Chapter Two
Thinking she might as well get the ball rolling amongst all these children O'Brien swigged her beer, taking half the bottle down in one go, before looking round. "Christ, where did you find this gnats piss?"
Louis grabbed one of the beer bottles, and flashed a grin at Thomas. "Ready?"
Thomas followed suit and picked up on the bottles. "Of course."
Gwen caught Louis' eye and shot him a challenging glare. She tore the top off her bottle and spat it across the room, leaning forward on her elbows into the table. Louis raised his eyebrow and grinned at Gwen, then proceeded to drink his bottle at a rapid pace, finishing quickly. He slammed it down on the table, returning Gwen's challenging glare.
Since nobody had suggested any sort of tune, William supposed he'd have to pick something himself. He supposed nothing too sad, under the circumstances. Maybe if he played something jaunty, they could avoid somebody getting hurt, in the spirit of togetherness and fun and all that. He doubted it. Cracking his knuckles, he began to play
Branson downed half of his before taking a large breath and continuing on to drain the second half. "Bring on the seconds then, and how about that cider Louis?"
O'Brien finished her bottle quickly; hoping that if she drank enough these people might be bearable. "More beer first I reckon."
Anna ripped the top off her bottle using her teeth. "Bottoms up!" She sang before downing it in one. She threw the bottle across the room and gave a triumphant shout. Turning to Branson she bellowed, "Line 'em up Big Man!"
Thomas set out some more beer on the table. So far everyone seemed to be managing, and William had crept off to play the piano in the background. He supposed that was for the best really.
Mary had had a deeply frustrating day. There was... something about Cousin Matthew that always left her feeling unsatisfied after speaking to him - and he always did contrive to meet her on her walks in the park, almost as if he was expecting her! And then Edith - well, never mind that. And now nobody was answering the bell. In a fearsome temper, she descended into the kitchen, all ready to let any hapless servant she found feel the full extent of her wrath, and paused, gobsmacked, on the threshold at what she saw going on.
Louis stood up sharply. "Lady Mary!"
William stopped playing abruptly and stood as Lady Mary entered, his face white. He knew this was going to end badly. Firing squad and all!
Shit. O'Brien shot to her feet and anticipated a rebuke. Christ she hoped Mary wasn't going to tell her mother.
Mary glowered. And so they noticed her. Well, about time too! "I rang for tea," she said to the assembled group in her iciest tones. "Ten minutes ago. And then I kept on ringing. I was under the impression that when I rang the bell, it got answered." What on earth did they think they were doing? And where on earth had all that beer come from? She eyed it disdainfully. Though really, something stronger than tea would possibly help her headache more...
O'Brien glanced around at the others. She supposed she was the most senior person present... "M'lady, your father gave us permission to hold a party tonight. Didn't he tell you?"
"This is not a party, O'Brien. It is a bar room brawl." Mary retorted, her eyes narrowing. She suddenly became aware of Sybil just behind her. Good Lord, just what she should not be involved in! "Sybil, go upstairs immediately!"
Sybil had followed Mary down to the kitchen. She had been going to use the excuse of needing a drink, though she was more interested in trying to see Tom, if she was honest. She had stopped behind Mary, eyes wide at the sight before her. Then, as the initial surprise wore off, she descended into helpless giggles.
Branson blushed crimson. There he was, falling halfway of his chair caressing a bottle of beer with his lips, and Lady Sybil had seen him. She must think him a right drunkard! "L-lady Sybil." Branson stood up immediately and sat down only when he realized the others weren't following suit.
O'Brien's scowl was just as impressive as Mary's own. I'll give 'er a brawl if she bloody wants one. "He did say we were relieved of our duties for the evening...m'lady." She added as an afterthought.
"I'm sorry, Lady Mary," William stuttered, blushing as he shifted on the spot. "Is there anything that I can get for you?" He supposed, even though they had the night off, the family came first.
Mary ignored O'Brien. That woman was always difficult. Instead she turned a sweet smile on William. He had always been her favourite footman. "Thank you! A cup of tea would be-" Her eye alighted on the beer again. She had never tried beer. She dragged her eyes away. "A cup of tea, yes. I shall remember this, William!" she added with a glare at O'Brien.
If William had been more like Thomas, he would have smiled smugly in O'Brien's direction. But he wasn't. Instead, he felt extraordinary pride at Lady Mary's praise and puffed out his chest. "Thank you, m'lady," he said, before scurrying off to attend to the task that her ladyship had bestowed upon him. At least then he could escape the carnage.
