A/N: I must say, the influx of reviews I received following the last two back-to-back updates was MAGNIFICENT! I am gratified to know that so many of you are still reading. If you've yet to say hello, would you do me the honor of popping in to chat on Tumblr or PM me here? I've been so blessed lately by the chats with ScintillatingTart (who can write AND chat at the same time and do both well - most impressive) and kouw (a true artist, with whom it is a privilege to associate). Special thanks to brenna-louise for dissecting Isobel with me and for much-appreciated encouragement. And as always, ChelsieSouloftheAbbey, you've gone above and beyond the call of duty, my friend. So grateful for your care, interest and support. This fandom is comprised of so many wonderful, kind ladies and I can't thank you enough for welcoming me into the fold despite my late arrival and very niche OTP!
Love to all!
~ejb~
Tom dropped Elsie off at the Abbey first as it was on the way to the Clarksons' cottage.
"Best of luck to you, my friend," Elsie said to Isobel by way of a goodbye. "You know where I am if you need me."
Isobel nodded, smiling graciously, and squeezed Elsie's hand as she steeled herself for her arrival at home.
Tom sensed her apprehension. "Mum, I want you to listen to me now. I've kept my thoughts to myself as you asked but I know you, and I've sworn upon Matthew's memory to look out for you, and I know that if he were here he'd be saying his piece right about now." He met Isobel's eyes with a slightly defiant look in his own.
The mother in her thrilled at seeing it; this young man, his opinions, the fire inside him. Less refined than the fire inside Matthew; less well-honed, but sometimes that was a good thing. Sometimes that was the best thing.
"Can't say you're wrong about that," Isobel said, unable to erase the small smirk of maternal pride from her face. "Go on then, son."
Tom spoke masterfully. He was respectful while at the same time making it clear that there was no room to convince him; the matter was settled in his mind. "I can see both sides of the coin here. You're right; Doctor Clar—" he fumbled, "Richa—" and again, looking straight into Isobel's eyes. "Look, I understand that you mean - that the family means - to make him feel welcome and that's all well and good, but for now I, personally, am going to take it slowly with him. If it's all the same to you then he shall remain Doctor Clarkson to me until he is comfortable with less formality. I could have benefited from the same courtesy myself, and now that I have the chance to impart it to another, I'm going to do exactly that."
Isobel nodded. "You're suggesting that I approach the situation likewise. I'll admit, hearing both you and Elsie express the same sentiment has caused me to see it through Richard's eyes where I hadn't before. I can certainly appreciate your struggle and the fact that it's ongoing. I can see now that Richard faces much the same conflict." She cast her eyes downward and Tom felt her remorse.
"Then I suppose I don't need to tell you that I think you may have come down a bit hard on him," he said as he pulled up to the cottage, parking the car.
She sighed. "You don't, but I deserve to hear it nonetheless. Well, son, good show. Consider me appropriately chastened." She regarded him with a look of resignation.
"Now, that doesn't sound like you at all, Mum! You get a bee in your bonnet and God help anyone who stands in your way. Find that same determination in this case, and you'll be fine."
"Thank you, Tom. I can manage getting my things into the house. I'll call you in the next couple of days." He came around the car and opened her door nonetheless. She embraced him and they said their goodbyes, then Tom waited until he saw her enter the house before driving off.
Isobel stepped inside, set her valise down, and hung up her coat. Richard's car was in the drive; he had to be at home. She listened for him but heard nothing.
She found him in his study. He was seated at his desk, staring with eyes red-rimmed and unseeing at a journal article, a glass of something strong in his hand.
"Richard." She spoke his name softly and he looked up at her.
"Isobel." He rose from his chair and came to stand, close enough to touch but not touching her.
"I'm—" she began.
"I, ah—" he said at the same time. Each looked down shyly before meeting the other's eyes.
"Please," she said, "you first."
"I was … rather shocked that you left."
A cutting response was right on the tip of her tongue, but Isobel heard Elsie's voice in her head. 'You have the power to build him up or tear him apart with one word. So choose your words wisely, my friend.'
