It felt as if the ground underneath his feet had turned to quicksand. A mixture of anger and unease churned continuously in his gut. Miss O' Brien had lied to him. She had said one thing to his face, and then another behind his back.
She had said…she had said a lot of things, come to think of it. She'd championed Mr Barrow to Jimmy, only to thoroughly condemn him later. Then she'd taken Jimmy's side when in his presence – only to overturn her verdict and decree him the guilty party in her conversations with Mr Barrow. She'd manipulated Jimmy every step of the way.
It was such a vast and boundless transgression, that Jimmy could not at first understand the reasons behind it. It wasn't that he couldn't logically follow a sequence of events, so much as – he didn't want to. The immensity of what she had done seemed to overshadow any possible motive. Nothing could justify it. It was akin to murdering someone just because they'd taken your parking space. All he felt was a bone deep kind of revulsion that made him shy away from even thinking too deeply about what she'd done.
He didn't sleep well that night. He kept having dreams where Mr Barrow backed him into doorways and cubicles (Downton having been inexplicably converted into a massive, featureless office space by his subconscious), while unaware of Miss O' Brien's watchful eyes.
This was partly the reason why, the next morning in the staffroom when Mr Barrow approached him – he stiffened. It wasn't the whole reason – but he was uncomfortably aware of Miss O' Brien, sitting in the corner.
"Last day as a tour guide," Mr Barrow noted, and Jimmy didn't say anything. "You'll be ready tomorrow." It came out almost as a question, and Jimmy managed to nod briefly, before Mr Barrow moved away again.
Miss O' Brien waited until after he'd left, but even when she finally moved toward Jimmy, it was unhurried, smooth, with no hint of urgency. It made Jimmy think of snakes. It made his spine tense.
"You don't look happy," she said, with that tone in her voice that he'd always taken for disinterested kindness. "Did Mr Barrow say something to you?"
"You were sitting right there. I don't think you need me to tell you what he said," Jimmy said shortly.
"As a general habit, I don't tend to listen in on private conversations." Miss O' Brien sounded a little taken aback.
Pity, Jimmy thought. You find out some very interesting things that way.
"You are going through with it then? The job? Only I thought, from what we discussed – that you might" –
"Well, you thought wrong," Jimmy said. There was something disgusting about the whole thing – her words were like fingers, prying and touching him.
Miss O' Brien stared at him. "I see," she said eventually. "May I ask what decided you?"
He didn't think he would have actually done it, not really. He'd flirted with the idea, certainly, but he hadn't seriously considered it. Not really. Alfred's words had a tendency to roll around in his head, like marbles, and besides – it had just seemed…like a fantasy-revenge, more than anything. More trouble than it was worth, in the long run.
He didn't want to say one true word to Miss O' Brien though, not now…but he couldn't quite restrain himself. "Oh, I was never going to do it," he said. "You know what a tease I am."
Miss O' Brien went very still – and he walked off, feeling he'd scored a hit.
He shouldn't have said anything at all…or maybe it wouldn't have made any difference – Miss O' Brien had been quite skillful at using his feelings for her own ends, and it hardly seemed to matter to her that those feelings were now directed firmly against her. Probably it didn't make any difference to her plans at all.
In any case, as soon as he arrived the next morning, his mind endlessly repeating – the office, Mr Barrow's small office, working in that small office with Mr Barrow – he was met by Mr Carson.
"James," he said. He didn't seem pleased, but then, he rarely did, so Jimmy didn't start to worry until he said, "Might I see you in my office for a moment?"
He didn't say another word, and worry bloomed into full-fledged panic when Jimmy entered the office, and saw Mrs Hughes standing near the desk – and Miss O' Brien sitting in a chair against the wall.
"Well?" Mrs Hughes said, but the question wasn't directed at Jimmy. "I take it we can proceed now?"
"What's going on?" Jimmy asked. There was a stone in his stomach.
"Miss O' Brien has something she would like to discuss," Mrs Hughes told him.
Miss O' Brien shifted forward a little on her chair, and said, "As I said to Mr Carson, lately I've had some – concerns – about Jimmy."
Her eyes flicked toward him, and No, don't you dare, he thought but before he'd even had time to finish thinking it, her eyes had flicked away again.
"Oh? And what are the nature of these concerns?" Mrs Hughes asked. Her eyes were sharp, taking in both Jimmy and Miss O' Brien at once.
