DARLINGTON HALL

Pairing: Rumbelle

Rating: PG (at least for now, if you know what I mean *wink*wink*)

Summary: Belle French was not one to shy away from a challenge but moving to Scotland was not nearly as challenging as her new co-worker, James Gold, proved to be. Lousy summary, I know.

Notes: As you may or, most likely, may not know I'm a huge fan of 'Remains of the Day' so I decided to write this AU based, very, very loosely, on it.

I love Downton Abbey so I went ahead and burrowed John Bates and Anna Smith. I don't own them, obviously.

Hope you guys enjoy it.

I OWN NOTHING.

Chapter 2

"We have a problem." James said without preamble, stepping into his – their – office.

Belle felt this sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, the fear that, after more than two months without any sort of problem concerning Killian Jones, he finally took things too far. But one look at James' face was enough to ease her mind. He looked upset but not murderous. Relieve wash over her and she allowed herself to fall back into her chair, relaxing, while she observed the infamous James Gold prepare her a cup of tea. It was a sight, and in more than just one way. To see that most feared man in Darlington Hall, busying himself with the cups and saucers, the milk and sugar, measuring, taking sips to ascertain the perfect proportion was, in itself, something hard to believe. Well, not to Belle, not anymore. She was growing used to the real James Gold, a man who was extremely cult on one hand and on the other had the wickedest sense of humor she had ever encounter in anyone ever before. It was flattering to realize that she was the only one allowed to catch glimpses of the real him and, little by little, things started to change for her. She would found herself staring at his hands, noticing how long his fingers were or how they never cease to move, flapping and pointing and waving, in an endless dance that she grew to adore or how, when he leaned over his desk to read some paper, tresses of his hair will fall in front of his eyes and she had to repress the urge to reach and tuck them away. Small little nothings - like preparing a cup of tea - were now full of a different weight, a different importance. She was, slowly but surely, falling prey to an undesired attraction. Worst still, one she was sure was unrequited.

"Good morning to you too, Mr. Gold." She teased. "I'm fine, thank you. How very nice of you to ask."

He stared at her, unsure of what to say. It was adorable, really, how unaccustomed he was to her, still. That, more than any other thing told her how absolutely and utterly alone he really was. Well, not anymore if she had any say in it.

"Why, Miss French, for someone as insightful as yourself, can't you see that my lack of proper education was due to my unquestionable distress?" He said, doing a great show of mock hurt. For one so unused to teasing, he sure was a fast learner.

"My, my, Mr. Gold. Are you teasing me? Am I such a bad influence on you?"

"The very worst." He claimed and his smile was positively devilish as he placed a cup on the desk in front of her. He made his way to the other side, carrying his own cup. When he took his seat Belle asked:

"So, what exactly is the problem Mr. Gold?"

"Thomas is sick and will not make it today." He made it sound like being sick was nowhere near enough reason to scoundrel his duty. Then again, to the likes of James Gold, not even being near death was reason enough, so no surprise there.

Lacking a pianist to entertain at dinner time was not Belle's definition of problem but to James Gold it was a whole different matter. It was unacceptable to fail to deliver all that the guests expected. It was a matter of pride: on his profession, on his staff, on Darlington Hall itself. So, instead of dismissing his concern, Belle started to think of a way to solve his 'problem'.

"How about Teresa? Is she not available?" Belle inquired, taking a sip at her tea. As usual, it tasted amazing.

"If she was available we wouldn't have any problem now would we?" He replied, caustic. Belle, however, was long past being intimidated by his acid replies and answered, nonchalantly:

"Well, I had to ask, don't you agree?"

He huffed in annoyance and mumbled something that sound vaguely like an agreement, forcing Belle to take yet another sip at her tea to cover an amused smiled.

"Is there anyone we know that can replace him? A substitute perhaps?"

"No one that I am aware of or trust enough to work here." He said, sounding frustrated.

"Not even for a day?" She asked, already anticipating his answer.

"Not even that, Miss French."

