feeble words have been absolutely invaluable to the continuation of this story. Thank you doesn't begin to cut it here, but I'll say it anyhow!
This chapter takes Richard and Isobel in a new direction. If you're just joining me, please consider starting from the beginning, as this latest bit will make little to no sense otherwise.
~ejb~
Richard and Isobel awoke to sunshine streaming through the windows on their first morning at home as husband and wife. There was a clarity in the quality of the light that, if they hadn't known it was January, would have led them to believe it was summer.
Isobel stretched lazily and rolled toward Richard. He grinned and pulled her on top of him.
"Good morning, my dashing husband," she whispered as she lowered her lips to his. He moaned into the kiss and held her low around her waist.
"Good morning to you, my ravishing bride!"
She laughed in response, the sound of it music to his ears. "Oh, there you go again! Fortunately for you, love, flattery will get you everywhere with this girl!" She kissed him again, carding her fingers through his silver-blond hair.
"So I've noticed. Surely that's owed to the fact that I mean every word?" He spoke sincerely and seductively, and she felt her heart begin to pound.
"Oh, darling, I know. Words cost me nothing, but I can spot empty praise from a mile off. No, if I seem at all taken aback by the lovely things you say, it's due to the fact I know exactly how sincerely you mean them. And it's been an awfully long time since I was so … appreciated."
"Well," he said adoringly, "we must do something about that." He kissed her this time, a series of slow, deep kisses that made her every nerve ending tingle.
"God, Richard …" She said as their lips parted. "Keep that up and we'll never get out of bed!"
"Mmmm," he moaned, his hands drifting to her bottom, "you'll hear no complaints from me. We've the next week completely free from any obligations whatsoever. I believe that's what's known as a honeymoon, yes? And aren't newlyweds supposed to do nothing but make love all day and night while on honeymoon?"
Her lips let slip a moan of their own in response to his words. "Not just newlyweds, my darling man. I've a hunch you and I will always be this way."
"Is that so?" He kissed his way from the corner of her mouth, across the line of her jaw and lower, paying particular attention to the baby-soft skin of her neck and collarbones. When he looked up he took notice of her hands, clenching fistfuls of the sheets. "Well, then …" He lowered his voice until it became a raspy near-whisper. "Come here, Isobel."
She sent a puzzled look his way. "I don't believe we can get any closer, love," she said gently.
"No, darling ...come here." He overturned them swiftly so that she lay beneath him and nudged her knees apart with his thigh. He drew the flat of his palm down from her ribcage and over her abdomen, eliciting a desirous hiss from her lips, and his fingers found her center. She returned his fervor, touching him with more boldness than she had yet. Their coupling was heated and hasty.
Afterward they lay in one another's arms, Isobel marveling at how far they had come together in such a short amount of time. Richard owned her heart completely. She had shared with him from the deepest reaches of her soul and he had handled her vulnerability like fine china, delicate and priceless. Even in her happiness, however, she began to wonder about something she'd observed in him. She had noticed this time as they made love that he clung to her almost in desperation. Where she wore her emotions on her sleeve, he defaulted to locking his away. She had stressed the importance of clear communication between them and he had agreed emphatically. So it must not be that he was deliberately keeping from her that which was troubling him; rather, that he did not realize he was troubled.
Still, as she looked at him now, he had the appearance of being genuinely content. She would not press the matter with him until the moment arose on its own. His conduct had served to show her that his heart must be handled with the same care he lavished upon hers, and that timing was everything.
She reached out to trace her fingertips over the contours of his face. "Are you happy, Richard, my love?"
He turned toward her, smoothing his hand along her side from shoulder to waist. "Oh, Bel, blissfully so. In fact, I was just thinking that if there existed a legal limit to the amount of happiness one was allowed, I exceeded it just about the time you said your vows!"
She smiled, all thoughts of his troubled mind having vanished at his lovely poetic declaration. "Well then, I must have surpassed mine the moment you asked me to be your wife!"
They shared a smile and lay quietly in the comfort of their shared embrace and the warmth of their bed. "What time is it, anyhow?" Isobel had the presence of mind to ask after several moments.
Richard picked up his pocket watch off the nightstand. "Heavens, it's already gone ten o'clock! Isobel, aren't you hungry?"
She thought about it for a moment. "Well yes, I guess I am rather. Only I didn't notice it until just now, as I was quite ...distracted." They shared a knowing look. "Shall we make breakfast together?"
