Isobel Encounters a Snag; Elsie is Still Silly and A Party is Attended.
It was New Year's Eve evening. Downstairs- under Mrs Patmore's rather liberal jurisdiction- there were vague plans for a party to be held. But at the moment it seemed as if there would be comparatively few in attendance; there was one scene left to sort out- Act 3 Scene 4. They had certainly chosen the wrong scene to leave to the end, Elsie reflected; it was a killer. It could have quite easily been four separate scenes and included most of the principal cast. Thus all three of their esteemed directors felt the need to be present- Sybil in fact was jumping all about, acting as well- and most of the cast joined Isobel in her loitering.
"Mrs Hughes, come down from that stage, you're fine!" Lady Violet barked at her. She had truly mastered the art of giving praise in a thoroughly unflattering way. Elsie did as she was told and took up her seat beside Isobel.
"What's the matter with you?" she asked, looking at her friend's face.
"Nothing," Isobel replied, her eyes snapping away from the stage, whither she had been gazing in a rather preoccupied manner.
"Don't worry," Elsie told her, in a combination of putting two and two together and seeing right through her, "Just because he has to act as if he's madly in love with Lady Sybil, doesn't necessarily mean he is. She is very pretty but it's your door he came hammering on, after all. It's you he came a-wooing," she added, not quite able to resist the temptation of reminding Isobel of her own turn of phrase.
Isobel looked at her as if she was talking nonsense; which only acted to assure her that she wasn't. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, watching Sybil look comically shocked and Sir Anthony look ridiculous.
"I'll miss you," Elsie said suddenly, "I know I shouldn't really say it, but I will."
"My dear, what in Heaven's name are you talking about?" Isobel asked her, perplexed.
"Well, you'll be getting married fairly soon. "Not getting any younger" after all," she threw Sir Anthony's words in too for good measure.
"Why should that change anything?" Isobel wanted to know, half-laughing at the lunacy of this conversation, "I'm simply taking on another person, not renouncing all of my other friends!"
"So you're staying at Crawley House?" Elsie asked, surprised.
"Of course. Who else will Matthew have?"
"And you've discussed this with Sir Anthony?" Elsie prompted her.
"Not exactly," said Isobel's face. She hadn't even considered that this might mean leaving Downton; lodged as he was at present in her house she had pictured them living there. Of course, now that she considered it, Anthony would not be able to leave his estate; she knew the work that went into keeping it running. If she was to marry him, she would have to leave Downton.
Elsie was watching her with some concern. Isobel suddenly felt very foolish.
"Of course, I shall stay here," she insisted brusquely, perhaps a little too brusquely to be taken entirely seriously, "Downton is my home now. I shan't leave it."
Trust Elsie to look thoroughly unconvinced.
"Mrs Hughes! Do pay attention!" The rather shrill call came from Lady Violet's direction, "You're needed on stage!"
Knowing where her duty lay, Elsie got up and hurried back to her place, glowering a little at Lady Violet, leaving Isobel to her very turbulent thoughts.
…...
"Mrs Hughes," Lady Sybil surveyed her with a stern eye, "Please, please, try to say the line without laughing."
A good hour later Lady Violet had once again despaired with the lot of them and it was left to Sybil and her long-suffering mother.
"I'm not laughing at all, m'Lady," Elsie replied, trying not to sound insolent.
"But you look about ready to explode with mirth," Lady Grantham informed her in an unconvincing imitation of calmness, "What might I ask is so funny? All you have to say is "No, I warrant you he will not hear of godliness". By the end of the sentence you're positively squeaking it."
Else bit her quivering lip.
"Lord Strallan's serious face is just too serious."
And with that, the both of them collapsed into laughter again. Really, she thought, if she was to lose Isobel's company it was to someone who evidently had quite a ready sense of humour. Heavens, she really should warn him that he would need it! Charles coughed in the background.
"My Lady, do you think we could move on?" he asked.
Lady Grantham took a deep breath.
"I think that could be an excellent idea, Carson. Mrs Hughes! Oh for goodness sake, Mrs Hughes pull yourself together!"
"Sorry, m'Lady."
At this point she caught Charles' eye. He gave her a look that was meant to be stern. Good grief, compose yourself, woman!- she thought.
"Now," her Ladyship took another deep breath, "We'll move on. We need William, Robert, Mrs Hughes and Carson."