Ostensibly rolling her eyes at him, she got up from her chair and started to pace. It always helped her thinking process, moving around. Maybe because she was one of those individuals who were unable to just do nothing. As she moved from one side of the office to the other she failed to notice the way James was looking at her. Staring, actually, literally entranced by her. For a second all this 'missing a pianist' problem was tucked away to a far corner of his mind and he just stood there, afraid to move and disrupt her, afraid of calling attention to himself. He longed for this moments, when Belle was so caught up inside her own mind that he was free to indulge his ever growing need. For it was a need, a necessity. Like breathing or eating, being with Belle became something he couldn't live without. And that terrified him beyond reason because it was getting harder and harder to remember how things were without Belle, how quickly she became a vital, indispensable part of his live. He never knew, never understood just how sterile his live was. He thought that Darlington Hall, his job, his calling was enough, was all he wanted for himself, but know he knew, he saw how hollow, how empty, how lonely he really has been.

"I think we should ask the rest of the staff if they know someone to replace Thomas." Belle decided.

"I don't really trust their judgment." James replied, sounding and looking doubtful.

"But you do trust mine, yes?"

"Of course I do."

"So let me worry about this. I'll ask around and I'll make sure to stress that it has to be someone you'd approve. How's that sound?"

"That would the satisfactory."

"Satisfactory? High praise, Mr. Gold. You make me blush."

…

"And know I have to find an adequate substitute to replace Thomas tonight. And you are going to help me." Belle said, filling Anna in on their newest assignment.

"Sometimes James Gold seems to live only to make our life more difficult. Do you think that maybe he can let this go?"

"You know Mr. Gold better than me. What do you think?"

"I know him better that you? Maybe I did but not anymore. He changed since you started to work here."

"Well, apparently not enough if we judge it by this 'Thomas case'."

"I don't mean it that way. I don't believe he would ever change his way of 'living' this job but he is turning into a different man and that's thanks to you." Anna exclaimed. "I never saw that man more at ease!"

"Well, maybe that's because now he had someone to share the work load with. Running this place is very demanding." Belle answered, without looking at Anna. She wasn't entirely sure if she could hide the pleasure that she felt at her words from showing in her eyes.

"Yeah, sure." Anna replied, sounding all but convinced.

Belle repressed the urge to do something childish like sticking her tongue at Anna. It was very hard. She tried to say something professional and mature, like: 'Can we please focus on the task at hand? We have a hotel to run and a pianist to find.', but she couldn't pass this chance to tease Anna so instead she asked:

"And how's John Bates doing, Anna?" Belle voice was sickly sweet. "Is he adapting to the job well?"

Anna blushed and stammered, trying to find something to say, but, stealing a glance at Belle's amused look she groaned and said:

"Is that obvious?" Anna sighed.

"Oh, honey." Belle laughed softly and hooked her arm around Anna's. "Only if you're paying attention and I'm always paying attention to my friends."

Anna smiled and looked gratefully at Belle. She liked to tease her about the changes she induced on Mr. Gold but the truth of the matter was that she brought change to everyone. With her kind but firm hand the staff, specially the girls, thrive. They were always sporting a smile, always trying to improve and win a kind word from Miss French. She had this ability to see and trust in the inner goodness of everyone and, usually, she was right. If Anna had to point a flaw at her new friend and boss it has to be her eerie insightfulness. Like, for instance, in this case. Anna was sure that her infatuation with Mr. Bates was well disguised but Belle saw right through her. She trusted Belle completely, she was the one person that she was sure would keep and cherish her confidence, but it was impossible not to feel a bit embarrassed. Anna always saw herself as a rational, balanced woman, immune to the demands of the heart. After all she was almost thirty and she has never been truly in love. And now, completely out of the blue, this older, reserved, handsome man appeared and she fell for him, head over heels. Some of her distress must have shown because Belle grabbed her hand and made her stop and look at her:

"What's wrong sweetie?" Belle pressed.

"I feel ridiculous that what's wrong." Anna confessed.

"And why is that?" Belle asked, genuinely confused.

"Because!…" Anna hesitated, trying to find a way to explain herself. "Because I don't think he would ever feel the same way for me but I still can' take him off of my head."

"I'm sorry if I sound blunt but are you serious!? He is crazy about you!" Belle exclaimed. "He can barely stay away from you. Trust me; all those random encounters in the hallways are not so random if you know what I mean."