Don't you dare, don't you dare, Jimmy thought wildly.
Miss O' Brien cleared her throat. "I'm afraid that Mr Barrow may have behaved in an inappropriate manner toward him."
Mr Carson's eyebrows shot skywards. Mrs Hughes took a visible breath. "Can I ask why you would think that?" she asked, carefully.
"Certain things Jimmy has said - as well as observations of my own," Miss O' Brien said.
"I see," Mrs Hughes nodded. "Well, I see a very easy way to settle this." She turned to Jimmy. "James – has Mr Barrow ever said or done anything to make you feel uncomfortable?"
He could still feel the stroke of Thomas Barrow's fingers against his neck, the touch of Thomas Barrow's mouth against his. It was only a ghost of a kiss, but it haunted him still.
"No," he said, and he made sure to make eye contact with Miss O' Brien as he said it. "I don't know what Miss O' Brien is talking about."
Take that, you raddled, saw-toothed bitch, he thought triumphantly. She'd tried to manipulate him into doing what she wanted, and then, when that hadn't worked, she'd tried to force his hand. Well, too bad for you, it didn't work, he told her silently, as he stared her down.
"Well, that's that then," Mrs Hughes said, "All resolved." She began to move toward the door.
Miss O' Brien didn't twitch a muscle, but she halted Mrs Hughes in her tracks. "That's all you're going to say, is it? Forgive me for saying this, but it seems a very cursory handling of the matter."
Back straight, Mrs Hughes slowly turned around. "On the contrary, Miss O' Brien. I feel that I have given this matter exactly the amount of attention it deserves. You've made your allegation," Jimmy wondered whether he'd imagined the slight pause before the word 'allegation,' as if Mrs Hughes would have liked to substitute another, less careful word, " – and I have asked James about it. He has denied it, and I see no reason to doubt his word." Her gaze rested on Jimmy for an uncomfortable moment, "James does not strike me as a shrinking violet."
For some reason, he felt bizarrely chastised.
"With all due respect, Miss O' Brien – I fail to see what else we might be expected to do," Mr Carson agreed.
"The problem I have is that in a case such as this, involving manipulation and intimidation…the victim may not be inclined to be truthful," Miss O' Brien said.
Jimmy frowned, because Miss O' Brien still didn't seem beaten, despite his outright denial. Unease twisted and turned inside him.
Mrs Hughes made an impatient noise, "We can ask Mr Barrow to come in, I suppose, but since you won't take Jimmy's word for it, I don't see how anything Thomas says will convince you."
"I have a suggestion," Miss O' Brien said. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes exchanged glances. "I think the opinion of a third party might be helpful in shedding some light on this situation."
Mrs Hughes frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I've already told you my suspicions" –
"Yes," Mrs Hughes said, cutting her off. "I think we're all quite aware of your suspicions – but as a rule, I try to put my faith in something a little stronger than idle tittle-tattle and malicious gossip."
Thank fuck Jimmy had never actually come out and said what had happened between he and Mr Barrow to the woman. Who knew what damage she would be able to do, if he'd ever actually confided in her? She had already created a battering ram from nothing more than insinuations and allusions.
"You've noticed it, Mr Carson. I know you have. The two of them – living in each others' pockets one day, and the next, Jimmy can't stand to be in the same room. As manager of Downton, surely you have some concerns?"
"Arguments between two people have been known to happen," Mrs Hughes said. "I hardly think we need to immediately jump to the most sinister conclusion!"
Mr Carson looked as if he were debating something within himself. Finally, he said, "What exactly did you have in mind, Miss O' Brien?"
Mrs Hughes huffed a put out sounding breath. "Alfred," Miss O' Brien said, and Jimmy didn't think he imagined the look of victory that flickered briefly across her face.
Fuck.
"Alfred?" Mr Carson said.
"You should ask him. I think you'll find he's in a position to tell you exactly what's been happening. And we all know how honest he is. To a fault."
Fuck.
Alfred was stupidly, ridiculously, heart-on-sleeve, brain-on-autopilot honest, and while Jimmy had never actually let slip to Miss O' Brien what exactly had happened between he and Mr Barrow…
…Alfred was a completely different story.
And going by the look on Miss O' Brien's face – she knew that.
