Thomas
"Hows the cottage working out?" He keeps my eyes in his as he speaks.
"Very well. But it won't seem like a home till I have a visitor." He says it quiet with a smile that tingles through me before heading down the hall. And I can't help think of how his frame looks so nice in his new uniform, tight across his chest.
"Don't run over anything." I call out with a smirk and he turns about.
"Do my best." He winks. I head off to continue work. There is much talk of Christmas in the house. Of this day they hope will bring cheer to the hurting family. Robert won't stop going on about it, I think the man is trying too hard to mend a leak in a river. Mary has become cruel again. Not always but of what I've heard she's taking her grief out on everybody else.
A few days pass and we've started to decorate for the Holiday this week. It's late afternoon when I'm helping Alfred hang a wreath, we get stuck with the job just cause our height. Once it's hung I'm dusting the needles off my chest when I hear the sound of baby talk. It's not George, Mary's lil one but Sybil's. I turn to see Tom, admiring the decorations with a smile. His daughter in his arms. The sight of her face looking so much like her mum makes my heart heavy.
"So, do we get the approval of her ladyship?" I say with a smile as I meet the little girl's face before looking to Tom.
"What do you think Syby?" He points to bright reds adorning the rich greens, and the lil one's big blue eyes latch onto the way the light plays off the ribbons.
"She's beautiful." I say. Every time I see her I think of the last time I spoke to Sybil. She passed me in the hall, stopping just to ask how I was, her belly was showing. I remember telling her the baby will be proud to have a mum like her. With how I am, I'm lucky the last thing said was kind and true. But that's always how Sybil and I were, how people who I let in get treated. For that type of friendship is true. And as queer of a thing as it is, I've been feeling some sort of friendship with Tom as of late. Maybe not friendship but something. He's all right. If Sybil thought high enough of the man. Maybe Tom sees the way I've been looking at his toddler, but he shifts her on his hip and speaks.
"Would you like to hold her?" I pause, glancing to Alfred who looks befuddled by the baby. I nod.
"If you wouldn't mind, yes. Yes I would." He hands her over and the little one wiggles in my arms before I place her on my hip. She looks up at me, and I can't help but chuckle as her curious gaze flicks over me. She giggles when I smile at her, tickling her sides.
"Got the smile of her mother." I say, her little finger wrapped around my own as she grabs my free hand. Tom nods, smiling.
"Could swear she's all her's with that face. Thank goodness she didn't get me ears." I smirk as I give her back a pat when movement catches my eye. A man entering the house with Carson, it is Evan. And though he's speaking with the butler I see his eyes on me and Syby for a moment and he smiles. Tom looks to Evan.
"Were my pants really that puffy?"
"At least you can eat extra cake and no one will notice, eh?" I say and he smiles. I stroke the little one's soft head of hair before handing her back to her father.
"Right. We're off to see the new chauffeur." The words make me stiffen and I don't know why.
"Are you?"
"Thought I'd give him some pointers." I nod.
"Right. Thank you, Tom." I say, though I mean it for getting the chance to hold the little one, perhaps he thinks I mean for helping Evan. Tom looks back, eyes on me for a moment before stepping back to me.
"Sybil talked high of you, Mr. Barrow. She knew people best. Know that I hold you in the same regard." The set of blue eyes, father and daughter, looking identical, are on me as I take a moment to say a quiet thank you.
"And you're wrong, she's got your eyes." He slowly smiles before we nod and he continues on. I fix a crooked wreath before catching up with Alfred whose started decorating a mantel down the hall. I feel lighter from holding that little life in my hands, and knowing perhaps I may yet have another friend. I watch Evan smile at the baby, talking with Tom before they walk out the door.
"Babies. Can't stand the thought of having one." I rock on my toes, smirking.
"Why, you afraid it will come out looking like you?"
"I had 6 younger brothers and sisters. I've seen more diapers than flowers in my day." The thought comes to me of children, the idea I'll never have any. But perhaps seeing Syby through life will satisfy what little desire I have for them.
We finish up the decorating after about an hour, and I'm tying off a ribbon about a window in the library when I look out to see Evan holding Syby, bouncing her like she was his own. Tom smiling and laughing, its clear they're getting on well. Can see why Branson is taking a liking to him more the other way round.
The way Evan is holding Syby is so natural and lovely, a sight that kindles something in my chest.
"She's lovely, isn't she." Robert's voice startles me, I straighten turning about on my heels.
"Yes, she is your lordship." The look in his eyes is distant, though at every meal I see him at he is putting on a summer day upon his worn face.
"I think she would be happy, proud of Tom for taking on what he is." I nod.
"I would say so." He sighs, sipping his drink when he turns to me quick.
