They managed to find three rooms in a small hotel, not far from the Le Mans circuit. There was a small terrace where guests could sit, and it was where they had arranged to meet for the evening.
"It's so unfair still. I mean mama can vote, Mary can vote, Anna can, even Miss O'Brien can. It's only me and you, Edith, who can't, and I was the only one who was active for the cause!" Something had started Sybil off about the vote.
"By getting your head smashed in?" Edith said in an attempt at humour.
"Most women who joined the war effort are in the same predicament as me, and it was because of them that women got the vote at all."
"If you are that desperate, get married." Edith said unhelpfully. Sybil's eyes flicked nervously to the chauffeur sitting beside her. "Or move abroad, where they can vote."
"The other problem is that it benefits upper class women more than others." Sybil proceeded with her argument.
"What is wrong with that?" Edith received a furious glance from her sister.
"Because, Edith, it means that a lot of women, who fought for their rights, haven't fully got them because of something as trivial as money."
Edith snorted. "Trivial. Sybil Crawley I think you need reminding of who you are!" Sybil had no response so merely glared at her sister.
"Just be thankful that women got the vote at all." Branson tried to get some diplomacy between the sisters. "They don't here in France. Now can I get either of you a drink?" He returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. They sat in a strained silence watching the sun go down.
"I'm going up now." Edith announced. Branson stood up as she went back inside and up the stairs.
"So, who do you want to win tomorrow?" Sybil asked as he sat back down.
"I'll have to see who turns up, but the Irish fella, if he's still racing."
~X~
The next morning Sybil dressed herself in Madame Swann's latest creation and knocked on Edith's door.
"Edith, are you ready? I'm hungry!" There was a slight squeak from the other side of the door before Sybil was ushered inside.
"How do you dress yourself so quickly?" her sister demanded. "Oh, Sybil, help me with this blasted corset." After some time the pair made their way downstairs. Branson had already eaten and was pacing about in the hotel reception. He stopped dead at the sight of Sybil. Her dress was light blue, with a white collar and short sleeves. She was wearing a plain set of white beads and blue heeled shoes, but the dress itself only just covered her knees! Branson was aware that higher hemlines were fashionable, with fewer male staff the conversation often turned to the latest fashions, but compared to most dresses which were ankle length it was quite something.
"Wow, Sybil!" Edith frowned at his address to her sister. Sybil jumped off the last step and twirled about.
"Well, do you like it?"
"God, yes." Before he could think "I mean, it's… you look amazing." Edith suddenly saw why the chauffeur was gawping at her sister.
"Sybil! What are you wearing?"
"Something that allows me to change a lot faster than you do, now come on." She pulled her sister into the dinning room.
~x~
They drove the short distance to the circuit. Luckily for Branson it was a short distance, because it was taking a lot of effort to keep his eyes on the road, and away from Sybil's legs. It was quite busy when they arrived and the atmosphere was already buzzing with excitement. As Sybil stepped out of the car she was hit by the smells of petrol and burning rubber, mixed with candyfloss from a number of stalls selling refreshments. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes and inhaled it all. The sun on her skin added to the moment. Today was about freedom.
"I don't know what you're looking so happy about." Edith's piercing voice broke the spell. Sybil looked at her sister.
"Oh, Edith aren't you just a bit excited?" she asked whilst taking in their surroundings. Suddenly she linked arms with Edith, "Come on, we're getting left behind." And she started off in the direction that the chauffeur had taken, practically dragging Edith after her. Branson looked round as he heard their footsteps, and grinned at the sisters. Sybil slowed her pace and Edith immediately pulled her arm away.
"Sybil, was it necessary to go quite so fast? You are not the one racing, remember." Edith panted. Sybil looked indignantly at her sister before turning to Branson.
"I'm not the only one speeding, around here. I'll have to keep a hold of you to prevent you from running off again." This time she linked arms with Branson. He looked down in surprise at the contact, before smiling. Here no-one knew of their respective roles of Lady and servant, and there was no way he would object to having a beautiful girl on his arm for the day.
"Sybil!" Edith exclaimed in horror, for the second time that day. "You are going to get us a bad reputation in France as well."
"What do you mean, 'as well'?" Edith made no further comment. "Link on if it bothers you that much." Sybil offered. From then on Edith walked a little way behind her companions, as if they were completely unconnected.
They made their way through the various stalls selling ladies hats, racing memorabilia and other trinkets and walked straight into the heart of it all. Mechanics dashed from car to car, engines were started up, tested, and shut off again and through this hubbub walked men in racing overalls, drivers, mechanics, distinctive sponsors and cheering fans.
"Oh, Tom, isn't it just the cat's pyjamas!" Sybil exclaimed. He looked at her quizzically for a second.
"I keep forgetting that you're half American. What does that mean?"
"It means it's fabulous, Tom, I love it. Thank you for bringing me." She squeezed his arm affectionately.
"My dear little flapper, you haven't even seen the race yet!"
"I thought I was your suffragette." She grinned at him as they walked on.