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*** chapter 20***
Lottie was too concerned about making the acquaintance of any lurking spiders to remember the loose hinge on the door of the large walk-in linen cupboard in the servants' corridor, caused the door, if not left wedged open, to softly almost close as if in gentle reproach. She paid dearly for her mistake. For, while not securing the door was never sufficient for it to slam angrily shut altogether, it was inevitably sufficient to plunge its hidden world into semi-darkness. To her horror, the door she left wide open to let light flood in swung back and only a thin pencil of daylight now trickled through the gap.
The last time the timid maid-of-all-work set foot inside said cupboard, the biggest spider in the world (in Lottie's opinion) was spinning a giant web on the very shelf that held the sheets she needed, and it was all she could do not to scream. But she had been reprimanded often enough before for screaming at the sight of spiders - though she did allow herself a muffled cry as she snatched up the required bedding, which caused the arachnid to halt to proceedings in building its new home to freeze and stare at the youngest Downton Abbey servant.
So, as Lottie reluctantly entered the linen cupboard that afternoon, she was keeping a sharp look-out for any spiders and thought the best way to avoid them was to creep slowly along while the modus operandi of the resident spider (whether or not it was the same busy constructor, possibly with orders for several more webs to be built, we will never know) was to crawl hurriedly along whatever surface it happened to be on while staying alert for predators and prey. This time, the spider sensed movement just as in the dull light Lottie espied its eight long spindly legs skittering along the floor, and both froze to stare at one another.
Not daring scream for fear of another stern ticking off, Lottie instead took a deep breath, quickly grabbed the towels she was sent to fetch, and watching the spider as warily as the spider was watching Lottie, began backing towards the door. That was when she heard the voices.
She recognised them instantly. Mr Barrow and Miss Baxter. And to her consternation, for she liked both immensely, they were arguing.
Others didn't pay a great deal of attention to the quiet little maid-of-all-work, but Miss Baxter had been very kind and pleasant to Lottie ever since she came to Downton Abbey to take up the very important position of ladies' maid to Lady Grantham. And Mr Barrow, who was even more important, second in command only to Mr Carson, had always been very, very nice to her.
Just thirteen, and the very youngest member of the Downton Abbey household staff, for even Ida, the next-to-youngest and nearly a whole year older, had left to be a shop-girl, sometimes Lottie was treated more leniently and at other times, when Downton Abbey was exceptionally busy, such as at Christmas or when the Crawley family were playing host to an exceptionally large number of guests, her tender age was forgotten and she was expected to pitch in with the rest. A few of the very old servants, having gone into service themselves at twelve years old, albeit in far less caring households than Downton Abbey proved to be, were of the opinion it was "mollycoddling" to raise the school leaving age to fourteen after the Great War, and that Lottie, employed only part-time and attending school part-time, until her widowed mother's sudden death meant she needed board and lodgings and the full-time post Downton could provide, had been very spoilt indeed.
But being the very youngest, and being female in a patriarchal society, poor Lottie was expected to wait on everybody else and to do the jobs nobody else wanted to do. And while they were not deliberately cruel, when they were fully occupied with the thousand and one tasks servants in grand homes were required to do, it sometimes slipped their minds that she might be hungry or tired or unwell and Lottie was far too shy to speak up for herself.
That was why she liked Mr Barrow so much.
He made sure she sat down to a proper meal at least once a day, if he thought she was working too hard, he would send someone to help, and occasionally, aware her wages were lower than everyone else's and she was all alone in the world since her mother's death, would give her some money, telling her to treat herself.
Lottie would never forgot the afternoon, summoning up all her courage because she blushed and mumbled and stammered whenever she spoke to anyone, especially strangers, and she didn't know Mrs Lewis, the owner of Ye Olde Downton Tea Shoppe, at all, she made up her mind her treat that day would be to visit it. After several failed attempts, Mrs Lewis at last understood the muttered request, and Lottie, feeling like a wealthy lady of leisure, sat down to a large pot of tea and a scone with butter, jam and cream, gazing out of the window and watching the world – or, rather, some half dozen villagers, two horse and carts, a telegraph boy on a bicycle and a war-weary tabby cat - go by.
She got into hot water (literally) upon her return, being told she was far too young to be going down to the village on her own - although it would appear to have had more to do with the fact that while she was away Laundry desperately needed an extra pair of hands and thought Lottie, despite it being her afternoon off, would fit the bill, for nobody ever complained about her being far too young to go down to the village on her own before and had never done since.
Lottie's painful shyness often meant folk thought she was slow but while she could not lay claim to being a genius nor was she a halfwit. When she heard some of the servants who despised him talk disparagingly about Mr Barrow, she yearned to reveal how kind he was to her, but knew they would only tell her, as they'd told scullery maid Ida, when she tried to defend him after she was the only one of the kitchen staff to escape his harsh regime the fortnight he stood in as butler while Carson was away, he would "probably want something from her in return when she was older". Well, Ida might have been fooled, but Mother used to say "I'm not as green as I'm cabbage looking", and neither was Lottie!
She knew the accusations were unfounded and malicious. Anyway, Mr Barrow liked men, not girls, and while she thought it strange she didn't think it was the terrible thing others did. When she was growing up there had been a man the neighbours said liked to "go with" other men and he was called dreadful names, spat at and even beaten up for it, which Lottie personally thought far worse than the terrible thing in the first place. No, the oddest thing about Mr Barrow was that he never liked anybody to know he wasn't as cruel as he would have them believe.
