Chapter Text
Spring, 1926
It was late. His shoulders ached as he sat down in his favorite chair in the servants’ hall. He thought of just going to bed, but found he preferred the comfort of his rocker and the fire to the loneliness of his room, especially tonight.
Andy and Daisy would be marrying in just over two weeks, and they were ecstatic. Adorable, even. And Thomas was happy for them, he truly was. He was thrilled and humbled to be Andy’s best man. But for some reason listening to them try to decide on what kind of cake they wanted Mrs. Patmore to make for their special day… Well, today that made Thomas feel more lonely than usual.
He sighed, and opened his newspaper. Maybe he would find an engaging feature story. He relaxed his shoulders… until he heard footsteps on the stairs. Someone had come down and walked into the kitchen. Who would be up at this hour? Didn’t these people he worked with have lovers and spouses they could snuggle up with, or at least dream about? He was sure everyone else had been in bed hours ago.
He rose silently from his chair and walked out into the hallway toward the kitchen. He heard the clinking of a glass. “Hello?” he called softly. “Is someone there?”
He kept walking slowly toward the kitchen, and as he entered it, found himself face to face with Anna, in her nightgown. He nearly stepped on her toes.
“Anna!” he said in surprise, just as she exclaimed “Mr. Barrow!” They each took a step back.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked. “Come to it, what are you doing here at all? I thought you’d left for your cottage ages ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t Mrs. Hughes tell you? Since Mr. Bates is away with his Lordship in London for a few days, I—I’m staying here. The baby and I are up in my old room. I suppose it frightens me, to be alone in the cottage without Mr. Bates, especially now the baby’s here. If anything happened, I’d feel quite helpless.”
As she spoke he knitted his brow in concern, taking in all she told him. She looked at him intently as she stopped speaking, and appeared to be waiting for more than just a response. She seemed to be waiting for… Oh. He knew this look. She was waiting for him to say something nasty.
But he didn’t feel nasty. He felt… sorry. Or maybe sad. For her. Feeling afraid in her own home, without her husband there. He frowned slightly at the floor, then looked up again, into her eyes.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Anna. That you were afraid. And I didn’t mean that I thought you shouldn’t be here. You’re very welcome here, of course. I was just surprised to see you.”
“Oh,” she said, as her shoulders dropped. She seemed so relieved.
“Is there anything you need?” he asked, sincerely. “I mean, it’s so late, and you must have come down to the kitchen for something in particular at this hour.”
She paused, considering him. “Actually… yes. I just got the baby to sleep, and… I have a bit of a headache. Probably from lack of sleep,” she smiled, sheepishly. “I just came down looking for a powder. I found it, but it’s on a top shelf and I can’t reach it. I was just about to drag a chair over.”
“Could I get it for you?” he asked.
She smiled. “Yes, thank you. That would be nice.”
He followed her to the shelf she indicated, and easily reached for the glass medicine bottle. He took it and handed it to her. “Here you are,” he said, with a shy smile.
“Thank you,” she answered, taking the bottle. “That’s kind.”
“Of course,” he answered. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Think I’ll go to bed now. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she answered, and watched him walk out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.
***
Thomas woke up with an idea. It might have meant he’d lost his mind. Or it might have meant he was a good friend. It was difficult to tell the difference sometimes.
He thought about his idea all through breakfast. He barely noticed the bells on the board ringing behind him, and everyone jumping up from the table to head upstairs or down the hall to begin working. He continued to stare intently at his teacup, trying to decide if he should act on his idea.
“Mr. Barrow?” a voice called to him. Mrs. Hughes. She had stood from her chair next to him, and was watching him now. “Are you… working today?” she said with a small smile, making a mild joke.
“Oh,” he said, trying to refocus on the present. He stood from his chair. “Um, yes. Yes, of course.” He tried to smile reassuringly. He knew Mrs. Hughes worried when he became quiet and pensive, and he hated for her to worry today. “I’m alright, Mrs Hughes. Really. I was just… thinking.”
“Ah, thinking,” the housekeeper responded. She lowered her voice, but the look of concern did not leave her face. “Nothing too sad, I hope?”
“No,” he said, and smiled, genuinely this time. “Nothing sad.” He nodded to her, and walked out of the servants’ hall.
If he was going to act, he needed to speak to Anna. He found her at the foot of the stairs. “Anna?” he called. “Might I have a word?”
She turned around and smiled. “Of course, Mr. Barrow, but I do need to get to Lady Mary’s room.”
“Oh, I won’t be but a minute,” he answered, as they stepped away from the stairs, and out of the way of the other servants coming and going.
“How can I help?” she asked.
“Actually, I was wondering if I could help. Help you, I mean.” She looked at him curiously. He looked at the floor. “I wondered if… if it would help…” he paused. He should have practiced. Put more thought into how he would phrase his question. It was too late, though. All he could do was press on. “I wondered, if you don’t like to be alone in the cottage at night, would it help if I slept there?”
“What?” she asked. Oh, God. He hadn’t thought about how that would sound. What would she think of him now? He looked at her then, expecting to find a disturbed look on her face. But she seemed… interested. He continued.
“I don’t mean anything inappropriate. I just mean, I could sleep on the sofa, and you and the baby would be in your room, of course. But you wouldn’t have to be alone. And…” he looked down again. “Neither would I.”
She was silent. He was terrified. Had he overstepped? He nearly turned and ran away in embarrassment, but then she answered him. “You would do that? For me?”
Relief flooded through his body. “I would, yes,” he answered. “If it would be helpful.” When he looked up, she was smiling. Maybe he hadn’t lost his mind.
“Thank you, Mr. Barrow. That’s very kind. And it would be helpful, so… yes.”
“Alright, then,” he answered. “After the servants’ dinner tonight. We’ll walk to the cottage together?”
“Yes,” she said, simply. “And thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, suddenly feeling shy again.