Chapter 2 – Denial to the Point of Illness

People were staring at him during breakfast the next morning. He moved his glance away from them and met the kind brown eyes of Anna. She smiled and looked back down at her food. She has always been nice to him, unlike the some of the others. He couldn't blame them, though… he himself wasn't the nicest of people. It doesn't seem all that long ago that he and Mrs. O'Brien schemed to through Mr. Bates out, but was unsuccessful.

"What's eating you?" he heard O'Brian snidely ask.

"None of your business," he said back in the same tone.

He knew he didn't look well. He couldn't sleep again last night again, and he hardly ate a thing the day before. And he still didn't have an appetite. What was going on with Edith was eating away at him.

He couldn't be not attracted to men anymore. It just couldn't happen, after being attracted to them his whole life. For as long as he could remember, he has been attracted to only males. His realization from the day before was a faulty one. It had to be. He wasn't attracted to Edith Crawley. He wasn't! He was still attracted to men.

He needed to prove it.

The second the first bell jangled, he sprung up from his seat. He left the room without hearing Mrs. Hughes say that the bell was for Her Ladyship Cora. He wanted to get started on his duties so he could busy his mind with something else other than his current situation, but, as fate would have it, when he walked out of the servants' area to the main entry hall, Edith was walking towards him. She caught sight of him. Against his will, his heart started pounding, but he still walked tall and dignified. He noticed the slimming light blue skirt that she wore that nipped her right at the small of her waist, showing just how tiny she was. Since when has noticed something like that on any woman?

"Good morning, Thomas," she said with a friendly smile. She wore a tan blouse, and her blonde curls were pinned at the bottom of her head with a sparkly pin.

"Good morning, M'Lady." He nodded his head and walked on. He dared not look back at her.

The day went on, and Thomas was told of a guest that was arriving in the afternoon. A young man guest name Mr. Sylvester Ingrahm. Thomas hoped that this young man would be the proof that he needed to convince himself that he wasn't going completely out of his mind. Around two in the afternoon in the warmth of the outside, Thomas held open the door on the motor car and a young man who was tall, lean, with brown hair and a square jaw stepped out of the motor and greeted Lord Grantham with a smile and a handshake.

Thomas felt nothing. But maybe that wasn't a cause for alarm just yet.

The men entered the house and Thomas went on to prepare the tea and cake for Lord and Lady Grantam, their guest, as well as Mary, Edith, and the elderly Dowager Countess. He didn't pay much attention to what they were discussing, something about politics and the estate, with Sybil being the main spokesperson. Thomas attempted to ignore Edith sitting there on the sofa next to her mother as he eyed the young man who was around his age. Thomas shockingly noticed that he still felt nothing. Nothing! He indeed thought the man was attractive, but his insides weren't churning, and his heart beat at a steady rhythm. Due to his shock, he fumbled with a teacup, spilling a bit of tea.

"Thomas," Lord Grantham said in an undertone right next to him. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's alright, M'Lord," he lied, and tried to hide, yet again, what he was thinking and feeling.

"You look awfully pale. Why don't you go and rest? We can serve ourselves our own tea and cake."

Thomas, after cleaning the tea tray, stood tall, facing his boss. "I'm perfectly fine, M'Lord. No need to worry. Excuse me—I will go and fetch more tea and cake."

He walked away, thinking that Lord Grantham wasn't convinced, and he passed the young man. Still nothing. He left the library and stood in the main entry hall near to where the servants' entry door was. He frowned.

No. No, this can't be. He didn't feel one flutter or anything. He took at deep, shaky breath and let it out. After composing himself, he went to the kitchen downstairs to fetch the tea and cake for the library. The second Mrs. Patmore saw him, she said, "Ey, are you ill? You're as pale as a sheet."

"I'm fine," he said forcefully and took up the cake.

"I hope you know I'll find out what's eating you," Mrs. O'Brian said as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "I always do." He said nothing and went up.

He entered the library again, feeling agitated and annoyed that people wouldn't leave him alone. He was also angry at the fact that he wasn't attracted to a man that all the ladies in the room were ogling, including Lady Grantham. As he set the tray of new tea and cake down on a small table against the wall in the library, he caught a glimpse of himself in a small mirror on the wall to his right.

He really did look dreadful. No wonder people asked him if he was ill.

Mr. Ingrahm came up to him and Thomas held the tray out, and the man took a piece of cake and set it next to his tea cup on his little saucer plate. "Thank you," he said in a low voice, then eyed Thomas a moment. "Say, you alright, man?"

"I'm alright, sir, thank you," Thomas said as politely as he could, still noticing that there was not one physical reaction at this young man being so close to him, and radiated a cologne that would have made Thomas weak in the knees before.

His head suddenly felt light, and lights flashed in front of his eyes. Someone—a female it sounded like—shouted his name as he fell to the floor.

Head pounding at his temple, Thomas's eyes fluttered open. His eyes adjusted and noticed that he was in his room, and Mr. Carson was there, sitting next to his bed in a wooden chair. "You're finally awake," he said.

"What?" Thomas let out groggily. He attempted to sit up, which he did with difficulty. His arms were weak and shaky. "What happened?"

"Well," Mr. Carson began in the tone he used before he tells someone they've done something wrong, "you fainted in the library in front of the whole family, including The Dowager Countess and Mr. Ingrahm."

"Fainted?"

"Yes, Mr. Barrow, fainted."

"You're not going to bash me for fainting, are you?" he asked in a dry, mock tone.

"No, but I am going to bash you for not saying that you will ill from the offset. You made quite a scene, and caused quite the commotion. We had to fetch Alfred, and he and His Lordship himself had to haul you up the stairs, through the hallway, and into your room. Then Anna had to fetch bandages for that gash you received on your head from hitting the wooden floor."

