A/N: This chapter features a relationship hinted at several times in earlier chapters, namely, the friendship between Isobel and Elsie Hughes. Canon gave us glimpses, fanfic writers like Batwings79 and ChelsieSouloftheAbbey fleshed it out beautifully for us, and I felt it was time to have a go at it myself!
I would have been foolish to attempt to write Elsie Hughes without consulting someone who knows her character inside and out and loves her the way I love Isobel. ChelsieSouloftheAbbey advised me on plausibility and suggested a scene that really helped this chapter reach its pinnacle and accomplish its purpose. Once again, many, many thanks, my friend!
I like to think of this chapter as an anthem to girlfriends. They dry our tears. They share our deepest sorrows and our greatest joys. They have the hard conversations with us. They spur us on to be our best. To T, my first and best and always. We're stuck with one another and I wouldn't have it any other way! To C, the big sister I never had. The most honest-yet-gracious person I know. To A for loving me like a sister and my kiddos as your own. To K, of whom I thought often as I wrote Elsie & Isobel's conversation. I can say of each and every one of you, "Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come." (Proverbs 31:25 ESV)
~ejb~
They arrived at the cottage and Richard offered Isobel his hand getting out of the car. She accepted it, the brush of his fingertips against her palm making her breath catch. Not so angry as to forego gentleness, she thought for an instant. But as soon as she was out of the vehicle he pulled his hand away. Her stomach lurched and she nearly cried out in pain. His hand brushed the small of her back as he allowed her to precede him through the front door, but again, before she could feel the warmth of his touch it was gone.
He lit a fire in the fireplace and leaned against the sofa with his arms crossed. She paced, watching him.
Finally, she could stand the silence no longer. "Richard, something has been eating at you ever since we got back from London. You're shutting me out and I can't bear it! I've told you over and over again how very important it is that we communicate, because I know what happens in a marriage when communication falls apart and—"
"Well I don't know! I don't know that, Isobel! I've never been through this before, all right?! Look, I love you. You mean everything to me. But our being together has brought with it a great deal of change, has it not? I'm trying to keep pace with all of it. You have to remember I've been by myself, living the same life in the same village with the same ways for forty years!"
"I know that our being together has brought changes. I understand it's difficult! You don't think my life changed when Matthew and I moved here from Manchester?!"
"It's not at all the same, Isobel! It's night and day and you know it! You had a family. You knew how to function as part of a whole. I don't have that experience! I've never had to think about sharing my thought processes with someone else. Whether what I say - or don't say - has been misconstrued. Well, clearly it has been! I have no frame of reference for any of this! Not for communicating with you, not for listening to your opinion on every facet of my life and certainly not for suddenly being on familiar terms with the very family who holds the power over my employment in the palm of their hand. It's all jolly good to hear that I should feel glad about it, but how about what I do feel? Well, now, that I couldn't tell you, because it's never quiet enough for me to think! I thought you knew what you were getting and that I was enough for you. Clearly I'm not, if I'm suddenly meant to verbalize each thought as it enters my mind; if I'm to forget the great gulf that separates me from your family and act as though we're old chums." He paused for breath and looked at her dejectedly.
"I can't be what you want me to be, Isobel! Christ, it's as if I haven't the room to breathe!" His voice broke, coming as a strangled whisper.
Isobel, who had never before backed down from a fight, suddenly found herself unable to think, let alone speak. She stood rooted to her spot for long moments, mouth agape. Then abruptly she turned on her heel and picked up the telephone in Richard's study.
"Carson," she could be heard to say, "it's Mrs. Clarkson. Is Mr. Branson in? Yes, would you ask him to come to the phone?" A pause, and then, "Tom? Would you come round to the cottage for me? Yes, I've told Mary I'll help with George. Ten minutes? Thank you."
If one were to ask her later, Isobel would have said she did not remember it happening, but she made her way upstairs and gathered clothing and toiletries into her valise, then marched back downstairs for her coat and hat. As she put them on she turned to Richard. "If it's breathing room you need then you shall have it. I'll be at the Abbey." She would not have believed herself capable of such coldness toward the one her heart loved, but then neither would she have believed the same from him until she saw it.
She stepped out into the cold, still darkness. It was then that she realized she was shaking, her body reacting to the adrenaline high brought on by the argument. As she waited for Tom she replayed Richard's words on a continuous loop in her head. 'I can't be what you want me to be, Isobel!' She blinked back tears and shook her head. How had it come to this? They weren't married a week yet! All she had meant to do was to love him. To give him the family he never had. To spare them the mistakes she had made in her first marriage. How could she have gotten it so wrong?
