Fourteen Hundred Hours requested a very long second half if I wasn't going to write the tie-breaker tonight, so here be a very long second half; I cannot deny The Grand Master.

The Second Half.

When the Downton team returned to the court there was an atmosphere- which seemed to put Elsie off immediately- that no single word could describe; anxious, pessimistic, frightened, weary and edgy barely began to cover it.

They lined up: Ripon had the first serve, so Dr Clarkson had declared that the ladies should start in the front row and he, Branson and Matthew would take the back so that Sybil could rotate in and serve first when their time arrived. In fact, Dr Clarkson seemed to be declaring nineteen to the dozen at that moment; loudly calling out tactics and reminders to left and right.

"Now remember," he told them, "We have three things to think of: movement, communication and height. It's no good playing a beautiful shot only to have it catch on the net and land back on our side."

This observation had been fairly apparent to Isobel anyway, and she turned away from the doctor to face the net, where the Ripon team were filing on. She noted the tall man, whom she was meant to be sabotaging.

Mrs Hughes, to her left, was also fairly put out by their manager's rather condescending remark.

"And we," she hissed under her breath to Isobel and Sybil, "Have three men to think of. And keep in order. And avoid colliding with," she added, with a particularly pointed look at Isobel.

Sybil seemed to be trying to stop herself from laughing at this. Isobel sighed, running her hand over her brow in frustration. It had not escaped her notice that the strategic positioning of players on the court had been changed for the second half. While they had been next to each other before, side by side as it were, now she and the doctor were positioned so that four times out of six they would be as far away from each other as possible; except the times when their paths would cross in the middle and one would have to stand alternatively in front or behind the other. This was presently the case, he was standing straight behind her as he barked out masterful instructions; and here she was, not without some element of consolation, recalling how she had landed on top of him not half an hour ago. Her knees experienced a sudden feeling of unaccountable weakness. She wondered if he would consent to catching her should she fall. Probably not.

"Cousin Isobel?"

She snapped out of her reverie to see Sybil watching her with a concerned expression. As quickly as possible, she stirred herself to look alert.

"What?"

"Are you ready to go?"

Isobel looked over to the other side of the court where the giant of a man was getting ready to serve. She gave a brusque nod, and at the other side of the net Dr Philips shouted "Play".

The first serve landed out, and it was most fortunate that it did: had it hit any of the players it would have likely knocked them stone dead before they could decide whether or not the return ought to be a volley or a dig. This allowed Sybil to serve, and by the time she had taken her three shots and Ripon had lost their next serve, Downton were 5-0 in the lead. Dr Clarkson looked as if he could scarcely believe what he was seeing.

"Keep calm!" he told them all, furiously, under his breath, "Remain vigilant! We can't allow the tables to be turned on us."

Isobel found it hard not to roll her eyes as she walked to the back of the court to take her serve and Mrs Hughes passed the ball to her. From what she had seen today, the best way to make a person lose it altogether was to furiously tell them to keep calm. As well as this, when the housekeeper passed her the ball, she thought she saw something like a hint of daring in the housekeeper's eyes. As if by reflex, her own eyes wandered to the tall man of the Ripon team, standing in the middle of the back row. In the end, she decided that she did not quite dare aim directly at him from this distance- she was far too likely to miss, or have him return it too smoothly- and instead walloped the ball high into the air. There was a burst of movement from the Ripon team, before the ball was returned. Matthew managed to dig it from the back row to the front, Branson set it high into the air, and Mrs Hughes turned to offer a valiant smash over the net, that Isobel thought would surely made contact with the ground. But at the net, Dr Philips was too quick for her, smacking the ball straight back, almost knocking her to the ground as she attempted to return it.

Isobel saw Mr Carson rise indignantly to his feet, as Mrs Hughes stumbled a little and 5-1 to Ripon was called. Momentarily concerned for the poor woman, she hurried to the front of the court to help her up, but by the time she reach her, Mrs Hughes was already standing and giving Dr Philips a look that clearly said: "Filthy swine!" Isobel bit her lip and smiled; the look on the housekeeper's face rather brought to mind a line of Shakespeare she'd once heard: "Though she is but little, she is fierce."

