After Thomas' second bout with pneumonia in as many winters, George Crawley, the eighth Earl of Grantham, made the difficult decision that it was time for Barrow to step down as the butler of Downton Abbey. His wife had been after him for years to hire a younger, more stylish man, but George was very fond of the old boy and couldn't bear to see him go. However, the doctor made it clear that the job had become too much for the elderly servant and it was putting his health in jeopardy. George pulled the bell rope, and in due course, Thomas joined him in the library.
The old man's clothing hung loosely on his shrunken frame. "Yes, m'lord?"
Now that he was there, George was unsure how to proceed. "Please sit down, Barrow." He indicated one of the sofas flanking the fireplace. After the surprised-looking servant obeyed, he took a seat across from him. "You've been working here a long time."
"Fifty years, m'lord. I started as a footman in 1910, back in your grandfather's day." The milestone had been marked by a celebration at the Abbey.
"Yes, and we think you deserve to take it easy now."
Thomas looked puzzled. "I don't understand."
"We believe it's time for you to retire." George quickly added, "You'll have a pension, of course, and I intend to be generous."
"I hope you weren't inconvenienced too much by my recent illness."
"Not at all," the Earl assured him, "but the doctor feels you've been working too hard and it's time to slow down."
"I see." Barrow bowed his silver head in thought. Finally, he asked meekly, "Where am I to go?"
George was taken aback. "Why, you could go anywhere you like—London or somewhere by the sea perhaps. You could rent a room or even take a flat."
"A flat?" the butler repeated doubtfully.
"I could let you have a cottage on the estate if you'd prefer that."
"What would I do all day on my own?"
George realized this was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "Let me think on it. I'm sure we can come up with something that will suit you."
Thomas rose slowly to his feet. "Yes, Your Lordship," he said with a sigh of resignation.
Several days later, the earl tried again. "How would you feel about working for my mother at the Dower House?"
"Lady Mary?"
"Your duties would be substantially reduced, and you wouldn't have to deal with all the stairs."
Thomas appeared to consider the offer. "Would she want me, m'lord?"
George had already discussed the matter with his mother. "As a matter of fact, it was her idea. She gets fearful on her own since Mr. Talbot died, and she'd feel safer with a man about." He knew that Downton was far from the hotbed of crime his mother made out and the elderly Barrow would be worse than useless if a gang of armed thugs suddenly descended on the Dower House, but it seemed the answer to both their problems.
"Then I accept," Thomas replied gratefully.
"Good. I'll let her know straight away."
That was several months ago, and the arrangement had worked out well for everyone involved. There was a new butler installed at the Abbey, a cocky, young chap whom Barrow despised. At the Dower House, the only other indoor staff was a woman from the village named Nancy who came in six days a week to cook and clean, not that the fastidious Thomas didn't keep things tidy. However, his role had evolved into more of a companion and confidante to Lady Mary than a butler. She seemed to enjoy having someone from the old days about the place.
Thomas still insisted on preparing the tea and serving it himself, much to Nancy's dismay. "Why don't you let me do that, Mr. Barrow? It's too heavy for you."
"I can manage perfectly well, thank you," he snapped. Those days, there were always two cups on the tray, as Mary was adamant that he join her. In truth, he looked forward to this time as much as she, when they could discuss the events of the day, exchange village gossip, and reminisce about the past.
As he stepped into the drawing room carefully balancing the tray, she turned to him. "You must speak to the gardener. He insists on growing turnips when he knows how much I dislike them."
"I'll have a word, m'lady." Thomas poured out her tea, holding the tray steady while she added milk and sugar. After she had taken her cup, he filled his own and gently lowered himself into the empty chair beside her.
Her hair was gray now, and her slender frame appeared frail, but there remained a shrewd glint in her eyes, not unlike her late grandmother's. "I've had a letter from Lady Hexham. She and Lord Hexham are motoring to London this weekend. They might stop by Downton if they have the time, although they'd probably go straight on to the Abbey."
"I'll let Master George know to expect them."
"I think you mean Lord Grantham," she reminded him.
"Yes, of course," he replied apologetically. Even though George was a grown man now with a family of his own, Thomas still saw him as the little boy who once rode on his back.
She reached for a newspaper on the table beside her, searching for stories that might interest him. He had trouble with his eyes, making it difficult for him to read. "Princess Margaret is marrying Antony Armstrong-Jones. The wedding is going to be televised."
Thomas merely shrugged his indifference. He still remembered hearing the wireless for the first time when the King opened the British Empire Exhibition back in 1924.
Mary turned to the sporting news, reading the headline: "Burnley F.C. Win the Football League First Division Title with a 2–1 Win over Manchester City." She looked up to gauge his level of interest. "Does that mean anything to you?"
"It means I owe Joe down at the pub a few quid."
"Have you been gambling, Barrow?"
"It's the only vice I have left, m'lady," he explained with a grin that made him look decades younger. "I've been forced to give up smoking and drinking."
Mary turned to the obituaries. "Goodness! The Duke of Crowborough has died. Do you remember him?"
The butler's expression made it clear he did. "I attended him when we were in London and again when he stayed at the Abbey."
"We all thought he was going to propose to me, but when he found out the estate was entailed on Mr. Crawley, he changed his mind and left." It was apparent that even after all those years, she still felt the sting of his rejection.
Thomas felt guilty about his part in the humiliating episode and attempted to soften her disappointment. "He wouldn't have made you happy."
"Why do you say that?"
The old man fidgeted in his seat. "He wasn't a ladies' man." And there it was.
She paused to take in his meaning. "Are you saying—"
"Yes, m'lady."
"How could you possibly know that?"
Thomas didn't answer.
"You—and the Duke?"
He nodded. He knew she was aware of his sexual proclivities although they never spoke of them. "He broke it off with me on his visit to Downton."
Mary appeared shocked. "Did you love him?"
"I thought so at the time but not really."
She became curious. "Have you ever been in love, Barrow?"
He didn't know if she'd heard about the incident with Jimmy Kent. "Once. He was a footman at the Abbey." It all seemed so long ago now.
"What happened?"
"Lord Grantham sent him away."
"I'm sorry." Her voice sounded sincere.
"Nothing would have come of it anyway. He wasn't like me, you see."
She placed a comforting hand over his for a moment before reaching for a biscuit.
Nancy was ready to leave for the day. She had prepared a cold supper for the pair for later and left it in the refrigerator. They had their dinner at mid-day now, Lady Mary in the dining room, with Thomas serving. He ate his meal below stairs afterward. Nancy collected her coat and purse. She'd just pop into the drawing room to say goodbye to the old dears. God knows what they found to talk about.