Anna was too stunned to form a coherent sentence so she just stared at Belle, slacked jawed. When she regained control over her ability to speak she asked, breathless:

"How did you knew we often cross paths in the hallways?"

"First, because it is my job to keep an eye on my staff, and second because it is my pleasure to keep an eye on my friend and watch over her – hopefully soon-to-be – love live."

"You're turning out to be devious little thing." Anna said, perplexed. Then, grinning widely she commented, as if to herself: "I wonder if Mr. Gold knows that about you."

Belle was getting ready to continue their playful banter but the sight of Killian Jones soured her mood quite effectively. Although he has been heeding James' order to leave Maria, and for that matter, any girl on the staff alone, Belle was positive it was only a matter of time before he 'attacked' again. Despite James explanation of why they couldn't fire that man, Belle wasn't appeased. She believed that they could find some loophole to be rid of that menace before some tragedy happened but James disabused her of that notion. Killian Jones was the son of a very good friend of the hotel owner. Only irrefutable evidence will be enough to fire him and he was too careful to make a mistake. Still, Belle wasn't going to stand by and let that man run loose on her hotel, preying on her girls so she recruited Anna to the cause. Anna was to keep an eye on him, discretely. See where he was going, who he talked to, which girls was he after. But it was an almost impossible job for just one person so, when John Bates were hired, and after they –Belle, Anna and James – agreed that he was a trustworthy person, he was also recruited. Now, Killian Jones couldn't take a step without tripping in one of them and that was, for the lack of a better phrase, pissing him off.

Jones was exiting the library and going down the staircase toward the restaurant. His eyes were flashing angrily and he looked livid. He passed Anna and Belle without even seeing them and soon he was out of sight. Belle glanced questioningly at Anna who shrugged, signaling she didn't know what got into him. That was, until they saw John Bates also leaving the library and making his way toward them. He was a tall man, solidly built, with a kind expression. As he descended his eyes strayed to Anna and a soft, almost sad smile played on his lips. Anna smiled as well and took one unconscious step forward before realizing what she was doing. Belle, of course, was enjoying the silent exchange, happy to see that her friend was given a chance to find happiness, to find love.

"Good morning Mr. Bates. " Belle said. "Can I assume that the foul temper of our friend Mr. Jones is due to you?"

"Good morning Miss French." He replied, politely. His voice was deep and smooth. His accent rich. "Yes, you can assume that. I believe our friend, as you put it, is finally realizing he is not likely to be left alone to his own devices anymore. I guess he is not that happy about it." He added, smiling slightly and glancing at Anna.

"That's excellent Mr. Bates. Truly excellent." Belle beamed at him. "Now if you excuse me I have to go and try to find a pianist. Time is running short." Taking notice at his confused look, Belle added, mischievously:

"Oh, long story, Anna will fill you in." And without another word she took off, but not before giving Anna a little nudge forward.

Just before leaving the lobby Belle glanced back, catching them talking and smiling. John was tall enough to tower over Anna but he didn't look intimidating, he just looked protective and kind and, at least to Belle's eyes, in love.

…..

Turns out it really was John Bates to solve the pianist problem. He told Anna that he happened to know a young man, very professional, that was a very good piano player. After a few phone calls it was agreed that the young William was to present himself at Darlington Hall. After a short, perfunctory conversation, both Belle and James agreed that William was going to substitute Thomas at the keys. And he was a huge success.

Later that evening, when the staff was relaxing after a hard day's work and Belle and James were sharing the usual cup of cocoa at their office, there was one man who was all but pleased… Killian Jones was in a very serious frame of mind and that usually meant trouble. Not for him, but for someone else. He used to have a good thing going on here, on Darlington. A well-paid job, thanks to his father connections, as well as the assurance that, unless he screw up bad, his job was pretty much secure. That was, until that nosy Belle French came along. Now he could barely take a step without having her, Anna Smith or John Bates watching him, controlling him. He would not allow this to go on. They will learn that there was a price to pay when someone cross Killian Jones. And he already made that decision to start with John Bates.

…..

"I'm glad I caught you Mr. Gold. I have something very important to tell you." Killian Jones said, approaching James Gold who was accompanied by Anna and Belle. "In private." He added.

James tried to hide his displeasure from showing on his face and calmly replied:

"Is it work related?"