He nodded. "I'd like that. I suppose we ought to get dressed, then."
"As much as I'd like to say I disagree, I'm afraid you're right. I need to ring Elsie, as she did take in our laundry and said she'd bring it by today. But I don't see the need for her to trouble herself. Much as I enjoyed going away with you …" She paused to kiss him so he'd know how sincere she was, "I haven't seen George since Saturday and I miss him. I wonder whether we could take just an hour or so and go by; see him, and thank Cora and Robert once again for their contributions to the wedding. And I could also pop in on Elsie and arrange an afternoon for tea with her later in the week. If you've no objections, of course. This is, after all, our time."
"And what I enjoy most about our time is seeing you smile, Isobel. You're positively radiant when you do, and every time you see Master George you break into the sort of grin that lights up your entire countenance. I'll promote anything that causes you so much joy."
She had been sitting at the vanity pinning up her hair, and his words caused her to drop the hairpins she was holding. She spun around in the chair to face him. "Darling man, you are most extraordinary," she said adoringly. "Two things you must know: first, you bring me greater joy than I would hazard any human being has ever known. Secondly, you are George's grandfather now—"
Richard's jaw dropped. How had this fact slipped past him? And how was he to feel about it?
"By marriage," he interrupted.
Isobel regarded his puzzlement with a mix of delight and concern. She realized that he had not belonged to a family proper since the deaths of his parents, and that the peerage was a source of intimidation for him. "Well, yes, but that makes you no less significant than I, as you are my heart, Richard. And what I mean to say is that you need not address your grandson by title. I encourage you to begin looking at George as precisely that: our grandson. Your grandson. He is a part of me and now I am a part of you, therefore …"
She let her statement hang in the air. So much had changed between them indeed. She suspected that a great many of his long-held customs would be changing now and remembered how jarring it was for her when she had come to Downton, and for Tom when he had married Sybil.
Richard went quiet as he processed this information. Isobel watched for a moment as he stood in front of the wardrobe, perusing its contents with unseeing eyes. She rose and walked to him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "What is it, darling? I'm listening."
He turned to face her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. "Only that it's rather a lot to get used to. Me, a grandfather? But I've never been a brother, or an uncle, or a father! Don't misunderstand me; I've longed for a family of my own. Always. My parents were wonderful but it was just us three, and when they were gone, well …"
"Richard, I can say with complete confidence that there is no one better suited to the task than you. Your hands brought forth each one of Robert and Cora's daughters, to say nothing of the hundreds of other new lives you've welcomed over the years. I've seen you walk the corridors soothing those babies. I've watched as you've set broken bones and patched skinned knees and you're so tender. Yours is such a calming presence. The children of the village love you. If I had a pound for every time a young patient has told me, 'Doctor Clarkson is my friend,' well, darling, we'd own that hospital! The only thing that changes in regard to George is that you'll be more free to love him now, no longer from a distance as simply a patient or the heir to Downton."
These words seemed to ease his mind a little, as evidenced by the softening of his posture. She smiled as she felt him relax into her embrace. "Now, what else? Are there any other ways by which I can put your mind at rest?" She was fairly certain what his answer would be, but she asked the question nonetheless. If nothing else, perhaps it would serve to get him thinking and eventually he'd recognize on his own the unrest that was so evident to her.
"Just this, my Bel. Being in your arms." He turned in her arms and kissed her soundly.
"Then you shall have more of it, love. But for now, I believe it was you who insinuated I should be hungry. Bacon and eggs are calling, darling, and I'd so appreciate you cooking the bacon as I've never once failed to burn myself in the process."
"Well, now, we can't have that. You can be in charge of omelets then, and I'll man the grease. And we'll call it brunch, given the hour."
She regarded him with delight. "I do love you in take-charge mode. It's most enchanting." She held his hand and they walked down the stairs.
After brunch was finished, Richard and Isobel went to the Abbey. They sat down to tea with Cora and Edith and were joined a while later by Robert and Mary, just back from meeting with one of the tenant farmers. Conversation naturally drifted to the wedding, with the family unanimously agreeing that none of them had ever been so moved by a marriage ceremony.
As they visited, George's nanny brought him to Mary to be fed before his nap. Isobel sent an inquisitive look Mary's way. Mary nodded and Isobel took George from the nanny. It was a sweet reunion of grandmother and grandson as George snuggled instantly into her arms.
