Disclaimer: The characters described herein are the property of Julian Fellowes and ITV, and the concept the property of John De Mol and Endemol productions. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: This started as a discussion on Twitter, where thanks to a lot of encouragement, it went from a passing fancy to a fully realized plot. I don't like to write modern stories (others do it much better than me!) so this is my period version.
Full disclosure: I haven't seen any of the UK's "Big Brother," though from what I read on the Internet and learned through others, it doesn't seem like it would work in 1912 (i.e., the "public" can't exactly "watch" and vote on evictions). So, I borrowed concepts from U.S. Big Brother – where the action is more self-contained. Please forgive anachronisms and suspend disbelief accordingly.
Characters were chosen on the basis of reality show archetypes – but assume all characters who knew each other in say…October 1912 know each other here. There are several S2 and late S1 characters, so they would be strangers in this universe.
Acknowledgments: To Silvestria, for doing a post about this in her Tumblr and getting people to like it – which gave me the encouragement I needed to turn this into a fully realized idea.
To Pemonynen for her endless patience and invaluable information about the UK's version of Big Brother.
To bespectakate – who came up with a crucial player in the game, as well as some ideas. To Shiparker for her very vocal support, as well as ladypersie and Chickwriter for their enthusiasm.
I'm hoping to update this like a televised version of "Big Brother" – once every few days, until S3 starts. We'll see how it goes. "Expect the unexpected" as U.S. BB says…
Day One
Violet gazed out at the crowd of people that had assembled in the small drawing room. Her three granddaughters, her son's heir and the two guests she'd invited were seated, all looking slightly perturbed (though in truth, Matthew and that girl just looked a bit scared).
Her eyes wandered over to the six servants all standing behind them – housemaids, valets and footmen and two more guests – a chauffeur and a particularly insistent woman who'd insisted she'd served as a maid in London.
It was all she could do to keep her hands from rubbing together, but surely not in such mixed company.
"You're probably all wondering why I have assembled you here," she announced to the group.
"Yes, Granny – what is this place anyway? And why…" Edith looked derisively over the group, but seemed to correct herself at the last minute. "Why is this cadre of servants necessary? Surely, they have better things to do with their time."
Violet chuckled. "Quite so, my dear – quite so. But I'm afraid…not for a few weeks."
There was a collective gasp from the servants, and Mary repeated, "A few weeks?"
"Are we all to be here for weeks? I'm a very busy man," the unknown male guest chimed in, already sounding irritated. Violet noticed how Mary looked over at him, a slight smile curling her lips – and knew she'd made the correct assumption.
"Well, that rather depends on how well you fare at the game," Violet informed this rather rude gentleman, though her answer seemed to be addressed to all assembled. "This is a game we played here, at my big brother's house many years ago."
"But Granny, what kind of game takes a few weeks?" Sybil wanted to know – with the slightest bit of intrigue coloring her words.
She remained silent for a moment – all the better to draw out the suspense. "This kind," she announced. "You shall be living in this house as both competitors and allies. Every couple days, there will be a new house leader."
The male guest perked up at the idea of this, but Mary only scoffed. "That doesn't sound like any game I've ever played."
Matthew laughed, almost under his breath, and Mary glared at him in response.
Violet continued, as if she'd not been so rudely interrupted: "The leader shall nominate two of your…housemates for eviction. And the voting on whether or not you stay or go will be determined by…your fellow housemates."
"But that's not fair!" cried Edith. "Surely, we can bring someone objective – some people from the village in to decide."
"We'll not have outsiders interfering with the game!" Violet exclaimed, trying to keep control of her voice. "Only the participants shall know its dynamics. Who better to judge who among you is worthy to continue?"
"Who indeed?" put in this male guest, and Violet shot him a look. His smugness could cost him, she thought – or get him very far in this game.
Sybil seemed to be working something out in her head. "But Granny," she piped up. "There are only six of us, and if the leader changes after a couple days, then how does the game take a few weeks?"
