A/N: Lovely readers, thank you all so very much for continuing to follow along with me on this adventure! I can see that you're still reading (and perhaps there may be some new readers out there?). Would you do me the honor of leaving a review? You needn't have an an account to do so (though if you do have one, I can and will reply to you and I'm not able to reply to guest reviews). Thanks, guys! I love interacting with you all! I'm blessed by the insight I receive from each of you. I know Richobel is harder to get behind these days and brings up a lot of frustrated feels, but I'd still like to hear from those who come by and visit.

Special thanks to ChelsieSouloftheAbbey for beta magic and advice on direction from this point forward. To brenna-louise for insight on direction and plausibility ... and for giving me timely encouragement to continue when I was particularly discouraged.

Music credits this chapter: "Willow," Joan Armatrading. Go to Spotify, Username - ericajanebarry; Playlist - Worthy and True

Love to you all,

~ejb~

Come running to me
When things get out of hand
Running to me
When it's more than you can stand

I said, "I'm strong, straight
Willing to be a shelter in a storm"
Your willow, oh willow
When the sun is out

Sunday brought with it a mix of emotions. It was the final day of their honeymoon, and tomorrow Richard and Isobel would return to work. They looked forward to it inasmuch as they both loved their patients, the people of Downton village. Even so, their week off had been a time of tremendous development for them as a couple. The last time they had set foot inside the hospital they were yet to be wed, but now … Both felt as though they had done years' worth of growing one toward the other in the span of a few short days, and neither was keen to surrender the unity they had forged.

They lingered in bed that morning. One would doze while the other lay quietly watching. She found it irresistibly endearing that his moustache would twitch when he was dreaming, and she had to force herself to hold back a fit of the giggles for fear of waking him. He treasured the way she would reach in his direction each time either of them shifted position. As long as some part of her body remained in contact with some part of his, she slept soundly. They awoke and reached for one another, savoring the sound of their shared breathing and the feel of skin on skin beneath warm covers. Richard looked at Isobel, his eyes asking the silent question. She nodded in answer, a smile on her lips as they met his and she felt his hands begin to move on her body.

They were slightly late arriving at church.

They slipped into the back row as the opening hymn was being sung, and Isobel swatted Richard's arm playfully when she caught sight of him looking rather like the cat that ate the canary. If she were honest with herself, however, no small part of her thrilled at being the one to have put that expression on his handsome face.

Richard watched Isobel more than he paid attention to Reverend Travis. It was no slight against the man, but he found his wife's faith to be a far greater influence upon his own than any words spoken in a small country church by a vicar whose enthusiasm for his post was likely on the downhill slope at this point in his tenure.

Beside him, Isobel looked serene and content. He couldn't help but smile when he saw her peaceful expression, the way she closed her eyes and the corners of her mouth lifted as she recited the Apostles' Creed, the velvet smoothness of her alto as she sang the hymns. He watched her mouth move silently along with the reverend's during the gospel reading. For someone so given to whim and impulse, Isobel found stability in the underpinning of her faith in a way that surprised Richard. She'd explained to him that she felt her foundation gave her the freedom to be bold, and that made him love her all the more.

They parted company after the service, Isobel accompanying the Granthams to the Abbey while Richard went to the hospital. He needed to meet with the doctor who had covered for him during the honeymoon, so that he'd start the week with an understanding of what had transpired in his absence. Stephen Burcham had become a friend of Richard's in medical school and had been Chief of Surgery at the Royal Yorkshire Hospital for the past decade. While the two men did not see one another often - their respective posts, and Burcham's family (a wife, seven children, and so many grandchildren that Richard had lost count) keeping them busy - they never missed an opportunity to cover for one another when it was needed. Burcham had, in fact, been the doctor who covered for Richard after Matthew died, as he could not leave Isobel's side. He was trustworthy, efficient and had a managerial style very similar to Richard's own.