Thomas felt his forehead and his fingers touched material that was wrapped around his head. He felt the back of his head and noticed a large lump there under the material. He winced at the pain of touching it. He leaned back against the metal head of the bed, his body weak.

"What happened, Mr. Barrow? Why are you ill?"

"I've just had a hard time sleeping the past couple of nights. Could happen to anybody."

"Indeed, it can. Pride can also happen to anybody."

He gave Mr. Carson a sharp look. "I can deal with my own problems."

"Clearly!" he said sarcastically, pointing to the bandage wrapped around Thomas's head. Thomas huffed through his nose and looked away from the man, annoyed.

"Just eat this here." He indicated the tray of food on his bedside table. "You haven't been eating, either, according to Anna and Mrs. O'Brien." He got up and headed to the door.

"Mr. Carson," Thomas said, and the older butler looked back at him. "Why did you stay by my bedside until I woke up?"

There was silence for a moment, then, "I wanted to make sure you didn't get up and attempt to work when you are clearly not well enough, and embarrass us and the Crawleys again. You will stay in here until you are well again. Understood?"

"Fine."

Mr. Carson gave him a look, as if demanding that Thomas obey him, then left. Once the man was out of the room, Thomas took the tray off of his bedside table and put it on his lap. His thoughts drifted as he ate some of the chicken soup that was given. He groaned with satisfaction. It was like edible gold slithering sown his throat, warm and delightful. Of course, after not eating for a couple days, anything would be delightful. He finished the soup, bread, milk, and a small bunch of red grapes, within minutes. He hadn't realized how ravenous he was.

He took a breath after he finished the meal, and he put the tray back on his bedside table. He lay himself down again, running the library scene in his head. Who shouted his name?

Thomas didn't realize he fell asleep until he heard the door open, and he woke up. He saw a blurred Jimmy walk in. "Hey," the other handsome footman said and walked in and stood near the chair where Mr. Carson sat. "How're you feeling?"

"Why do you ask?" he asked weakly, which bugged him, since he wanted to make a good appearance around this young man who he fancied.

"Because I came up at someone's request."

He sighed and looked at the clock. It was almost nine. He slept nearly twelve hours! "Who?" he asked.

"Lady Edith."

Thomas's heart jolted and he sat up suddenly, which made Jimmy jump a bit. "Who did you say?"

"Lady Edith," he repeated. "She came up to me in the drawing room as I was serving tea for the family a moment ago and asked me about how you were doing. She wanted me to come up and see, and then return and report back to her."

Thomas blinked. "Why… would she care?"

"Why wouldn't she? You've been here the longest out of all of us, aside from Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. You're practically family. It makes sense, doesn't it? It's also no wonder that Lady Edith screamed out your name when you passed out, and ran to your side. Everyone downstairs and up can't stop talking about the whole situation."

He should feel irritated that everyone can't seem to get their noses out of his business, but all he could feel was his heart pounding… as well as embarrassment and shock. "Lady Edith… shouted my name?" he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. You can tell her I'm doing better. I should be back to work by tomorrow."

He nodded. "Alright."

Jimmy left the room, leaving Thomas perplexed. And… happy. Happy! That word seemed foreign to him. But… it could be the only explanation for the wide smile now stretched across his face.

He lay back down and stared at the ceiling, still smiling. He knew he needed more sleep, but his pounding heart and visions of Edith shouting his name and running up to his side kept him from doing so. This was so strange. He never really paid much attention to Lady Edith before, he just thought of her as snobbish and always wanting to jump down Lady Mary's throat and push her buttons. But now… he couldn't deny the fact that the very thought of that blonde young woman who he has known since she was ten years old made his spirits lift and his cheeks heat up.

Thomas walked about the house the next morning, making sure things were ship-shape for when the family woke up. He felt loads better after the massive amount of sleep he got, and after eating something. That lump on the back of his head still ached, but he could deal with that. At least he didn't need to wear the bandage around his head.

He passed a few housemaids as he walked into the main entry hall. He stopped. Edith was there. He has noticed over the past ten years that she was one of the first of the family to rise. He has seen her on occasion sitting on a sofa in the main sitting room near the entry hall reading a book as the other maids and staff worked around her to prepare the house for the day. Today was no different, only she was walking down the stairs as he crossed the entry hall, heading for the servants' door. He was about to turn and walk the other direction when he heard his name being called.

"Good morning," she said and she stepped off the stairs and approached him.

"Good morning, M'Lady," he said with a nod of his head, and with a curt smile. He tried not to notice her slim figure as she wore a white blouse with a lavender skirt that nipped her in the waist, the same as her other skirts. She also had her hair up in the same fashion as she usually does—curls pinned to the back of her head.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her brown eyes gleaming.

"Much better, thank you," he said politely. "Just needed more sleep."

"I see," she said, and he noticed she fiddled with her fingers. Was it out of nervousness? "And did you sleep well?"

"Yes, indeed I did. Nearly twenty hours."

Those brown eyes widened. "Oh, heavens! I wish I could sleep for that long."

"Well, maybe someday you'll have the privilege, M'Lady. Now if you will excuse me, I must get on with my duties."

"Oh, yes, yes, I'm sorry to keep you from your work. Don't over-exert yourself."

He nodded. "Yes, M'Lady."

He left her and went on down to the servant's hall and leaned against the wall in the empty room, staring at the blank wooden dining table, his heart pounding. Were those large brown eyes of hers always that big and brown? Surrounded by long, dark lashes? And was her skin always so fair and porcelain-smooth?

He huffed through his nose. Could he dare tell himself again that he was attracted to her? Like any normal man would be? Is he still in denial?

He ran a hand down his face. He needed to talk to Mr. Carson. He needed to get out—to London.