Worthy and True

Chapter 2

A/N: One more chapter today before I get back to writing. We begin with a flashback to the hours immediately following Matthew's death. ***I paraphrased this bit of dialogue from the conversation between Isobel and the Dowager in S04 E03, in which Violet quotes the Christina Rossetti poem Remember.***

~~~~~~FLASHBACK~~~~~~

His had been the only comfort she would accept in the days after Matthew's death. Their relationship had finally, after ten long years, begun to take a romantic turn while the family had been up at Duneagle. He knew it and she knew it, and while his approach to her at the fair may have been different had he not imbibed a bit too heartily, he'd meant what he said. He didn't leave her side for the first week when Matthew died. He sent to York for a colleague to cover his shifts at the hospital and at her tearful urging he took her home to his cottage. "Please, Richard. I can't stay here," she'd sobbed, and he'd understood. The memories were beyond her ability to withstand. Together they had packed her most urgent belongings, and he'd locked the door to Crawley House while she waited in his car. She was trembling as she sat there, and he couldn't believe he'd missed it. Of course she was terrified. A motor vehicle had taken the life of her only son and here he was hours later asking her to ride in one. He extended his arm to her and she moved closer to him on the bench seat. She was in shock, staring straight ahead with unblinking eyes. He pulled her into his arms and his heart broke. "Oh, Isobel...oh, my darling, you're trembling. I'm so sorry. I didn't think. Oh, sweetheart, what can I do?" These words he murmured into her hair as he held her and she clung to him.

Bring him back! Bring me back my baby boy! She had wanted to scream, but it wasn't his fault and it wasn't his to fix. She had mustered just enough courage to look him in the eye, and while her voice betrayed her nerves in its quietness, her gaze did not. Her hand grasped his arm like a vise. "Do you love me?" She suspected she knew the answer or she would not have asked.

His mouth dropped open in bewilderment. Of all the things he supposed she might say, that was not it. But he didn't hesitate to answer, for his love of her had become his primary motivation for living each day. "Oh, Isobel, yes. Yes, I love you. Of course I love you." His hand came up to smooth the hair at her temples and unconsciously she leaned into his touch.

"Then take me home, quickly. Before I have time to be afraid of the ride." He had been able to hide the look of astonishment that immediately came to his face, but just barely. That was Isobel Crawley; in a state of shock and in the clutches of grief the likes of which no human being should have to bear, she was brave. He pressed a kiss to her hair and put the car in gear, holding her to him with one arm.

He'd held her all that afternoon by the fire as she vacillated between shock and rage. He had only moved to add wood to the fire before suggesting she try to get some sleep. She'd cried out as if pained when he rose, missing his warmth.

"I'm here, darling. You should try to sleep now. I'll show you to the bedroom. If you need anything at all, I'll be just here, on the sofa." The cottage was equipped with a second bedroom, but he'd converted it into an office for the purpose of seeing patients after hours.

"No!" She exclaimed. "I won't put you out of your bedroom." Her eyes were downcast and he had to strain to hear her next words. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Oh, Isobel..." He did not know what to say. This woman he had loved for so many years, this mother whose only son had been stolen from her, was asking to share his bed. He had always believed he'd refuse her nothing, supposing he should ever have the good fortune to love her. And he knew that as far as she was concerned, the social contract could go straight to hell. He was not concerned about what her family would think on his account, but on hers...Isobel Crawley may not have had a title, but if anyone was a lady it was she, and he would not see her reputation sullied.