Summary: On the day Thomas takes over for Mr. Carson as butler, a strange twist of fate leaves him in an odd state during which he witnesses the vulnerability of Mr. Bates. Likewise, Bates begins to finally understand the new butler. Set Post S6.
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey. If I did, there would have been fewer happy endings and much more angst in S6.
A/N: This is an odd fic that started as an amusing discussion, morphed into an idea for a crack fic, and spiraled into something else entirely. The story is a tad length but I didn't feel like breaking it up. As well, I don't usually write Thomas, so I hope I got him somewhat right. Set post S6 so spoilers for the enitre show. Reviews are always greatly appreciated.
"I suppose it will take some getting used to."
Anna's comment to her husband served as a grand understatement in the matter, but Bates chose not to correct her. Instead, he inclined his head and stated warmly, "I think I could get used to anything, as long as I have you at my side."
Blushing prettily, she smiled at him before leaning over their son's bassinet. The baby was nearly six months old and growing steadily, his newborn blond hair starting to give way to a darker color like his father's.
"Are you sure you're ready to go back to work at the house?" he asked.
"Very much," Anna answered emphatically as she worked to change the baby and put him into clothes for the day. "I'm rather looking forward to getting back into things."
Bates suspected that she missed adult conversation more than the work. Lady Mary had been insistent on Anna returning when she was ready and repeatedly stated that their young son would be well looked after in the nursery. Bates only hoped that his wife was not feeling compelled to return to her duties out of obligation to her employer.
"Besides, she's getting so close that I know she'll be glad to have me back."
He could not contradict her, having glimpsed the increasing girth of Lady Mary's midsections on several occasions of late. And for all her excellent qualities, she did not bear the discomfort or pregnancy as well as Anna had done.
"Well, I cannot deny that it will be nice to have an ally against Mister Barrow now that he is officially taking over from Mister Carson."
Had he known years ago the man would now be butler, he would have never helped him resist Miss O'Brien's attempts to have Thomas sacked. But hindsight would do him no good. It wasn't as though he could travel back in time and change matters.
"You be good," Anna scolded him preemptively. "Mister Barrow has turned over a new leaf since returning to Downton, and it will do no good to stir up old grudges."
He smiled at her as he commented, "Easier said than done, I'm afraid." But his attention was caught by the now fully dressed young Bates child in her arms. "Isn't that right?" he cooed at the baby.
The butler's pantry was his.
It felt strange to install his own items on the desk which had belonged for so many years to Mr. Carson, but Thomas found that he relished the moment. Not only did he have a good position, but he truly felt that he belonged at Downton, despite everything which had passed before.
Changing himself had proved more of a challenge than anything else in his life, and it was still a daily struggle to resist his inner instincts. But snide remarks and schemes would do him no good any longer. He was the butler now, and dignity required that he maintain the sort of personal standards that he wanted for the entire household. Mister Carson had taught him that by example, and Thomas was determined not to simply avoid letting the man down, but rather, not to seem like an incomplete shadow of his predecessor.
A knock at the door interrupted him, followed by the appearance of a wide-eyed hall boy. Tim was the lad's name, he recalled.
"Mister Barrow, you better come quick. There's an old beggar lady at the back door, and she says she won't leave til she sees someone in charge."
The words were spoken in a hurry, bunched together and a bit difficult to understand. But Thomas followed the boy down the corridor at a sedate, dignified pace.
"What's all this, then?" he asked as he reached the door, which was open a crack.
In the courtyard beyond he could see a woman draped in rags. The dirt on her face made it difficult to discern her age, but Thomas did not recognize her. And the stench emanating from the woman negated any desire for a more close inspection.
"I only wanted a bit of food," she croaked, her voice revising his estimate of her age to much older.
"We don't have anything for beggars," Thomas told her without a second thought, annoyed that such a woman had thought to come to Downton for a handout. What if his Lordship or one of the ladies saw her? This would not do at all, especially not on his first official day as butler.
"Just a crust of bread, is all I ask..."
She held out a hand, and through the rags which wrapped it he saw more dirt, calluses, and scraggly fingernails.
Thomas reiterated angrily, "We have nothing for you. Be off! Before I call the police and have you thrown in the work house."