"It's about a member of the staff, yes." Killian informed.

"Then I don't see any reason why not to speak in front of the co-manager and the head housekeeper." James responded.

They saw him trying to find a way out but since there was no good enough reason for not talking in front of his superiors he conceded, disappointed. He had hoped to talk to Gold alone apparently.

"It's about John Bates." Killian said and paused, gauging the reactions. James and Belle were impassive, the only one that seemed upset was Anna.

"What about Mr. Bates?" James asked, sounding bored and uninterested.

"I caught him stealing a watch from one of the rooms. He didn't notice I was there but I saw him clearly. I thought it was better to warn you right away."

James looked thoughtfully at him, slowly nodding his head. Killian ignored both Belle and Anna. If he could convince James Gold, that would be more than enough to fire that man.

"You did very well Mr. Jones. I appreciate you coming straight to me." James ignored the indignant huff from Anna. "You will speak of this to no one. We need to catch him off guard and you know how people like to talk. I will personally do a surprise search and retrieve the stolen item. Obviously the perpetrator will be fired on the spot."

"Of course Mr. Gold." Killian agreed wholeheartedly and run off, practically skipping along the hallway.

When he was at a safe distance Anna turned and faced James, her eyes flaming:

"You can't honestly believe that load of crap!" She hissed.

"Miss Smith…." James tried but was cut midsentence by Anna's outraged discourse.

"After all this man done you still believe him. Can't you see he's trying to frame Jo… I mean, Mr. Bates?

"Miss Smith…" James tried, and failed, to stop her rant.

"I don't believe it! I never took you for a fool James Gold."

"Would you let me speak woman!" James all but roared, glaring at Anna and at Belle, who was trying with no great success to hide her grin. "Of course I don't believe him. As you said, I'm no fool. But if he believes that I trust his word, he is more likely to lower his guard and make some mistake." At this point Belle started to nod emphatically. She was sure that this was where James was aiming when he agreed with Jones and she wasn't mistaken. "We know that if something was stolen," James went on, "our dear Mr. Jones is the culprit. But our hands – meaning my hands and Belle's – are tied. We must remain impartial. And Mr. Bates must not act as well because the charges were against him. But you, Miss Smith, you can try and find said item. That is, if you're willing?"

"Damn right I'm willing." Anna replied, more appeased. "It will be the perfect chance for us to get rid of this obnoxious man."

"If we are lucky yes, I believe that we can fire him without having to wait until something worse happens." James pointed out, as if reading Belle's mind. That was undoubtedly her major concern, to prevent Killian James from doing something awful to any of the girls.

It was still early morning so James was sure he could delay the 'random search' at least until late in the afternoon. So Anna had about 8 hours to find the watch. The only question was whether Killian Jones was carrying the watch with him or if he already placed it to frame John Bates. But that was a problem neither he nor Belle could do anything about. It was all up to Anna and, unless he was sorely mistaken, she was the right person for the job.

In the meanwhile, he and Belle would stay in sight, talking to the guests, checking on the staff and steering clear of Anna. It was the only way to pull this off.

The hours dragged endlessly. The routine of the job wasn't enough to occupy their minds. They knew perfectly well that by the end of this day they would have to fire someone. The only question was whether it will be Killian Jones, John Bates or Anna Smith. The tension was unbearable and Belle started to feel something she never felt before, at least not to this degree: anger. Pure, white-hot, undeniable anger at that awful man, that liar, that predator. It wasn't in her to hate someone but, at that moment, after months of dreadful anticipation and now facing the all too real prospect of losing a very dear friend all thanks to Killian Jones scheming, Belle faced the truth: she hated that man with a passion. And it felt horrible. James, who was always in tune with her state of mind, pulled her by the hand to a secluded corner and placed his hands on her shoulders, making her gaze at him:

"It's going to be alright. We will not lose anyone." His voice was soft but firm and it carried all the conviction he could muster. He was not so certain himself but he must, he needed to ease Belle's mind. For some strange reason, her distress was unbearable to him, she was hurting and he will do anything to make it stop.

