A/N: Hello everyone! This is my take on how the problem could have been solved without the Her Ladyship's soap thing. I do think I'll leave that in too, because I like it when my fics can fit into the canon, and I love the idea of Mr Bates helping, but I'm not entirely convinced that O'Brien would have told Thomas what had happened. In any case, it was strange that her confession wasn't shown on screen as it would have been a huge character moment. I suppose Thomas may or may not have guessed it, but I'm not sure about that either. So if you also found it a bit strange, maybe you will like this version. I hope so, anyway! Needless to say, I adore Mrs Hughes, and she will be the hero of the story.

He said it.

God help him he said it, and now all would come crashing down again, and what he said wasn't even the worst part. Not by far.

He was in Mrs Hughes's sitting room, seated across Mrs Hughes at the small desk lit by a faded red lamp, a cup of tea steaming in front of him. After finding him outside in the rain, she'd led him in and given him a cloth to dry off, then disappeared for a few minutes only to return with a tray.

The warmth had been an immediate comfort. He'd wiped his face and hair and tried to make himself presentable, and as he breathed in the homey scent of the room he felt a little calmer. But the illusion of peace didn't last long. Mrs Hughes returned and sat down, setting the tray upon the desk, and suddenly there were words to say, and things to relate, and soon enough he found himself spilling his deepest, darkest secret to someone he'd spent years hiding it from.

He waited for a reaction, barely daring to breathe, and cast a minuscule glance in her direction. But Mrs Hughes just kept looking at him.

"I suggest you continue, Mr Barrow," she said after a while, "as I am so far neither shocked nor disgusted."

Stunned, Thomas met her eyes properly.

For the briefest of moments, fear bubbled up inside of him. His secret was out! He would be ruined!

But then he remembered he was already ruined, and the fear died down only to be replaced by despair again.

So she already knew. He had no idea how, but there it was. Once, that would have been a terrifying prospect; in the light of current events it seemed so trivial that he just disregarded it and focused on the gruelling task of relating what had happened.

"I made a mistake," he continued. Each word seemed to weigh heavier and heavier on his tongue. "I thought… that Jimmy liked me. But he didn't. Doesn't." He paused to steady his nerves.

"Care to tell me how you found that out?" Mrs Hughes softly prompted. "Or am I to guess?"

Honestly.

She wasn't even disgusted enough to stop smiling.

Well, she would be soon enough.

Thomas shifted in his chair.

"I kissed him."

Mrs Hughes leaned back. "Oh," she just said. For a few moments she was silent. "And how did James react?"

"Not well to say the least." The image of Jimmy's lovely face contorted into an ugly, livid mask flashed in his mind.

"I'm not surprised," Mrs Hughes said. "How in the world did you even manage to do that?"

Here it comes. The worse and the worst.

"I… sneaked into his room. While he was asleep."

It took several seconds for this to register with her.

"You kissed the man for the first time while he was asleep?! A man who is not like you?"

Engulfed by shame, Thomas nodded.

"Oh, Thomas."

Somehow, the use of his first name made it even worse. He suddenly felt young and small. Disgrace burned in his stomach, and he looked away, at the floor, at the cupboard, at his tea, anywhere but at Mrs Hughes. She couldn't hide her disappointment, and Thomas didn't blame her. It truly sounded daft. Insane.

"What were you even thinking?" she asked.

"Wasn't really," he admitted. He couldn't explain to her that when your deepest wishes seem about to come true, you don't dare to think, as reason would probably inform you that they wouldn't.

"Then obviously you don't need me to tell you what a dumb idea it was," she huffed.

"No," he meekly agreed. "But there's more."

Mrs Hughes sighed.

"You see, Alfred walked in on us." He heard a soft gasp. "And told Mr Carson."

"And what did Mr Carson say?"

Judging by her tone, it sounded as if she had a perfectly good idea of what he might have said.

Thomas took a deep breath.

"He'd told me it would be best if I quietly resigned. Said he'd give me a good reference, and since Mr Bates has returned Mr Carson thought that I might use that as the excuse."

"Well, that is unfortunate," Mrs Hughes began sympathetically, "but given the circumstances, I must say that it is a rather generous –"

"That's still not all," Thomas mumbled. Mrs Hughes waited, a wary expression on her face. "Jimmy… Jimmy's told Mr Carson that unless he gives me a bad reference, he would go to the police. Have me arrested and bring scandal upon the house. So now, after ten years, I'm to leave without a reference, which means I'll never work again, and –"

His voice was growing more and more unsteady, and finally it broke, and he couldn't say anything else. Blinking rapidly, he stared at his untouched tea as silence filled the sitting room.

Mrs Hughes took his trembling hand across the desk and covered it with her warm, steady ones. He flinched in surprise, but neither of them pulled away.

Was she truly not disgusted?

"I won't deny that things look bleak," she began gently. Even through his tears, he gave a short, humourless laugh. "But you mustn't despair. I don't believe that Mr Carson would allow himself to be blackmailed like that. I will talk to him. He would –"

"Mr Carson won't help me, Mrs Hughes," he choked out. "He can't, and even if he could he wouldn't want to. He despises me, he's made that perfectly clear –"

"Mr Carson doesn't despise you!" she exclaimed. "Mr Carson is angry, as he has every right to be. And had it been a woman instead of James, he would have reacted much the same!"

He looked up, and met Mrs Hughes's eyes, and found less conviction there than in her tone.

"You and I both know that's not true," Thomas murmured.

Mrs Hughes blinked.

But she didn't give up. "Surely you don't imagine he'd be pleased, had you been found inside a woman's room in the middle of the night?"

He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Of course not. He'd have been furious, but he wouldn't… He wouldn't have said…"

You ought to be horsewhipped!

Revolting.

Foul!

"You don't understand," he whispered. He bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering. Mrs Hughes squeezed his hand.

"Maybe I don't," she consented. "But I will talk to him all the same. Mr Carson may be many things, but unkind is not one of them." Thomas just nodded, eyes closed, trying to regain control of his breathing. He had no strength to argue even if he wanted to. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. There was no hope whatsoever on the horizon, and Mrs Hughes was very naïve to think there was.

But he appreciated her for it, more than he could ever express in words.

"Now, now," Mrs Hughes was saying. She patted his hand, smiling gently. "Dry your tears and drink your tea. This isn't over yet."

"Seems over to me," he mumbled.

"Well I say it's not. And you may be surprised." She said this with such determination that he found himself giving a small nod. If only for her sake.

In the end, Thomas had drunk only half the cup, thanked her for the tea and excused himself. Saddened, Elsie watched him leave, wishing she could have been more of a comfort. On the other hand, he was dry, warm and slightly more composed than he had been when she found him, so that was something.

She sipped the remnants of her tea, thinking. She had to come up with some sort of plan, and it would not be easy.

But first, she would talk to Mr Carson.

A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it so far! Reviews are much appreciated!