He wondered if he shouldn't do that anyway. The poor woman belonged in the work house, not knocking on the back doors of country estates begging for a handout.
The old woman did not seem surprised by his response, and simply smiled to herself smugly. But instead of saying more, she took a step back.
Thomas was distracted from anything else as a blur of motion flashed past the woman's legs and in between his own as it entered the door of the house. "What was that?" he asked, turning to look down the corridor after what could only have been a four-legged creature.
"A black cat, Mister Barrow," the Tim said quickly.
He frowned but thought little of it beyond having a word with Mrs. Patmore about curbing her stray cat population. But as he turned back to the beggar woman, he noticed that she had vanished. There was no sign of her in the courtyard.
With a mutter of, "Good riddance," he closed the door and turned back towards his pantry. The family would be waking soon, and he needed to make certain that breakfast was prepared and ready to be served upstairs.
They made it into breakfast without a minute to spare, Bates waiting for Anna to return from the nursery before taking his seat at the table. As Mr. Barrow entered the room, everyone stood to attention just as they would have for the more common sight of Mr. Carson.
The new butler nodded and took his seat quickly, allowing everyone to follow after him. Conversation did not immediately return to its prior level, however, as the maids and sole footman glanced at each other.
"I see that you're back, Mrs. Bates," Barrow mentioned, meeting Anna's eyes across the table.
"Yes, at Lady Mary's behest."
Bates thought that their old enemy wanted to say something smart or snide, but he simply muttered, "Very good," before turning his attention to his breakfast. Beside him, Mrs. Hughes seemed mildly uncomfortable with the new arrangement as well.
Unable to blame her, Bates kept his attention directed to his breakfast. He worried about Anna returning to work. He worried about the baby. And he worried about Thomas as the new butler. Several times through the meal, he bit back the urge to make scathing comments in relation to Mr. Barrow and his elevated position. Bates felt somewhat ashamed to admit how easily the insults and jests came to mind. However, the struggle against regret was just as strong as he thought about how the other man most certainly outranked him in Downton's command structure.
"I'll be away the rest of the day in Ripon," he overheard Mrs. Hughes tell Barrow. "Can you manage on your own, do you think?"
The new butler seemed to seethe with embarrassment. "Of course I can manage."
A bell rang - Lord Grantham. Bates was almost grateful to be off, and he swiftly murmured a goodbye to Anna. "Please try to take it easy," he suggested.
"I'll be fine," she told him.
Of course, just as he was leaving the servants' hall, the bell for Lady Grantham rang as well, followed by Lady Mary's. The servants would soon be scattering to all ends of the house to begin the day's work.
Thomas had plenty of chores to complete, things he would have preferred Andy do but knew that Mr. Carson never delegated to anyone else. With Mr. Molesley gone, they were down once again to one footman and a couple of part-time maids. It certainly made everything more challenging.
Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas noticed that familiar flash of black fur. Instinctively, he shut the door to the pantry, trapping the creature into the room. He walked around the desk, looking for it.
"Here, kitty, kitty," he said, poised to catch it so he could throw it out in the courtyard where it belonged. "I won't bite..."
But it seemed to have disappeared. He could not see it anywhere in the room, not under furniture or cowering in a corner. "How odd."
A moment later, the door was opened again by the same hall boy as earlier, except now he had a question. And as swiftly as before, the cat managed to bolt out the door between the boy's legs and down the corridor. Thomas frowned after it before turning to his subordinate with clear annoyance.
He did not see the cat again for some hours, although when he did, it was not in motion. Rather, as he was walking past Mrs. Hughes' sitting room, he noticed through a crack in the door that the black cat was sitting curled up on one of her chairs. Thomas slowly pushed the door open further to get a better look at the feline intruder. "There you are," he told it.
The cat did not respond, but rather lifted one paw to begin grooming itself. And that was when Thomas noticed that the cat was not all black after all. Instead, it had one paw which was white - its left front paw. And this was the paw the cat continued to lick, as though it had some sort of injury.
"You can't stay here," Thomas told it, continuing to get closer.
The cat looked up at him as he moved, clearly alarmed and on alert despite its appearance of relaxation. It waited until the butler got very close before bolting.
