Sorry it's taken a while for this chapter but what with work, keeping my boyfriend happy, and trying to finish the novel I'm writing, I haven't had much time.

In case you couldn't tell from the last chapter; I'm missing writing humour, so you might get a few more jokes from me than expected. Hopefully not a bad thing.

Thank you so much for the lovely comments.

Apologies for any spelling/ grammar mistakes


"'Can you go away for the weekend?!'" Mr Carson gripped the arms of his chair in mortification at what he was being asked by his under butler, who just stood there, almost chirpily, oblivious to his superior's obverse reaction. "You never cease to amaze me, Mr Barrow. No matter how long you work here you always think this is some kind of social club which is only open for your convenience."

"I can assure you that I don't think that, Mr Carson." Thomas said.

"I hope not. Although I would enjoy hearing your reason for why you must travel across country on this mystery adventure."

"I would hardly call it that, Mr Carson, and I wouldn't say Durham is across country-"

"Don't get clever, Mr Barrow."

"No." Thomas lowered his head, "I'm sorry, Mr Carson. It's just… James is in Durham."

"I fail to see what that has to do with you."

"You see, it's like this, Mr Carson, when James left I made him believe something that wasn't true; about the fight between him and Alexander. I said things I didn't mean, and I want to make it right. Maybe even offer his job back if you agree, after all we are one man down."

"I must say; that's very respectable of you, Thomas." Mr Carson said with dubious alarm, not imagining these words ever breaching his mouth with regard to Thomas. "However," Mr Carson continued, "I don't see why such arrangements couldn't be made over the telephone which every Tom, Dick and Harry seem to take the liberty of using like it's a public convenience." Mr Carson eyed Thomas accusingly since he was obviously the sole culprit of the charge.

"To be honest, Mr Carson; it's more complicated than that." Mr Carson gave a growl from the back of his throat in reply. "I need to do this in person."

"I'm sorry, Thomas, but it's impossible. Not with one footman."

"But we have no visitors for the foreseeable future-"

"Mr Barrow, please. The matter must be left there. I cannot spare you, not for the weekend, there is too much to be done."

"Right. Thank you, Mr Carson."

Thomas stormed out of the office, without slamming the door behind him and knew he had to do something. He was going, he was going that very day even, if he had to break out like a criminal from a prison. It was true that he didn't have to take the entire weekend off, Durham was hardly far after all, but he had hoped for some time to himself and he would likely need it since he couldn't imagine his visit to Jimmy ending in any other way than gaining a black eye and losing any chance of getting his sanity back. There was only one thing for it; Thomas didn't like taking no for an answer and so he had to go over Mr Carson's head, but not to His Lordship…


"Why, yes, of course you must go." Her Ladyship said, Thomas rolling his lips in and outwards in a smug victory over Mr Carson. "We need a new footman and if you can bring one back then of course, and I can understand that you would want to apologise to James face to face if your accusation was as damaging as you make out. I don't see any reason why you can't go."

"Actually, Mr Carson is… reluctant to let me. I offered to give up my half day," Maybe not out loud, but she doesn't need to know that, "but I think he's used to having two footmen and an under butler, but I wouldn't want to put him under any strain and I wouldn't want you to think I was neglecting my duties to your household."

"I would certainly not think that. You have served us well and loyally, Barrow, even after that abhorrid business with the Duke. If you have reason to go to Durham I would say that it must be of great importance, and I don't see why you would be putting Carson under strain; from what I've seen of Sebastian he's more than capable of handling two dinners, two luncheons, and two breakfasts. So I'll tell you what, Barrow, I will arrange everything with Carson, and you just go and bring us back a footman. Put Carson out of his misery." Lady Grantham smiled, always finding joy in a scheme, even a small one.

"Thank you, Milady, very much."

That was easier than expected, but Thomas knew Her Ladyship was a soft touch, O'Brien always said so. He knew he would be in the dog house with Mr Carson for a while, but it was better than having to wait two weeks until his day off until he could go to Durham of his own will. By then Mr Carson might have taken on a new footman and there would be no job for Thomas to offer Jimmy. He had to go that day, and his manipulation had succeeded. He ran straight upstairs, his leave was effective immediately and Thomas knew exactly when the next train was and he was destined to be on it. He would tell Victoria he was going on the way down, even if it meant just displaying himself to her in his day attire complete with a packed overnight bag; that would be a just as easy way of telling her that he was going.

He kept a grin on his face, packing a shirt, some underwear, his lovely pocket watch; elated that he managed to get away with seeing Jimmy AND an extra night to recuperate after his ordeal, AND he didn't have to tell the truth about ANYTHING. Now that, my friends, is a result.

He finished packing his night things and left, not bothering to say goodbye, the train was getting nearer. He just popped his head in to Mr Carson to let him know he had gone, the butler giving him a dirty look, which was not easy for a man of Mr Carson's cleanliness, but he didn't appreciate his under butler going over his head the way he did and took pleasure in conveying that to Thomas.