As Richard entered the hospital, he felt a sense of foreboding. He couldn't place it; perhaps it was simply apprehension at the thought of work shifting some of his focus off Isobel and their marriage. A couple of nurses stopped to greet him in the corridors, offering their congratulations and asking after Isobel. It warmed his heart that his staff were happy to see him and took the edge off his anxiety for a moment.

When he stepped into his office, he was met by a much younger man than Stephen Burcham seated behind his desk.

"I'm sorry, may I help you?" He hoped his voice was steady and didn't betray his bewilderment.

The young man behind the desk stood and, smiling, offered his hand. "Doctor Clarkson!" It was clear to Richard that the fellow knew him, and he wracked his memory until finally …

"Samuel? Samuel Burcham, is it you?" He took the other man's hand, shaking it firmly.

"It is indeed! I'm sure I look a bit different than I did the last time we saw one another."

"I should say! You couldn't have been more than … fifteen, is that right?"

"About that, yes," the young man agreed, and in his expression Richard could see that young boy he remembered.

"Your father said you had become a doctor. Do you practice in York as well?"

"I do. You remember my older brother James?" Richard nodded. "He and myself, along with two others, work under my father."

"And your father is …?" He didn't want to appear rude, but he still could not assimilate the presence of the young man before him when he'd been expecting his old friend.

The younger doctor suddenly realized why Doctor Clarkson seemed confused. "Ah. So Father didn't tell you, then?"

Richard shook his head and young Burcham explained.

"Father knew that you were getting married and that you and your bride - she's your head nurse, is that correct?" he asked and Richard nodded. "He knew you were going away on honeymoon. In fact," the young doctor laughed, his eyes twinkling, "I believe his words were, 'It's about time Clarkson figured out what's good for him.'"

Richard couldn't help but laugh. It sounded very much like his old friend indeed. "He's been after me to settle down since the day he met your mother!"

"That's Father for you! He was not about to intrude upon your time alone with the new Mrs. Clarkson! I don't know whether you will have read that a portion of Rowntree's collapsed, and there were over a dozen workers severely injured, mostly compound fractures but a few cases of pneumothorax and blunt kidney trauma as well."

Richard hung his head. "My, what a tragedy. So your father couldn't very well leave, could he?"

"He could not," young Burcham agreed. "Between himself, my brother and the two other surgeons they were able to manage the influx. I'm the most junior member of the team, and my interest lies more in the area of general practice. So Father asked me to come to Downton in his place and I couldn't turn it down, not when I had the opportunity to help an old friend of the family."

Richard couldn't help but be impressed at Burcham's enthusiasm and as the two men chatted, it became clear that the younger doctor had Downton Cottage Hospital well in hand. Supply inventories had been completed and orders for necessary items placed. Nurse Redfern, who served as charge nurse under Isobel, had kept the ledgers impeccably and had worked alongside Burcham to draft the nurses' schedule for the upcoming week. Thanks to her diligence, the patient charts were fully up-to-date. The doctor had even entertained the Dowager and Lady Grantham when they stopped by unannounced to check up on the state of operations in the Clarksons' absence.

It's as if we never left, Richard thought as Burcham briefed him. How remarkable it was, and what a relief, to return to work with a clean slate. But as he drove home, doubt began to nag at him. Suppose the Ladies Grantham preferred Burcham's and Redfern's masterful command of the hospital to his own and Isobel's? Suppose it was decided that the Clarksons were expendable? His fears about conflict between himself and the family and about his position therein rose to the surface once more. He and Isobel had only just found a place at which they could meet one another with regard to this issue. Would it rear its head again so soon?

Isobel had not yet returned from the Abbey when Richard arrived at home. He poured himself a glass of whisky and drank it down quickly, and he was about to pour a second when he remembered that he had intended to take Isobel to dinner at the Grantham Arms as a sort of last hurrah. Instead he set about looking for tasks to be done and soon found himself swinging an axe, chopping more firewood. By the time Tom brought her home he had split an impressive stack and brought half of it inside to fill the woodbox.