Tom pulled up and stepped out of the car to help with her valise. Despite the darkness he knew that something was wrong the second he laid eyes on her.
"Mum? What is it? Is something wrong with Doctor Clarkson? His car is here; is he not at home?" He caught her wrists and held her at arm's length. She was trembling. He drew her into a protective embrace.
"No, Tom, Richard is inside. I'm afraid we've had a … difference of opinion and he feels the need for breathing room. And so he shall have it." The way in which she looked at him told Tom that the matter was not open to discussion. He shook his head in dismay and then nodded with resolve as he helped her into the car.
"Right then. Out of respect for you, I shall reserve comment until such time as you deem it welcome." He smiled impishly at her and she acknowledged his attempt to lighten the mood, squeezing his hand appreciatively. She knew that he would not have allowed his opinion to go unheard for anyone else.
"Thank you, son. Richard and I may be at odds with one another, but I owe it to him to keep the nature of our disagreement between the two of us, especially since he vowed to do the same. What I need is a covert entry into the Abbey. I don't mind Mary knowing I'm there, as it'll be under the guise of helping with George. I highly doubt she'll need me tonight, as George should sleep now for a good long while. But if there's anyone practiced in the art of the cover-up, it's Mary. And Elsie and I will be leaving at noon tomorrow for tea in Ripon. I'll not trouble her with any of this before then since she's working, but would you be so kind as to drive us?"
It troubled Tom that he didn't know the nature of the secret he was sworn to protect, but Isobel was not given to asking much of him. After all she'd done for him, surely he could do this for her.
"Of course, Mum. We'll enter through the back door and I'll let Mary know you've arrived. Most of the staff have retired for the evening but Mary was still up when I left. I'll leave it to you and she to work out the rest."
They did just as Tom suggested, meeting no one in the servants' quarters much to their relief. Tom had Isobel wait in Elsie's sitting room while he took her valise and set off to find Mary. Mary returned with him moments later, a rather uncharacteristic look of concern upon her face.
"I'm afraid I can't share any more than Tom already has. I only need a place to stay for tonight, out from under any prying eyes." Isobel answered Mary's unspoken question.
"Well you know that's never a guarantee in this house," Mary said with a smirk and the other two agreed, "but you are most welcome to use my room. No one will look in there since I'm staying with George in the nursery, and you can have breakfast with me there in the morning."
Isobel squeezed Mary's hands in thanks. "And of course I'll help with George, since I've said it's the reason I'm here. Please come to me if you or he needs anything."
Mary nodded. "Do try to rest, Isobel. Whatever it is, perhaps it will look better by the light of morning."
Isobel had her doubts about that, but she thanked Mary and Tom and bade them good night.
Much as she suspected, Isobel did not sleep a wink. She cried. She paced. She played Richard's words over and over again in her head. She thought about all the times he'd lamented his solitary existence and the fact that she could fix that for him; knew the answer plain as day. If only she knew what he was thinking! If only … What, Isobel? Can you really fix him? Is that what he needs? His method has worked for him all this time; is it really wrong? Her head was swimming, her heart broken. She no longer knew anything except that she had hurt him. She had made him think she didn't love him as he was. The agony of that fact tore at her until she was sick to her stomach.
She joined Mary in the nursery at breakfast time and seeing George calmed her temporarily, but she retreated to Mary's room again afterward and remained there until Tom knocked on the door to take her and Elsie to Ripon.
"Mrs. Hughes is waiting for you in her sitting room. I'll go down ahead of you. Wait just a moment and come down the back stairs behind me. Most of them are away for the day but I understand discretion is of paramount importance here," Tom said, looking at her sadly. He could see she was in turmoil and it broke his heart. He remembered the promise he had made to Matthew at his burial. I'll look after her as my own mother. Whatever this was, he'd do his part to see her through it.
Isobel waited a measured amount of time after Tom's exit and traced his steps down to Elsie's sitting room. She knocked softly and as the door opened she fell into Elsie's waiting arms.
"There, now, Isobel," came the soothing voice of her friend as Isobel wept. "Let's get you into the car where we'll have more privacy, hmm?" Elsie looked at Tom and each took hold of one of Isobel's arms, not letting go until she was safely inside the vehicle.