Oh no, Elsie thought- bearing in mind that she was going to have to try desperately not to laugh- not this part. Sir Anthony got down from the stage and took a seat beside Isobel. The four of them stood on the stage waiting to be directed or to commence with their lines.
"William, here's the letter," Sybil handed him the required prop, "Now, while Carson reads it out I want you to look as if you're getting ready for a duel, but- as Sir Andrew would- do so rather foolishly. Lunge about a bit, wave the sword around a touch too wildly and so forth. Is that clear?"
"Very good, m'Lady."
"Very well. And William, make your entry very flustered, quite flamboyant," here she shot a cautionary glance at her mother, but Lady Grantham had apparently not heard."
"Right, all in your own good time."
William hurried behind the curtain; only to emerge again doing the most spectacular lunges Elsie had ever seen in her life. By the look that Lady Sybil gave him, she surmised that he had started his duelling warm up a little bit too early. From where she stood, apparently conversing with Charles and his Lordship, she could see Sir Anthony and Isobel behind the directors, silently collapsing as they split their sides with mirth. She bit her lip hard.
His Lordship suddenly sprung into action with; "More matter for a may morning!"
She was fine, Elsie told herself, if she only didn't look directly at William with that ridiculous sword and his strange exercises she could get through this without falling over and crying with laughter.
"You're enjoying this," she muttered to him under her breath as he passed Charles the letter.
He shot a grin at her over his shoulder. Then he moved to centre stage and began his athletics in earnest. It was most unfortunate that Charles chose this particular moment to utter the line: "Youth! Whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow!" With great conviction.
That was the final straw. Unable to look at William, or Isobel, or Sir Anthony, Elsie simply bolted off the stage, not caring that her Ladyship's calls of indignation were likely to follow. Fortunately she was saved from this by the fact that his Lordship- having been watching her expression with some amusement- also burst out laughing and Charles followed suit not long after. All she heard was her Ladyship's anguished cry of:
"After this, no more comedy! Never again a comedy!"
…...
A fit of benevolence on Lady Sybil's part, coupled with her mother's exhaustion, meant that they were released in time to join the party downstairs.
"Of course you're welcome too," Elsie told Lady Sybil, Isobel and Sir Anthony as she and Charles prepared to depart for downstairs, "It's strictly for the staff, but I can't see anyone turning you away."
"You know, I should like nothing more than a party," Isobel admitted, evidently still in high spirits after William's rather enthusiastic improvisation, "Sybil?"
"Why not?" Sybil shrugged her shoulders and followed them down the stairs gladly.
The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. In fact it was in rather fuller swing than Elsie had imagined; she shortly discovered that that was due to the fact that Mr Crawley and his friends had also been invited, probably, she thought a little ruefully, by one of her girls. Christopher and Gwen were dancing rather vigorously- looking weirdly symmetrical, Elsie would have sworn they really were twins if she hadn't know otherwise- and William was playing the piano very loudly in the corner. Mrs Patmore, a little red in the face looked about ready to burst into song and Mr Branson- apparently getting all the practice he could come by- sat on the table with the piano-accordion.
"Mother! What are you doing here?" young Mr Crawley asked over the merry chattering- alarmed at the unexpected arrival of his parent when he was evidently having such a good time.
"I heard there was a party, and I simply had to join it," she informed him bluntly, "I do think you rather underestimate me sometimes, Matthew."
Mr Crawley seemed to think that he would be best off without having to continue this particular conversation- where it might lead was anyone's guess, knowing Isobel- and he hurriedly asked Lady Sybil to dance and moved off with her. There was a hum of general good cheer about the servants' hall- the ease with which their employer's family and guests blended in attested for this. Charles said he would go and try to find them some wine and- offering his help- Sir Anthony followed him.
Given that she had looked so cheerful mere moments ago, Elsie was surprised to see a rather stricken look on Isobel's face as she gazed around the room. She nudged her friend's arm questioningly.
"I can't leave this," Isobel told her in quiet explanation, "As much as Cousin Violet aggravates me, as much as I feel dreadfully uncomfortable sometimes, I can't leave here, Elsie."
Gently, Elsie took her friend's arm and led her to a seat at the table.
"Have a drink," she advised, "Forget about it until tomorrow."
Thank you all so much for sticking with this story, and thank you for reviewing! Two more chapters in this one by my calculations. Please review if you have the time.