Thomas reached out a hand to grab the cat, but just barely grazed its fur, the creature's tail slipping through his gloved fingers. Unfortunately, he had misjudged his ability to catch the creature, and his momentum took him forward. His impact with the side table did not hurt as much as it could have, but unfortunately, the movement caused the objects sitting on top of the table to lose their balance and come crashing down on Thomas' head. As those objects comprised various knick knacks, the blows rained down painfully as he struggled to protect himself. But one hit true - a solid picture frame of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes from their wedding - and Thomas' world suddenly went black.
Bates was not having the best of days. His Lordship had made a teasing comment about Anna's return, one which he knew the man had only said in jest. But it still left him annoyed and a little angry. Anna did not have to work. She wanted to come to the house and resume her duties. And that decision was no reflection on her as a mother or him as a husband. Still, her unconventional decision had elicited more than a little talk both upstairs and down.
He thought briefly about stopping in the nursery to look in on their son but decided that if he could go the entire day without seeing the child before Anna's return to Downton, then he could do so now. Besides, he could use a few moments to sit down and rest. While Anna seemed as spritely and energetic as when he'd first met her, Bates certainly wasn't getting any younger.
The valet found the servants' hall empty, a good fortune which happened more and more now that the staff had been cut back so much. With a tremendous sigh, he carefully lowered himself into one of the chairs and hooked his cane onto the back so as to keep it both within reach but out of the way.
As if she was a mind reader as well as a cook, Mrs. Patmore wandered in from the kitchen and took stock of the only occupant of the room. "Cup of tea?" she asked simply, recognizing his fatigue and offering sympathy in the only way she knew how.
"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore," he answered.
Listening to the cook and Daisy in the kitchen was a pleasant break as he let his aching leg rest. Though the flashes of pain which had originally accompanied him to Downton did not come as strong or often as they had then, it did not mean the overall condition of his injury had improved. Rather, with each year's use, the general aches and pains grew worse, and he was grateful for an opportunity to pause during his day of work. Allowing himself a grimace, he touched his hand to his knee and sighed aloud.
But his attention was quickly diverted from such thoughts by a flash of black. He only saw it for a moment, but it looked as though some small animal had entered the servants' hall and scurried under the table. Bates raised an eyebrow at this, unused to seeing any animal downstairs except his Lordship's dog. He ducked his head to look under the table, but saw nothing. As he straightened up, he started at the sudden appearance of the creature in the chair beside him, Mr. Barrow's seat.
The cat was all black with round, yellow eyes. The only change among its inky color was a front paw which was all white, as though the animal had dipped it into a paint can by accident.
Unlike Mrs. Patmore's cats which sometimes found their way into the kitchen, this feline sat primly in Mr. Barrow's chair, eyes blinking languidly as it glanced at Bates and then surveyed the empty table with disapproval.
"You're a bold one, then, aren't you?" Bates asked the cat.
The cat did not respond but confirmed its sense of superiority by ignoring the valet completely.
"Get on now," he shooed the creature. "I don't think Mr. Barrow would approve of you here."
But the cat had no intention of leaving. If anything, it seemed to glare at Bates for his attempt to encourage the animal to leave.
"Perhaps you're hungry..."
As if on cue, Mrs. Patmore entered the servants' hall with the promised cup of tea. She set it on the table in front of him before noticing the black cat.
"One of yours?" he asked her.
The cook calmly shook her head. "No, I don't recognize it. But awfully bold, isn't it, taking Mr. Barrow's seat like that?" But rather than try to shoo off the animal as well, she grinned conspiratorially at Bates and said, "I think I have a bit of leftover cream."
She soon returned with a saucer of the substance, but even she did not have the gall to serve the cat at the table. Rather, she coaxed the animal off its perch and onto the floor. Bates and watched the black cat lap up the cream with casual indifference.
"Must have got in the backdoor and hid, " the cook said quietly. "But not mangy or unkempt. It looks well fed and healthy."
"Unusual coloring," Bates remarked.
"Favors the white paw, doesn't it? As though its injured somehow. But I can't see anything wrong it it."