"I am so sorry Thomas, I never asked how you were getting on? Your face seems to be healing up nicely."
"That is is my lord."
"Your friend, Mr. Luke. He's quiet the chauffeur for only having done the job 3 months before. Grannie likes him. And I think that should mean quite a lot." I smile as he chuckles.
"He's enjoying himself very much my Lord."
"Good. We're are lucky to have him." He pats my shoulder before giving me a nod and heading off. I look out to see the men and Syby wander off as it starts to rain and I return downstairs.
That night I go up like it's bedtime, wait several minutes, before pulling a coat over my pajamas, slipping my shoes back on and gliding downstairs like a ghost. Carson went to bed nearly an hour ago, and not even Patmore is still up. I unlock the side door and slip out into the night. Knowing this visit will silence whatever fear is left.
It's bloody freezing. I nearly trip on the stairs in the dark, not daring to bring a candle with me. The glow of Evan's cabin though, is enough of a trail, even through thick fog like this. The ground is damp from the earlier rain, and moon is small. It's very dark. I have no shadow and cannot even see my breath that I know is fogging the air around me. A barn cat scampers past as I pass the outbuildings, down the small path that sets the chauffeurs cottage out of the way. Anna and Bates' home isn't far off, now that I think of it. Though if one of them sees me it ain't the worst.
I rub my hands over my arms for warmth as I give a quiet knock on the door. I see a shadow shift and am greeted by a candlelit Evan. He smiles and I get in quick. "Bloody freezing out there." I wander to his small hearth where a gentle fire is crackling.
"This is a nice surprise." Evan says as he pours a hot drink into a mug, handing it to me. My body taking note of his fingers brushing against my hand. I take the glass, and pull his hand into mine, still warm from the hot liquid. I kiss the back of his hand.
"Afraid this is how it's always going to be. But could be worse. Much worse." He nods, slipping my coat, damp from the heavy fog off my back and hangs it by the fire.
"This way no one can catch a whiff of what we're up to. Surprise visits are less risky." I sip the drink, warm tea. Evan smiles as he walks over, his thin pajamas clinging to his fine form.
"Less risky? Oh I dunno, might just catch me in the middle of changing clothes sometime." I say with a smirk and he chuckles. He slips his hands around my waist from behind, pressing his lips to my cheek before resting his head on my shoulder.
"Feels like it's been ages." I say, the warmth, the comfort, the feeling of his embrace makes me at ease. Reminds me how dear he is. How awful it would be if I were to loose him, but something about that sense of calm he gives me makes me think he would be just that easy to loose. But to what I don't know. "I've missed this every second I've been without it." I set my cup down and turn about to face him. Wrapping my arms tight around his back. He doesn't know about all my heartbreaks. The lost loves or none at all. Sure he's had his fair share as well. But the idea of losing him to anything tightens my grip on him all the more. And the longer I hold him, something crawls down my spine, a fear a worry, and it grows with the length of our embrace. I push it away, but its there humming, and making my heartbeat just that bit faster.
He has pulled away to look at my face. "There is no one else my heart would rather choose. I will be with you always, if you'll have me." I answer with a kiss, the first one in weeks. For some reason I have found my eyes clouding but I fight them off. The whole lot of it, the strange anxiety I sense in me, and the idea that what I feel for him could be swiped away like leaves in a strong wind though I know it's not so likely. This has all have brought uninvited tears from my eyes.
"Thomas?" His voice is full of concern but I chase it away with a smile.
"I'm just so lucky to have you." I kiss him again, he takes my hand, guiding me to his room. Which does exist, just barely. Room for a bed and a door. We lay down and I curl up beside him, my head on his chest. His heartbeat like music in my ear. A wind blows against the pane, Evan pulls a blanket over us. He strokes my head, pressing his lips to my forehead.
"Tom is kind." He says after silence. "Gave me much helpful information." I stay quiet. The crackling of the fire wavering into the room. "Do you like Tom?"
"I don't dislike him, at the moment." He must sense the shadows in the tone of my voice. The shadows of how I didn't hate the man, but certainly didn't like him and in no way would ever be his valet. He's one of us no matter what suit he wears. But since Sybil... it's all been different.
"Is it because of where he's at?" I shrug.
"To be honest I don't like many people. But since Sybil... I dunno. Everything has changed. The whole bloody house. Who ever knew such a quietly loud girl could cause such a hurricane. In life and death."
"Were you and Sybil friends?" I think of her spirit. Her kindness.
"Much of a friend as someone like me has. Yes. I spent many hours in the hospital with her. She was kind. She was, brave." I feel him nod, his stubbled chin grazing my cheek.
"She sounds lovely."
"She was." The fire snaps.
