Author's Note: Hello, all Downton Abbey lovers! Basically, my idea for this fic came from a simple question: "Does Thomas ever get to be himself?" This five-chapter fic tries to answer that question. I'll have one chapter for each season, so there may be some SPOILERS in the later chapters if you're not caught up. If this piece ever find any readers, please review! I'll probably be posting Chapter 2 sometime tomorrow!
June 14, 1911
The Lily Pond. That was Daniel had told him in his last letter. Thomas took one more look at it as he walked down Regent Street, hoping he had remembered the directions correctly. "Meet me in Piccadilly Circus, in the back of the Lyons Corner House, and ask one of the serving girls about the Lily Pond. I'll be the darling wearing the red hat."
Thomas smiled to himself as he folded the letter and returned it to the inside of his jacket, thinking of how silly Daniel could sometimes be. He always had to stand out, always had to turn heads and raise eyebrows. He had been like that even as a boy in grammar school, never doing what was expected of him. If the teacher called for silence, he'd start humming some song or another. When the boys organized a game of cricket, he'd run off to go look at the flowers and the birds. No, Daniel had never had a problem being different. That was something Thomas admired about him. And something he found completely exhausting.
But Daniel was a friend, one of the few Thomas had. And so here he was, in one of his few spare hours during the London season, hunting Daniel down. Born into a well-to-do family, Daniel was a banker, and had, for the last several years, been searching London for "the absolutely best cup of tea." This place was, according to him, something special. Thomas only hoped it wouldn't prove too pricey for the few shillings he had in his pocket.
After a few more minutes' walking, he'd arrived in Piccadilly Circus, and after asking a nearby constable, was directed to Lyon's Corner House. It was a new restaurant built into a much older facade, its name marked above the doors in big, bold lettering. It seemed to be quite the popular establishment, with people coming in and out every few seconds. It didn't look like anything particularly special to Thomas, just some flashy new place that London's fashionable doubtless adored. He wouldn't have been surprised to see his employers taking luncheon here. He was beginning to feel woefully underdressed; as it was, he'd barely had time to get out of livery if he'd wanted to make it here on time.
Thomas opened the door and headed inside, only to be taken aback by the size of place. There were hundreds upon hundreds of white-clothed tables, with great pillars scattered around the room. Nearly all the tables were full, and there wasn't a trace of Daniel's supposed red hat. He was about to take a look at the letter again when he remembered he was supposed to ask one of the waitresses about "The Lily Pond."
Looking around, he spotted one heading back towards the kitchen, a pretty girl in a long black dress and wearing a white apron round her waist. She looked to be in a bit of rush. "Excuse me," he said softly to her as she walked by. She looked at him and smiled a tired smile Thomas knew all too well.
"Yes? Are you looking for a table? I'm afraid you might have a bit of a wait in front of you…" she said, very quickly.
"Oh no—er, yes I am. But I was hoping you could direct me to the—er, the Lily Pond," as soon as he had finished he realized how foolish he must seem, asking such a queer question. What if this was all some great joke of Daniel's?
But to his relief, her smile grew wider, and she immediately answered, "Oh yes, of course. Follow me right this way."
She turned from her previous path and began making her way towards the back of the dining room, leading Thomas to a set of double doors he hadn't noticed before.
"The Lily Pond is right through here, sir. I hope you have a lovely time at the Corner House," she finished, winking at him as she left, to Thomas' great surprise.
What on earth was that about? What had that waitress meant, winking like that? Thomas continued puzzling over her strange behavior as he opened the door and found himself in a much smaller room, only thirty or so tables, all with light purple table cloths instead of white, and all, he noticed, topped with brightly colored flowers. It was, he thought a sort of private room, like the kind where important families dined, separate from the rest of the rabble. He had never been in one before, not being a member of such a family.
"Thomas? Thomas, is that you?" a familiar voice called from not too far away.