Isobel was in high spirits after the time she'd spent with George, happier still because she had also kept an eye on little Sybbie for a time while Tom and Robert had gone out to one of the cottages to meet with a tenant in regard to some emergency roof repairs. She chattered away about the details of her visit until she realized Richard was not giving her even the most cursory of responses. She turned to look at him and found him staring out the window with unseeing eyes.

It always unnerved her to see him like this and she wished that he would talk to her instead of brooding. But if she had learned anything about him of late it was that she could not encourage him to open up to her by badgering him or by nattering on until she wore him down. Instead she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him from behind and pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade.

"I love you," she said in a gentle tone. "Shall we sit?"

He turned to face her and took her hands in his, then sat down on the sofa and pulled her into his lap. His eyes finally met hers and she could see a storm brewing in their blue depths even as he stroked her face, tucking a few wayward strands of her hair back into place.

She caught his chin in her hand and held his gaze, a look of concern upon her face. She fought against saying the words that were on the tip of her tongue: 'for mercy's sake would you talk to me?' Instead she pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss, hoping to convey in so doing that she was there for him.

He returned her kiss and his arms came around her waist. When their lips parted he leaned his forehead against hers and she rubbed her thumb over the short hairs at the nape of his neck. A protracted silence stretched out between them but Isobel focused on the feel of him in her arms so that her own presence would remain a calming one.

At last he began to speak. "You'll be glad to know that all is well at the hospital."

He paused and she acknowledged him with a nod and an, "Indeed I am glad. But you don't appear to be as much."

He held her away from him just enough so that it was easier to converse. She held onto the lapels of his jacket loosely, knowing how her touch soothed him.

"You see I was rather taken aback to discover that it was not my old friend Stephen Burcham who has been at the helm in my absence, but his son instead." He went on to explain about the factory accident that had kept the elder Burcham detained, that he hadn't seen fit to disturb him and Isobel on their honeymoon and that the young Doctor Burcham and Nurse Redfern had taken the hospital well in hand.

Isobel listened compassionately, noting the furrowing of Richard's brow and the roll of his eyes. When the appropriate time came for her to speak, she led with words she knew would convey the fact that she was sympathetic to his position … even if she did not completely agree.

"I'm sure that it came as quite a shock to find that such a young doctor swept in and took control. I'll admit I'm a bit miffed at Redfern for having the audacity to conduct inventory and arrange the schedule without my approval." She smiled at him, a self-deprecating smile that lifted the corners of his own mouth when he saw it. He tapped her lips with his finger and she caught his hand in hers, kissing the back of it.

"Why do I sense there's a but coming?" he asked.

"You know me well," she said, pleading with her eyes for him to hear her out. She sighed. "We've spoken about your struggle to find where you fit into the Crawley family. I know that you don't yet feel inclined toward retirement and I understand … as well as I can. Only I wonder whether beginning to plan for that eventuality would be sensible on several fronts." She paused to gauge his reaction and noted only mild incredulity, so she continued.

"You intimated that if you were no longer employed by the family, it would be easier to see yourself as belonging, which you do now. And the unpredictability of your hours, the fact that you can go days without coming home … I simply wonder whether it will hold the same appeal now that we're married." Stop there, Isobel. You've just thrown down quite the gauntlet.

"I don't know, Isobel," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What you're proposing … it's life-altering. I can't argue with the sentiment, but … So very much is changing of late and it's rather overwhelming."

She smoothed her hands along his upper arms. "I know, darling. And there's no need to rush to a decision, one way or another. I'm simply saying that young Doctor Burcham's arrival may be a natural catalyst to our planning for the future."

He pulled her to him and she lay her head on his chest as they held one another and began to imagine their days to come. Isobel was silent except for one additional thought that occurred to her.

"It's rather wonderful to find ourselves dreaming once again, at our ages. Isn't it?!"

He certainly couldn't argue with that.

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