Before they could say more, the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor startled the cat and in a flash, it had abandoned the saucer of cream and disappeared through the doorway to the kitchen. A moment later, Anna appeared looking at her husband with a bemused expression.
"Was that a cat I saw just run by?" she asked.
The fact that Mr. Barrow was absent from luncheon did not go unnoticed by either Bates or his wife. However, with Mrs. Hughes gone for the day as well, there was no one for them to report the unusual circumstance.
"I suppose you're in charge for the day," Anna said with a teasing smile.
Bates mustered a bemused grin in return, barely a curve of his lip, but he did not feel it. Rather, the entire notion of Barrow taking over as butler still bothered him more than he could say. It was not just the job-ruining schemes and insults the man had lobbed at him over the years, but the knowledge that in Barrow's hatred of Bates, he had caused Anna grief. Miss Baxter had never said who tipped off the police that she knew something about Green's death, but it hadn't been difficult for Bates to figure out. That Barrow would do something to hurt Anna unsettled him greatly. He was used to the man targeting him, but his kind-hearted wife?
With a sigh, he set such thoughts aside. It would do no good to dwell on the past, not when they had so much happiness to tide them over in the present.
"How is he doing?" Bates whispered to his wife, knowing she wouldn't need to hear the child's name to understand who he meant.
"Well, I think. I checked on him just before coming down. The nannies seem comfortable with the arrangement, and Miss Sybbie is absolutely smitten." She paused before looking around to make certain no one was paying attention. "It does feel odd, though, to be away from him for such long periods. I keep feeling as though I've forgotten him somewhere and panic washes over me before I remember."
With a raised eyebrow, Bates asked, "Is it too soon? Or would you like to tender your notice and stay home at the cottage? It can talk to Lady Mary, if you prefer..."
Anna shook her head quickly. "I think I'm just getting used to it. And I've enjoyed coming back to work."
"But you would let me know if it felt like too much?"
She looked at him with a mixture of love and patience, the sort of expression he sometimes saw her sport when he grew too protective of her during her pregnancy.
"You would be the first to know, Mister Bates," she said, her voice dropping an octave in a manner he could only describe as provocative.
Before their conversation could go further, Miss Baxter entered the room, late to luncheon as she had been upstairs assisting Lady Grantham. The lady's maid glanced at the empty chair at the head of the table and at everyone else who had already been eating.
"Where's Mister Barrow?" she asked.
"We don't know," Anna responded.
"Did he say he'd be going anywhere today?" Bates asked. "His absence is strange with Mrs. Hughes gone as well."
"He didn't mention," Baxter murmured quietly, but there was a shadow of doubt behind her eyes. Clearly, she was not certain that the new butler would not have made plans without informing her.
"Perhaps he isn't feeling well?" Anna suggested. Turning to her husband, she asked, "Would you go up to his room to check and see if he's there lying down?"
Walking all the way up to the attics rather than finishing his meal was the last thing Bates would have preferred, but he could not refuse his wife.
"Of course," he agreed.
The male servants' quarters were virtually empty with only a few rooms still in use. With Molesley gone off to teach full time and Andy living at Mr. Mason's farm, only Barrow and the hall boy had permanent rooms in the attic. Bates wondered if it was lonely up there, or if Barrow preferred the solitude.
He knocked on the butler's door but there was no answer. While he felt forward in pushing in, he knew it was necessary to carry out Anna's wishes. With a sigh of relief mixed with confusion, he found the room empty.
Well, almost empty.
The room's sole occupant was not Mr. Barrow. Rather, the strange black cat had managed to make it all the way upstairs and into Barrow's room, and he was curled up into a furry ball in the center of the butler's narrow bed.
"And what are you doing up here?" Bates asked the cat.
The animal raised its head a little but only blinked lazily at the valet.
"Mister Barrow won't be happy to find you here."
The cat show zero interest in the butler's feelings on the matter, but rather shifted over so that its belly was partially exposed.
Bates glanced down the hallway to see if anyone might be around, but the attic hall remained quiet and empty. Stepping inside, he pushed the door shut behind him and approached the animal. As he moved closer, the cat stretched itself out, revealing that it was not entirely black after all. In addition to his one white paw, the cat sported a white belly which he prominently displayed for the valet.