Belle was looking at him, her blue eyes filled with tears and he felt drawn, pulled to her. His hands were now at her forearms, his thumbs drawing slow, lazy circles on her smooth flesh and he wanted more than anything to cradle her in his arms, wipe her tears away, keep her safe. When the pressure was almost more than he could bear, when he thought that whether he kiss her or he would run mad, Anna passed by, clearly looking for them, causing them to jump apart guiltily. For a moment, for a tiny little second he almost believed that Belle was inching closer to him, sharing the same need that was plaguing him. But the instant was gone, the spell broke and, although Belle looked flushed and breathless he was no longer sure if he saw the fire burn in her eyes or if he imagined it.

Anna, too excited to notice the charged moment she interrupted, glanced at them and gave them the tiniest of nods and took off, not wanting to draw attention. But the small signal was more than enough for Belle and James. Anna had done it, the dice was rolling and it was time to see if their bet would pay off.

…..

"Thank you all for coming in such short notice." James began, talking to the majority of the staff that gathered in the small dressing quarters of Darlington. The place was small but tidy, with showers if you need to freshen up – not surprising when one work at an hotel - and lockers to keep the personal items, such as cell phones - who were strictly prohibited - and clothes. "The reason I summoned all of you is to conduct a search to try and retrieve a stolen item."

That was received with amazed surprise. Stealing in Darlington was unheard of. Although none in the staff shared the same love for the place as James Gold and, to a degree, Belle French and Anna Smith, they all had a sense of respect for it. It was almost sacrilegious to soil the name Darlington Hall with a charge of theft.

Mary Kent, the young house maid, asked with a tiny, shy voice:

"But, Mr. Gold, maybe the item is just misplaced."

A buzz of agreement arose. Working in this line of business, they all know stories of missing objects: earing, watches, bracelets and, one time – believe it or not - a missing poodle. Each and every time it was case of misplacement, as Mary proposed. Well, except for the poodle. He just decided to take a long walk around the estate and returned after a couple of hours of strolling about.

"I'm afraid not. We already talked with the owner of said missing object and he already confirmed that the item was indeed stolen. However, he agreed not to press charges if the item is retrieved today, and I have every intention to see that it is retrieved." James voice dropped as the speech went on and by the time he said the last word he was almost growling, speaking through clenched teeth. "Now, I expect full co-operation by all of you. Go and stand next to the locker that contains your personal belongings."

Everyone rushed to follow the command. When James Gold tells them to jump the only question they would ask was 'how high?', but it was clear that they were all concerned. All but Killian Jones, that was. James and Belle were discretely keeping an eye on him and he looked like he was barely able to repress a grin.

Walking slowly, almost reverently, James approached the first locker – that happened to belong to Mary Kent - and asked her to opened it and step aside. He found nothing, as was expected. One by one the lockers were opened and searched and he was, slowly but surely, approaching the end of this ordeal. Finally he was standing in front of the locker of Killian Jones. His heart was beating heavily in his chest as he peered inside. At first he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Clothes in shelves and a pair of boots on the bottom. A couple of not so tasteful pictures on the inside of the metal door. He reached forward and grabbed the sweatshirt that was the first piece of clothing of the stack and there it was, gleaming softly, the missing IWC. The collective gasp of surprise was drowned by Killian Jones angry exclamation:

"There was not where I put it!"

That was followed by a deep, heavy silence. That moment of surprise turned out to be his undoing: he confessed without even noticing it and by the time he realized it, it was a little too late to try and deny.

"What do you have to say about this, Mister Jones?" James asked, calmly. Now that the deed was done, he just felt tired and drained.

Killian Jones hesitated. His instinct of self-preservation urged him to try and lie anyway, even when he knew it was hopeless, but the look on everyone faces, especially on Anna's, a mix of disgust and triumph, send him over the edge. He sneered at them and said:

"Guess there's no point in denying, is there? I gamble and lost but I am not finished, not by a long shot." He paused, fully facing Anna now, his face a thundercloud. "You did this, didn't you?" He snarled making his way toward her. Everyone seemed glued in place. Even if Killian Jones was not a well-loved member of the staff, this howling, growling, dangerous man was unknown to all. "You, always sticking your nose in the other people business, watching me, following me around. Did you think I didn't notice?" He was getting closer and closer to Anna now, a look of pure hatred in his eye. "You pin this on me but I'll be damned if I leave without at least some satisfaction." And as he spoke, he pulled his hand back, getting ready to backhand Anna across the face. But faster than anyone could believe it, John was there in front of her, grabbing Killian's wrist just a few inches from Anna face, his bulking figure towering over Killian.