"Whatever is the matter, now?" asked Elsie, pulling Isobel close.
Isobel leaned against Elsie's shoulder and drew a deep breath. "I may as well tell the both of you the basic gist," she sighed, catching Tom's eyes in the rear-view mirror. She proceeded to tell the story, mindful to share only the facts. Tom listened silently, reserving comment as he had promised he would. Elsie hummed her acknowledgement where appropriate and processed the information, determining how best to advise Isobel once they were alone.
The two women arrived at the tea room in Ripon and Isobel, a regular patron, requested the most private seating available, offering extra money to arrange it. They were shown to a booth in a secluded corner and Elsie took the liberty of ordering for them, seeing that Isobel was too distraught to care.
"Elsie, what on earth am I to do?" Isobel lamented.
"Well, my friend, I know what I think, but I also know that it may be a bitter pill for you to swallow. Are you sure you're ready to hear it?"
"Clearly I need to hear it from someone, and I'd rather it were you than anyone else I know," Isobel said, the look on her face pitiable.
Elsie answered with a compassionate expression, reaching across the table to cover Isobel's hand with her own. "The life you've led has its similarities to the life of Doctor Clarkson, certainly, but the two of you are far more different than you are alike. I'm sure you've often felt alone, but here's the truth: you fit easily into both the middle and upper classes. In either setting you have known companionship and love.
"Doctor Clarkson doesn't fit neatly into any class or category. Neither do I, for that matter, nor Mr. Carson. None of the three of us can find friends among those we serve. Nor can we find them among those who serve under us. Now, I've been lucky to find camaraderie with Mrs. Patmore because she works independently of me. And you and I are friends because you extend kindness to everyone and damn the consequences!"
This got Isobel to smile. It was a small one, but it brightened the atmosphere nonetheless. Elsie returned Isobel's smile and watched her expression carefully before continuing.
"So in spite of all the losses you've suffered - and believe me, I don't discount them - you have always had someone to care about you. Doctor Clarkson cannot say the same. Who in Downton fits into the same social strata as he? That's if his social standing can even be classified! I don't believe it can."
"Isobel, he has always been alone. He has built a life for himself, and it's an impressive one. He loves his patients and his hospital. But everything he has is based upon decisions he has made for himself; a lifetime of work that he and he alone has done. No one has ever handed that man anything. He has had to fight for it, and often against the very family you're now asking him to see himself as belonging to." At this Elsie paused, contemplating her next words.
"You cannot expect him to change his ways overnight. He may never change in the manner in which you want him to. Suppose he always feels some level of discomfort about his relationship to the Granthams? Are you going to be able to cope with that? Or did you marry him with an eye toward fixing him? Because you can't. Nor should you want to. His ways are no less valid than yours, are they? They're different, but they're equally admirable."
"Of course they're valid," Isobel said softly, blinking back tears. Elsie regarded her with sympathy and thought for a moment.
"I've seen the way he looks at you, Isobel. He has the utmost admiration for you; for your ability to speak your mind, for your kindness, and I'd even wager he loves the way you challenge him. But you must let him love you in the ways inherent to him. He needs to bend toward you sometimes, no doubt. But isn't that all he's done since Matthew died? He has never left your side, and I don't believe he begrudges you a moment of that time. That man is nothing if not loyal."
At this Isobel's tears spilled over. "I'm sorry," she whispered to Elsie.
Elsie shook her head. "Don't hold them back on my account. Your tears are most understandable." She paused for another moment, permitting herself time to formulate her thoughts and Isobel the opportunity to dry her tears.
"What I'm saying is that you must examine your heart. You have promised to love him. In order to do so, you're going to have to meet him where he is. You must have observed by now what makes him seem content. Am I right?"
Isobel nodded. "He loves to hear me tell him that I'm proud of him, of the life he's built and the choices he's made. And he loves …" Isobel hesitated, her cheeks reddening.
"Oh, for pity's sake! I haven't lived in a sack, Isobel! I'm aware that you're married and that there are certain … activities ... in which you engage. You may as well just say it!" At this both women laughed and Isobel heaved a sigh of relief.
"We're very … tactile. Both of us. He never seems more at peace than when we're in each other's arms. And he'll hear no argument from me on that front, if I may be so bold."