Sure enough, Thomas turned around and saw Daniel sitting just a few tables away, beaming. He was indeed wearing the promised dark red hat, and he had even tucked a bright yellow feather onto it as well. It didn't look half bad next to his dark hair and blue eyes, though the feather was a bit much. Though Daniel never could get dressed without something being a bit much. He was a looker, though. Always had been
"Hello, Daniel," Thomas said with a small smile, his usual cool demeanor breaking in spite of himself.
Daniel had already gotten up to embrace him, kissing him on both cheeks à la mode Parisienne.
"Must you always put on such a show, Daniel?" Thomas chided, half-heartedly. He didn't really mind, though it often attracted stares. He'd gotten used to it years ago.
"Oh but I couldn't help myself, Tommy!" he replied as they both sat down, using the hated nickname. "It's been ages since we last saw each other."
"I've told you a thousand times—" Thomas began.
"Not to call you that, I know, I know… But old habits die hard! Anyway, what have you been up to? How are those ghastly aristocrats treating you?" Daniel said.
Thomas smiled, pulling out a cigarette. "Not too bad. Mr. Carson's just made me first footman, if you must know." He was just about to light his cigarette when Daniel plucked it out of his hand and tossed it over his shoulder, ignoring Thomas' sharp cry of dismay.
"Filthy habit. Anyway, well done you! Who's the poor boy working under mean old Mr. Barrow?" Daniel asked, eyes twinkling.
"His name's William Mason, and he's alright, I suppose. He's never been to London, so he won't shut up about how big everything is and all that. You know country folk," Thomas replied, picking up the tea menu. "What's so special about this place, anyhow?"
"Country folk? And how many times have you been to London? I suppose Yorkshire is a cosmopolitan hub these days, is it?" Daniel teased. "And as for this place, you don't mean to tell me you haven't noticed?"
Thomas was bemused. "Noticed what? A load of purple tables?"
Daniel sighed and rolled his eyes. "Take a look around Thomas. Don't you see anything…different about this place?"
Thomas lazily glanced around their table, sure Daniel was going to start talking about accents in the ceiling or the like. But then a couple at a nearby table caught his eye, two rather average looking men he'd paid no attention to upon entering. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that they were holding hands as they chatted. They were holding hands. In public.
Astounded, Thomas turned in his chair to look at the tables behind him. Sure enough, they were all men, and they were all very clearly together in that way. One couple was sharing a plate of veal, feeding each other. At another table, the two men were simply gazing into each other's eyes, not saying a word. Thomas' mouth fell open a little, his heart racing. A familiar sort of panic began to set in. It was feeling he knew all too well. This couldn't be happening. They were going to get caught, all of them.
He turned back to look at Daniel, who had an enormous grin plastered across his face.
"What—what is this place?" Thomas asked, very quietly. His only thought was: danger. His fist was clenched on the table and he was growing whiter by the second.
Daniel's face fell upon seeing Thomas', and he quickly started to explain. "Oh, no Tommy, please don't be nervous. We're safe here. No one knows about it, and the girls make sure no one else can get back here. The Lily Pond is for…well, for people like us."
He reached across the table to grab Thomas' hand, but it was pulled away before he could. Thomas didn't need to be coddled, he needed to get out of there. "I'm fine. I just…I need a moment," Thomas muttered.
"I'm so sorry to have frightened you like this," Daniel apologized. "But I wanted to surprise you! I remember how I felt when one of my friends first brought me here. I just wanted you to feel the same thing. I'm sorry."
Daniel looked sincerely put out. Thomas could imagine how excited he'd probably been about showing him this, admittedly incredible, place. And it did seem safe enough. Thomas tried his best to calm down, taking several deep breaths. "Could we get that tea, then?" he asked, attempting a smile. Daniel smiled back, relieved.
A short while and two cups of tea later, Thomas was smiling again, and Daniel had never looked happier. "So how did you hear about this place? And how is it the police haven't raided it and hauled all of us 'deviants' off to prison?" Thomas asked.
"I think it sort of spread through the grape vine. Well, our grape vine. The girls were asked one day if they had a place for a private couple's luncheon, and it just grew from there. People have been very careful who they tell, I suppose. I've only shown this place to you and the one other," Daniel responded.