Richard took note of the baby's contentment in Isobel's arms and smiled. I know precisely how you feel, wee man, he thought. Isobel took Richard's hand. "I'll share him, Granddad. Would you like to hold him?"
Mary smiled and chimed in with, "Yes, of course, Dr. Clarkson! You must hold your grandson! How lovely for us that he gains such an honorable man for a grandfather."
Richard was quite taken aback by her words and her demeanor and Isobel registered the stiffening of his posture, but he covered it well enough that none but she noticed his bemusement.
"Thank you kindly, Lady Mary. It's no small deed for a new mother to share her infant as I well know." Richard took George into his arms. The baby must have found his grandfather's presence nearly as soothing as his grandmother's for he curled himself against Richard's chest easily.
"Nonsense," Mary replied. "You're family. And let's dispense with the formalities, shall we? At least between you and I. I'm George's mother and you're his grandfather, married to our wonderful Isobel. She glows in your presence, and that fact in and of itself makes you a friend of mine. Please, call me Mary."
Richard found himself speechless. Isobel squeezed his hand, bringing him back to his senses. He cleared his throat and nodded. "It'll take some getting used to, but I shall try, La—" he caught himself. "—Mary."
Isobel watched the exchange carefully. Her heart felt full to the point of bursting at Mary's warm acceptance of Richard as not only her son's grandfather, but as a friend. It was a tremendous concession on Mary's part, one that Isobel knew would never have taken place were it not for the influence of Matthew's love upon Mary's heart. At the same time, however, the unease she perceived in Richard perturbed her. Can't you see she means you no harm? She wants you to feel included.
The group sat together for a few minutes more, allowing Richard time with his new grandson. He and Mary chatted about how well George was eating ("All the time. Constantly," Mary offered) and how poorly he was sleeping ("For the past two nights he's been up every hour and a half!"). The difference was that this time Richard listened not in his customary capacity but as grandfather first, physician second.
"It certainly sounds as if you're doing everything you can," Richard granted, "but then Isobel's been in your shoes and can likely speak to it better than I."
When George began to fuss for his feeding, Richard handed him back to Mary.
"Isobel, would you join us? That is of course if you don't mind, Doct—" Mary slipped. "—Richard. I'm sorry. It'll take some time for me as well."
"No trouble," he answered. "Take your time, Isobel. I'll be here." Doing what, he wasn't sure, as the ladies undoubtedly wouldn't stay around on his account.
Cora must have understood his predicament, for she elbowed Robert as he sat next to her. She indicated with a pointed look that she needed a private audience with him and they stepped aside for a moment. When they returned Robert wore a discomfited expression, but his words were friendly.
"Doctor Clarkson, I wonder whether you'd walk with me while I survey a few of the outbuildings. I'd like to get your thoughts on a matter or two."
Richard looked at Isobel. What am I to make of this?
It's an overture, darling. Just go with it.
"It would be my pleasure, Lord Grantham," Richard answered, albeit not without a panic-stricken glance in his wife's direction.
Isobel sat with Mary for the duration of George's feeding. Just as Richard had suggested, she was able to advise her daughter-in-law with regard to the baby. "At four months they experience quite a growth spurt. It accounts for both his increased appetite and his sleep regression. I can't tell you how long it will last, but I can assure you it most certainly will come to an end. The best advice I can give you - what worked for me - is to feed him on demand, even if it seems like it's all you do for a while. Ultimately it'll be easier on you, the nanny, and George than trying to hold him off, listening to him cry and wondering what on earth is wrong. I'll come whenever you need relief ...so long as your mother doesn't mind, that is."
"Please. Mama? Lately it seems she and Papa both are of the opinion that I'm to be handled with kid gloves. If your presence makes my burden easier to carry, they'll hardly have a word to say about it. So long as your groom can spare you, that is. How's that going, by the way? Wait … I need only look at your face to know the answer. You're radiant, Isobel. I'm thrilled for you."
Isobel couldn't hide her smile. "Thank you, darling. It has been most wonderful, as I knew it would be. Even so, as long as I've known him, he still manages to surprise me. You heard the vows … Who would've known he was such a romantic?"
Mary smiled and it almost reached her eyes. Isobel was the only one capable of causing such a reaction these days and it gratified her each time she saw it. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: you give me hope, Isobel."
"And I'll say it again as well: there is always reason to hope, darling girl. Now give him over and lie down. Your eyelids are at half-mast! I'll rock him until he's down and let Nanny know to listen for him when I go."
