Mr. Molesley sat before Mr. Carson, Mrs. Butte and Mrs. Patmore in the butler's pantry. Mrs. Patmore had given him a very strong tea with whiskey and his nerves seemed to be recovering.

"You saw her letter, Mr. Carson. She didn't do this, she's just afraid. We have to find her.

"She explicitly asked us not to try and find her, Mr. Molesley."

"But she might be in danger." The poor man moaned.

"I am afraid she probably is, but we don't even know where to start. Maybe Mr. Barrow can help us if he is released, but even then, I am not sure what we can do for her."

"We have to let her know that we will protect her!"

"Of course we will, Mr. Molesley." Mrs. Patmore insisted. "Won't we, Mr. Carson?"

"In so far as we can, but I doubt that will comfort her much." Carson said sadly. "Mrs. Butte? You have been very quiet. Have you nothing to add."

Lucille was only vaguely aware of the simpering footman before her and even less aware of Mr. Carson and Mrs. Patmore. She still held Miss Baxter's letter to Mr. Molesley in her hand. With glassy eyes, she read it again.

'Joseph,

I have feared this day ever since I arrived at Downton. At first, I did not want to leave because I needed the employment, but now that my past has caught up to me yet again, I find my greatest regret is losing your friendship. It took me so long to stand up to Thomas, to realize that if he revealed my secret, he would implicate himself as well. You gave me that strength Joseph and I shall never forget you for that. How could I have imagined the terrible events that would drive him to reveal me? But even if he has not betrayed my secret, I must leave. I fear that it is my presence that has brought about the recent violence that has visited Grantham House.

I hardly know where to begin, but I should start with my main deception. My name is not Phyllis Baxter. My name is Phyllis Fletcher but I was born Phyllis Hoxton. My father and uncles are the heads of the Hoxton mob of Soho. I was forced to marry when I was very young. My husband was in the gang and is currently twelve years into a forty-three year sentence for his role in the violent robbery of a rival gang's gambling parlor. Innocent people were caught in the crossfire.

Even before my husband's crime and arrest, I had left him and my family. I lived as a domestic servant, using my mother's maiden name. I worked briefly with Thomas, but it did not take him long to uncover my secret. My husband's trial was in the papers and I could not help but follow it closely. Thomas was suspicious and eventually found me out. He threatened to tell my family where I was, but I convinced him not to. I forged a letter of recommendation that helped him secure his new position at Downton.

We have not kept in close correspondence since then, but Thomas followed my career and always seemed to know where I was. When he contacted me not quite two years ago, he knew I was between jobs. I knew it was not wise to work so closely with someone who knew my secret, but I was desperate for work.

I have remained hidden from my family for almost fourteen years, I had begun to hope that they would never find me, but obviously they have. They are ruthless and they are capable of unspeakable atrocities. I will not bring that to Lady Grantham's doorstep. I hope when I am gone from the house, you will all be safe again. Please, do not try to find me. It is better this way.

I am so sorry, Joseph. Please forgive me. I know I led you on, but I truly enjoyed spending time with you. Your gentle spirit and kindness were so different from anything in my experience. You and you alone have renewed my faith in humanity. I wish you all the joy in the world, you deserve it. Never forget that.

Though I have no right to claim it, I am and forever shall be your remorseful friend,

Phyllis.'

Lucille fought to control her temper. With one name, her whole world had begun to fracture; Hoxton. Miss Baxter was a Hoxton. The opportunity to revenge herself on the family responsible for her father's death had slipped through her fingers. Her mind raced, thinking of all the terrible ways she could have disposed of Phyllis Hoxton.

"Mrs. Butte?" Carson asked again. "Are you quite well?"

Pulling herself together, she nodded and handed the letter back to Mr. Carson. "It's just such a shock. She is such a sweet woman, to think she came from such a violent family."

"Do you know anything about this Hoxton mob?" Carson asked her.

Lucille shrugged. "They used to be in the paper more often, but they are still around. They are just smarter about getting caught now."

"Are they as ruthless as Miss Baxter said?"

"I believe they are, Mr. Carson."

"Mr. Molesely," Carson began kindly. "I think we are best off letting the police handle this. We will tell them everything that we know and hope that they can be discreet."

"But she's out there; afraid and alone." Joseph sobbed miserably.

"But if we cannot find her, then neither can they." Beryl offered. "That's something at least."

"I shall give your letter to the authorities, Mr. Molesley. You should take the rest of the day off. You are in no fit state to serve." Carson said sensibly. "If you get it in your head to go looking for her, please do not go alone," he added.

Molesley nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Mr. Carson."

Carson left them swiftly. His Lordship must be informed and the authorities contacted. As soon as he was gone, the women began to fuss over Molesley.

"I'm fine." Joseph insisted. He needed to find her, but he had no idea of where to begin. He wracked his brain, trying to remember anything she had said about London in their long hours of conversation. He knew that she had lived in London before moving to Yorkshire. Or so she had told him. Maybe everything had been a lie. For now, it did not matter. She was in danger, he must help her.

"I have to go." He took the last swig of his whiskey tea and stood to leave.

"You heard Mr. Carson." Mrs. Patmore panicked, "You should not go alone."

"I shall go with you, Mr. Molesley."

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Butte. Thank you."

-00-

"Not another one." Robert groaned. "My dear, this is getting to be ridiculous."

"Robert! I think you have missed the main point here. For the past eighteen months, I have been at the mercy of a daughter of a notorious crime family!"

Mary patted her mother's hand tenderly and exchanged a knowing look with her father.

"Yes, yes, I do know that and I am relieved that you are unharmed, my dear, but I doubt you were in any real danger. You cannot think she had anything to do with these deaths. She was afraid of her own shadow. She seems to have fled because she thinks someone is coming after her or because she knew her secret would soon be discovered."

"And Barrow knew all along!" Cora fumed. "Robert, he simply must go!"

"Oh, without question, but we have to keep him here as long as the police need to keep tabs on him."

"Is that safe?" Mary asked.

"After speaking to the detectives, I'd be more easily convinced of Baxter's guilt than Barrow's."

"It cannot be Baxter. She could not hurt a fly." Mary said dismissively.

"That's what I think." Her father agreed.

"Then is it her family, Robert? If so, where do we find them and how can we stop them?"

"I wish I knew, my dear."

TBC…

AN/ So there's one of my theories for Miss Baxter's big secret. Another one will be surfacing in my other 'wading' fic in the next few days. In this fic, do we want Mr. Molesley to find Miss Baxter or not?

Thank you to those of you following this offshoot. It has not been as bloody as I anticipated (Lucille was just too efficient) but things could change very soon.