A twinkle appeared in Violet's eye as she mused, "A very good question, my dear. You may have noticed the servants standing behind you…" She waved her hand to indicate the large group, but the servants didn't bat an eye. One more delicious pause and then… "They are not here to help you – they are here to participate with you."
Now a collective gasp seemed to echo around the room. "Play a game with servants?" Edith sounded particularly aghast.
"Why not?" Violet challenged her. "How better to test your skills at developing and maintaining relationships than seeing how well you interact with those from all walks of life? That is after all, what my big brother's game was about – to live in a house with a mixed group of people, cut off from the outside world."
"You mean we can't leave?" Mary protested. "We'll go mad stuck in this house for days on end!"
Violet nodded. "My big brother prepared for that, too." With a brief nod, O'Brien materialized, carrying what looked to be a stack of books.
The male guest seemed to take great offense at this. "Is she playing, as well? That would unbalance the numbers – the servants could pick us all off one by one."
O'Brien shot him a look, but Violet held up her hand. "No, sir – she is not. She is here to ensure the game runs smoothly. She has been instructed about its rules and will report back to me about everything – from the house leader to the nominations and evictions, as well as how you all interact with one another."
Now Violet removed a book from the stack and held it up for all to see. "These are your diaries. You will fill them out in a room designed for such purpose. When you are called to this…diary room, you will be able to write in them about anything relating to the game. Your fellow housemates will never see them, so be as honest as you wish."
"We can write anything…Lady Grantham?" the female guest asked, timidly.
"Yes, anything. The diary room is a quintessential part of my big brother's game."
"And did you win the game when you played, Granny?" Sybil asked, eyes shining with a competitive spirit.
Violet gazed at her youngest granddaughter before raising her eyebrows in response. "What do you think, my dear?" After another moment, she continued. "Well, I better leave you all to get acquainted. As I mentioned, relationships are key to winning the game."
"And…what is the prize for the winner?" Mary almost sounded tentative. Almost.
Violet merely smiled. "Well, I suppose you'll find out, won't you? Good luck to all of you. I'll be eager to hear how it goes," she added, cryptically – before leaving the room.
The remaining 12 people in the room all looked around at each other, mightily confused. Sybil was the first to break the silence. "Well, if everyone is playing, I think everyone should be seated." She looked at O'Brien almost hesitantly. "O'Brien…would you fetch us six more chairs?"
Without responding, O'Brien simply left the room.
Awkward silence filled the room once more, as nobody seemed quite sure how to proceed. Finally, Mary let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh for heaven's sake, I'm Lady Mary Crawley – these are my sisters—"
"Beg pardon, m'lady?" O'Brien's voice came from somewhere outside the room. "But her Ladyship's big brother's game requires that everyone introduce themselves."
Edith smirked triumphantly, as Mary rolled her eyes – but obviously was not about to disagree with her grandmother's rules. "I'm Lady Edith Crawley," she announced.
"And no titles," O'Brien continued. "Everyone goes by first name and surname, if you wish, for the game only."
"Does that include you?" Mary asked, crossly.
"It does not, if you know what's good for you…m'lady," O'Brien answered in as derisive a tone as she could manage.
I feel that writing in a diary is a stupid waste of time, Mary wrote later that day. But I would like it known that titles help to maintain order, and I object to them not being used.
Mary must be positively livid about not using titles, Edith penned gleefully. Heaven forbid anyone treat her with anything less than complete deference at all times.
"Sybil Crawley," Sybil put in, defiantly leaving off her title.
I'm excited not to use titles – at last, we can all be treated as equals, Sybil scribbled down. And I've not seen that male servant before.
There was another pause before Matthew put in, "I'm, er…Matthew Crawley."
I don't know exactly what they expect us to write. I was not aware these sorts of games existed, though I'd not be surprised if it was some sort of requirement for the entail, Matthew wrote hesitantly.