"You're a godsend, you know," Mary said as she handed George over.
"Oh, get away with you," Isobel said lightheartedly. "Rest, love."
When George was settled, Isobel ventured below stairs. She was met by surprised glances from several of the staff, but they greeted her with "Hello, Mrs. Clarkson," and "Congratulations" nonetheless.
She rapped lightly on the door to Elsie's sitting room, but when it opened she was met not by the smiling face of the housekeeper, but by the taciturn butler.
"Mrs. Clarkson!" The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips, belying the alarm in his voice. He remembers.
"Mr. Carson. I was here to see George and thought I'd chance popping in on Mrs. Hughes. Is she in?" And the unspoken question. Did you talk to her?
Clearly it was only Richard who could read between her lines, for Carson was swift to reply with, "She is indeed. One moment." He ducked back inside and she heard him announce, "Mrs. Clarkson to see you." He showed her in with his accustomed flourish and took his leave.
"Isobel!" Elsie exclaimed, embracing her friend. She held the other woman out at arm's length to get a good look at her. "Aye, but marriage seems to agree with you, now! You've never looked better! Tell me, how are you?" Elsie indicated that Isobel should sit and poured tea for the both of them before doing the same.
Isobel beamed. "I'm wonderful. It's … He's …" She found herself unable to finish and they both giggled.
"Well it must be all that and more to render you of all people speechless," Elsie teased.
"Oh, you! It's been remarkable, for the most part, but that's a conversation for another day. Which is why I'm here to begin with. I wanted to thank you for the roses. They're magnificent! And for changing the linens and taking in our washing while we were away. But mostly I wanted to ask, when are you free? In your note you mentioned tea in Ripon and I think it's a splendid idea if you're still so inclined."
"But of course! My afternoon off is on Friday."
"This morning Richard told me he'll gladly promote anything that makes me smile. But his behavior since we've been here today has been somewhat … contradictory. No matter; I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of it. If he's unable to drive us on Friday, I know Tom would."
Elsie assimilated this bit of information with a concerned expression. "I'm sure I know how you feel," she said softly.
Isobel, ever perceptive, didn't miss her friend's expression. "Elsie, what is it?"
Elsie straightened in her chair. "Nothing. It's nothing at all," she said. She wasn't fooling either of them.
"Carson?" Isobel asked. Elsie nodded, and Isobel's heart sank a little. So then he hasn't spoken to her yet.
"Aye, the very same. I had thought - I had hoped the tide was turning in that regard, but the other evening we spent twenty minutes trading barbs about a few footmen taking an evening off and he ended the exchange with 'I'll thank you to remember, Mrs. Hughes, that the staff answer to me.' And he's been cold as ice ever since."
Isobel reached across the table, covering Elsie's hand with her own. "I'm so sorry. I can see how much his words have hurt you. I want very much to discuss this further, but I feel the current setting may not be advantageous for you. Can you wait until Friday? Then we'll have all the time you like and the freedom to speak without guarding our tongues."
Elsie's face brightened. "As if being in this house has ever made you mindful of your tongue," she teased. "Yes, I've waited years to sort out this business between Mr. Carson and myself. Heaven knows I can wait another few days."
Isobel smiled. "I have hope for the two of you, Elsie. Don't lose heart, whatever you do. Before I leave, can I relieve you of our laundry?"
"Nonsense," Elsie replied with a wave of her hand. "I'll get one of the hall boys to put it in the boot of the car. You enjoy your honeymoon, Mrs. Clarkson! Focus on all of the good and not the little bit of trouble, and I'll see you Friday."
Isobel made her way back upstairs just in time to find Richard returning from walking the grounds with Robert. They clasped hands upon their reunion, both still unsure about showing affection in the presence of others but certain enough that each determined to express it. She smiled as he took her hand readily in his own. Their laundry collected, Richard handed Isobel into the car and they drove home. He was reticent and solemn for the duration of the afternoon, though he kept her physically near. Her stomach began to hurt as she wondered about the nature of his peculiar behavior.
Talk to me, she silently pleaded. I love you. Talk to me!
Mary took Isobel up on her offer of help with George and called her several times that week for relief. Richard drove her and stayed a little while to spend time with their grandson. During one of their visits they weighed and measured the baby to set Mary's mind at ease and found that he had grown and gained significantly from his measurement two weeks prior. Mary had been unsuccessful at getting him to settle down for a nap, so Isobel took over and suggested Mary get out for a walk in the fresh air and sunshine.
