He can't quite forgive himself for coming in through the back door. He's a guest after all, and like all the other guests, he should have used the front entrance. It hadn't occurred to him before he was already inside.
It's that thing about old habits, probably.
Briefly, he wonders if Miss Baxter might be looking for him, but makes no move to get up yet. It's not like anyone would miss him if he isn't there.
And yet, there he is. Sitting in the empty servants' hall, allowing himself just a few more minutes before he'll have to go upstairs. Not that he cares about Lady Edith at all. It is merely out of courtesy that he is there – he's a former employee, after all, it would be rude not to attend.
Which is a perfectly dishonest explanation, and if anybody bothers to ask, he will use it.
Whereas, if he is perfectly honest with himself, it's because he's wanted to be back in the company of all the people he shared a home with for fifteen years. And he must take every chance he can get. Not that there will be many more.
Unless Lady Edith is jilted again.
But somehow, even though all of this is going to be another reminder of all the things he cannot have, from a place at Downton to the marital bliss with the person he loves, he finds that he hopes it works out for her. Funny, how from indifference at his best and burning bitterness at his worst, after all those years, he would hope that one of their lot is happy. He must be getting soft in the head. (It's been a long time coming.)
In any case, he will watch Lady Edith get married. It's a small price to pay for being back at Downton. Even if being back is only an illusion.
He sits there for a little while longer, knowing that he should get upstairs soon, but for some reason, it's harder than it should be. It's as if he sprouted roots there the moment he sat down, and the soil is so familiar and there will be no pulling them out, not by choice at least, nor without force –
A girl with bobbed hair and thick bangs rushes down the stairs. She wears a faded orange dress and a bright smile.
Thomas stares.
He's been gone for a few months and comes back only to find that they have hired someone new?
He glares, grits his teeth and looks away. Whatever happened to cutting back? Or did that only apply to suicidal under-butlers that nobody liked?
The girl's smile instantly dropped as she met his eyes. She rushes past him and busies herself with some of the leftover plates. She is silent for a few seconds and her mouth is set.
"Go on, say something nasty then," she snaps.
It is only when she speaks that Thomas realizes it is Daisy. Just Daisy, with a modern haircut.
Inwardly, there is a silent but weighty sigh of relief.
He studies her sullen expression, then backtracks to her words and examines her new appearance. He frowns.
"Why would I want to say something nasty?"
Daisy shrugs, still not looking at him. "I don't know why, you just would," she mumbles.
Thomas skips a beat. Then, "I think it looks rather good on you," he says gently.
Her eyes narrow in disbelief.
"Brings out your eyes," he adds, inspired. Girls like that kind of stuff.
(Everybody does, really.)
And Daisy is no exception, he notes with amusement. He sees her face, he can practically hear the wheels in her mind turning as she wonders for several moments whether he's mocking her. Then her expression softens and she gives an unsure smile in his direction, eyes lighting up again.
As if on cue, Thomas recognizes a part of himself that almost consumes him. An old, lonely and miserable part, all withered up in its depravity, that exults in the fact that he's wrapped her around his little finger so easily. And its instincts are all about what he could do with it, how he could exploit it, how he could use it to gain the upper hand.
And amidst all that, there is another part, deep within but rising shyly. A bright, warm and entirely inexperienced part. A part that's genuinely happy for making her smile.
It's a strange feeling, and it doesn't make any sense that he should find it so oddly enjoyable.
But it doesn't change a thing, because the first part is so familiar, and it's been there for years, and it'd be so easy to slip back into it, to use Daisy and her insecurities and twist them into something that would make him feel more secure and more powerful if he had any strength left for it anymore.
He doesn't, but the instinct is still there.
Is that wretched, resentful person all that people would ever expect of him? All he ever was, all he ever will be?
"Was I really so awful during all those years?" he asks quietly.
"Do you really need me to answer that question?" Daisy counters with a smile.
But then she glances at him, and he looks away, and maybe she sees something in his eyes, something that makes her respond differently. Her hands hover over the plates.
"You weren't ever so awful to me, most of the time. There were even moments... that I fancied you didn't mind me as much, that you even liked me, in a way. But I've been here, and I've seen the things you did to others. And they were nasty things," she says with emphasis.
He nods. Indeed, there is nothing more to be said.
He forces a smile, then gets up and heads towards the stairs, the roots torn out.
"Thomas?"
He stops.
"I do think you have it in you."
He turns around.
"To be a good person I mean. People can change, I know they can," she says earnestly. "Just look at me. Remember what I'd been like? I was a dogsbody who knew nothing about anything. And now though, it may not look like much has changed but," she shakes her head a little and continues in an awed voice, "I've passed my exams, and it may not be much but it means that I've got something now, I've got something more than what I had before and I did it all by myself. Others have helped and that's meant so much to me, but in the end I did it because I wanted to for so long. And you can have something more too. Only if you want to and I know you do."
You don't know what I want, and how much I want it. You don't know the things I can't have.
But all he says is, "And why would you think I'd want to?" His voice is colder than he intended and he almost regrets it.
And she, Daisy, gives him a look that is full of pity. Pity for how daft he is.
"Because everybody wants to," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "We all want to be better than we are, don't we? It's only natural." She shakes her head. "It's just the way some people go about it that's the problem. And once you realize that is when you can truly be better."
Thomas blinks. For a moment, he finds he cannot say anything. Daisy gives him a smile and another head shake, and goes back to her work.
The silence fills with the sounds of plates being put away.
"When did you get to be so wise?" he asks after a while. His voice is slightly hoarse. But he manages, with considerable effort, a smile, and prays his words don't sound as ridicule.
Daisy flashes him a cheeky grin. "I'm an educated woman now," she says, and it's half joke and half happy confidence. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards of their own accord. Just like that. "Now let's get upstairs or we'll miss it."
A tiny, altogether new part of him thinks he wouldn't mind missing it just now. But he waits for Daisy to join him, a chuckle fading in his throat, and walks her up the stairs, eager to see the others.
A/N: Thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are so incredibly welcome!