"You indicated that you felt the need for breathing room. I … believed I was giving it to you. I took a cheap shot and it was unnecessary and I … Richard." She laid her hands on his forearms, entreating him to look at her. "I'm sorry."
He grasped her hands and she let go a sigh of relief. Being bereft of his touch had felt akin to being deprived of his love, and his gesture - small though it was - rekindled a sacred connection between them.
"Shall we sit down?" he asked, and she nodded. She followed him into the sitting room, where he sat in his armchair and she took up the end of the sofa nearest him, angling her body toward his. Their fingertips brushed and it soothed her churning stomach.
"The separation was necessary," he conceded, and she looked at him in surprise. "I think we both needed to put distance between ourselves and the issue. Or perhaps that was just me."
She considered him thoughtfully. "No, it wasn't just you. If I'd stayed any longer, I'd have been purely caustic. But I could have asked you if you wanted me to leave, or told you I was considering it. Impulse control is not a virtue of mine, in case notice of such fact had slipped past you." Her self-deprecating smile caused the corners of his mouth to lift slightly in response.
They were silent for a moment, Richard watching Isobel carefully. She looked as broken as he felt and the urge to pull her into his arms was strong, but something held him back.
She lifted her eyes and spoke in a manner uncharacteristically subdued. "There is no excuse for my cruelty but, Richard … your words cut me to the heart. Is that really what you think? That I'm so outspoken you feel you've lost your voice?" She turned her face away as her eyes filled with tears. "That I don't love you as you are?" she whispered hollowly.
"The truth?" he asked, inching infinitesimally closer to her.
She drew a deep breath and nodded, bracing against his answer.
"Sometimes, Isobel. You may be impulsive and innovative and open to the very change I kick against but, all that said, you're just as set in your ways as I when it comes to the dynamics of our relationship. I suppose we're equally guilty there. I've typecast you as irrational, I'll admit. And you're not ... at least not in so great a measure that it defines you."
"Thank you," she whispered, her expression uncertain. He laced his fingers through hers though they maintained their relative positions.
"My approach to you has been all wrong," she confessed. "I cannot expect you'll be keen to open up to me if out of one corner of my mouth I'm urging you to speak up while from the other I'm berating you for not doing so. I assure you my reasons were noble—"
He cut in on her. "They always are, Isobel. I've never doubted your motives." His words and his eyes spoke of his sincerity.
She squeezed his hand and smiled even as tears pooled in the corners of her own eyes. "But clearly it fell apart when it came to execution. What I meant - what I feel in the deepest part of my heart - is that I hold your opinions in the highest regard. Yours is a perspective so different to mine but so insightful and so dear to me, and it challenges me; causes me to consider avenues I wouldn't on my own. I meant to encourage you to share that perspective more readily. But in so doing I caused you to hear disapproval; displeasure with your character. And nothing could be farther from the truth."
He came to sit beside her on the sofa, maintaining a cautious distance but close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves. "We've more to discuss, but I wonder whether you'd allow me to hold you?" he asked softly, almost timidly.
Isobel pressed a hand to her mouth and tried - but failed - to hold back tears. When she caught her breath she managed, "I wasn't sure whether you'd want to."
"Now, or ever?" he asked in reply. He wasn't aware that she'd been so deeply hurt, and his own heart ached at the knowledge. He had made her feel that way.
"Both, I suppose," she confessed in a near-whisper.
"Come," he said, and drew her to sit across his lap. His arms came around her waist and hers around his shoulders. She took up the position that gave her the greatest comfort - face tucked in against his neck, lips pressed against his carotid pulse. They held each other in silence, his hands smoothing the length of her back, feeling the tension in her posture, willing it away.
She looked up at him after a time, lifting a hand to his face, tracing the contours of his sharply-defined features. Her free hand cradled the back of his head and drew it down until she could press her lips against his forehead. "I want to lie down with you. Just lie down; just be close." Her voice broke. "I was afraid, Richard," she whispered.
He shook his head, kissing the tears away as they fell from her eyes. "Don't be afraid, Isobel. Let's go to bed." He held her hand as they made their way upstairs.