"Then love him in those ways, Isobel. You certainly have the responsibility to let him know when something you see in him concerns you, but tell him gently, and tell him once, and then if you tell him anything else it should be how much you trust him and how proud you are. Hold him, and be there for him in that way that no one else can. And I would bet anything that if you do these things, he'll feel safe enough with you that he'll begin to open up all on his own. Beyond that, talk to me about your concerns."
Isobel regarded Elsie incredulously. "That's sage advice if ever I've heard it. You've just solved all of my marital problems, Elsie. How on earth can it be that you're still single?!"
"Oh, my friend," Elsie sighed, "that's owed to the fact that it's far simpler to be circumspect about another's life than it is my own."
"Hear, hear," Isobel agreed. "So I haven't had the opportunity to tell you, but I had a conversation with your Mr. Carson on the eve of the wedding."
"My Mr. Carson," Elsie echoed, a silly, lovesick smile upon her face.
Isobel grinned. "Look at you! That's probably what I've looked like. Until last night, that is."
"You'll get it back," Elsie offered gently. "Of that I have no doubt. Now, about this conversation …"
"Yes, well, Richard and I had been to dinner at the Abbey and it was time for him to leave. He asked me to step outside with him so that our goodbye would be private. It was …" Isobel shook her head as she remembered the heated kiss she shared with Richard in the snow.
"Ah, see! There's the look, Isobel!" Elsie interjected.
Isobel giggled. "It was a moment I doubt I'll ever forget. Anyhow, when I came back inside, Mr. Carson met me at the stairs and we chatted for a moment about the wedding. And in typical fashion I probably said too much. He noted that I looked happy and that he was glad to see it after ... well, you know. After Matthew. And I replied that I was indeed happy, and that loving Richard is the sweetest, most unexpected gift I could ever have been given. I told him that I've seen the way you two look at each other, and that now that I have Richard, I know what he's missing. I urged him not to miss it."
"If it were anyone else telling me this I wouldn't believe them, but it sounds exactly like you, Isobel," Elsie said with a smile.
Isobel glanced mischievously at her friend and Elsie caught it. "Oh, Lord, what are you holding back? You can't tell me all this and then leave me hanging!"
"Well, you know how I operate: it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. So after I'd overstepped my boundaries I apologized for offending him, and he said that if my words hit a nerve it was because there was truth to them. And then he said …" Isobel reached across the table and took both of Elsie's hands in hers, looking her friend straight in the eye. "He said he loves you, Elsie."
Elsie's mouth fell open. "Isobel Clarkson! Do you swear you're not putting me on?"
"My hand to God," she replied, raising her right hand off the table for emphasis.
"Oh, my word," Elsie whispered, her hand coming up to cover her mouth for a moment. "What am I to do with this?"
"Does it shed any light on his behavior of late?" asked Isobel.
"If by acting like a petulant schoolboy he means to show some profession of undying love, then I suppose so. Otherwise …" Elsie trailed off.
"Oh, Elsie, I really believed he would say something to you after we spoke. Perhaps he did, though it beats me how he'd expect you to infer love from his pulling rank on you. I'm afraid it's my turn to give hard advice now, my friend. If he's not going to take the initiative, then you must." Isobel witnessed as Elsie winced in response to her words.
"Are you certain you're ready to hear this?" Isobel asked gently.
Elsie sighed. "No, but it's plain as day that unless one of us does something, Mr. Carson and I will never progress beyond secretly pining for one another and sharing the occasional nightcap." She drew a deep breath and worried her lip with her teeth. "All right, then. Go on."
"Well, allow me to preface all of this by saying I wouldn't suggest going in gangbusters like I would, or you'll put the poor man off you for good!" At this the two women roared with laughter, both needing some time to collect themselves before Isobel could continue.
When they had pulled themselves together Isobel went on. "In all seriousness, though, while you and I are very similar in that we both tend to lead with the heart, you seem to have a tighter rein on your self-control than I do, thank heavens. I believe it's that balance you strike - the balance between being ruled by intuition and sound judgment - that will serve Mr. Carson well."
"Well, you've certainly got my attention now, Isobel," Elsie said with a smile. "Do elaborate."
"Mr. Carson and Richard are quite alike in that they are men of tradition, quietly loyal and trustworthy and used to conducting their lives in a certain manner. As you so aptly pointed out earlier, they have both built their lives upon their own hard work and sound decisions. But it makes them terribly set in their ways and averse to change. Even change that would serve to benefit them, such as falling in love." Isobel watched as Elsie contemplated this, continuing on when Elsie's eyes met hers again.