Very fortunately, Ripon's next serve landed out as well. Catching the look on her son's face, she was not the only one on the team who was very conscious of the almost obscenely good luck they were having in this half; aside from Sybil's marvellous serving, most of their advantage was due to Ripon missing the court, and not by very far at that.

Now though, it was Mrs Hughes who was going to serve, and serve she did, with a good deal of force; so much, in fact, that Ripon almost struggled to return it. However, they just managed to tip the ball back over the net, and Downton were only spared the point by Dr Clarkson volleying the ball straight up into the air. Seeing it fall quickly, Isobel- despite what had happened before in terms of catastrophic collisions- ran as quickly as her temperamental knees would carry her and managed to keep it in the air. Then, with one shot remaining, Mrs Hughes jumped in, swinging her fist around with a phenomenal swoop and punched the ball straight across the net and down on Ripon's side of the court. Isobel's gut reaction was to jump on Mrs Hughes and kiss her; 7-1 in the lead- it was almost unthinkable! There was much applause for the housekeeper from the Downton spectators. Unfortunately, Isobel also caught a rather admiring glint in the doctor's eye as he watched the housekeeper retreat to the back of the net to take her next serve, and Isobel was fleetingly reminded of their established "Scottish camaraderie". She tried to tell herself that she was indignant purely for Mr Carson's sake.

...

Spurred on by their success in the first eight points; their confidence restored- if they had ever had any in the first place-, the team seemed to be able to do no wrong in the second game of the first half. At the end of it, they left the court with in a much better frame of mind than they had come to it. Sybil was even smiling as they all took a quick drink of water and Dr Clarkson adjusted his shoe laces.

"Branson, you take a rest," he instructed, as the team prepared to go back on.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Matthew asked, and Isobel felt that she had to agree with him. The chauffeur had been rather critical in the last game.

"Yes, yes," the doctor replied dismissively, "Barrow you take a rest as well. We may need you for the tie-breaker game at the end."

Given the look on Mrs Hughes' face, Isobel was not the only one to realise that there was very little point in saving players for the tie-breaker if they lost this one! Molesley tried his best, poor man, but he wasn't quite-... well, he wasn't quite a Mrs Hughes, so to speak. On the plus side, nor was he as dissident as Mrs Hughes was, who was now whispering unashamedly to Sybil that men never had a clue what they were doing, and Sybil, by all appearances, was agreeing whole-heartedly, albeit in a way that probably wasn't meant to be as personally offensive to Dr Clarkson. Isobel now felt an unashamed pang, and wondered why the doctor was so apparently entranced with a woman who clearly thought he was an incompetent lunatic. She herself could not offer compariotship to the doctor, but at least she didn't think he was completely mad.

Sybil had already returned to the court with Matthew, and Isobel quickly followed Elsie as she set out in determined- or perhaps just quick and irritated- steps as she made her way back to her place. The two women exchanged a look, and all was made apparently clear tot he point where it was completely unnecessary for Elsie to speak. She did anyway.

"Now might be an excellent time to play that well-placed smash we talked about," Mrs Hughes told her in a low voice.

Isobel sensed that her own face was half-incredulous, half-imploring.

"We managed in the last game," she replied weakly, knowing full well what the counter argument to that would be, "I don't think I ought to... I feel so terrible just talking about it."

In response Mrs Hughes threw her the look that Isobel was sure was responsible for the main house having run so smoothly all these years. She for one was not about to offer any contradiction to it and walked into her place, feeling rather daunted.

By this time, both of the teams had returned to the court and play resumed. Two of Sybil's serves were successful, but the last one was returned. After that, Ripon scored from one of their own serves. Isobel saw Mrs Hughes biting her lip again as 2-2 was called. Ripon's next serve was also successful. She craned her neck and saw that it was her potential target doing the serving; no wonder no one could return a shot. 3-2.

This time when the ball came flying over the net- at a steep angle and mammoth speed- Dr Clarkson managed to get behind it and dig it quite clumsily. Thomas dug it again, and throwing her weight behind it in order for it to reach the net, Isobel just managed to return it. The shot was picked up, and bashed back and forward before it came flying back over to their side of the net. The crowd were getting interested, as they did with the lengthier and more skilful rallies; Isobel caught a fleeting glance of Cora's face- her mouth open slightly- as she watched her youngest come galloping forward to return the shot it one sharp swift motion. This threw rather Ripon- who had been expecting a more complex set up. 3-3. Sybil was patted on the back Matthew and received a quick clap on the shoulder from Dr Clarkson.