"Are you all related?" the male guest wondered. "Should we all be concerned that you'll be working together to pick us all off?"
"I suppose you'll just have to find out, won't you?" Mary replied, with a gleam in her eye.
The male guest raised an eyebrow, seeming almost pleased at the challenge. "I'm Sir Richard Carlisle – I was asked here by Lady Grantham."
"And what do you do…Richard?" Sybil asked, remembering the rules.
"The housemates are only required to share as much information as they wish." O'Brien's voice came floating back into the room.
But Sir Richard didn't seem that put off. "I'm a journalist," he responded, simply – and left it at that.
Of course I didn't tell them that I run newspapers, Richard penned eagerly. It's not a lie – I simply withheld information. Best not to be seen as too big a threat.
The female guest spoke so softly, she could barely be heard, "I'm Lavinia Swire. I'm from London and I, too, was asked here by Lady Grantham."
I miss my dad, Lavinia wrote carefully. I do hope he's alright. I didn't realize this game lasted a month – I've never been away from home that long.
O'Brien returned now with the chairs, placing them round the room before leaving once again. All of the servants eyed them skeptically except two of them, who sat down immediately.
"I'm Thomas Barrow," Thomas said, gazing around the room at those he knew and perhaps wanted to know a little better. He crossed his legs defiantly in the chair, enjoying his newfound status.
At last I'm treated with the respect I deserve, Thomas wrote, excitedly. I'll show this lot who really runs the house.
The servants' side also featured an unfamiliar female guest, as she sat daintily in her chair, as if she was every inch the aristocrat that the ladies were. "I'm Vera Bates," she said, with a significant glance behind her. "I'm John Bates' wife."
I have waited a long time for this, Batesy. Vera's script was barely legible.
"So, we have married couples and siblings playing together," Richard commented. "I'm not sure this is entirely fair."
"I'm not sure you have much of a choice," Mary replied, turning slightly towards him.
Now Bates spoke up from his place behind one of the chairs. "I can assure you that my personal relationship with Mrs. Bates will not compromise my objectivity in any way." After a moment, he then sheepishly put in, "I'm John Bates."
Vera found me. I'm not sure how. Or what this means, really, Bates wrote on three separate lines.
An unfamiliar male guest strode round the chairs before also taking a seat. "I'm Tom Branson."
I don't know what this game is about, Branson wrote. But I think the classes could do with a bit of mixing, so I'm all for it.
Thomas turned round to glare at William, who merely curled his hands over the back of the seat, patting it awkwardly. "William…Mason."
"And I'm Anna Smith," said Anna, steadfastly refusing to be seated.
I would have liked to have had a seat, Anna confessed in neat script. But it didn't seem right at the time.
Richard was observing all this with a keen eye. "And how do you all know each other?" he wanted to know.
"We're in service together," William replied almost immediately, as Thomas shot him a disgusted look. "What?"
"We're not supposed to reveal anything we don't want to be known," Thomas gritted out between his teeth. "And you can't stop yourself from blabbing our secrets."
William bowed his head, looking chastened as he mumbled, "I didn't know it was a secret."
"It wasn't a secret," Anna assured him. "It was just private. There's a difference." She then cast an annoyed look at Thomas.
Bloody William can't keep his bloody mouth shut! How many times must he be told we're not friends with these people – especially now! Thomas scribbled angrily.
I wonder if Thomas is going to report me to Mr. Carson, William lamented to his diary.
So, if the servants are all working together, Richard wondered, with a thoughtful tap of his pen, then I'm going to need a new plan.
They all fell into silence once more – each casting an eye around the room, trying to assess their competition.
"Granny— er…Lady Grantham said something about picking a house leader," Sybil mentioned, breaking the silence once more. Her grin broadened as her eyes twinkled. "Perhaps we're supposed to vote?"
Voting would be the fairest way to decide, Sybil wrote. And it's a privilege not enjoyed by all of us.