"It seems to me as though the notion of loving you unsettles Mr. Carson because it never fit into his plan, the way he saw his life going."
"We had a conversation to that effect once, years ago," Elsie interjected. "I asked him whether he ever wished he'd gone another way; had a wife and children."
"And what was his response?" asked Isobel.
"He threw the question back at me first. I told him that yes, sometimes I had wondered what my life would be like if I hadn't entered service. It was only then that he admitted to me that he'd never thought about it."
"Right," Isobel agreed, "because to think about it would be to second-guess whether his chosen vocation was the right one, and suppose he were to determine it wasn't? Men like Mr. Carson need to feel steady. If they are to assimilate change, they need to see someone else navigate it successfully first. Let's take that conversation for example. He was only comfortable opening up to you after he'd heard you share your heart with him. Elsie, my friend, you may have to quite literally take him by the hand and show him that you'll be there, that you'll be steady for him. That you'll open your heart to him and will handle his with tenderness and respect. Those qualities are the hallmarks of his character, are they not?"
"Aye, they are indeed," Elsie said with admiration as she thought about Carson, the man.
"Well then, as a dear friend so recently reminded me …" Isobel squeezed Elsie's hand and they shared a knowing smile. "We would be wise to look to the ways in which the men we love demonstrate their love for us, and meet them where they are. So I ask you: what is it about Mr. Carson that you love most?"
Elsie looked thoughtful for several moments and then broke into a beatific smile. "He's … steady, Isobel. Where I am so easily caught up in a whim, he's the force that grounds me, brings me back to myself when I get carried away."
Isobel grinned. "Well, my friend, there's your answer. Find a time when you can offer him the same steadfast caring - and offer it. Don't shy away, show him that he can rely on you as you rely on him."
The afternoon passed companionably, both women finding great relief in the ability to laugh at themselves and each other and the opportunity to get their minds off their own troubles. Even so, there was a point at which Isobel began to feel anxious, and it was not lost on Elsie.
"You miss him," she observed.
Isobel nodded. "We did not part on favorable terms. He said he felt as though he hadn't the space to breathe, and I responded by filling a suitcase and telling him that if breathing room was what he wanted, then he'd get it. And then I called Tom and asked him to take me to the Abbey. This after I promised Richard that the night before the wedding was the last one we'd spend apart. But I truly didn't see how I could stay around after he threw down that gauntlet."
Elsie hummed her understanding. "Perhaps you could've done without the cheek, but the separation was likely what he needed. But I'd hazard it makes you uncertain of the environment to which you'll be returning."
"It does. And I know I'm due a rather large serving of humble pie, and that I must accept whatever mood he's in when I return. What frightens me is the thought that he may not want to see me at all. As much as I enjoyed arguing with him when it came to work …"
She noted Elsie's surprised expression and augmented her statement. "I know, I must be mad, but I got such a thrill from being the one to raise his ire! Anyhow, as much as I enjoyed our professional disagreements, I can't bear seeing him angry at me as my husband. I'll do whatever I can to ensure it doesn't happen often."
"Aye, but you're not perfect, Isobel, and neither is he. You know that you'll slip up on occasion. And sometimes he'll be cross with you and it'll be no fault of your own. But surely I don't need to tell you this. You were married before; you and Reginald must have had your share of disagreements."
"We did, but he was more similar to me in the ways in which we communicated than Richard is. And it was different with Reginald. We were children, really, when we started out. If we fumbled at first it was forgivable. Lack of life experience and all that. We were far more lighthearted. I didn't have a decade's worth of history with him before our relationship began the way I do with Richard. I feel as if I know Richard far better than I ever knew Reggie, and let me tell you, that was disarming at first. Everything about my relationship with Richard is intense. I suppose you could put that down to any number of factors: the combination of our personalities, the fact that we do have such a long and storied history, the knowledge that as we look upon the horizon of our life together, we both know that due to age there will be a natural end someday. It's overpowering, and it's sweet. But it's clearly additionally difficult when something's amiss."
"Well, we'd best be getting you back to him. I maintain that you go to him, hat in hand, and as you apologize, really try to see the situation from his perspective. And then love him in those ways he best responds to. That man is so desperately in love with you, Isobel. I would wager anything that you are his whole heart. But inherent in that is a delicate balance. He puts so much weight on the esteem in which you hold him. You have the power to build him up or tear him apart with one word. So choose your words wisely, my friend."
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