Thomas Barrow sat before the formidable butler, his cloth cap in his hands. Though only twenty-one, he carried himself with the confidence of a much older, more experienced man. A casual observer would never sense the quiet desperation he felt inside, but a closer look at the threadbare trousers and well-worn shoes told the real story. The aroma of cooking had begun to waft in from the kitchen, and the young man felt his empty stomach rumble.
The butler, Charles Carson, leaned back in his chair silently assessing the figure before him. The lad was tall and quite handsome as all footmen should be if possible, dark-haired and fair-skinned with cool, gray eyes that gave away nothing. "So you're here to apply for the footman position. Have you had any experience?"
"Yes, and I have these." Thomas handed him the references he had carefully stuffed into his coat pocket.
The butler's bushy eyebrows drew together disapprovingly. "You have no experience in service?"
Thomas felt his heart sink. "No, Mr. Carson, I don't, but I'm a quick learner." He flashed a broad smile that he hoped would convey his willingness.
"Hmm." With Lady Mary's season quickly approaching, he needed to find a junior footman and fast. The few applicants he had interviewed so far had all proven unsatisfactory for one reason or another, but he had a good feeling about this one. Perhaps it would be better to hire the lad and train him up himself. He would require some polishing, but that could be easily managed. "How soon would you be available?"
Thomas allowed himself a deep breath. "I'm staying at the pub, so I could start straight away." He was secretly hoping to be asked for luncheon.
"Won't you want to see your family first?" For a brief moment, the butler saw the young man's mask slip before regaining its impassive expression.
"That won't be necessary."
"Very well then. You may begin tomorrow morning."
They hurriedly finalized the arrangements, and the new employee rose to leave. Holding out his hand, he said, "Thank you, Mr. Carson." He smiled again, but Carson noticed that it never quite reached his eyes.
The next morning, Thomas slipped in quietly through the back door of the Abbey still wearing his clothes from the day before. He saw no one but heard female voices and the clattering of heavy pots and pans. He made his way toward the din and nearly collided with a very short, stout woman entering the kitchen. "Oh, Lord!" she exclaimed, clutching at her chest. "And who might you be at this hour?"
"I knocked, but no one came. My name is Thomas Barrow. I'm the new footman."
"Are you now? Well, you don't believe in letting the grass grow under your feet, I must say."
"I like to get an early start." In truth, he was anxious for breakfast. The fish and chips he'd eaten at the pub the day before were now only a distant memory.
"Mr. Carson isn't down yet, so you might as well wait with us in the kitchen. I'm the cook, Mrs. Patmore."
Thomas smiled and nodded an acknowledgment. The younger assistants only gawked at the new arrival while he pretended not to notice. As long as he could remember, he had drawn hungry stares from women of all ages and even from men. He was well aware of his beauty and used it to his advantage when it suited him.
Mrs. Patmore poured him a cup of tea. She noticed his eyes light greedily on a plate of freshly baked scones and offered it to him.
"Thank you. I don't mind if I do." He had to check himself not to wolf them all down.
The cook was a brusque but kind woman, and she could see that the lad had an uncared-for look about him. "Where are you from then?"
"Oh, you know, here and there," Thomas replied vaguely.
"And your family?"
He was spared the trouble of answering by the sudden appearance of a nondescript man of medium height. After determining Thomas' identity, the man introduced himself as Martin, the first footman. He had been instructed to show the young man about. He led the way to the servants' hall where Thomas was told where to stand. Slowly the other members of staff began to wander in, their eyes immediately drawn to the handsome stranger in their midst. Mr. Carson entered next accompanied by a middle-aged woman whom Thomas assumed was the housekeeper. Everyone stood at attention until the pair was seated. Having spotted the new employee, Carson announced, "This is Thomas Barrow. I hope everyone will see he gets the help he needs."
