Everything is almost suspiciously perfect when Thomas asks Carson to give him a few hours off to go to the village. The butler is in a generous mood and lets him go, nobody asks any stupid questions, even the weather is almost sickeningly nice and warm.
Yes, indeed, it's a really lovely spring day, with birds singing in the trees and the smell of life evaporating from the moist soil, people cheerfully chattering in the streets while rays of sunlight are reflected from their shiny eyes… The sight is absolutely gorgeous.
While Thomas is not the sentimental kind and some sunshine and chirping songbirds won't make him coo, he does appreciate true beauty when he sees it.
Is this what they call a 'good omen'? Well, he isn't really superstitious … However, it doesn't even matter. Even if it were raining cats and dogs today, Thomas would know he has made the right decision.
Maybe … yes, maybe destiny has finally decided to be nice to him for once.
'Actually, it is kind of ironic when you think about it …'
After all, it has been the Titanic incident, the one that has left the inhabitants of Downton Abbey desperate and afraid of their future and caused the death of two innocent men, which has given him hope.
On the other hand – isn't it always this way? He never seems to get the chance to be happy without someone else getting hurt in the process. He did not exactly choose to live that way – but that's just how things are. So why should he take the blame? It's not like he caused that bloody iceberg to hit the ship …
Not for a single moment he feels sorry for poor Patrick Crawley and his father who both drowned or froze to death in the pitch black ocean. Of course Thomas doesn't think they deserved it, but he barely knew them, so why give a damn? If their fate is what offers him new possibilities – splendid. Why waste them just because someone else found a tragic death earlier?
No, it's all right the way it is. It's perfect.
Thomas smiles and takes a deep breath of sweet fresh spring air. Things are changing for him, he can practically taste it. Like the faint hint of blood catching a hound's attention.
There is a strange tingling in the footman's guts. Is this … happiness?
Well, not quite. Not yet. But close. Close enough to make his head spin.
He would have never thought it could actually end up like this … No, not when he met that man for the first time.
His mind begins to wander off a little when he remembers their fateful first encounter …
/ Warm reddish light falls through the large windows of the summerhouse. It's a clear, sunny day here as well – only that it's not spring, but the beginning of the Season. It has been an extraordinarily hot day; even now, as night slowly approaches, the faint evening breeze barely disturbs the dust and foul smell lingering in the streets of London.
This is one of these days Thomas detests his job even more than usual. Especially the fact he has to wear this goddamned black uniform all the time drives him insane. His back and gloves are practically soaked in sweat and he yearns for release, but all he can do is hope for the night to bring milder temperatures.
He would have liked to go out tonight – visit some old acquaintances, maybe shake off the stress in a dance hall – but even though Lord Grantham and Lady Mary are away for the next two days and Thomas could have hoped for an early evening, things are not going as planned.
A certain Duke of Crowborough has invited himself over for dinner tonight and since there currently is only one footman in the household, Thomas will be spending half the night standing motionlessly with his back against the wall like a decorative statue and occasionally carry some plates around.
All because some bloody Duke of Who-gives-a-damn wants to have a chat with Lady Grantham and a free meal.
Thomas hates his job. He really does.
He sighs and opens the window he is supposed to be polishing, only to be washed over by a wave of sticky heat and the sound of children laughing in the distance. With casual curiosity, Thomas leans out of the window to search for the source of the noises. As it turns out, there are three boys playing ball in the otherwise quiet streets of this quarter. Two are dressed in cheap, simple summer shirts (Lucky them!), but the third one, who is wearing a rather exquisite suit complete with a frilly jacket is obviously the offspring of one of the noble families who have all gathered here for the Season.
The poor boy is hopelessly panting and even from the distance, his face looks as red as a ripe cherry from the heat. There is no way he can possibly keep up with the other children, so he finally decides to take off his jacket and carelessly throws it aside.
Thomas watches all this with a mixture of sympathy and slight amusement. So little Mr Blue Blood chooses to risk punishment by his parents over being different and possibly become an outcast …
How very human of him. At least he is a lot smarter than Thomas was at his age. Some harsh lines of bitterness appear on the footman's forehead. His own youthful wish to be special has backfired spectacularly and now he has to deal with what has been broken.
Here he stands, caught in a world where he is little more than a luckier man's belonging, when instead he could have become a clockmaker by now, living happily married in his home town, maybe with a child or two already – if he just had been normal.