"I know better than to pet you there," Bates informed the animal. But there was a chair beside the bed, and he gingerly lowered himself into it, grateful for the momentary rest. As he did so, the cat twisted its body once again until it was on its stomach, paws tucked up beneath itself as it looked up at Bates.
"Are you friendly?"
There was only one way to find out. But even as Bates reached out a hand to pet the cat, it was already purring and pushing its black face into the valet's palm.
He learned through a rapid trial and error that the cat liked to have his head and body strokes, but not his tail. The rest of his body was strictly off limits. But when Bates ceased to pet the cat for a moment, it grew impatient and attempted to crawl into the valet's lap in order to continue with the moment of affection.
"You act as though you don't get any attention at all," he observed, but obliged the cat with a few more strokes before nudging him back onto the bed.
But once he'd made it clear he was done providing pets for the creature, the cat turned up its tail at him and walked to the other side of the bed, pointedly facing the other direction. Bates watched for a moment as it began to lick its white paw, once again favoring it as though it were injured even though the cat seemed to walk on it just fine.
"I could ask Anna if she's keen to have a cat down at the cottage," he offered gently. But the animal still refused to look at him, pointedly maintained its offended state. "Of course, you might do better to stay here. We have a baby who will be crawling before too long."
The cat's tail began to flick in irritation, and Bates wondered at the creature's moodiness.
"It took us a long time to start a family," he explained cordially. It was something of a relief to have someone to speak to, even if it was a stray cat which had managed to sneak into the house. While he could always confide in Anna, there were certain things he preferred not to burden her with.
"Part of that was my fault, for not protecting her." Bates had no desire to go into the specifics, nor was it necessary with the cat, but he let the burden of his guilt slacken for a moment as he murmured, "She probably would have had an easier time of it if not for... everything that happened."
Green.
The name filled him with such disgust that he had grown to dislike even the color it represented. But some of his hatred for the dead valet still clung to his own psyche, and he could not shake it. Green could not have hurt Anna had he been there to protect his wife. That knowledge would never leave him, nor would the look on Anna's face as the police had arrested her and taken her to jail for the man's murder.
"No one could deserve such troubles any less than she. She's kindness and light, to everyone around here I imagine."
Looking up, Bates noticed that the cat had turned to look at him with a soulful expression, as though the animal could actually understand what he was saying. When he stopped speaking, the black cat stood up and walked over to him again. This time, he bridged the gap between the bed and Bates' chair by rubbing his head against Bates' trouser leg.
"She'd probably even take in a mangy cat like you," he said with amusement. This comment earned him a pause and a stern glare from his feline companion before it resumed its purring and head rubs.
A few moments later, the cat jumped back into his lap, and this time it settled onto his right leg, digging claws into the fabric of Bates' trousers.
"Easy there..." he warned, but the cat gave no sign of caring about the pain he caused.
"You know, you're lucky that you're good with people. Not everyone puts up with this sort of thing."
At his comment, the cat eased back his claws and looked up at the valet. There was a sort of human confusion in those feline eyes, and Bates found them almost eerily familiar.
He stroked the cat again, and once more it leaned into his hand, as though it had been touched very little in its short life and would relish every opportunity for affection it could find.
"I have to get go downstairs and get back to work," Bates told the animal. But it was clear that the cat did not care about this 'work' business one bit. It had no wish to move from Bates' lap or for Bates to stand up and leave the room.
When he tried to shoo the cat off, it only hunkered down further and used its claws again to hold onto Bates' trousers. But this time, the cat was careful not to catch flesh and skin with its sharp talons as it fought for purchase.
Finally, after a short battle of wills, the cat was forced to resign the field as Bates hauled himself out of the chair and the animals' platform was lost to gravity. It immediately retook high ground on Barrow's bed, looking up at Bates with open affection as it absently kneaded the blanket on the cot.
"You stay out of trouble," Bates told the cat as he left the room, making certain to leave the door open a crack so the animal could escape.
"I still cannot find Mister Barrow," Miss Baxter complained shortly before the servants' dinner. "I've looked everywhere for him."