The serve returned to Downton and Mrs Hughes stepped up to take it. In a moment's distraction, Isobel saw Mr Carson clapping particularly proudly when Ripon's attempt were insufficient to return the shot. She did not, however, notice the woman in a dark hat and overcoat who settled herself in the front row of the audience, perched on the end of her seat.

Mrs Hughes took her next serve without further ado. The ball was sailing through the air, and it looked very much as if Ripon would return it, when the tall player whom they all so intensely antagonised ran too far forward and the ball fell squarely to the ground behind him. This provoked great displeasure from Dr Philips, who asked the man what on earth he was thinking of. Elsie later said that it rather looked like he didn't know what he was thinking of, he looked rather confused, as if he didn't quite know how he'd ended up a good foot too far forward. Almost as if someone in the front row had just reached forward and pushed him. Isobel's eyes fell on O'Brien; face cast down, nearly hiding behind her hat, in the front row. She exchanged an incredulous look with Mrs Hughes, who simply raised her eyebrows a fraction. 5-3 to Downton.

...

"OUT!" Dr Clarkson all but roared, advancing towards the net with nothing short of fury in his face, pointing an accusatory finger squarely at Dr Philips.

Isobel had very rarely seen this side of him: she'd seen it, certainly, but only when he was nothing short of incensed. Goodness gracious me, she thought as she saw the slightly mad glint in his eye as he passed her. He looked almost wild with rage, and she felt a dash of excitement as she followed him to the net to join him in his protest: Ripon's shot had been out by miles, any fool could have seen that! It was 13-12 to Downton, and things were starting to get heated.

"Yes!" she caught up with him where he stood defiantly facing Dr Philip on the other side of the net, and stood by his side, "That can't possibly have been in!"

Dr Philips simply shook his head resolutely.

"In," he told them, not batting an eyelid despite the way they both appeared to be about to charge under the net and physically attack him.

That wouldn't be such a bad idea, she thought to herself. Mrs Hughes had appeared at her shoulder.

"There's no way in Heaven that was in," she told him quite calmly, but not without a hint of menace.

Faced with Mrs Hughes' best impression of a dragon, the doctor did seem to quake, but only a very little. Isobel turned towards the umpire; an elderly gentleman from Malton, to find that he was sound asleep in his chair, despite all of the noise that Richard was making beside her as he and Dr Philips argued vehemently.

"Play the point again," Matthew suggested.

"Yes," Sybil agreed, "That is the fairest way."

Isobel turned to these frustrating youngsters.

"But, my dears, that's not really the point," she told them, "We won that point. Or more accurately," she shot her best dirty look at Dr Philips, "They lost it, and they don't want it to go to our game point, so they're saying it was in!"

She turned back to Dr Clarkson, hoping he might agree with her, and was astonished to see something akin to in his face as he watched her pleading their case. Suddenly, she no longer cared if the pint was lost or won, she had forgotten what her argument was about. Her heart was racing with adrenaline and she wondered again if she might collapse.

Meanwhile, the audience was growing restless in the background.

"Play the point again," Dr Philips conceded begrudgingly, turning back into his place, "Don't listen to that wife of yours Clarkson, I think she's hysterical."

It took Isobel a moment and Elsie's ill-disguised snort to realise to whom Dr Philips was referring. Her initial reaction was to protest that she most certainly wasn't hysterical. She didn't know whether or not to laugh, or if she should be alarmed that no on had troubled to correct him.

The point was replayed, and Downton won it. Match point. Isobel felt a crinkle of sweat break out on the back of her neck as she got ready for the serve to arrive. It looked almost as if it was not going to quite make it, but it snagged on the net, tipped over by the skin of its teeth and would have fallen straight to the ground if Mrs Hughes hadn't swiped it frantically back up into the air. Seizing her chance, Isobel jumped and smashed it over the net.

Once 15-12 had been declared, she hugged the housekeeper. Somehow they had made it to the tie-break.

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