1920

Thomas stood alone in the nighttime, wisps of smoke from his cigarette curling all around him. How had it come to this? He knew the answer, of course. It was Miss O'Brien's doing, all of it. He knew she was lying when she said Jimmy was interested in him. He knew it but pushed it out of his mind because he wanted so desperately for it to be true. He would never forget the look of anger and disgust on Jimmy's face when the footman awoke to find Thomas hovering over him in his bed. The truth was Jimmy had never cared for him, not like that. It had been O'Brien all along. And now he was leaving Downton in disgrace without a reference and no way to find other work.

As he often did, Thomas found himself outside a nearby row of tradesmen's cottages. From the windows, the light of the gas lamps created a warm glow that spoke of home and family. He wondered what it would be like to be on the inside for once instead of always on the outside looking in, to feel there was somewhere he belonged. But he knew that would never happen, not for a man like him. In the moonlight, he spotted the familiar, limping figure of John Bates approaching. Stepping out of the shadows, he called to him mockingly, "Inspecting the love nest?"

"Just fetching some coal," the valet replied warily.

"I envy you."

"Whatever you say," Bates said, sounding bored now.

"No, I mean it. The happy couple and everyone's so pleased for you. I can't imagine what that's like."

"Perhaps you should try being nicer."

"It's being nice that got me into trouble," Thomas replied cryptically.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. I'll be gone soon and out of your hair. You'll be glad of that."

"Yes, I will."

With that, the younger man ground out his cigarette and disappeared into the night.

Long after the others had turned in, Thomas remained in the servants' hall sitting in his favorite rocking chair. At last, he rose and switched off the lights, trudging slowly up the dark, creaky stairs to the attic. He paused when he came to Jimmy's door, picturing the sleeping footman inside. With a sigh, he continued on. It wouldn't do to be caught lurking outside Jimmy's room at night.

After a quick wash, he settled into bed, still trying to find a way out of the mess he was in. He knew it was futile. Without a reference, he would never work in England again. He thought briefly of returning to Manchester until he could come up with a plan for his future (what future?), but he knew he wouldn't be welcomed by his family. The truth was he had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. Thomas rolled over to face the wall and allowed the tears to fall freely. What was to become of him?

The talk at breakfast the next morning was centered on the upcoming cricket match with the village. Mr. Carson was enthusiastically tallying up the house players, while Bates volunteered to keep score. Barrow sat meekly at the far end of the table with the hallboys. When Ivy asked if he'd be playing, he mumbled that he thought he'd be gone by then.

"Yes, you will," Jimmy agreed quickly, causing Thomas to cringe.

Bates suspected that Thomas had feelings for Jimmy and was probably nursing a broken heart on top of everything else. He then turned to catch Miss O'Brien smirking beside him. He sensed that she was behind whatever was going on.

The situation continued to trouble him, and that evening he broached the subject with Mrs. Hughes. She recounted how two nights earlier she had found Thomas in tears, crouched outside in the rain. She had brought him in, and over a cup of tea, he'd blurted out the whole sorry tale. When she finished repeating the story to Bates, he said, "Now I understand." He didn't know Jimmy Kent well, having been in prison when the footman arrived, but the lad struck him much as Mrs. Hughes described, a vain and silly flirt.

He had known other men like Thomas: in the army, in service, and in prison. He bore them no ill will and felt only mild pity for them, but he saw that Mr. Carson's hands were tied in the matter. It wouldn't help to put Barrow in prison. Bates wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even his old nemesis. Whatever sins Thomas had committed in the past, he didn't deserve what was happening to him now.

The next day, he was winding his way down the servants' staircase after bringing up a stack of His Lordship's shirts from the laundry. It felt good to get back to work, to be busy and useful again. He paused upon hearing another set of footsteps approaching and soon spied the dark head of Thomas Barrow climbing up. The younger man held something in his hand and seemed somewhat startled to see him. "What have you got there?" Bates asked, just for something to say.

"It's nothing."

"It looks like a fair length of rope. What are you doing with it?"

"Well, I'm not stealing it if that's what you're worried about." Without waiting for a reply, Thomas continued up the stairs, leaving Bates staring curiously after him.

The valet reached the basement and knocked softly on Mr. Carson's open pantry door. Carson waved him inside, and the two men entered into casual conversation. John was searching for a way to bring up the subject of Thomas when Jimmy Kent joined them and raised the matter himself. "When is Mr. Barrow leaving?"

"I'm not sure," Carson replied coolly.

"He's lost his job. Why can't he just go? I find it very awkward."

Bates bristled at that. "He made a mistake. You're still in one piece. Why do you have to be such a big girl's blouse about it?"

That only seemed to anger Jimmy. He turned back to the butler. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carson, but I won't change my mind."

That night after everyone else was asleep, Thomas remained awake, perched on the side of his bed. In his hands was the rope he had purchased earlier which he had managed to fashion into a makeshift noose. He wondered if he should leave a note; he'd heard that some people did. But what would he say, and to whom would he address it? His father had made it clear a long time ago that Thomas was already dead to him, and he hadn't seen his sister in years. Certainly, no one at the Abbey would mourn his passing, and he didn't blame them really. What was it Mr. Carson had called him? Foul. He positioned a little chair in the corner of the room and tossed the noose over an exposed beam. He then attached the end of the rope securely to a heavy piece of furniture. Stepping up onto the chair, he slipped the loop around his neck.

At the Bateses' cottage, John recounted his previous evening's discussion with Mrs. Hughes to Anna over a cup of tea. "I can't get it out of my mind."

"I don't understand why you're letting it bother you. You don't even like Thomas."

"No, I don't."

"Then why—"

"I don't know," Bates answered quickly with more feeling than he intended. He was a man of few words and often struggled to express his emotions. "Have you noticed how down he's become? He's given up. Yes, what he did was wrong, but he doesn't deserve to have his entire life ruined because of one kiss." He added, "I feel sorry for him."

"Sorry for Thomas? After everything he's done to you?"

"He's all alone in this. What would I have done in prison without you?"

Anna smiled at that.

"I suppose he must have loved Jimmy," Bates mused.

"Yes, I suppose he must have, and it's sad to think about," his wife agreed. She rose to her feet. "Well, I'm off to bed. Are you coming?"

"Not just yet."

"Don't stay up too late." She gave him a quick kiss before setting her cup and saucer in the sink.

He continued to mull over the day's events. There must be a way to convince Jimmy to allow Thomas to have a reference when he left. Without it, he'd never work again. His choice would be between a life of crime or the workhouse. Bates thought back to their strange encounter on the stairs earlier and experienced a sudden chill. "Oh, my God!" He grabbed his cane and hurried out the door.