Anna frowned. "Well, Mister Bates went to his room, but the wasn't there. Could he be in Mister Carson's pantry. I mean... Mister Barrow's pantry?"
The other lady's maid said nothing about the slip as they were all still getting used to Barrow as the new butler. Even someone as fond of Barrow as Baxter was found Mr. Carson difficult to replace.
"He wasn't there either."
Bates listened to the women discuss Barrow's mysterious absence with growing concern. "When was the last time anyone saw him?" he asked.
"Before breakfast," Baxter said. "One of the hall boys said he went to the back door to talk to a beggar woman. After that, he went into the pantry and no one has seen him since."
"That is very strange," Anna said, shaking her head. "I can't imagine him leaving the house without telling someone."
"I'm worried something may have happened to him," Baxter fretted.
At this point, Bates stepped in. "I'm sure he's fine. And I'm sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for his absence."
Even as he said the words, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. He looked over just in time to see the same black cat moving quickly, floating down the stairs with no trouble at all. It paused for a second, sensing Bates' scrutiny, and then took off down the hallway in the opposite direction, closely hugging the wall lest it end up underfoot of someone happening by. Neither of the women were facing the direction of the cat, so only Bates saw it slip into Mrs. Hughes' sitting room.
There was something so very familiar about that cat...
A strange epiphany entered Bates' mind and he was just as quick to scold himself for being silly. Not just silly, but flat-out ridiculous.
But that nagging suspicion in the back of his mind did not go away. On a whim, he said to Miss Baxter, "Do you think you should check Mrs. Hughes' sitting room?"
The lady's maid seemed confused as she said, "But why would he be in there?"
"Perhaps we should look, just to be certain."
He could offer no explanation for the suggestion, nor could she come up with a reason to argue it further, so the three of them started down the corridor towards Mrs. Hughes' room. With her gone for the day, there was no reason for anyone else to go in there, but when they arrived, the door was slightly ajar. Miss Baxter was the first to push it completely open.
Inside, instead of seeing the black cat with the white paw Bates had witnessed entering the room, there was Mr. Barrow instead.
He sat sprawled on the floor, on hand touched to his head as he looked down at a heavy picture frame as though in indignant accusation. Miss Baxter's gasp brought his attention to the three people standing in the doorway.
"What's going on?" he asked, quickly standing up and straightening his clothes. "Why are you all staring like that?"
Miss Baxter's voice was lost to shock, and Anna looked at him with side eyes, mouth agape. Only Bates could compose himself quickly enough to answer. "We've been looking for you all day, Mister Barrow. Have you been in here this whole time?"
"I don't know what you mean," he scoffed, reaching down to pick up Mrs. Hughes' fallen items from the floor.
"You've been missing since just after breakfast," Baxter informed him, her tone full of question.
"But that was only a few minutes ago."
The two lady's maids exchanged a glance before looking at Bates. He informed the new butler, "Mister Barrow, it is getting close to time for dinner. In fact, you should probably ring the dressing gong."
"That's impossible..." he began, and then slowly, a look of realization seemed to take over his expression. Barrow stared at Bates for several long moments, his body straightening as he took in a deep breath. Bates saw a flicker of something he did not quite recognize in the man's eyes as he absently rubbed at his glove-clad hand, the one which had been injured in the war.
"You're trying to play a trick on me," he said finally, although his tone sounded uncertain.
Miss Baxter insisted gently, "We aren't, Mister Barrow. You've been missing for hours. We've looked everywhere for you but didn't think to look here until just now."
At this, the new butler seemed genuinely confused and perhaps even a little afraid as he put a hand to his head. "The picture frame fell," he rubbing the spot of what was likely an impressive goose egg.
"You must have been knocked out all day," Anna put in, and for a moment, everyone seemed to accept that explanation even though it seemed like complete rubbish. But his own suspicions made no sense at all, so he kept them to himself. "Perhaps you should go and see the doctor..." Anna suggested.
"I'm quite well, Mrs. Bates," Thomas insisted.
"We best get on then," the valet suggested gently. Putting a hand to his wife's elbow, he added, "And let Mister Barrow have a bit of space."
"Of course," Anna agreed, and Bates shut the door behind him.
