Sorry about the delay with actually getting to the match, but I think it is part of my perception of sporting events, that they must be preceded by a bus ride. Also, I was rather amused by the bus that Mrs Hughes had to hike her way into in S2E5.
On reflection, in terms of character development, this certainly seems to be more of a series 2 fic than a series one, but in that case, it's another one where I've cancelled the war.
"But why?" the housekeeper asked again, as the three of them left the main house- all dressed in full volleyball-playing regalia- to walk down to the village hall together, when her question was not adequately answered by the other two, "Why do we have to play in Ripon? I thought we were supposed to be playing at the village hall, not getting the bus from there."
Sybil cast a rather grim look at her cousin.
"Someone has put the village hall out of use, for the foreseeable future," she informed Mrs Hughes, quite dryly. Isobel looked down at her feet. "Quite a large patch of the ceiling is now without any plaster on it."
Isobel was quite eager to divert the conversation away from her unintentional vandalism- or at least from its setbacks.
"But on the bright side this means that the whole village can hardly turn up to watch us," she told them both firmly, "If we shall look fools, we shall look fools in front of strangers, which is marginally better than in front of people we know."
Mrs Hughes gave her a rather steely look.
"I have no intention of looking like a fool at all," she informed them both, in a tone that moved neither of them to question it, "Because I'm not going to play. I'll have a hard time looking a fool when I'm just sitting on the reserves' bench."
There was a moment's pause before either Sybil or Isobel dared to offer up the potential complication that had formed in both their minds.
"Unless anyone gets injured," Sybil pointed out carefully.
"If anyone gets injured, I shall perform first aid on them," Mrs Hughes replied smoothly, "That is apparently what I'm there for. Though I can't think why; I assume that Dr Clarkson is indeed a doctor?" here she looked questioningly at Isobel.
Isobel had never been given any reason- apart from this- to doubt that it was true.
"Perhaps he's worried in case he gets injured himself," she mused quietly.
Perhaps she mused a little too much: Elsie saw Sybil's head snap sharply around to look at her cousin.
"Cousin Isobel," she began testily, "What are you planning?"
"I'm not planning anything!" Isobel insisted, looking quite genuinely astonished at the suggestion of a plan, perhaps too much so, "I was just saying that Dr Clarkson is just as likely as the rest of us to trip over, or hit his hand off the post, or be hit in the face by the ball...-"
"I was right!" Sybil concluded triumphantly, "You are plotting something! You want to have him thrown off his own team to make a point about women being as able to play as men. Gracious, Cousin Isobel, you're even more of a militant than I am!"
Isobel now looked at her young cousin as if she were being quite silly.
"Mrs Hughes, does it sound to you as if I'm plotting anything?" she wanted to know.
"I don't know. I refuse to say. I am purely here in the capacity as a first aider, and nothing more."
"See, Mrs Hughes agrees with me."
They continued in this fashion until they reached the main street, at which point they thought it best to stop, in case they were overheard, and in case Isobel was indeed further plotting against Dr Clarkson and it got them all into trouble.
When they reached the village hall, sure enough, there was the village bus waiting for them- hired at an exorbitant fee, they had been told- and the good doctor standing beside it. Due to the fact that the bus appeared to be full, they were not the first ones there. What was more, when they got closer to it, they saw that it was Edith sitting in the driver's seat. Sensing danger at once, this encouraged Sybil to increase her pace until she was level with the vehicle. Isobel and Elsie caught up with her in time to hear a loud Irish voice calling from the seat behind the driver's one.
"M'Lady, I really think it would be best if you let me drive. It's not like I don't do it for a living!"
"Edith, dear, I think Branson's right, you should come and sit by me."
Elsie and Isobel exchanged a look of horror at the sound of American tones rising from the bus. Surely her Ladyship wasn't going to be there?
"Oh, but Mama, Branson's got to play as well, and we're bound to lose if he's worn out from driving before we even get there."
Their dread only increased when- as they drew level with Dr Clarkson- his Lordship's voice issued from the bus as well.
"Edith, I think we've a much better chance of winning with Branson a little tired than the whole team having died before we get to Ripon."
There was the sound of much huffing as Branson and Edith finally changed places. At the presence of even more of her relatives than she'd expected, Isobel was beginning to look a bit off.
"Gracious, Dr Clarkson," Elsie turned towards him, "Have you got the whole house on the bus?"
"Well, I thought as we were paying for the transport, we might as well take everyone who wanted to go," he replied, "Quite a few of the staff have come along for the trip; which I think is wonderful: get a few of the youngsters primed for next year's team."
"A few of the staff?" Elsie repeated, not being able to remember giving anyone permission to come and watch this, on the off chance that she did end up playing, "Are you certain? I can't think who'd have let them, unless-"
She stopped; having heaved open the door of the bus and come face to face with a very familiar and impeccably polished pair of shoes. She knew the second she saw them who was on the bus, and who had given the staff permission to come along, because no one else had shoes that black; yet she still looked up at Charles Carson's face with a vague sense of dread.
"Hello," she told him, stupidly.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Hughes," he got out of the bus to help her in. She was unwilling to concede just how grateful she was for his assistance; it was rather a hike otherwise, she was in such a state of surprise. Mrs Crawley's eyes on her expression were rather too fixed for her liking.
Isobel turned towards the doctor herself now, as Carson followed Mrs Hughes into the bus. The look on the housekeeper's face was quite a picture.
"Quite a turn out," she remarked to Dr Clarkson, as the door beside them closed, "Any sign of Matthew and Molesley yet?"
"Yes, they've already been here. I sent them back to the hospital to get an emergency supply of bandages. To keep Mrs Hughes busy until she's called upon to play."
She cast him a look; half admiring his bravery. It did not escape him.
"Oh yes," he told her, "Elsie Hughes will play, whether she likes it or not. With reactions like that, I'd be a living breathing fool not to use her."
Her laugh was not without a hint of resentment that he was not praising her own reactions, and with a fleeting dread that it would be her who was substituted off to make room for the housekeeper. She wondered hysterically if she and the doctor had established some kind of Scottish camaraderie between themselves.
"Where are the spare seats?" she asked, hoping to steer the conversation into happier climbs, and also because the bus was nearly full with the staff and she really wasn't going to get a seat if she didn't settle herself soon.
"Well, if Matthew and Mr Molesley sit together, that should leave one at the front and one at the back, beside me."
"Who's at the front?"
"Robert, will you kindly move your feet from under my chair? I know there isn't a great deal of legroom on here, but nor is there much room for my walking stick."
Isobel felt a little of the colour drain from her face.
"Dr Clarkson, I think I'll take my chances at the back of the bus with you."
Holding out her hand, she allowed him to help her into the back seat of the bus, beside Carson and Mrs Hughes. Apparently the butler and housekeeper had not trusted any of the younger staff to sit there without canoodling, and so had occupied the space themselves. However, having reached this decision, Mrs Hughes had refused to speak to him any further; she was still so put out by the surprise of him having been there in the first place. Isobel exchanged a rather perplexed look with the doctor and received a small shrug in reply.
The afternoon certainly promised to be interesting, if more than a little dangerous.
Please review if you have the time.