However, communicating his departure to Victoria was not as simple as he previously conceived; as the young maid chased him outside, clutching a paper to her chest.

"Thomas! Thom- you're going now?"

"Yes." Thomas gestured to his garb, and the absurdity of her question. "What is it?"

"Nothing, it can wait." She held the paper behind her back, but Thomas sensed something in her, some giddy spiritedness. "Just… read the paper on the train." She insisted.

"Why?"

"Just do it. I'll see you when you come back. Good luck." She wished him, back-stepping indoors.

"All right, see you on Sunday. Don't miss me too much." He laughed, though he suspected no one would miss him, not even Victoria. He knew as well that secretly Mr Carson was probably delighted that his wayward under butler was out of his hair for a couple of days despite his objections. Thomas didn't care.


He bought a paper to read from the news stand and got on the train, he cursed Victoria's insistence that he buy a paper as it made him late enough to make him run for the train and he had to jump aboard while it was moving. He knew that girl would be the death of him. He found a suitably empty carriage gave it its own seat beside him on the train, and didn't pick it up for a while, he just thought. He was laughing all the way, not out loud, but in his mind; of his trickery, his escape, and the prospect of the reunion to come.

He kept rubbing his thighs, worried about what he would say. He rehearsed it over and over. "Well, well, long time, no see." "Hi, you all right?" "Oi, Jimmy, remember me? I'm Thomas Barrow, and that's Mr Barrow to you, Ha Ha!"

Oh god.

He opened his bag and espied the bottle of whisky he had there. No, he had to keep a clear head for this. He wasn't sure why he brought it, it made him feel better somehow just knowing it was there if he needed it, he probably would after seeing him. What would he be like now? Victoria said he had changed. How? He imagined Jimmy striding towards him, illuminated by a strong back drop of light, but nothing different, just the same as he was the first time he saw him; uncertain, yet confident. Thomas shook his head from the image, he knew he would never know any different until he saw the young man with his own eyes.

He banged the back of his head against the head of his seat, ready for a further hour of restlessness, when he saw the paper sat beside him and took it up to distract himself. What was so important Victoria wanted him to read? He had to look no further than the headline on the front page.

"FRENCH COUNT EXONERATED, SURPRISE WITNESS GIVES TESTIMONY"

French Count? Alex? What witness? Alex is innocent? What does it mean? Could it even be Alex? Is there another French Count on trial for his life?

Thomas had a moment where he felt he should get off the train and go straight back to Downton, wondering whether he should have ever left and stayed to let the maid tell him the news herself, but he couldn't do anything but sit there. He couldn't turn back, not now, not when he was so near. She was strong and didn't stop him, she knew this had to be done. She didn't need him, Jimmy did. He could do nothing but read on.

'After weeks of deliberations and testimonies from various witnesses, the Court was sure to return a verdict of 'guilty' on the young Count, Phillipe Alexandre de Chagny, with the charge of patricide. However, two days ago, a witness came forward which led to overturn the case in a way that came as a surprise to all, including the exonerated Count. The witness, a maid to the late Comte de Chagny, came forward with the vital information and testified that she had seen an altercation between the late Comte and his son and that his death was in fact the result of a push, provoked by the deceased. The reason for her late admission came at the revelation of an affair she had with the late Count, and in staying silent protected the reputation of her employer. Her testimony may have saved the young Count from the guillotine but his standing and his reputation have been permanently tarnished by his responsibility, nonetheless.

As a result, the Count has volunteered to give up his entire inheritance and transfer it into his brother's name, the same brother who has secured the health of the estate since the late Count's death. Phillipe Alexandre has, however, retained his title as Count by the wishes of his brother, and was kind enough to give us a statement, saying; "I will remain in France to finalise the details of my father's will and the transfer of the estate into the capable hands of my brother, Francois. Then I will return to England to complete some unfinished business and with any luck by the time I return to France I will be engaged."'

ENGAGED?!

He could have laughed, he could have cried.

He was relieved, and happy that Alex never lied to him. He did have doubts about it; that Alex could have been a cold blooded killer all along, but it was an accident. Of course it was exactly like Alex to give up everything, or should he call him Phillipe? Or Monsieur le Comte? Thomas may not have been able to go back to Downton that day, but he would surely be there when Alex returned. Victoria may have had doubts, Thomas still had reason to doubt, but he knew Alex would return to fulfil his promise; to ask Victoria for her hand in marriage. He wouldn't know what she would say, he didn't know what he would want her to say, maybe he should stay out of it. If Alex returned that weekend then Thomas certainly would keep well away. Nothing would take him back to Downton now.