Barrow did make it to the servant's supper, although he entered late, forcing everyone to scramble up to a standing position, some mid-bite, others with teacups clattering back into their saucers. The man gave them little acknowledgement as he took his chair and Mrs. Patmore appeared at his left elbow to serve him stew.
"Are you feeling better?" Bates asked him, the question coming from some sort of inner wellspring of concern which he could not contain. But as he looked at Barrow, he did not see the scheming, evil person who had nearly cost him his job on several occasions and made life for he and Anna extremely trying. Instead, he saw that little black cat with the white paw, alone and sad on Barrow's narrow bed, begging for attention. Bates saw the soft white underbelly the creature had shown him in a moment of weakness. Or a moment of trust.
"Quite well, thank you Mister Bates."
The answer was dismissive but not unkind. It wasn't a public conversation to have anyhow, and dinner went on without mention of the new butler's odd disappearance. But Bates did keep on eye on the man, suddenly curious and concerned where before he had been only resentful.
After dinner saw the flurry of activity of getting the house put to rights before bed. Anna attended to Lady Mary before collecting their child from the nursery, and indeed the baby was already asleep when she carried him down to the servant's hall.
"He's so tiny," Daisy marveled before stifling a yawn.
"Don't you be thinking about babies now, not for a good long while, " Mrs. Patmore scolded her before pausing to have a look at the child herself. "He is a handsome lad."
"Like his father," Anna smiled. Bates could only beam with pride.
Barrow happened upon the scene as he left his butler's pantry, and he too stopped to look at the baby in Anna's arms. He said nothing for a while, just taking a moment to truly look at the sleeping child.
"Was it difficult," Thomas asked his wife quietly, "leaving him in someone else's charge all day?"
"Very difficult," she sighed. "But I was able to pop up and look in on him whenever the fancy struck me, and that helps."
Bates had not even thought to go up to the nursery to look in on the baby after initially dismissing the notion. But then, he went long days without seeing either his wife or child while he worked at the Abbey, so he was used to the separation in a way that she was not. Besides, he had used what little free time he had looking for the missing butler-turned cat.
With a nod of acknowledgment to Anna, Barrow looked at the valet. Neither man said anything for a moment, but something did pass between them. It was an understanding of sorts, or perhaps just a flicker of commiseration. Whatever it was left Bates feeling softer, more willing to forgive and forget. In Thomas' eyes he saw a reflection of himself when he first came to Downton, full of external confidence but desperately holding on inside lest he lose a hard-fought position.
"Good night, then," Barrow said with a smile, looking back at the baby in Anna's arms. "And take care of this little one."
The sentimentality in his voice surprised Bates until the man recalled Barrow's attachment to the Crawley children, young George in particular. In another life, perhaps the new butler would have a family of his own. But that was foreclosed to him by nature even more than his career in service. Not too many years earlier, Bates would have felt the same way about himself. And he did have far more than he deserved with Anna and their son. In that moment, he could not begrudge Barrow his position as butler, even if it put him above Bates professionally. The man had worked hard for many years, and he strove for the sort of excellence which would make Mr. Carson proud.
The next morning, Thomas found Mrs. Hughes in the kitchen, chatting with Daisy and Mrs. Patmore as she had obviously just arrived from her cottage. The three women seemed to be enjoying the quiet hour before the other servants were awake or arrived.
"I heard there was some excitement yesterday," she noted to the butler, her tone tinged with amusement.
His first instinct was to respond in anger, but as he took a calming breath, Thomas recognized that she was simply teasing him, much as she might have done with Mr. Carson. As difficult as it was for him, he knew he had to recognize that not everyone was out to sabotage him, or even rooting for his failure. And Mrs. Hughes had never been an enemy.
"Nothing I couldn't resolve."
"You feeling better, then?" Mrs. Patmore asked, pouring and sliding him a steaming cup.
"Never better."
He smiled falsely as he took a sip of tea, although as he did so, he noticed that the cook's concern seemed genuine.
Thomas assured them, "I'm perfectly well."
"Perhaps you should go see the doctor anyway," Daisy suggested, unconvinced.
"Perhaps you should get back to work," he scolded the girl, and seeing her crestfallen face, instantly regretted it. But his order closed the conversation and the two cooks returned to their duties with a disappointed glance at Mrs. Hughes.