Richard frowned. "That doesn't seem like a particularly just solution – especially when you lot will simply vote in blocks." He glanced briefly in Lavinia's direction before adding, "I'm afraid the rest of us don't stand a chance."
Lavinia shifted in her seat, seeming particularly uncomfortable. "I'm fine with voting, if that's what we're supposed to do."
"It most certainly is not." O'Brien's voice seemed to materialize out of nowhere. "House leader will be determined by how well you complete an assigned task."
"A task?" Mary balked at this. "So, we all must compete?"
Edith's lips twitched. "Unless you don't want to be leader, Mary."
Now Mary rolled her eyes with a brief toss of her head. "Don't be absurd. Some of us simply don't feel it necessary to compete in order to lead."
I wish Lady Mary and Lady Edith wouldn't fight in public, Anna lamented to her diary. It doesn't look well on either of them.
Matthew shifted in his seat, his fingers rubbing together uneasily.
I don't think it's right for us to compete against women, Matthew wrote. Though please, don't tell my mother I said that.
"Well, can we get on with it?" asked Richard, with a touch of impatience.
"Yes, sir. If you all will come to the task room," O'Brien's voice rang out from what sounded like the other end of the house.
The housemates all rose from their chairs, looking various degrees of discomfited at this promised competition.
"And how exactly are we supposed to find this…task room?" Thomas wondered. "Sense of smell?"
"...O'Brien?" Edith called, peering round as if she was trying to locate the hidden ladies' maid.
"I'll thank you not to address me during the game…m'lady," O'Brien's voice responded. "I can make your life in this house very comfortable or quite miserable indeed. Heaven forbid I decide to let the cook go and let you fend for yourselves in the store cupboard."
The room was quiet after that, though Anna did stifle a chuckle at the thought. Her eyes found Bates' as she smiled, before quickly looking away.
I still think competing for house leader will be tremendously boring. Almost as much as writing in a diary, Mary sighed, putting down her pen.
"Congratulations, Vera Bates – you are the house leader," O'Brien's voice intoned as the housemates all headed back to the drawing room. Violet's big brother's house was much larger than any of them had anticipated – with a task room on the ground floor that was hidden from view.
The rest of the housemates weren't exactly in the best of moods, with their fates in the game now in the hands of Bates' seemingly deranged, slightly unhinged and heretofore unknown wife.
As if one Bates wasn't enough, Thomas wrote. I'm sick of being shafted by Bateses!
Though indeed, Bates looked the most uncomfortable of any of them – as if only he could knew for sure exactly what she was capable of doing, or the kind of havoc she could wreak on the house if given the chance.
Vera won. I suppose that is the story of my life, Bates bemoaned to his diary.
"As house leader, your job is to nominate two housemates for eviction." O'Brien informed her (as well as the other housemates). "You have tonight and tomorrow morning to consider your choices. And remember…I'm keeping an ear on you. All of you."
As the housemates began to trickle out of the sitting room, some began adjourning upstairs to the first floor – most notably Mary, Edith and Richard were the first to leave – with Matthew and Lavinia following close behind.
Perhaps I wasn't expecting any of the lower classes to win so soon, Richard penned, eagerly. But it doesn't mean I wasn't prepared for it.
"Sybil, are you coming?" Mary asked, glancing at her younger sister who was surreptitiously eyeing Branson.
Shaking her head, Sybil waved her hand to indicate Mary should continue without her. "I'm fine, Mary – just go."
With all the upper classes gone (except Sybil – who didn't look like she'd mind too much), Branson stretched out onto the settee, and leaned back with a grin. "I could get used to this."
Anna and William stayed behind with Bates and Vera, while Thomas skulked around the ground floor, looking somewhat out of sorts.
Vera looked around the room, triumphantly – enjoying her newfound and hard-earned power.
I won, Vera wrote happily. But of course I always win. Now to bring some order to this house...