"And it's really only our sort who come in here? Have you ever seen anyone you knew?" Thomas asked. He could still scarcely believe that people like him had a place where they could be together, be around each other without attracting undue attention.
"Actually, I—Oh, look who just walked in," Daniel remarked, eyes following someone behind Thomas. Thomas turned to see a gorgeous man with brown hair and dark eyes looking around for a table. He caught Daniel's eye, smiled and walked over.
"Hello Daniel, lovely to see you again," he said, shaking Daniel's hand. He smiled at Thomas, who couldn't help but smile back. This man had charm oozing out of every pore.
"And you as well. Thomas, this is the Duke of Crawborough. Philip, this is Thomas Barrow," Daniel said.
Thomas' eyes widened and he hastened to stand up and show proper respect. "Er, it's an honor to meet you, Your Grace," Thomas said, averting his eyes and bowing. To his surprise, he heard laughing and looked up to see both Daniel and the Duke doubled over.
"Oh please, Thomas, there's no need for such formalities here," the Duke said. "This is where I come to relax, let my hair down, if you will. Please, call me Philip." Again he shot Thomas that dazzling smile, and Thomas felt something in his stomach do a sort of flutter.
Daniel asked the Duke—er, Philip, to join them at their table, and he did so with pleasure. A few minutes later, just after the Philip had ordered his tea, Thomas felt a hand on his thigh. He noted that since Daniel's hands were both gesticulating wildly about something he'd done last month in Sussex, it definitely didn't belong to him. He cast a shy glance over at Philip, who caught Thomas' eye for just a moment and allowed his hand to wander further up his thigh.
Thomas was going to like the Lily Pond.
Thomas was on his way home from school (where he'd had to bang erasers after lessons for calling Marcus a mean name), walking along the road from the schoolhouse to town, when he came across another boy sitting on the side of the road. He was crying, and he looked to have both a bloody nose and a cut lip. With dark hair and blue eyes red from tears, Thomas recognized him from school, though he didn't know his name. He didn't talk to the other boys much.
Thomas thought for a moment of passing him by, but his conscience got the better of him and he sat down next to the boy. "What's the matter?" he asked the other boy, not looking at him, after a few moments of silence.
"They—they—" the boy said through his sobs, "they all started hitting me."
"Who did?" Thomas asked, though he had already guessed. It had to be Marcus and his cronies.
"I'm not going to snitch," boy said, weakly. Thomas turned his head to face him and seemed to suddenly see him in a new light. This boy, who owed nothing to Marcus or, indeed, whoever had hurt him, was trying to protect him. He was remarkably strong, Thomas thought.
"I already know it was Marcus," Thomas said. The boy's lip quivered. "It was, wasn't it?" The boy, after a moment, nodded. "Why?" Thomas asked.
"He said…he said I need to stop playing at being a girl. That I need to stop drawing…" the boy said, starting to cry again. "He took all of my drawings…"
Thomas asked, after another moment, "Why didn't your friends help you fight him?"
The boy looked away, wiping his eyes and nose on his sleeve. "I don't have any. I'm too…different."
Thomas stood up and offered the boy his hand. "Well, you have one now. My name's Thomas. What's yours?"
Sniffling, the boy took the proffered hand and stood up as well. "Daniel," he said, looking rather surprised that Thomas had even bothered to ask.
Something about this boy, Thomas thought, something about him was special. Something about him was…burning. No, not burning. Glowing.
"Well, let's get you home, Daniel," Thomas said, slinging an arm around Daniel's shoulder. They started walking back down the road to town.
"Thomas. Can I call you Tommy, then?" Daniel asked, after they'd taken a few steps.
Thomas smiled and looked at him. No one had ever called him Tommy. "Sure, if you want."
"Alright," Daniel said, smiling back. They were silent for the next few minutes, though it was clear to Thomas Daniel wanted to say something. Finally, "I like you, Tommy."
"I like you too, Daniel."