Without Interruptions

**What if Violet had never interrupted Lord Merton and Isobel's conversation at the end of the Christmas Special? Would it have ended in sadness for the couple? **

**Italicized text belongs to Julian Fellows, along with the characters **

Sitting Room, Crawley House, December 1924

"Why didn't you show it to me before this?! It's been months!" Lord Merton cried, stuffing the dreadful letter in to his jacket.

"Well I've shown you now," Isobel confessed, not sure she had done the right thing.

"You must know I resent Larry's treatment of you very much. Things can never be good between us again," he replied quickly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"But it will not involve me," she said softly, looking down.

"And nothing will make you change your mind?"

This was it. She had to face the facts and tell him what was in her heart. She stood and took the leap.

"I'm afraid not. But I will always think of you with great affection…and wish you nothing but the best."

She hated how he scoffed, how hurt he looked in this moment.

"Well that sounds more final than if you'd spat in my eye," he answered angrily, frustrated more with his sons than with her.

But his voice softened when he saw the hurt look on her face. Boldly, he stepped forward and reached for her hand.

"I love you, Isobel Crawley. I know it's not enough. I know I'm old and played out. But I do love you…with my whole heart."

He spoke firmly, staring her directly in the eye. Never in his whole life had he voiced his personal emotions so openly. But he was desperate…he couldn't lose her.

"You're not played out," she demanded, placing her free hand on top of his. "And it means a great deal to me."

He smiled at her now, but she knew it would quickly fade when she made her final statement.

"But I will not poison what years we have left by setting you against your children."

He scoffed and dropped her hands, turning away from her. One hand came to rest on his hip while the other came to cover his mouth, his eyes closing while the wheels of his minds turned quickly. How would he ever make her understand? How could he show her that his sons had lost his respect, lost his trust…lost him as their father when they treated the woman he loved with such disdain?

Turning back to her, he saw she was looking down, nervously clasping her hands together. Her thumbs twiddled, moving back and forth quickly to try and alleviate her anxiety. Making his decision, he was in front of her in two strides, lifting her chin so that her eyes met his.

"I cannot accept that," he stated daringly, lifting his other hand to her cheek and leaning down to capture her lips with his.

Her body went rigid, her eyes wide, as his lips crushed against hers. And suddenly, his hands moved from her cheeks, sliding down her arms to rest on her waist. While her mind screamed at her to break the embrace, her body did quite the opposite. Her thumbs ceased twiddling, and suddenly, her hands found a comfortable place holding the lapels of Lord Merton's jacket.

As he gripped her waist, pulling her closer to his chest, she finally realized what was happening and broke the kiss. Her eyes moved back and forth quickly, searching his for some reason to stick with her original plan…to know that she should give up this ridiculous notion of marrying a Baron. But he did not blink, did not give any indication that he wanted to stop what was happening between them.

"Isobel….I love you," he whispered, gently rubbing his hands up and down her sides. She shuddered at his light caresses, fearing there was no way out if she allowed him to continue on in this way.

"Lord Merton…."

"Dickie," he reminded her, not wanting her to revert to formalities…not after he had gone so far to show her how he cared.

"Dickie…I…I know…" She was trying to move away from him, but his fingers held her close, not giving in as her hands began to leave his chest.

"Tell me you do not love me," he said, wrapping one arm around her back, hindering her right arm from moving. His other hand moved once more to her cheek, keeping her eyes locked on his. "Tell me."

She bit her bottom lip, so hard it almost drew blood. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried to voice her worries over marrying him; her fears about how he would be viewed by his aristocratic friends; and the tension that would exist now between he and the boys. Her chest began to throb as emotions overwhelmed her physical self, the enormity of it all bubbling up inside…yearning to be left out in the open.

"Dickie…I can't…I can't love…."

"Yes you can," he said, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone. "No one can stop you from loving, Isobel. Not even the notion that my sons will destroy our final years."

"But…" Tears brimmed her eyelids. She blinked quickly, looking down to avoid embarrassing them both by openly crying.

Tightly pulling her in to his chest, he let his hand fall to the back of her neck and caught her eyes with his once more. "Now tell me you do not love me, and I will leave. I will get out of your life…forever."

There was a moment of silence, their eyes locked together. He was praying that she accepted him while she longed for some interruption to break this intense moment…For it was only a break in this emotional turmoil that would give her an excuse to remember why she was letting him go in the first place.

But no interruption came.

As the fire flickered and the wall clock ticked on, her heart began to beat faster. She realized she could no longer deny Dickie…nor herself…true happiness. And that true happiness was to be wed, no matter what his sons believed or said.

"Don't leave," she spoke softly, her eyes closing for the briefest moment. After a few steadying breaths, she opened them once more to find Dickie's wide with surprise. "I do…I do love you, Dickie."

His relief was evident as a large breath passed through his lips. His shoulders sagged and the hold he had on her weakened. Ever so cautiously, she clasped her fingers behind his neck. As he stared at her curiously, a small, knowing, smile returned to her lips.

Matching her smile, he again kissed her deeply, allowing both his arms to encircle her. Wrapped in a passionate embrace, Lord and the "future" Lady Merton relished the beginning of their journey towards the altar.

"Shall I announce you, milady?" the young maid asked quietly, standing beside the Dowager Countess nervously. Violet put her finger to her mouth and hushed the girl, placing her ear to the door once more. The young maid suppressed a giggle at seeing the esteemed Dowager Countess snooping around Crawley House. The maid watched as Violet's eyes widened, then quickly caught the walking stick the elder woman thrust in to her arms.

Violet ever so gently pushed the door open a crack a moment later. Peeking in, she caught sight of Isobel and Lord Merton before closing the door softly. She stepped back and motioned for the maid to walk down the hall away from the sitting room.

"Forgive me, milady, but I thought you wanted…"

"If Mrs. Crawley should ask, let her know that I had something come up at the last minute and could not join her for tea this afternoon."

"Of course, milady. But if you like, I can always go in and…"

Violet stopped and turned, placing a stalling hand on the young maid's arm. "No dear. It would not do to interrupt her just now."

And with that, the Dowager Countess took her walking stick and headed for the entrance to Crawley House, a knowing grin forming on her lips.

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