She hesitated when it came time to undress. For years she had dreamed of what it would be like, the intimacy of peeling back the layers; allowing him to see her both metaphorically and literally. And little by little over these past months, and then in far greater measure over the last week, she had learned that it was glorious, this laying bare of her body when he already owned her soul at its most base level. Yet more profound was the experience when it was he who undressed her, those times when his touch communicated what words could not: Thank you for what we share. I see you. I know you. I love you completely. You are mine. But that was before …
Before. And now she picked up her dressing gown where it hung over the bedpost and slipped into the bathroom, where she stripped down to her brassiere and knickers, slipped on her nightgown despite the early hour and secured the dressing gown around herself. She took down her hair without sparing a glance at her reflection, afraid of what it might betray. Deep breath.
She returned to the bedroom to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, perched uneasily. His posture mirrored her anguish and it softened her heart to know he felt the strain too. They turned back the covers. She looked at him and caught him watching her.
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but what could she say? She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in a manner that said, I feel utterly exposed right now. Completely vulnerable.
"Isobel," Richard said gently, "it's alright. It's going to be alright."
She nodded, fumbling with the ties, finally undoing them and letting the robe drop to the floor as she ducked quickly beneath the covers.
"Do you want …" he said, not bothering to finish as he curled himself around her from behind, his arm coming around her waist, hand pressing against her belly. Her favorite; the embrace that made her feel the most secure. Desired. Loved.
"Yes." It came out halfway between a whisper and a sob and she nodded emphatically. She moved her hand atop his, lacing their fingers together.
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "Did you sleep here last night?" It mattered to her for reasons she didn't quite understand.
"No." She heard his reply as well as felt it against her scalp where he buried his face in her hair. "Couldn't bear it. Bed was too big without you. Too empty."
His answer brought the most minute of smiles to her lips. As cross as he may have been; as she may have been, he had missed her.
No more words were said. They lay together, and Richard stroked Isobel's hair, and for the moment it was enough. Resolution eluded them, but both seemed to sense that they would face their troubles together; not as he versus she but as they two against the threat to their unity. Exhaustion claimed them and they fell into a dreamless sleep.
It was still dark when Isobel woke. She reached across the bed for Richard and came up empty-handed. Tensions still ran high between them and instantly her senses were on alert. She sat bolt upright in bed as fear closed around her heart like a vise.
"Isobel, I'm here," came his gentle voice. He was only across the room, adding wood to the fire.
"Richard." He heard the edge of fear and subsequent relief in her tone, and he came and sat beside her on the edge of the bed.
"Cold," she whispered, rubbing her arms. He picked up her dressing gown and wrapped both the garment and his arms around her.
"Didn't know we would sleep so long," he explained. "The fire went out. It'll be warm again soon." There was either promise or irony in those words, she thought, in relation to their current circumstances.
"Still dark," she observed. Easier to talk of trivialities. "What time is it?"
"Just gone half four. Do you want to get up now, or would you rather go back to bed?" As his palm smoothed along her back he felt a bit of the tension leave her body.
"Imagine it'll be warmer downstairs, wouldn't you say?" He nodded and she continued, "I'll make coffee, or tea if you'd rather. I think I'm in need of something strong."
"Coffee sounds wonderful." He wrapped his dressing gown around himself and they went downstairs, Isobel into the kitchen and Richard the sitting room.
After adding wood to the downstairs fireplace, Richard came into the kitchen. Isobel was standing at the stove waiting for the kettle to boil and he stepped up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her back against him. She let herself be held, relaxing into him and saying a silent prayer of thanks for their physicality. Neither had the words for all that had gone wrong between them, but they still had this, that bond that transcended the need for speech.
"Thank you … for this," she said faintly, her hands coming up to cover his at her waist. He tightened his hold on her and rested his chin on her shoulder. She had walked out, but now she couldn't bear the thought of physical separation from him. If he'd still been in a contentious frame of mind he might have brought that knowledge to bear against her, but he could see that she was suffering enough from the natural consequences of her actions without him adding fuel to that fire.
"Always," he said simply. The word was spoken right into her ear and it was exactly the right thing to say, his timing impeccable. She turned in his arms and hers came around his neck, and there they remained until the whistling of the kettle drew her attention away.