On the bright side, this way at least his wish to become a man of the world has come true. After a few years more or less on the road, he has seen enough to last a lifetime … And he should probably be content with that. Maybe being a servant isn't so bad after all. Maybe he should just lighten up and accept it.
So why can't he?
Carefully, he puts down his cloth and bucket and closes the window again. For a moment, he has to squint his eyes because he is blinded by the setting sun reflected from the shiny glass. Is it that late already?
Thomas takes a look at his pocket watch. Already past seven o'clock. About time for the Duke to arrive.
So the footman puts away the cleaning utensils and gets ready to welcome the guest. In his room, when he looks in the mirror, he is glad he doesn't look quite as dishevelled as he thought he would. Still, he isn't keen on looking less than perfect while greeting a nobleman, so he quickly changes his damp shirt for a fresh one and redoes his hair until he is vaguely satisfied with his appearance. He practices a smile, but it just does not look right on him. As usual. The times when he had been complimented for his beautiful smile are long gone … It's no surprise. He knows very well that time will take away the rest of his good looks sooner than he'd like. What will be left then? His superficial beauty is all he ever had to use to his advantage … The only thing people admire about him. It's his free ticket to the hearts of the naïve and the shallow. If he loses that, what will happen?
Well, he will probably end up like Carson: A stuck-up, lonely old man who has nothing to cling to but his job and a bundle of a butler's aesthetics. Carson might be happy with it, but Thomas doesn't want to end up all alone, in charge of a big house or not.
Sometimes, especially when in London, he just wants to pack his things and go; get a new job, a new home, some friends, maybe fall in love. But he still remembers how his last attempt to make a living in the capital ended …
No, that won't work either.
Checking his reflection one more time, Thomas walks out the room and closes the door to get to the front door. He has to hurry now. Good thing Carson is with Lord Grantham and Lady Mary right now …
Lady Grantham and Lady Edith step into the hall just when Thomas arrives there. Both are more made up than ever, showing off what looks like the most expensive dresses and jewellery they own.
Is today's guest really that important and influential? Thomas has neither heard of nor seen him until now, even if the Duke's summerhouse is only a few blocks away from the Granthams'.The footman doesn't even know the Duke's full name or his age.
… not that he cares, of course. But he still is a little curious what all this charade is for when the bell rings and he opens the door while he desperately tries to keep the sour look of his face. It takes a lot of effort, but somehow he manages – and he is glad he does when he lays eyes upon the guest for the first time.
That smile.
It is simply overwhelming. Big, charming, a little bit gleeful. It gives the already pretty young Duke a slightly boyish experience and exaggerates how very attractive he is – and judging from his movements which practically flow over with confidence, he is well aware of the fact.
Thomas' sulky mood fades away in a split second. He is too busy ogling the handsome nobleman who even gives him an even wider smile when he hands him his cane … and Thomas heart stops painfully when their eyes meet.
Narrow, sparkling eyes of a dark hazel colour … But in shape and expression just like those he would never be able to forget for the rest of his life. Along with that smile, he almost feels like standing right in front of his first love all over again!
Tormenting memories flood his mind for a moment. His first kiss, his first time to make love. His childish insecurity. The fast pace of his heart. The unbearable pain when it is broken for the first time.
He swallows hard.
'This is certainly not a great start …'
His smile begins to fade in shock. Thankfully, the Duke doesn't notice because he is busy greeting the two ladies and having some pointless smalltalk with them.
There is a nervous ringing in Thomas' ears, but he tries his best to relax. It doesn't really work. For some reason, he gets the strange feeling destiny has just tapped him on the shoulder; now he only needs to find out what it wants …
The evening continues rather calmly. Lady Grantham and the Duke mostly talk about this year's Season and social events, Lady Sybil, who is currently staying with her grandmother for one more summer before she will become a proper part of society next season, and Lady Mary whom the Duke seems quite fond of as Thomas notices with growing jealousy.
It's idiotic. Why does it even bother him? He barely knows the man he has just met tonight, but for some completely irrational reason, with each passing minute, he feels closer and closer to him.
There is something about the Duke, something that does not quite fit … Maybe it's the way his grin is just a little too shallow and does not always reach his eyes or perhaps it's the almost unnoticeable sarcastic tone in his voice. Maybe it's the way his hands move with such careful grace, as if the strings that hold this world together are attached to them. Something about the long, slender digits indicates they are pulled down by the weight and have to struggle not to lose control. There is an invisible burden on the Duke's shoulders.