"You looked so fit with her child today." I adjust myself so I can look at him. I touch his cheek. He smiles and kisses my hand.
"As did you." He looks out the window, a distant look in his eye. "I always wanted to be a father." I raise my brow. "Till I got older. Realized I was different. That someone like me cannot have a child. Well, without going against my heart and body." His tone is sad. Like a piece of him was torn out at the idea of never having children. And I wonder if this fear could be just that, that he wants something I can never give him.
"Did you ever consider. Settling for that, so you could have a child?" His moments of silence are enough of answer.
"Before the war, yes. But after... as much as I still loved the idea of being a father, sacrificing real love for a fabricated marriage wasn't worth it." He looks down at me. "Not one bit. I was holding out for something like this." The thought of having children has honestly skipped through my mind only a few times in my life. But holding Syby today, and listening to Evan, makes me wonder if men like us miss out on the very purpose of life.
"Well you'll be happy to know two babies are in the house." He smiles.
"I'll be happier to know you're in that house." We kiss and I snuggle closer to him. He pulls the blanket tighter about us and I feel sleep creeping into me. I don't want to worry about waking up before dawn. For that's only a few hours away. Instead I keep myself half awake as I listen to Evan's breathing slow as he slips into sleep. Several wavering hours later I force myself to rise, careful not to wake my dear. I give his head a gentle kiss before pulling the blanket over him, snagging my coat and returning myself to the night. Luckily I'm so tired I hardly notice the cold, but it perks me up enough to remind me of the necessary silence. The door creaks as I open and lock it once more, climbing the stairs before collapsing in my bed. A part of me imagining the warmth of my blanket is Evan's arm still about me.
Evan
The mattress shifting wakes me, as it is hardly big enough to fit two. But I don't detest his leave and let him go. I shift to look out my window, I see his silhouette for a moment in a flash of moonlight. He seemed very at ease. Like a gentleness flows through him that feels like it's just settling in after years of hiding. I can just make out that painting of my mother on the nightstand before I blow out the candle.
Thomas
The next week passes with this new normal I'm growing accustomed to; having friendly chat with nearly everyone downstairs, even Carson once or twice, and the long hours have grown short when I know who waits at the end of them. But I don't see him this night. Nor much this day or the day after. Upstairs has had quite a few visitors and doing a bit of visiting as of late, lots of driving to be done. I didn't expect to see him everyday with how busy things get around here but I can't help but hope. Save for dinners. I do see him there, as he eats with us most nights. Though it's usually brief and he gets shuffled between the ladies, no accident on their end. Once again, can't blame 'em.
One morning Lady Grantham is over, would think I might like her if I were an upstairs fella. The sun is warm against my cheeks as I cross the lawn, hands behind my back.
"I did not say he is a poor father, but during this kind of time you can't blame him for what some would call slacking." Her voice is hollowed, the pain from Matthew's death laying heavy on every word. "Some aren't fit for it." Lady Grantham peers over at me under her raised brow, squinting in the sunlight.
"Thank goodness, Thomas. For interrupting before I might actually have to defend Branson." She shoots Mary a glance, whose face is tight with what I know is mourning. I smile slightly, I think both her and I have grown to like the man.
"Everything going well out here," I look down to the crumbs on the soft blue biscuit plate. "Should I send Alfred out for more?"
"My dear, look behind you." I see Alfred coming like a red goose across the lawn and nod.
"Good." I smile. The old woman's eyes sit on me for a moment and she twinkles in her eye.
"You're looking much happier Thomas, if I didn't know better I'd think you'd been switched. But with whom is the question?" She chuckles.
"If you find out let me know," I laugh, "thank you my lady." I bow and turn about to leave. And as I do so the bloody oaf Alfred runs into me, spilling hot tea all over. I manage not to curse but fix his shocked face with a stern look. Well that killed the mood. I get back inside and try to change before someone like Carson sees. I have to borrow a jacket from the closet as I don't got two. As I head towards the back room I pause when I hear voices. I inch about the corner, seeing shadows flicker in that tucked away room, shadows with hushed words. My heart starts when one is Evan. And the other... I hear a baby whimper and my answer comes. What's Branson doing down here?
"It will be our secret. " I hear them laugh softly. I see the shoulder of Branson, he's holding something. Paper? "Oh right, wanted to make sure this got to you. It should help you figure it all out." It is so quiet that I hear the paper wrinkle and Evan take a breath.
"Wonderful, thank you Tom. Can't let this fall into the wrong hands."