"If you ever, ever, raise your hand to hit Anna again, I'll kill you." And he said this with such a calm voice that Killian knew that he meant every word he said. Stumbling back, rubbing his sore wrist, Killian glanced around the room, all his bravado spent and without another word he stormed out.

Everyone stared at him leaving; the dressing quarters were immersed in deep silence. And suddenly they were all talking at the same time, an excited confusion of voices and nervous laughter and exclamations of surprise. James let it go on for a few seconds and then shooed everyone out under the supervision of John and Anna.

Feeling a little of the pressure that was weighting on him loosening a bit, James, after sending the staff on its way, stepped closer to Belle. She was a bit pale, but seemed collected enough and his tension eased even further. At least until she looked at him. He could see unshed tears shining in her eyes, making them glow, and, along with the deep concern he felt for her, a wave of lust roared through his body, making his heart pound crazily in his chest. He could feel his self-control waver, the need to have her close, to scoop her in his arms, to mold his body to hers and kiss her senseless was overwhelming. But she didn't want this, she didn't want him and that thought was like a cold shower, making him feel more in control and, at the same time, like his heart was being ripped of his chest. Still, he needed to help her. So, swallowing his love and his pain, he came closer to her and, placing a hand on her arm, whispered in her ear:

"Come with me."

"I was thinking of going home…" She started but he only shook his head.

"Come."

Belle only wanted to crawled into her bed and curl herself into a ball and forget about the world for a few hours but James told her to come with him, whispering in her ear, his voice hoarse and his eyes dark and she couldn't deny him. She felt a fluttering sensation in her belly and wondered, for a crazy moment, if she was going to resist the need to kiss him. Her feelings were a confuse mass of wanting and dreading and the stress of this day only enforce the turmoil. Belle realized, with dismay, that she was on the verge of hysterical laughter, and wouldn't that be the perfect ending to a lousy day!? She was so wrapped up on this concerns that she only notice that they were already on their office when James, delicately urged her to sit on her chair.

"I really don't…" she started but he cut her off again.

"Hush, dearie. I know what you need and I'm going to give it to you." He failed to notice how tantalizing, how incredibly arousing his words were to her, how susceptible of being misinterpreted they were. Belle, however, was all too aware.

"What do you mean?" She asked, feeling lightheaded and panicky and excited.

"Whiskey!" He exclaimed, grabbing a couple of glasses and fishing a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label.

At first Belle didn't catch the meaning of what he said. Her mind was taking her to a whole different direction. But when it sunk in, when she realized James was not planning on sprawling her on his desk and have his way with her – 'unfortunately, said a little voice inside her head - , she was powerless to stop the laughter that she was holding inside from bubbling out. She laughed and laughed and soon James was joining her too, the remains of the stress of the day leaving him for good. And, as easy as that, the tension between them eased as well and things felt simple again. Belle was simultaneously disappointed and relieved that nothing happened. She knew she wanted him more than anything but now was neither the time nor the place, in fact, she was not even sure that there would ever be a time and place for them but they were here, now, together, sharing a drink and a laugh and, despite all the wretchedness of the day she was feeling a lot better.

"Well, I don't know about the drink but I was definitely needing this." Bell said, still trying to get her outburst under control.

James silently pushed the glass toward Belle and picked his up, took a sip, and urged her to do the same. She was not used to drink, but she found that the burning sensation that whiskey induced was quite pleasant and she felt herself relax for the first time in hours and, with a small sigh, leaned on her chair and closed her eyes. They were silent for a few minutes sharing a comfortable silence. Belle was not naïve enough to think that they were rid of Killian Jones for good but it was nice to think that, at least for now, he was out of their way. She wasn't entirely satisfied about the way things turned out: after all, framing a man wasn't her idea of fair but when she thought about the alternative, the possibility of him forcing herself on one of the girls, she was able to crush her dissatisfaction. Her job was not only managing, it was also to keep her staff, her friends safe and she was ready to do pretty much anything thing to insure that.

Thank God she had James Gold to help her along the way.