'Things aren't getting out of hand, milady,' Thomas offered. To be honest he was feeling too relaxed to care much that Lady Mary was there. He could have a damn party if he wanted.
O'Brien bristled at Mary's glare. Who was Lady Mary Crawley to dictate behaviour to them; she was hardly a paragon herself! She could have forgiven it from Lady Sybil, or even Lady Edith, but really to be dictated to by someone no better than they ought to be! She sat back down and reached, unconcernedly, for another beer, deciding the best strategy was to ignore the intruders from upstairs.
Well, Thomas thought, as he saw Lady Mary glance curiously at all the alcohol, beer did bring out interesting sides to people.
Drink had always made Gwen more confident than was good for her, especially when her father's employer had been around. The presence of Lady Mary, therefore, was nothing, and Lady Sybil was almost a friend. "D'you want to join us, milady?" she asked cheerfully, holding out her half-finished beer.
The booze had given Gwen some guts, Branson was glad that she was the one to ask the sisters to join them. Branson would've stuttered like a schoolboy if he'd asked Lady Sybil.
"I only want tea!" snapped Mary and then felt instantly guilty. "And Sybil doesn't want anything!" After all, she probably would not have snapped so much if it wasn't so tempting. "But thank you for the offer, Gwen," she added in a more contrite voice.
"Are you sure you don't want anything Lady Sybil?" Branson asked. He was only trying to let the girl speak for herself.
Thomas went into the kitchen, and promptly came out again. "There's no tea" he announced confidently.
"No-?" Mary gave up at this obvious obstruction and lie. Her head ached too much and she was too fed up. She came fully into the room up to the table. "Give me one of them!" she ordered defiantly. She indicated the crate of beer, still holding herself as still and upright as befitted Lord Grantham's eldest daughter.
Branson raised an eyebrow. "Alright then, there you go" He cracked the bottle open on his teeth and shoved it into her hands, if she expected to be treated like a lady down here she had another thing coming.
Sybil was still standing in the doorway, chuckling at her sister. She made her way to sit next to Branson. She smiled at him; then turned to Mary.
"Say please, darling sister. And could someone please pass me one?"
Louis chuckled, and chucked her a bottle. He was slightly confused that they had stayed to drink, though he thought that it could be quite a lot of fun...
Branson smiled at her. "Drink it slow; else it'll go straight to your head Mi'Lady. He cringed when "Mi'Lady" passed his lips but he couldn't call her Sybil in front of everyone, could he?
Gwen held back a giggle, wondering if the whole of upstairs would be joining them. An image of the Dowager Countess downing a beer appeared in her mind, and she snorted, the drink she had just swallowed spraying out of her nose, thankfully not drenching anyone. She ducked her head for a brief moment, then lifted it and grinned, swallowing the rest of her bottle and reaching for another.
Mary found herself with a bottle in each hand. Well, that should keep her going for a while. She acknowledged both with a nod, and then took an empty seat at the table, smoothing her skirts as she sat. She looked at the bottle for a moment, then raised it to her lips and took a small sip. Not bad. Fizzier than expected. "Ten minutes, Sybil. We stay ten minutes and then we leave, and nobody ever hears about this." She lowered the bottle, alarmed to see she had already drunk almost half of it! "So, you just sit here and drink? Is this it? I can't say it makes for a terribly interesting evening, in my opinion." She took another swig.
"Ten minutes?" Sybil looked stricken. "You can't expect me to only stay here ten minutes. A little longer, please!" She cheerfully downed half of her bottle, and unpinned her hair from its intricate bun. She intended to stay for as long as she wanted. After Tom spoke, she nudged him teasingly. "Sybil. Not 'm'lady'."
Mary looked at her sister in horror. "Sybil - I - you can't do that!" She sounded less sure than she had been a few minutes ago. However, it was hard to be too uptight when the beer was making her feel so relaxed.
O'Brien smirked and shared a glance with Thomas. Of all the people upstairs Sybil had always been one of the ones they hated the least. And here she was proving that she didn't think herself better than them. Sarah did so like to be right. If only Mary would go away. "We don't do this every night m'lady. And I'm sure we'll liven up shortly..."
Branson paused for thought. Ten minutes was not long enough to devise a plan to get Sybil alone in the garage with him. Perhaps if he got Lady Mary drunk enough she would notice if they sneaked away.
"Have you ever tried whiskey, Lady Mary?" Branson asked with a grin plastered on his face.