Chapter 2 – In a Jam

Daisy was wringing her hands nervously, her wide eyes darting all around as though she was expecting Mrs Hughes to jump out from behind one of the nearby pile of wooden crates.

"Oh, what'd you do, Thomas? They'll be furious if they know..."

She was shaking from head to toes and it was all Thomas could do not to yell at her to get a grip. He was the one with the job on the line and yet it was Daisy who was panicking. Although it might be that she actually was cold after all... The weather had noticeably cooled down in the last few days and neither of them wore coats.

In a show of gallantry, Thomas slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around Daisy's shoulders. It certainly wouldn't hurt to butter her up a little... He took another deep breath, wondering if he had any chance at all to save himself with such a worthless accomplice.

"It was an accident, I swear... But you're right, they'd be furious. And that's why I need your help. They can't know, you see or I'll be sent to pack without a reference – and so will Miss O'Brien. That's why you have to help me. Please, Daisy, please, I need you."

Thomas looked her in the eyes imploringly, the very picture of helplessness. If he had ever thought that he would one day sink so low as to beg Daisy Robinson for a favour... It was really lucky that the girl happened to be such a foolish romantic with such a ridiculously big heart.

"Oh alright," she surrendered. "Just please don't cry or I don't know what I'll do..."

If anything Thomas felt like pulling his hair out.

"But what d'you want me to do? I don't know anything about that sort of plants... Maybe we should tell them, have them call Dr Clarkson, have him examine her."

"No, we can't! I've just told you, Daisy. If we call Dr Clarkson, he'll know what happened. And we can't have that. Mr Carson only needs one tiny excuse to sack me."

"But what if something happens to her? Where's she now anyway?"


There was no point denying it – Sarah O'Brien was completely stoned, and it was all Thomas Barrow's fault. The only bright side to the story was that, if the effects on O'Brien were anything to go by, it was Bates of all people who had ended up saving him from looking like the biggest fool in the whole of Yorkshire. But even that consolation paled in the face of what he now had to deal with.

"No. Not that way," Thomas instructed in a hushed but firm voice, tightly gripping O'Brien's upper arm to steer her in the right direction.

He wanted to lead her away from the basement before anyone found her, but the task was proving rather difficult due to her rather buyoant but stubborn lack of cooperation. She seemed determined to go anywhere but where he needed her to– up the servants' staircase to her small room in the attic, where she would be out of sight and out of earshot of the others.

At first, Thomas had been naive enough as to walk ahead of her, but he had switched to more drastic measures when she had caught him off-guard and rushed past the stairs instead of following, nearly barging into the butler's pantry and Mrs Hughes's sitting room before he had narrowly stopped her.

Thomas half-dragged her up the stairs, as she hummed an annoyingly merry Christmas carol in a way that was bound to draw unwarranted attention sooner or later... He could feel cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck at the thought of how much he was risking. Finally, after slapping her eager hands away from the door to the gallery – God forbid she should run into one of the upstairs lot while in this state – Thomas led her up the very last flights of steps and into the attic.

They went the length of the men's corridor and it was only once they stood before the tightly locked door to the women's wing that he realized that this might very well be the one tiny detail that would ruin his plan. Thomas kicked the door hard enough to make it shake on its hinges, mentally calling Elsie Hughes all the names in the book while Miss O'Brien watched him with mild interest.

"Why? Can you tell me? Why? She never locks it during the daytime. Never!"

"Well, she does now..."

He turned around at the unexpected answer, shooting her a dirty look.

"What?"

"She's been doing it for a while now. I've heard her tell Mr Carson it might help keep naughty snuff boxes from wandering round the house so easy..."

She chuckled. Thomas put a hand to his forehead, fighting the sudden urge to wrap his fingers around O'Brien's neck and squeeze. The nerve of her to tease him about something which had nearly ruined him, which would have ruined him if all-merciful Bates hadn't wanted to show them once more just how saintly he was. He took a calming breath, picturing the moment when they had announced the search. O'Brien wasn't looking so smug back then. Thomas would even go as far as to say that she had come as close to freaking out as Miss O'Brien ever did...

If only Thomas could have locked her up in his own room and kept her tucked away until she was back to normal, it would have done the trick... But none of the doors in the servants' quarters had bolts... just in case they forgot that they had no right to privacy whatsoever, he supposed. Yet there was nowhere Thomas could hide an intoxicated lady's maid but the servants' quarters. He had to find a way to get her back to her room and make sure she stayed in there no matter what...

Thomas opened the door to his room and shoved the uncharacteristically jolly O'Brien in. He made his best attempt at being paternal, gripping her shoulder and motioning to her to sit on the chair next to his bed.

"Stay there and wait for me. Do not move. I'll be back in a minute."


"All we have to do is keep her safe up there for a few hours and she'll be fine," Thomas explained, his breath misting in the freezing air. "And that's where you come in. Old Hughsie's gone and locked the door to the virgin aisle, and I can't very well go ask her for the key myself."

"But she's bound to ask me why I need it!"

"That only means you'll have to actually need it."


Minutes later, kitchen maid Daisy Robinson clumsily spilt a jar of raspberry jam all over herself, leaving her with no choice but to take off her stained dress as soon as possible and give it away to the laundry maids. It was her only hope of saving it and since clothes were so expansive, Elsie Hughes handed her the key without hesitation – but not without a cutting remark. Daisy quickly made her way up to the servants' quarters, thinking about the smile on Thomas's face when he learnt that she had saved him. But the corridor was empty. And so was his room...