Jimmy's heart began to race. His only hope was that Mr Carson would shut this line of thinking down right now and refuse straight out, because –
"I'll send for Alfred," Mr Carson decided.
Fuck.
"I'll get him," Mrs Hughes said. "And Thomas too," she added significantly. "He deserves to hear what's being said about him, at least. As well as a chance to defend himself."
Jimmy burst out with, "I don't want you to!" He took a breath, trying to express himself more calmly. "I've already said, haven't I? So it's a waste of time."
"I don't see that that should matter very much," Miss O' Brien said. "It's very simple. Either Alfred will agree with you, in which case, you've got nothing to worry about - or Alfred won't agree…in which case, we really ought to know."
She cocked her head to the side, and defeated, Jimmy had to look away. Mrs Hughes closed the door behind her with a decisive click. Until she reappeared, the office was thick with silence. Jimmy stared at the wall and tried not to let panic overwhelm him, even though his stomach was trying to crawl up his throat.
When Mrs Hughes returned, she ushered Mr Barrow into the office. "Alfred's just finishing up – he'll be along in a moment," she said.
Mr Barrow's gaze swept over Jimmy, then Miss O' Brien, and Mr Carson asked, "Thomas, are you aware of why you've been called in here this morning?"
"No idea, Mr Carson," Mr Barrow said, tipping his chin up and speaking with brazen confidence.
But that was a lie – Jimmy knew it…because as soon as he'd stepped inside, Thomas Barrow had looked at him with a stiff expression and hurt eyes.
It was…Jimmy would have thought it was what he'd wanted. He'd wanted Mr Barrow to take this seriously, as seriously as he did. He'd wanted to make Mr Barrow feel the way he had – shaken and unnerved and…and betrayed in some strange way. He didn't know why Thomas Barrow's actions had felt so like a personal betrayal to him – but they had. And that was what Jimmy had wanted him to feel in return.
Except it wasn't. It wasn't what Jimmy wanted at all, because as soon he'd recognized his own feelings on Thomas Barrow's face, read the betrayed look in his eyes as clear as day – as if he'd still somehow trusted Jimmy, in spite of everything…instead of satisfaction, he felt as if he'd been hit.
"I've already told you," he said, "I don't have any problem with Mr Barrow. I've never said a word against him. I don't know why you're even asking me!"
He didn't think it would help – not in the long run, not when Alfred on his way, an unstoppable atom bomb of truth…but he at least wanted to let Thomas Barrow know, as best he could, that this was nothing to do with him.
He thought he saw a flicker of relief cross Mr Barrow's face, though it was quickly hidden.
"Miss O' Brien seems to feel that you...may have made some inappropriate and unwanted advances toward James," Mrs Hughes said. "We're trying to get to the bottom of it." She stood almost next to Mr Barrow, as if she were flanking him.
There was a long pause as Mr Barrow looked Miss O' Brien up and down. "You're claiming I've been harassing him – is that it? Well, you certainly kept that close to your chest, didn't you?" As well as bitter, he sounded, strangely, almost admiring.
Unperturbed, Miss O' Brien said, "I don't make these allegations lightly. This isn't a game, Thomas."
Jimmy thought of their smoking-break conversation, and gritted his teeth. Just then, there was a knock on the door, and a confused looking Alfred entered the now quite-crowded office.
"Ah, Alfred," Mr Carson said. "Good. We find ourselves in need of your assistance."
Alfred shifted from foot to foot, glancing between each person, and said, "Well…I'll be glad to help if I can, Mr Carson."
"Now, don't be nervous," Mr Carson told him. "All you have to do is give an honest answer" – and in spite of the situation, Jimmy could have rolled his eyes. It was obvious how much more Mr Carson liked Alfred than him. He was the alleged victim of sexual harassment here, and Mr Carson'd hardly thrown so much as a sympathetic look his way. Meanwhile, he was all but holding Alfred's hand and patting him on the shoulder over the terrible trauma of putting a sentence together.
"Some – questions have been raised about the nature of the relationship between James and Mr Barrow here. Allegations have been made, and it's important, for everyone's sake, that we get to the truth of the matter. So, I'm asking you, Alfred – has James ever mentioned Mr Barrow saying or doing anything that made him feel – uncomfortable?"
Fuck. This was it then. The end.
