The weeks passed, and Thomas settled into his new position. The work was undemanding but tedious, and he found himself getting restless. He had learned to avoid Mr. Carson whenever possible, as the butler seemed to keep an uncomfortably sharp eye on him. His frequent smoke breaks in the yard had brought him into repeated contact with Miss O'Brien for whom he had developed a grudging respect. The sunny Anna continued her attentions toward him without encouragement.

One morning at breakfast, Mr. Carson distributed the early post, as was his daily custom. The occasion was always met with excited twitters as these letters often brought much-desired news from home. Anna had received such a missive from her mother and immediately set about reading it. Thomas had received no mail since arriving at Downton, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by the motherly housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes. She often wondered about the pale, self-contained, young man whom Mr. Carson had hired. While his work was impeccable, it seemed to bring him no satisfaction. The other servants found him proud and aloof, and they tended to avoid him. It must make the lad very lonely, she thought. She moved closer to him. "No mail for you, Thomas?"

The footman looked surprised. "Who would be writing to me, Mrs. Hughes?"

"You have no family then?"

He paused. "We don't keep in touch." In truth, no one knew that he was working at Downton. He toyed with the idea of letting his sister know, as it might be nice to receive some mail now and then. Anna closed up her letter and offered him a sympathetic smile.

Mr. Carson rose from the table calling, "Martin, Thomas, fetch the breakfast items for upstairs."

"Yes, Mr. Carson," they answered in unison, sparing Thomas any further inquiries in that direction.

It was his half-day, and after luncheon he set off for York dressed in a new black suit purchased with his first month's wages. Upon arriving he entered a dark, rather dingy pub boasting the unlikely name of The Swan. He slowly made his way to the bar, aware of the dashing figure he cut in his new clothes. The barkeep approached, and Thomas ordered a pint of ale. He took a deep swallow of the amber liquid and cast a curious eye about him.

Near the door, a couple of sailors were engrossed in a game of darts while in the far corner, sat a group of raucous, rough-looking, working men, probably from one of the factories in the area. At the bar, there was only Thomas and one other patron, a small, dapper man who met and held the footman's gaze. The man threw back his drink in one gulp and exited the pub. After waiting a discreet amount of time, Thomas followed.

He arrived back at the Abbey just after eleven. Everyone had already gone up to bed except Anna who sat reading a magazine in the servants' hall. "You're back late. Did you have a good time?"

Thomas forced a smile.

"Where do you go?" she asked curiously.

"That's for me to know, isn't it?" He tried to sound playful.

"Martin says you must have a sweetheart." She paused. "It made me sad this morning when you said you'd lost touch with your family."

"Please don't worry about me. Goodnight." He hurried out of the room before she could reply. Why couldn't these people mind their own business?

Lady Mary lolled in an armchair poring over the latest fashion magazines from Paris. Her first season was quickly approaching, and she wanted to be sure she was up to the mark. On a small sofa, her younger sisters, Lady Edith and Lady Sybil, were happily chatting away. Lord and Lady Grantham had gone to tea at the Dower House, and the girls were left on their own. Mary closed the magazine and rose languidly. "Shall we have our tea?" Without waiting for a reply, she rang the bell.

Almost immediately, the butler appeared. "Yes, m'lady?"

"May we have some tea, Carson?"

"Of course." He turned and slipped quietly out of the room. Soon the door was opened again, and Thomas appeared carrying an elaborate tea service on a large, silver tray. The conversation stopped as he expertly poured and served.

"You do that so neatly," Edith complimented him.

"Thank you, m'lady." He offered her a dimpled smile.

Mary took a sip of her tea. "It's cold."

Edith looked embarrassed. "No, it's fine really."

"You must do it over again," Mary ordered in her most imperious tone.

Thomas' entire body stiffened. "Yes, m'lady." He silently gathered up the tea things and exited the room.

"Why did you tell him it was cold when it wasn't?" Edith demanded angrily.

"He needs to be taken down a peg or two. He struts around here like a peacock."

"I think he's very handsome," Sybil opined dreamily.

"Edith certainly thinks so anyway," Mary sniped.

"Why? Just because I'm nice to him? He is a person, you know."

"He's a servant, and he'd do well to remember it."

It was the night of Lady Mary's ball. Many of the staff had accompanied the family to Grantham House, the Crawleys' London home. Thomas hoped to see some of the sights if he could get time off, but tonight he was expected to serve late into the night. The ballroom was quickly filling up with wealthy aristocrats as Mr. Carson announced the latest arrival in his clear, bass voice. "The Duke of Crowborough."

Thomas looked up from his work. He had never seen a duke before and was slightly disappointed at how normal he appeared. His Grace paid his respects to his host and hostess while Martin and Thomas continued to move about the room balancing heavy trays of sparkling champagne. The Duke lost no time in seeking out Lady Mary. After a dizzying waltz, they were now laughing and conversing easily together in a corner of the ballroom. Mary was at her most charming, smiling and flirting with the young peer while he appeared completely in her thrall. She managed to catch Thomas' eye and gave a slight jerk of her chin. The footman dutifully made his way through the crowd with the tray of drinks. As the Duke reached for a glass, he gave Thomas a lingering glance before returning to the delights of his partner.

The night wore on with Lady Mary holding sway over the roomful of eligible young suitors, all clambering for a chance to dance with the tall, slender beauty. Her official entry into society was clearly a smashing success, and Lord and Lady Grantham couldn't be prouder. With the party now in full swing, Thomas thought it a good moment to slip outside for a quick cigarette before Mr. Carson had time to miss him.

"It's so terribly hot in there, isn't it?"

Thomas turned to see that the approaching speaker was none other than the Duke of Crowborough. The footman was momentarily taken aback before blurting out, "Could I help you with something, Your Grace?"

The Duke merely smiled at him. "Yes, I have a feeling you could." His hand squeezed Thomas' thigh, and he was gone.