Platters of food soon began to appear from the kitchen along with several pots of strong, black coffee. While Barrow waited for the food to make its way down to him, he studied the other servants. In particular, he noticed a sour-looking woman on the butler's left who seemed to be complaining loudly about something while directly across from Thomas sat a pretty, blonde. The young woman smiled warmly at him. "I'm Anna Smith, housemaid."
He returned the smile before shifting his attention to the plate of food being set before him.
After breakfast, Martin showed him to his spartan bedroom, and then they were off to find a livery. Thomas had never worn such fine clothing. His hair needed only a little pomade to complete his transformation from shabby ruffian to elegant servant. He studied his reflection in the glass, pleased with what he saw. It was a far cry from where he had begun, living above his father's clock shop in Manchester. Upon seeing him now, the female servants couldn't contain their admiration. "You look very smart in your livery, Thomas," Anna remarked. There were open-mouthed stares and excited giggles behind him as he followed Martin upstairs.
Lord Grantham and his three daughters were seated in the dining room while Mr. Carson presided next to the sideboard. Upon seeing the new footman, Carson made the requisite introductions. "How are you settling in, Thomas?" Lord Grantham inquired.
"Very well, I think. Thank you, m'lord." He tried without success to adjust his low Manchester accent to match the peer's perfect round tones. He noticed the eldest daughter's eyes surreptitiously glide over his sleek frame. When she saw that she had been caught out, she quickly turned away. Soon he found himself in desperate need of a cigarette and slipped outside into the kitchen courtyard. He immediately spotted the unhappy maid from breakfast also smoking and joined her. "We haven't met yet. I'm Thomas Barrow, second footman."
She seemed unimpressed. "Miss O'Brien, Her Ladyship's maid."
"What's it like being in service?"
"It's fine if you enjoy being told what to do from morning to night."
"Mr. Carson seems alright to me."
O'Brien turned and gave him a withering glare before grinding out her cigarette and returning inside. He stood there smoking lost in thought and didn't notice Anna approach him. "Mr. Carson is looking for you. He wants you to clean the silver for tonight," she told him.
"I'll be there in a minute."
But she made no effort to leave. "I should stay clear of Miss O'Brien if I were you. She isn't very nice."
Thomas didn't reply.
"I'm new here too, you know. I only came last week, and I'm missing my mother and sister so dreadfully. Are you feeling homesick?"
"Not really."
She seemed taken aback. "Don't you miss your family?"
"I left home when I was fifteen, and I haven't been back since."
"It must get lonely."
"I do just fine on my own. In fact, I prefer it," he hinted.
"We all need a friend, Thomas."
"Not me." He hurriedly stubbed out his cigarette. If she knew what he was, the things that he'd done, she wouldn't want to talk to him, let alone be his friend. "I mustn't keep Mr. Carson waiting."
After having observed the luncheon service, he felt confident that he was ready to tackle dinner that night. Lord Grantham's mother, the Dowager Countess, was joining them and was seated to the right of her son. Across the table, Lady Grantham announced, "Mama, this is our new footman, Thomas."
The old woman turned, and her smile momentarily flickered. "Good luck to you, Thomas." Her sharp, blue eyes met his icy, gray ones. Under her breath, she muttered, "Not that you'll need it."
"Thank you, Your Ladyship."
Mr. Carson smiled contentedly as Thomas glided around the dining room with feline grace and agility. The butler was happily congratulating himself on his wise decision to hire the lad despite his lack of experience. The shorter, graying Martin looked positively old and tired in comparison as he leaned in to serve Lady Grantham.
Next to her mother sat middle daughter, Lady Edith, a plain, rather awkward young woman. She smiled shyly up at Thomas as he expertly balanced the tray of vegetables in front of her. "I hope you'll be happy here."
"I'm sure I will, m'lady."
Lady Mary glared at her sister, adopting her most disapproving expression.
Violet turned to her son and whispered, "I don't like this."
"What is it, Mama?"
She frowned in the direction of the striking new servant. "My dear, I'm afraid you've placed the cat among the pigeons."