Alfred licked his lips and said, "Well…"
Mr Carson stared unblinkingly at him. Miss O' Brien slowly leaned forward in her chair. Mr Barrow went very very still. "That is…" Alfred cleared his throat and his eyes darted to Jimmy.
Who took a sudden chance and shook his head, almost imperceptibly. It was a risk, but everyone's focus was on Alfred, not him. Well – almost everyone, he had to amend, as he looked away, and caught Mrs Hughes' eye.
He tensed, waiting for her to cry foul – but a second later, she closed her mouth and her expression snapped back to impassivity. Jimmy held his breath and hoped that just this one time, Alfred would tuck conscientiousness away and imitate Pinocchio.
"See…we talk about a lot of things, Jimmy and me. What with being flatmates and all. And it's not like I record any of these conversations…" Alfred said slowly, before continuing in a firmer tone. "But…I think I'd remember something like that, Mr Carson."
"So – you're saying…"
"No. He never said a word to me about anything like that," Alfred said.
Jimmy closed his eyes. The relief was so palpable it felt like he was melting.
"Alfred," Miss O' Brien said, and Jimmy could hardly keep from grinning right in her suddenly-appalled face. "I don't think that you know what you're saying" –
"Now Miss O' Brien, let's not badger the poor boy," Mrs Hughes said briskly. "He's answered the question, and as you said yourself, we all know how honest he is." She turned and opened the door. "Now, if we're all quite finished with this pantomime, I know I, for one, have work to do."
She held the door open, looking pointedly at Miss O' Brien, who finally, with a visible effort, stood up from her seat and walked out. Mrs Hughes raised her eyebrows at the rest of them, and meekly, one by one, they filed out. As Jimmy turned to leave, however, Mr Carson cleared his throat and said, "As a matter of interest, James, might I ask the real reason behind your and Mr Barrow's falling out?"
Jimmy stared at him, and his mind went completely blank for a few seconds, before his mental gears started to whir and turn once more. "A bet," he said. "We…made a bet, and I lost."
"Hm," Mr Carson said. Jimmy couldn't tell whether he believed him or not.
Outside the office, Alfred was waiting. As soon as Jimmy appeared, he began to say, "Was it alright, what I s" – and Jimmy had to hiss, "Not here!"
"But that was the right thing to say?" Alfred pressed, as Jimmy grabbed his arm and pulled him to a safe distance.
Jimmy dropped his elbow and admitted, "Yeah, it was – it was the right thing. Thanks," he added, in a low voice.
"It's all right. I mean, I just thought – if I tell the truth, not only does Mr Barrow end up in a lot of trouble…but you look like a right idiot," Alfred said kindly.
Jimmy narrowed his eyes at him.
"I don't know what my aunt was thinking though," Alfred said. "I mean, that's serious, complaining someone like that. I don't think she likes Mr Barrow very much."
Jimmy stared at him. With what he considered great restraint, he said, "I don't think she likes anyone very much. Remind me never to pop around to her house for tea. I bet she serves arsenic sandwiches."
"She's not as bad as all that!" Alfred said. Clearly, lying to Mr Carson must have gone straight to his head, Jimmy thought.
It was strange, but after all that – fighting tooth and nail to keep his new job, throwing his lot in completely and irrevocably with Thomas Barrow…
…he still had to pause and gather himself before knocking on the office door.
"Come in," Mr Barrow called, but he stilled as soon as Jimmy entered, just standing at his desk and looking at Jimmy as if he'd never seen him before.
"I'm starting today," Jimmy reminded him.
"I know," he said, but he didn't stop staring, and that terrible openness was on his face again, the expression Jimmyremembered so clearly from that night. "I just – I wanted to say" –
Don't, Jimmy thought, and a great wash of apprehension swept through him, leaving him cold to his fingertips. He felt, strangely, more dread than he had in Mr Carson's office, when everything seemed hopeless. Don't.
But Thomas Barrow just kept looking at him with all that feeling on his face, and even though all he said in the end was, " – thank you," Jimmy couldn't bear it. He couldn't breathe. He had to make it stop.
"I didn't do it for you," he said – and he watched as Mr Barrow's face closed up, neatly and precisely, like a conjurer's trick. He felt something that was oddly like relief…and oddly not, at the same time.
"Of course not," Mr Barrow said, voice smooth and opaque once more. He gave a small smile – cursory, impersonal – and said, "Let's get to work, shall we?"