The more Thomas observes him, the more he is sure their honoured guest is only playing a role. He is wearing a mask, like every noble does nowadays, but every time they exchanged a glance across the room, Thomas gets the feeling the secrets the Duke keeps hidden are a little darker than usual – and something about that thought is so very, very seductive …
Another look, another smile.
This time, it is more than just a quick, polite glance. This time, it lingers on, just a heartbeat too long and a bit too deep. Thomas chokes down his reflex to gasp in surprise. This is no accident anymore. Is the Duke really trying to get his attention? No. No, it's not possible!
But his piercing eyes are filled with honest, undisguised interest. Thomas smirks back at him to signal he is just as intrigued in turn.
The hint of a nod; he is understood. A feeling of satisfaction rushes through Thomas' veins.
They are one and the same.
And of course Thomas would not be Thomas if he had no idea how to exploit the situation to his advantage …
Much to Thomas' disappointment, the interested looks and flirtatious glances did not last as long as he would have wanted them to. Instead, Lady Edith, who had been pretty much ignored at first, finally managed to become the focus of the conversation until everyone had left the dinner table and moved over to the drawing room to have some tea.
Thomas stands stoically in a corner, completely deadpan, and tries not to stare at the handsome Duke too much just for his entertainment. The nobleman's charms must have gone to Thomas' head. His spellbound behaviour is starting to become just a little ridiculous. But no matter how hard he tries, he cannot help it – this is a major weakness of his. Once a man has struck his fancy, his mind simply refuses to function properly. He reminds himself to be careful. He has to take it slow if he wants to use the Duke's interest for his own goals. One false move and it will all fall apart like a house of cards, possibly with unpleasant consequences …
After a while, the Duke puts down his empty cup and waves for Thomas to pour him some more tea. The footman steps forward to do his duty, but just when he bows down, the Duke turns around, accidentally bumping his shoulder against Thomas' arm.
It all happens very fast: The cup rolls to the ground, fortunately without breaking and, even worse, some of the tea gets spilled over the Duke's white shirt.
Thomas' eyes widen in shock. Oh no … Oh no … Oh …
'Bloody hell', he curses in his mind and tries to quickly think of a proper way to apologise
"Please forgive me, Your Grace, I didn't …", he stammers, but the Duke cuts him off before he can finish.
"No, not at all", he says softly, patting Thomas' arm in a benevolent gesture. "It was my fault. I will be fine if I can just go and quickly rinse it with water so there will be no stains."
He turns to Lady Grantham with an inquisitive look on his face.
The Lady, trying to hide the relief in her eyes, nods.
"Of course", she says. "Thomas will tend to it immediately to make up for his mistake. I'm terribly sorry for this incident."
"Like I said, it was my mistake, not his", the Duke insists with a smile and gets up. Thomas quickly picks up the cup from the floor and tells the guest to follow him to the nearest bathroom.
His cheeks are flaming red, but he hopes the other man won't notice. This isn't exactly what Thomas has planned …
They speak no word as they pass through the dark and quiet hallways. With each passing second, Thomas feels his throat tightening even more. He cannot really tell what bothers him more: The embarrassment or being alone with the Duke?
When they arrive at the nearest bathroom, Thomas dutifully opens the door and goes in first to light some of the candles inside so the Duke doesn't have to step into the darkness.
He then prepares some water while the nobleman comes in and pulls the door shut behind them. The air suddenly feels hot and syrupy, making it hard to breathe.
"Could you please take of your shirt, Your Grace?", Thomas asks nervously, not daring to look the other man in the eyes.
"Isn't it your duty to help me?", the Duke requests, sounding slightly amused.
"Yes, of course. I'm sorry."
Thomas turns around to him and, with shaking hands, starts to loosen the guest's bow tie. The Duke just chuckles.
"Is something the matter, Your Grace?", Thomas asks in bewilderment.
"Tell me, what's your name?"
"Thomas, Your Grace."
"Thomas? That's a good name. I shall remember it."
Thomas lifts an eyebrow. He did not expect to be treated with such kindness. Does that mean he hasn't lost yet? It's worth a try …
With the most charming smile he can manage, he timidly looks up into the Duke's startling eyes and moves a little closer while he continues to unbutton the nobleman's shirt. The Duke does not even bat an eyelid; he just smiles back.