The train came to a stop, he disembarked hurriedly, pushing his way through the trail of people leading off, and he ran to the first car available, which he ordered to drive him to Lady Anstruther's. He knew nothing about Durham. Lord Grantham was not associated with Lady Anstruther, he did not know where she lived, nor what her home was called. Fortunately the man who drove him knew exactly where to go and took him straight there. Thomas' foot tapped against the floor of the car nervously on the way, maybe he should have called first, it wasn't proper to arrive unannounced. He would do something right. He paid his fare and went round the back entrance of the ginormous house. It was easily bigger than Downton Abbey, the late Lord Anstruther must have been devastatingly rich. It was no wonder Jimmy returned to the glorious pale-stoned house, there was certainly enough room for him, and his ego, and for Christian… and his piano, Thomas spat spitefully in his mind, unaware he was actually pulling a noxious face simultaneously.

He knocked on the door where a young girl soon answered, fortunately his sour 'piano' face had faded by then. Thomas swallowed and asked if James Kent was there, still doubting that he was even after the phone call verified it. Or that maybe the driver had tricked him and brought him to the wrong place. His fears were allayed when the girl nodded shyly and said Jimmy was just coming down from serving at a dinner party. She invited Thomas in, not asking what his business was, and Thomas wasn't going to give it. The girl put Thomas in their servants' hall, he received varying looks off the staff that passed; mostly curious, hankering for gossip surrounding this handsome stranger. Thomas didn't know whether to snicker or scowl at the giggling of some of the maids who came near. Two of them nudged each other to start up some kind of conversation with the older man. Thomas hoped the attention would not be so heavy when he saw Jimmy.

He waited for five minutes…. Ten minutes…. Fifteen minutes.

He had time to smoke two cigarettes. Was he really that nervous? He was Mr Barrow! An under butler! He didn't get nervous.

But he knew that the conversation was likely to end with him receiving a punch in the face and thrown out into the night, where Jimmy announced he would never want to see him again and Thomas would spend that night drowning his sorrow in his scotch… of course that's why he brought it. He knew he would need it at the end of the day.

Why wouldn't he be nervous?!

Every footstep he heard his head jerked round to see if it was Jimmy, but it wasn't. He felt like getting up and going, maybe it was one elaborate plot to trap him and those girls were giggling in success and at his gullibility.

He was hungry, he didn't realise how late it had gotten. Was it really dinner time already? Of course he was offered a drink and some food, even to join the servants for their tea, but Thomas wanted nothing to determine for him how long he would be at Lady Anstruther's, nothing to tie him down to that table.

Soon after, a young man came in, not afraid like everyone else was to come and appear before the mystery guest who gave off such negative and mysterious energy. The youth came in, dressed in a black tie tuxedo (unusual for a downstairs character), whistling an upbeat tune and even gave a suave dance when he came in. If he wasn't distracted by his mission Thomas would have had something to say to this young man, but he hadn't the heart. However, he didn't need to speak, seeing Thomas the dancing man said to him; "Evening. Haven't seen you around here before? I shouldn't be throwing you out should I?" The youth smiled.

Thomas stubbed out his third cigarette, determined not to remain alone in the room for much longer with this boy. "I'm here to see Jimmy Kent."

"Ah, I see." The young man lit up a cigarette of his own, and became more serious at mention of Jimmy. "Hope it's nothing bad you're wanting him for."

"Why?"

"He's a friend. I'm Christian Selby, Lady Anstruther's pianist." That explained the tuxedo.

"Christian?" Thomas repeated slowly. Could this really be his rival- uh, Jimmy's new lover? He was tidy enough, and confident enough certainly. 'Where's your piano?' The under butler thought sardonically. Uh oh, he was pulling that face again. Thomas realised it this time by the paranoid look the pianist was giving him in response and shook his expression back to normal.

That look he gave wasn't just because of Jimmy, it was partly due to envy. He was envious; if only he could have been spared in the same way the boy was by the Duke, why couldn't someone have barged in and saved him? Why was he always so unlucky?

"Who are you?" Christian asked, not liking any man to have the advantage of him, nor the scrutinising look the stranger was giving him.

"Thomas Barrow," Thomas replied, "under butler to Lord Grantham of Downton Abbey."

"Thomas? You're Thomas?"

The tone Christian used was familiar to Thomas, in that it was the same as that he used himself when Christian revealed his identity, it was a tone of recognition, and it made Thomas uneasy to think the boy knew him. "What of it?" He asked shakily, could Jimmy have talked about him to Christian? What did he say? Why? Everything Christian said only made Thomas believe more and more that Jimmy had moved on with this young man, and even what he said next startled him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Barrow. I am."

Before Thomas could question the compassionate yet understanding look he was receiving off the pianist a clump of footsteps into the room turned their attention, especially Thomas'.

"Thomas?" The new voice said.

The under butler got to his feet in greeting, and said, "Hello Jimmy."