I wish I could lay down beside you
When the day is done
And wake up to your face against the morning sun
But like everything I’ve ever known
You’ll disappear one day
So I’ll spend my whole life hiding my heart away
Adele’s ‘Hiding My Heart’
She watched as another chill seemed to rake its way through Isobel’s body. Her cheeks were bright with fever, as she seemed to struggle feebly under the blankets surrounding her. Violet’s chest ached at the obvious weakness emanating from her lover. She had not said a coherent word in nearly two days, and Violet was starting to fear the worst. Not that she had any particular medical knowledge. Violet fought the urge to call Danker and ask her to get Dr Clarkson once more. She knew her family and Dr Clarkson thought that she was completely crazy, overreacting even. For now, she knew that she could hide behind repaying the debt she owed Isobel for taking care of her when she had been so sick with pneumonia. But Violet was frustrated with herself more than anyone else, and angry at her own helplessness in the face of Isobel’s sickness. And she had no one really to rely on. Isobel was her companion, her rock — sometimes she was the rock that she bashed her head against, but she was her rock nonetheless. She cursed the fact that she was not a qualified nurse, and instead watched over Isobel as if she were a wayward charge with Violet as her soul protector. She had temporarily moved to Isobel’s little house, making Danker accompany her. She had left Spratt to tend to the necessary affairs at the Dowager House. Tom had very sweetly offered to stay Matthew’s old room to be close by in case Isobel needed to be hurried to hospital. She had relented when Isobel had seemed to worsen in the first twenty-four hours. Violet had been prickly with him, but still he had stayed. She woke up with a thin blanket wrapped over her once and knew that it could only have been Tom who had put it there. Neither of them mentioned it, and sometimes he was the only reason that she would take something to eat for herself. He was so different from Robert at that age, but she was grateful for his company. And she knew that she should try and be kinder towards him.
Her sleep had been delirious and tumultuous. And when he came, she could feel Dr Clarkson’s eyes roaming over her questioningly. Violet knew that she looked worse for wear. The steam from the bowls of water around the room had made her hair stick out uncontrollably, on top of that she hadn’t slept very well for the last few days or nights only nodding off lightly and waking immediately if Isobel stirred at all. Dr Clarkson had given her strict instructions to continuously feel Isobel’s forehead and if it felt too warm she was to use a cool moist towel to try and cool her down. She had the nurse carry in fresh bowls of water almost hourly.
She remembered when Robert had been ill as a child, or when Sybil had gone into labour, or her own experience of child-birth, but those were the only medical experiences that she was familiar with, and when she thought back to them now she felt so far away from them, like they had happened to someone else. During the war she had kept her distance from the hospital, it was cowardly, but she was not skilled to mend anyone, and the broken men that had returned from the war did not need her helpless and pity-filled eyes on them. But this was different.
She wondered how Isobel had felt about her when she had been ill. Violet had never asked her, hating the fact that her sheer iron-clad will had not been able to defend her against a simple bought of pneumonia. She wondered if Isobel had felt this helpless. ‘It was probably the holier-than-though nurse’s own stubborn iron-clad will that had saved me’ Violet thought to herself as she gently wiped the damp cloth over the sleeping woman’s forehead, smiling to herself for the first time in what felt like years. She took the time, because it was late and she knew that they would not be disturbed to place a gentle kiss to Isobel’s brow. Whispering words of comfort and devotion, longing and criticism for making her worry so unnecessarily. She did this whenever she thought they would not be interrupted, hoping that Isobel could hear her, or even just take some comfort from the sound of her voice.
A few day’s later Dr Clarkson came around to examine Isobel, he had given up long ago on asking the Dowager Countess to leave the room to offer Isobel some privacy. Isobel was weak, but she had regained consciousness, slowly returning to her former self. When she first awoke she had not known Violet or Dr Clarkson. Asking instead for Matthew and her late husband. The experience had been devastating for all of them. Dr Clarkson removed his stethoscope from his ears and turned to include the Dowager as he said, “Well, Your Ladyship it would seem that your nursing administrations have been very successful. I am happy to announce that our patient is very much on the mend.”
Isobel thanked Dr Clarkson hoarsely, before he continued, “In which case I am happy to announce that you may return to the Dowager House once more, with the knowledge that Mrs Crawley will be fully restored in a week or of rest.” He delivered the news proudly, almost as if he had been waiting for the all clear to give her this news.
“Actually Doctor,” Violet addressed Dr Clarkson without taking her eyes off of Isobel’s prone form, “I will not be leaving until Cousin Isobel is able to move, and then we will both be moving to the Dowager House.”
Dr Clarkson’s forehead was furrowed in surprise. “Does Lord Grantham know of this?”
“He will soon enough.”
Dr Clarkson nodded to both of them as he carried his medical case, coat and hat, bidding them farewell.
Isobel waited for the door to close before she verbally rounded on Violet. “How could you tell Dr Clarkson that? How could you make that decision without even consulting me?”
Isobel’s tone was almost enough to make her wish that she were still unconscious, Violet grimaced at the prospect of telling this woman her plans for the two of them. But Violet felt eerily calm, after all she had nearly lost Isobel. She would not lose her again.
“Isobel, both of us are running out of time.”
“Tell me something I don’t know! But this has nothing to do with time. It’s our reputations. You’ll have the entire town talking including our entire family. Heaven forbid if the news spreads to London.”
“I won’t fight with you Isobel. Widows have lived together as companions before and no one has batted an eyelid.”
“Newly widowed women perhaps, but we’re both getting on in years Violet. And I’ve certainly never heard of a Dowager widow inviting another widow to live with her before.”
“I’ve never experienced this conservative side of you, my dear. You’ve never been one for tradition, or conforming to the yoke of society.”
“Yes, but you have. What’s brought this on Violet?”
“You have. You… your illness. I won’t do it anymore Isobel, I won’t live apart from you. We’ll tell them all its for your health.”
She could see that the argument had drained Isobel of her little remaining strength, and her words seemed to strike a cord deep within her. Perhaps Isobel understood more than she cared to admit as Violet watched her resolve almost shatter.
Violet was already crossing the room before Isobel’s first sob had fully escaped, she had her fully ensconced in her embrace before the sobs could rattle through her weakened form.
“What on earth did I say wrong now?” Violet said, almost angrily, more towards herself than Isobel.
“It’s… just that… after your illness… I felt the same. I’m just being silly… bit overcome and emotional.” Isobel said looking up at Violet through watery eyelashes.
“Just rest now my dear Isobel. We’ll sort it all out. I promise. You’re better, and thats all that matters.” Violet said, kissing her gently, murmuring a soft “I love you” against the corner of her mouth.
Fin