"But how can we get them here? Surely Anna's too sick to come by train."
"I agree, I'd hate to think of her coping with the journey if she's that poorly."
"Oh why did none of us ever learn to drive...?"
Mrs Patmore, Daisy and Bill sat around the kitchen table, an informal council of planning which convened shortly after Phyllis' phone call.
"Only posh people learn to drive," grumbled Daisy. "The rest of us can't afford such a thing."
"Not quite so Daisy, I can drive a tractor."
"But your tractor only goes at twenty miles an hour Bill, and it's more than sixty to Whitby! And you couldn't fit three of them in that cab with their luggage..."
Mrs Patmore buttered a scone furiously. "If only we knew someone who could drive. Right spoilt we all were, living at Downton Abbey, with a chauffeur at his Lordship's beck and call."
"Perhaps we should speak to Dr Clarkson? See if he thinks it is safe for her to travel before we plan 'owt else?"
"I'll go if you like," Daisy was already on her feet. "He'll be home now, perhaps I can see him there before he goes to the hospital."
"Aye, go on lass, we'll know more about what to do then."
In a flash, Daisy was bundled into her coat and rubber boots and heading out down the road.
...
In all of his long years practicing medicine at Downton, Dr Clarkson had come to believe that he was beyond surprise, but the sight of Daisy being ushered into his sitting room, red faced from the wind and spattered with mud and rain, was one that raised his eyebrows.
"Daisy... what is it, is everyone alright at Yew Tree Farm?"
"Oh yes doctor, we're all fine. But Mrs Bates isn't fine at all..."
"Mrs Bates! Is she in Downton?"
"Well ... not yet... that's the problem."
"Perhaps you'd better tell me everything. Come and sit down. Ellen, could you bring us some tea? And ask Mrs Clarkson if she could step in for a few minutes?"
Warmed by the fire and reassured by the serious attention, Daisy told her tale slowly and in relatively good order. About half way through, Dr Clarkson rummaged for a notebook in his pocket and made one or two notes.
"...so, we really want her to come and stay here. She was coming for Christmas anyway, but if she comes now with Mr Bates and the little girl, we can take care of all of them, and she'll have chance to get better before the baby's born."
"I see..." Dr Clarkson did see. It was a sound plan apart from one thing. "But how are they going to get here?"
"Well, that's our next problem Doctor. Normally they come by train, but..."
"Out of the question. It's far too rocky and violent a mode of travel for Mrs Bates in her present condition, if what you've told me is correct."
"We thought you might say that. But we don't know anybody who can drive who can spare the time to go and fetch her..."
"Why don't you leave that to me?"
The doctor and Daisy both turned to see Mrs Clarkson standing in the doorway, bearing a tray of tea cups and a steaming tea pot.
"I didn't know you could drive Mrs Crawley... I mean, Mrs Clarkson!"
Isobel smiled. It had been some time since she had been addressed by her old name, but it still felt warm and snug around her ears.
"I didn't, for a long time. But Mr Branson offered to teach me, after the Crawley family left for London, so I decided to take him up on it as a new adventure. I've gotten to be quite good at it in the last year or so."
Dr Clarkson smiled fondly at his wife. Even in their middle aged years, there was nothing she saw as beyond her in terms of a challenge once it was phrased as an adventure. Although it had taken some time for her to come around to the idea of their marriage, the union was a sound one, blessed with as much happiness as good sense.
"I overheard you coming down the passage way dear. I think you're quite right, on all counts. Mrs Bates needs proper rest in a comfortable environment, and Mr Bates and Josephine need to be looked after too. If Dr Clarkson agrees, I will drive to Whitby to fetch them back here. We can go as slowly as we like, and if Mrs Bates needs to stop for a bit, we can do that quite easily."
The three faces brightened as the plan fell into place.
All that was left to do now was to inform the Bates family of the plan.
"I'll take care of that myself," Dr Clarkson finished his tea. "I'll speak to the doctor in Whitby and then telephone Mr Bates and explain what we've discussed. I'm rather certain I can overcome any potential objections."
"In the mean time," Isobel set her cup and saucer to one side, "I will go and find the maps and plot my route to Whitby. And you can set up a room for them at Yew Tree Farm."
"I know which one we can use, there's a nice room on the ground floor, so she won't have to keep taking the stairs..."
"Excellent, good thinking Daisy. So I think we all have our tasks to do then?"
Just as efficiently as she had wrapped up every committee meeting she had taken part in, Isobel drew the conversation to a close and dispatched the little group to their tasks. Daisy felt warm with relief and confidence. If Mrs Crawley ... or rather Mrs Clarkson ... had taken the matter in hand, everything was sure to work out just right.