Mathew didn't realise he was infatuated until he had to fight for his Cousin Mary's attention. Of course he believed she had prompted that unfortunate morning incident, but Mathew viewed that as merely carnal. Although on friendlier terms with Mary, he wouldn't say he necessarily enjoyed her company. More like preferred it to that of her vapid sisters. Sybil was too young to be of interest and Edith simply wasn't of interest. Mary was the only viable sparring partner in the art of conversation.
Now that Mr. Pamuk was usurping her interest however, he could not deny his jealousy. Evelyn Napier's attempt to commiserate with him merely infuriated him more. He'd had a dull evening and he'd missed her. He couldn't help but wish Pamuk would go back to Turkey or wherever it was he came from.
Thomas was waiting up to undress him and Mathew stood moodily like a doll as he began to. His butler picked up on his mood and inquired whether Lady Grantham had sat him next to Edith.
Mathew's surly face broke into a smile. "No," he answered, "It's petty really," he added by way of explanation.
"May as well tell me," Thomas gruffly encouraged.
"Mary was absorbed by some Turkish ambassador the entire night; I suppose I was a little jealous," Mathew confessed.
Thomas nodded once, before bending down and beginning to untie Mathew's shoelaces. Mathew couldn't help but be slightly shocked. Thomas had never been quite this thorough before.
"Steady on," he couldn't help but say.
Thomas looked up at him. "Do you know why people have servants?" he asked, rhetorically. "Believe it or not, most of you can actually dress yourselves. People have servants because servants have to acknowledge them and pay attention to them. So allow me to massage your ego. Oh and sit down so I can take these off"
Mathew sat without protest. He couldn't quite identify what exactly he was feeling. An odd, but not unpleasant, sensation had spread through his stomach. He hadn't expected Thomas to try and make him feel better in any way, particularly in one as strange as taking his shoes off for him. It had somehow worked though, thoughts of Mary and Mr. Pamuk disappeared from his mind.
It was safe, looking down at Thomas's head to acknowledge the strange attraction he held for Mathew. Mathew wasn't a slave to his lust and believed he could quite happily marry a woman, do his duty and father children before settling into a quiet domesticity. He didn't expect passion, or necessarily want it, and he expected fathering his children to be a chore rather than a pleasure. He felt safe in admitting to himself that he thought he could experience passion with Thomas, were the other man willing. But he didn't feel the need to fulfil that thought. It was a speculation; it would come to nothing.
There was a knock on the door and Thomas went to answer it after Mathew gave a slight nod. His mother was standing there, her mouth full of a message. "Ah Thomas," she said, "I've just had a note from Downton. Apparently one of the footmen, Molesley, has somehow injured himself so they're short a valet. The Turkish gentleman, Pamuk, left his man behind, so it's something of an emergency. Would you mind terribly going down? You'll receive a bonus, of course"
"If Mr. Crawley has no objections, I'd be happy to, ma'am," Thomas replied with the scrupulous politeness he always used around Mathew's mother and which Mathew found amusing, coming from him.
"Mr. Crawley has no reason to object," Isobel replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'll send word you'll be down in half an hour"
After Thomas left, Mathew felt another surge of ill will towards Mr. Pamuk. It wasn't enough he had to enchant Mary, one of the only women he had even a semblance of attraction too, now he had to steal Thomas.
It was late when there was a quietly urgent knock on Mathew's door and he was pulled from a light sleep. "Come in," he grumbled, after ascertaining he was decent, wondering whom on Earth it could be at this time of night. He fumbled for the lamp switch as the door opened. He was slightly stunned to see Thomas, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his hair askew, looking more than a little terrified.
"Good god man, what's happened?" he asked, sitting up straight in bed and attempting to rouse himself.
Thomas began to pace the room, looking wild. "The Turkish gentleman asked me where Lady Mary's room was. Told me to take him there. He intends to…"
Mathew cut him off, knowing very well what that slimy bastard intended to do. "Have you warned her?" he asked urgently.
"How could I?" Thomas asked wretchedly. "I'm going to have to show him…"
"What?" Mathew interrupted harshly. "What do you mean by that?"
"He knows something about me," Thomas said hollowly. "Something that could ruin me. I wouldn't have hesitated but…I couldn't do it to you"
"What does it have to do with me?" Mathew asked, astounded.
"You love her," Thomas answered flatly, before hiding his face in his hands. "What is wrong with me?" he moaned into them.
Did he love her? It didn't seem right, especially coming from Thomas's mouth. He'd call what he had for her affection, but he didn't see it as anything more. Mathew shook his head. It was a question to ponder for another time; right now he needed to focus on the present.
"I'll inform Lord Grantham of Mr. Pamuk's intentions, he'll know how best to handle it," Mathew said, getting out of bed and reaching for his clothes as Thomas continued to stand, head in hands. "But first," Mathew gently touched one of the hands obscuring Thomas's face, "I need to know what he has on you"
"I can't tell you," Thomas mumbled.
Mathew gently but firmly prised the hands from Thomas's face and was astonished to find tears underneath them. He guided Thomas over to his bed and forced the shaken man to sit down. "I need to know," he insisted. "Before I do this, I need to know how it will affect you"
"Why?" Thomas asked dejectedly.
Why indeed? If he loved Mary, as Thomas seemed to think, his butler's feelings shouldn't have come into the equation. He should have been running off to save her. "Your…part of my staff. I have a responsibility for you," was the first thoughtless thing that popped out of Mathew's mouth. "Besides, I like to think we're friends," he hurried on, "and, well, whatever it is might affect my reputation as well". All good excuses, but Mathew knew he hadn't told the truth.
Thomas let out a shaky breath, staring at his knees, avoiding eye contact. "I'm…different," he began, wincing.
"I know," Mathew said, almost fondly. Thomas was like no one on Earth.
Thomas continued as though he hadn't heard him. "Mr. Pamuk made me think he was…interested. Encouraged me. I made a pass at him," Thomas looked up then, eyes fearful.
It took Mathew a moment to process what Thomas had said. "What?" he asked emptily.
"He threatened to tell you and the Crawley family about my preferences. If I don't do it, everyone will know and gossip's going to be the least of my worries. I understand if you don't want me working for you anymore, but please, I could go to jail if other people…"
Mathew cut off Thomas's tirade by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry," he told him. "I'll tell Lord Grantham that he threatened to accuse you of making an advance if you didn't show him Lady Mary's bedroom. That way, if he comes to Lord Grantham with that story, he'll think Pamuk's lying"
Thomas's eyes brightened with hope. "You don't mind that…"
"Don't worry," Mathew began throwing his clothes on, before striding purposefully towards the door. "You'll still have a job in the morning and Lady Mary will still have her virginity".