So Thomas decides it's time to become a bit more daring …
His right hand brushes lightly over the tea stains on the fabric covering the other man's chest and, with fake submissiveness, the footman slightly tilts his head to the side.
"I cannot apologise enough for this", he whispers in a sultry voice. "I am deeply sorry. I have got no idea what happened. Something must have made me a little ... nervous. I have never had an accident like this …"
A high-pitched, but soft laugh from the Duke causes Thomas to frown. Did he overact?
Just in this moment, the other man's hand grips his own.
"It was no accident", the Duke replies with a smug smile.
Both men exchange an intense look.
"Pardon me?", Thomas says flatly, but before he gets the chance to even realise what's going on, the Duke suddenly grabs him tightly by the wrists and slams him with the back against the wall. Without warning, his lips are caught in what isn't quite a kiss, more like a violent a struggle for something his guest-turned-lover craves more than oxygen right now. Their mouths are pressed so tightly together it almost hurts.
Thomas needs a moment to collect his senses. His eyes are wide open in surprise. It's been a while since he has had a lover this demanding … And he has almost forgotten how much he likes it.
For a minute, he can't believe this is real. He even refuses to breathe, as if this was a dream and it would fall apart with one single inconsiderate movement.
But in the end, his yearning for more gets the upper hand. Hesitantly, he begins to respond, turning their clumsy kiss into a deep, passionate one. He is astonished by how much both of them seems to need each other – even if though just met, their bodies almost act on their own, intertwining like the Gordian knot, with both of them trying to get as close to each other as physically possible.
It feels so natural …
Thomas feels how his whole body his overwhelmed by heat. He wants to melt into their embrace …
Right now, there is no rhyme or reason, no time, no sense of control – even the world seems to have vanished completely. It's just them – like two kinds of chemicals that react with a bright explosion at close contact.
The experience is shockingly beautiful.
Thomas grabs the other man by his full brown locks and tries to pull him into a position that could give both of them a bit more 'satisfaction', but much to his surprise, the Duke gently pushes him away.
"Not yet …", he murmurs softly and grins, running his fingers down Thomas' cheek. "Even if there is nothing in the world I want more right now …"
"Then do what your body tells you to do", Thomas, still panting heavily, teases him. He doesn't want to stop right there … He couldn't bear it.
"Please, Thomas, don't make this any harder for me", the Duke says almost suppliantly. "You are so hard to resist. I've been waiting for this moment all evening. With your eyes on me … I don't know. I couldn't have held back any longer …"
"There's no need to hold back anymore", the footman insists and leans forward to gently kiss the Duke's neck. "No one will ever know …"
"That's not it. I want you. Just not like that." The Duke sighs and nervously runs his hand through his own hair. "I want you properly. So …" He pauses shortly. "If I ask you to visit my house tonight, will you come?"
Thomas is puzzled. In a pleasant way, but still.
"Wouldn't that attract too much attention?", he points out. "I mean ...what about your servants?"
"Don't worry about that", the Duke assures him. "My butler will let you in. He won't ask questions, I promise. Our secret is safe with him. Just knock on the back door three times. He will open. Just say you want to see me. Nothing more. He will lead you to my room. It's easy like that. So please, Thomas, say you will come!"
Now it is Thomas' turn to sigh. How could he resist those playfully pleading eyes? Or that charming smile? Or the way those fingers caress his neck and make it impossible to think straight?
"I will, Your Grace", he finally agrees, causing the Duke to lighten up immediately.
"I'm glad to hear that", the nobleman says and gives Thomas a quick kiss on the lips. "Just one more thing …"
"Hmm?"
"Just call me Aleister …"
A/N: I'm terribly, terribly sorry I couldn't make it last week, but university stuff was keeping me busy. (To be honest, it still is.)
I couldn't find any indication for what the Duke's first name could be, so I named him Aleister in honour of a certain character called Aleister Chamber … who is pretty much the Duke of Crowborough in psycho. And a lot hammier.
I had "Burden of Beauty" by Lunascape on loop while writing this chapter. I think it shows! xD
Actually, I can't believe how much I enjoyed writing this … considering I used to hate the Duke. I changed my mind. In this interpretation he DOES genuinely like, maybe even love Thomas, but decides to leave him for some reason I have no idea what it could be, but we'll probably never find out anyway. Or will we? ~wiggles eyebrows~