Robert had somewhat reluctantly asked Richard to play cribbage at Cora's urging and Richard had agreed with equal hesitancy. As the game progressed, the conversation began to ease a bit. The two men focused on the common ground of their grandson and found that on that subject they had no end of things to talk about. That was until Richard noticed the time and realized it had been quite a while since he had seen Isobel. He mentioned this to Robert.
"Indeed, it has been quite some time. She'll be in the nursery and you're welcome to look in on her." While he thanked Robert, internally Richard bristled at this. So now that he was married to one of the family, he was to have the run of the house? To forget that he was not landed gentry, that he came with no title or pedigree and that the regard in which he was held by the village he served was earned by decades of back-breaking work, a concept necessarily foreign to the Granthams?
His heart softened immediately when he discovered his wife. In fact, the vision she cast knocked the breath right out of his lungs. Isobel lay fast asleep on the bed, George lying on his stomach against her chest, sleeping soundly. Even in sleep her hands cradled his tiny body protectively, one at the base of his skull and the other under his bottom.
Richard didn't know whether to smile or to weep. His Isobel. She of fiery temperament and healing hands; of strong opinions and purest heart. She who loved intensely and had lost so much, too much. It made his heart soar to watch her, both she and the baby so at peace in the other's presence. She came by the traits inherent in motherhood so naturally: intuition, stamina, nurture. It tore him apart to know that she had lost this opportunity with all but one of her own children, and that the one with whom she had shared these sweet moments had been wrenched out of her life horrifically. He knew she'd say there was no sense dwelling on the past, that what mattered was that Matthew lived on through little George and she was determined to love him fully and without reservation. He admired her for that. It was that resolve that had seen her through every one of the senseless losses in her past. But sometimes, sometimes he felt her pain as acutely as she, and it sidelined him. What on earth was he to do with it all?
As he watched her now he struggled with whether to wake her. He certainly did not want to disturb George, who was finally sleeping for the first time in sixteen hours. He knelt beside the bed and placed a soft kiss by her ear. "Isobel. Isobel, darling," he whispered.
She registered the intrusion and tightened her hold on the baby. Richard's whisper came again. "Isobel, it's me." Her eyes opened and her posture relaxed.
"Richard," she acknowledged blearily, blinking back sleep. "I'm so sorry! I only meant to settle him but he wasn't going down easily. I tried many things but it took this to finally soothe him."
He took her by the arm and helped her to sit up, keeping the baby snuggled close. "It's quite alright, my dear," he said tenderly. "I'm sure he and his mother are both eternally grateful to you."
"I'm going to suggest to Mary that she simply let him sleep now, for as long as he will. This may signify the end of the growth spurt and I always found Matthew and I were completely exhausted when one drew to a close." She looked to Richard and he helped her to stand. She laid George in his crib and tucked the blanket tightly around him. They stood and watched him for a moment to verify that he would not unsettle. "What were you up to all this time?" she asked him.
She felt as well as saw the change in the atmosphere as Richard rolled his eyes. "Playing cribbage with Lo—" he heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes once more, "with Robert. Though I think he was rather put up to it, he insisted. On both the game and the use of first names." Now he looked truly vexed, and she didn't know what to make of it.
"They mean to welcome you into the family, love. I—"
"Isobel." One word. Just her name spoken in that tone of voice and it was clear that all was not well between them.
Her brow creased in worry and hot tears burned the backs of her eyes. He had argued with her so very many times, but she had never heard him sound so cold, so bitter.
"Richard?"
"This is hardly the time or place," he replied tersely. "Say goodbye to George."
Each bent over the crib to kiss their sleeping grandson. Isobel preceded Richard down the stairs and asked Carson to bring their coats and to see if she could have a word with Lady Mary.
Mary appeared and Isobel schooled her face into a neutral expression. "Darling, we're going. George fell asleep an hour ago and I don't expect you'll hear from him for some time. Ring me if you need me in the night and I'll come."
She didn't hear Mary's response, whatever it was. She was aware of Richard's hand at her elbow as he guided her into the car. She felt her heart pound, heard the blood rushing in her ears. She had argued with him more times than either could count. Sometimes she'd even gotten something of a thrill from their verbal sparring. But this was entirely different. During none of those arguments had she been his.
The ride home was completely silent, which served to unnerve Isobel even further. She thought she'd rather they rage and scream at one another - at least then she would know what he was thinking!