For her part, the housekeeper followed Thomas as he retreated to his pantry.
"Actually, I wanted to mention something to you," she said. "When I was in Ripon yesterday afternoon, I was approached by a woman on the street. She looked dreadful, the poor thing, like something out of a Dickens novel. But she seemed to know me, and she certainly knew who you were."
Thomas looked back at her, remembering the beggar woman from the day before, the one who had allowed in the cat which had still yet to be located.
"What did she say?" he asked.
"Only that she wanted me to give you this."
Mrs. Hughes reached into a pocket before handing him something - a small sheet of paper which had been folded in half. Unlike the dirty woman he had turned away from Downton's back door, the paper was clean and crisp. It smelled of lavender.
Thomas opened the paper and read the smattering of words on the page.
Hopefully you have learned your lesson. Not everyone is as they appear on the outside. Sometimes you must look deeper.
It was not signed, and the butler found himself turning it over to look for any clue of who the woman was. Surely, she was not just a vagabond as he had thought. She had somehow turned him into a cat, for crying out loud! With a start, he realized that he was finally willing to admit the experience to himself. The indignity of it still left him hot and angry, but as he struggled to retain his composure in front of Mrs. Hughes, Thomas remembered what he had experienced during his hours as a four-legged, furry creature.
Mister Bates had been kind to him. He had never been a recipient of the man's softer side, not really. Even when Bates had assisted Thomas in keeping his job, that had only been to allow him to get a good reference so he could move on. The valet had possibly even done it to get back at Miss O'Brien. No, Bates hated him. He went out of his way to make snide remarks at every opportunity.
And yet, he'd showed affection to Thomas as a cat. He had even revealed his own vulnerability, the leg which still pained him and the underlying guilt at what had happened to Anna. Neither would ever go away for the valet, he recognized. For once, Thomas felt some bit of sympathy for the other man, thinking of his own strange nature which forced him to prefer men to women. In a way, perhaps they were not so very different after all.
Thomas arrived downstairs late for luncheon, on account of the family's own extended meal as they speculated whether the news Lady Edith wished to share with the family meant that she and her husband might be expanding their new family. But in the servants' hall, the major topic of conversation was about how Mrs. Patmore's bed and breakfast was getting on.
Mrs. Hughes made a comment about her own cottage with Mr. Carson which made Thomas wonder how long she would stay in service. Anna was likewise absent from the table, likely upstairs checking on the baby in the nursery. Only Mr. Bates seemed like his usual self, paying as much attention to his plate as to the discussions circling around him.
"I'm sure it's only a matter of time," Thomas said to him, feeling odd addressing the valet, "before you and Mrs. Bates depart for places unknown."
Bates raised an eyebrow and paused before answering candidly, "I don't know about that. We rather like it here. Downton is home."
The last phrase resounded with Thomas the most. Downton is home.
"And this is where our family is," Bates added.
He gave Thomas a small smile, the sort he might usually reserve only for Mrs. Bates, or perhaps on a rare occasion for Miss Baxter. The expression was welcoming and Thomas relaxed into it. For a moment, he completely understood the man. Downton was his home as well, and the other servants - even their employers upstairs - were the closest thing he had to a real family.
Anna entered the servant's hall a moment later, walking with hurried steps so she could take the seat beside her husband which had been saved for her. As she picked up her fork, she glanced at Thomas. "Are you feeling better then, Mister Barrow?" she asked.
With a nod, he bashfully affirmed that he was, even if he hid his pleasure at her concern.
As Miss Baxter reached across the table for the salt so that she could hand it to Mrs. Hughes, Thomas watched the rest of those before him. His seat at the head gave him a full view of the two hall boys at the end, elbowing each other as they ate and laughed through their meal. The new maids seemed quiet but friendly as they made conversation with Anna. Daisy entered with a fresh pot of tea, refilling cups as she listened in to conversations. The active, almost jovial table filled Thomas with a sense he had noticed many times but never recognized.
Not only did he belong in this place, with these people, but he could not imagine being anywhere else.
Had he been a cat, he would have begun to purr.
fin