He held her coffee mug as she settled on the sofa and covered herself with a blanket before coming to sit beside her. They sipped in silence. Isobel reached for Richard's hand and breathed easier as his warm fingers enclosed hers.
"You're still freezing, darling!" He pulled her closer, his touch once more chipping away at the barrier standing between them.
She nodded her acknowledgement of his comment. "Darling," she echoed mirthlessly, barely a breath.
"Yes. Look at me," he commanded, and waited until she did before continuing. "Self-flagellation doesn't become you, Isobel. I've put enough distance between myself and the row that I can talk about it now. Supposing you're ready, that is."
"Of course," she replied. Sure enough, Elsie was right. By giving Richard time and allowing their physical closeness to cross the divide, Isobel had communicated trust in him and brought him to a place of being ready to communicate.
They sat lengthwise on opposite ends of the sofa, facing one another.
"Let me begin by saying that your presence in my life is the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are the only woman for me, Isobel. While you infuriate me like no other, you alone bring me greater joy than I ever believed myself capable of feeling. I was unnecessarily harsh the other night. You bless me with your beautiful mind and your ability to so clearly communicate your thoughts. I suppose I …" He trailed off, looking away.
She knew he was about to reveal a chink in his armor and she squeezed his hand by way of reassurance.
"I suppose the ease with which you express yourself intimidates me," he continued. And over the course of our relationship, regardless of its nature, I've set you up as the one who speaks her mind and myself as the one whose perspective gets pushed aside. That's unfair to you. How would you know I'd drawn that line in the sand when I never told you? It pits us one against the other no matter what you say. I'm sorry for that, love."
She smiled her thanks. "It's alright. You're not wrong, you know. Not entirely. I know I already expressed my regret for stepping on your toes, but it bears repeating considering the extent of the rift between us. Perhaps it took hearing it from Elsie to make me realize this …" Isobel recalled her friend's judicious counsel with a fond expression. "She told me that I would be wise to look to the ways in which you express love to me for guidance in how best to reach your heart. And that's going to mean taking a far gentler approach than I would if left to my own devices."
He scooted closer, lifting her hand to his lips to kiss the back of it. "I appreciate that, but it would serve me well to recognize your tenacity as love, not as fault-finding. It goes both ways."
She nodded. "It does. My greatest regret in all of this is that I've set myself up as some kind of expert on marriage. I may have been married for many years, but that was a long time ago, for one. Reginald was a different man than you are. You're brilliant, the both of you. The loves of my life, but you're not much alike. And I'm a very different woman than I was then. Richard …" She took both of his hands in hers. "The truth is that I've no idea as yet what it means to be married to you. It's altogether different from my first marriage and from our past as colleagues. It's uncharted territory for both of us and we must learn to sink or swim together. I am just as much of a novice as you. I'm sure my attitude has been rather alienating and that was not my intention at all."
"Thank you, my darling," he said mildly.
She looked at him for permission to come closer, and there it was. The ability to have an entire conversation by looking into the other's eyes had not been destroyed in the fight. He nodded, reclining, and she moved closer until she lay her head on his chest.
"Warm now," she breathed, and he hummed his agreement. Warm again, the chill gone. Just before sleep claimed her once more she shared the thought that came to mind:
My beloved spake and said to me:
'Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone.'
"Yes," he agreed. "I love you." Ah, to say those words again!
"Love you," she answered with a drowsy smile. Reconciled, they slept again.
Isobel quotes Song of Solomon 2:10-11 (ASV - it's the closest I could come to the English Revised Version they would have read from). Lots of musical inspiration behind this chapter and the next. "Fix You" by Coldplay (thanks ChelsieSouloftheAbbey), "All of Me" by John Legend (EllieRoberts, that was you, right?), "White Flag" by Dido (luisa. m. friedrich, that was all you) and "Bittersweet" by James Taylor. I've included "Fix You" on Spotify because it spoke most directly to the nature of their falling out and reconciliation, though no lyrics appear.
***Updated 1/27/16 - The songs mentioned herein are available on my Spotify. Search for Username: ericajanebarry , Playlist: Worthy and True. They add to the story.***
Many thanks in advance for the reads and reviews! Look for another chapter very soon!