"Of course. If you need anything else let me know, please. I'd love to help you work this out. Till then I won't say word. See you tomorrow." Evan nods to him with a thank you before Evan heads my way. I quickly shift to look busy with a wall clock. And what I find the queerest is he doesn't seem to notice me when he leaves, turning down the other end of the hall, taking a glance about before carefully stashing the envelope in his jacket. I wasn't hiding, why was he ignoring me. Or why was he so deep in thought that he went blind.
Work this out? Fall into the wrong hands?
The burned feeling on my arms from the tea and the stench isn't helping, but I suddenly feel flipped about. I know that tone, it's the one to use when you're hiding something or a few dozen things. My heart starts to stammer. My chest wound tight like a clock. He's hiding something. Keeping secrets with Branson? Here I was laughing with the man just hours before. I should have known I couldn't trust him. But Evan? My heart chokes me at the thought of his betrayal, lies, secrets. Is it no coincidence I've hardly seen him since he arrived? Evan wouldn't do this to me. Would he?
I saunter out down the hall past the clock, watching Evan leave. His back dark as he is silhouetted by the sunlight of the doorway. I turn about at a baby sound, Branson is now in the hall. Staring. Looking like he may have seen me listening. The Irishman shoots a half smile though his eyes are focused in on something else. He heads upstairs.
It's all I need to confirm he's up to something. Something involving Evan. I feel a surge of urgency cloud my thoughts. That fear is bubbling like a kettle. I will get to the bottom of this tonight. I will talk to Evan. Surely he'll explain it away. And if he doesn't...
Around dinner I slip out, trying to make my way to the garage without being seen. I walk in to find him under the car, I tap on the hood and he crawls out. He smiles. I stomach my own as I look down at him.
"Getting your hands dirty I see." I avoid his eyes as he crawls out.
"Part of the job."
"Is it?" I snap, the night air feeling like icicles in my lungs. I think I see concern in his face for a moment but I look away too quick to be sure.
"Yes," he says with a pause. "The poor old thing is dying. Lucky they made it this far with it." I say nothing, but manage to hold his gaze. And when Evan steps near I make no move towards him. "Is everything all right, Thomas?"
"You tell me." Evan's brow furrows. "I saw you and Branson earlier. In the back closets." Evan sighs with a nod. "What was that letter he gave you?" I pick at my sleeve and fix him with a hard stare. "He sure seemed to know what is was and I'd like to know as well." I lock his dark gaze.
"It's nothing, Thomas. Truly." He squeezes my arm but I don't move. My chest grows tighter.
"Nothing?" I say mockingly. "You sure have a different way of looking at nothing."
"Thomas, I'm not sure what you-"
"Well I'm pretty sure myself. Do tell me Chauffeur, why are you hiding this from me. I don't like secrets and especially don't like them when they're kept." His gaze goes still and brow furrows deeper.
"I'm not hiding anything, you can trust me, Thomas." Though I can tell he's trying to convince me with his tongue, his words sicken me like old soup and suddenly feel as if I am living my life of years past. And Evan is looking more like a stranger. I cock my head and put my hands behind my back.
"Trust is a big word Mr. Luke. You better know how to use it." With that I leave.
I smoke on the walk back, letting everything flood my mind. I should have expected something like this to happen to me. And as awful as the feeling is, like I've been punched in the gut, it's familiar. And I feel myself settling in with all that comes with it, the anxiety, the temper. The walls coming back up like a bloody war zone.
I head back inside to the bustle of dinner preparations.
"Thomas there you are, will you go and see Alfred." Reluctantly I find him in a panicked search.
"What are doing, you're going to break something." I snap, shoving him out of the way. "The second set of dishware is right here, you mutt. It's not your bloody first big dinner, don't act like it is." I give him an extra glare as I leave, and do what I need to do. Following the boys up to dinner, I stand back and watch them serve the Crawley's and their guests. Looks like two right ugly chaps and a lady, maybe new suitors since the rest keep dying.
I sit at the table downstairs, smoking after all is done. Anna and Bates look like they're readying to head home. Alfred stands by the piano, reading a paper. Hughes sits beside Daisy as they pour mugs of tea.
"Thomas, would you like some?" Hughes asks me. The scent makes my nose flinch.
"No. I've had enough tea for one day." I say in Alfred's direction. "After being bathed and burned in it by that red whelp." I feel Hughes shoot me an angry look but I keep my eyes on Alfred.
"I said I was sorry." He whines.
"First footman shouldn't have to say sorry for spilling a pot of tea." I exhale a puff of smoke.
"Thomas," Hughes says with a warning tone. I manage a glance her way and take a puff from my cigarette. "Everyone makes mistakes." I rise, putting out my smoke on the table and make my leave. As I pass the door that opens to the night, I see Evan heading this way, the lantern reflecting on his cheeks. He's close enough to see me through the window, but I don't stop for him and lock the door to my room.
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