In her own way, Lottie was every bit as perceptive as Miss Sybbie, but being several years older she understood a little more. And she thought she knew exactly why Mr Barrow behaved as he did.
He was bitter because he couldn't be in a loving relationship with another man in the same way others could be husband and wife, Lottie surmised, and he was angry because people thought a man being with another man was disgusting and wicked, and so he decided if they thought he was disgusting and wicked he might as well be. Which meant nobody could know he was patient and kind with the very young staff, and he wouldn't thank Lottie for telling them.
There was something else the young maid-of-all-work noticed that nobody else did. Mr Molesley wished Miss Baxter would be his sweetheart!
And so Mr Molesley was the only person she could think of to tell when she and the spider overheard a most peculiar the conversation while they were trapped together in the cupboard…
"Mrs Patmore gossiping about Mr Bates and Miss O'Hara doing much more than flirt has helped us enormously."
"It hasn't helped me. You know perfectly well I'm only agreeing under duress to say I saw them kissing."
Mr Barrow and Miss Baxter were arguing! Lottie didn't know they ever argued and it made her uneasy. She had heard the gossip about Mr Bates and Miss O'Hara, but didn't believe a word of it, and never joined in gossip anyway, but what did duress mean? The way Miss Baxter said it, it sounded like something bad. She couldn't imagine Mr Barrow doing something bad, no matter what others said, and she didn't want them to quarrel when she was so fond of both, but she didn't know how to stop it.
Too distracted now to think about spiders, she tugged undone one of the ribbons of her cap and twisted it round and round her finger and back again, wondering what on earth she should do. Would Mr Barrow and Miss Baxter think she'd hidden there on purpose to eavesdrop if she left the linen cupboard now? But what if they opened the door and found her there? Would that look even worse? Or was it worst of all to stay where she was and hope she wasn't discovered?
Should she come out of the cupboard or stay where she was, stay where she was or come out? Lottie tumbled the dilemma over and over in her mind without reaching a solution. (Of course, had he lived a century later and been in a similar situation, no doubt Thomas would have had no hesitation in coming out of the closet, and advising others to do the same, but these were less enlightened times and so, with no more than a fleeting smile at the irony, we must allow it to pass on by.)
Lottie couldn't bear Mr Barrow and Miss Baxter to think ill of her. They were the very nicest people in Downton Abbey, nicer even than Mrs Bates and Mrs Hughes and Mr Bates and Mr Carson and...and... She was close to tears. Oh, Lord, whatever should she do? Come out or stay where she was, stay where she was or come out?
But while she was still trying to decide, the conversation had already moved on. And become even more peculiar.
"But you're agreeing to my plan just the same. Surprising what some will do to protect their own interests, Miss Baxter."
"Surprising what some will do for revenge, Mr Barrow."
"Just do it, Miss Baxter. You know the consequences if you don't. I will not hesitate to inform Lady Grantham of your criminal past before coming to Downton, which naturally will be confirmed by your previous employer."
If the youngest servant in Downton Abbey had been agitated before, she was even more so now. The tears that threatened earlier took it upon themselves to roll down her cheeks and drip down her chin. Hearing their footsteps walking away did nothing to placate her. What did Mr Barrow mean? Miss Baxter wasn't a criminal! Perhaps he was joking...no, he didn't say it like he was joking, and what was all that horrible talk about revenge?
A good ten minutes elapsed before Lottie finally wiped her tears and fled, thankful the servants' corridor happened to be empty.
XXXXX
"Where on earth have you been with those towels until this time?" Miss Walker, who had sent her on the errand, demanded to know. She stopped when she turned around and saw Lottie's flushed face. "Whatever is the matter? Are you sick? Did you fall asleep? Has someone died?"
Lottie shook her head in answer to each question, the latter two of which were delivered with heavy sarcasm.
"Well, then." Miss Walker was fast losing patience. The girl was an imbecile! "Start cleaning out the guest bathroom. For Heaven's sake, Lottie, don't stand there dawdling when we've so much work to get through, go, go!" She added, shooing her away.
It was after supper before Lottie saw Mr Molesley. He was totally engrossed in some thick book, sitting comfortably by the fireside, having just enjoyed a hearty supper, finished off with a thick slice of Mrs Patmore's delicious lemon drizzle cake.
Joe Molesley had a whole hour off duty and was feeing extremely relaxed. Outside, the weather was wild, frost streaking the windows with icy kisses, but inside he was warm and snug. After a while, he became aware of Lottie standing nearby.
"Hello…?" He laid down his book. She was an odd little thing. Not much more than a kid, though.
Lottie jumped. She had been gazing at the corner of the ceiling, wondering how on earth to broach the subject. Mr Barrow and Miss Baxter were nowhere to be seen and the servants' quarters were unusually quiet. She knew it was her best chance, but she didn't know Mr Molesley even realised she was there. Most people seemed to believe she was invisible.
She swallowed once, then her mumbled words ran into each other like a speeding train careering off the tracks. "Mr Barrow has a plan and Miss Baxter said duress and I don't know what that means and I was in the cupboard and there was a spider and Mr Barrow said Miss Baxter had been a criminal in the past before Lady Grantham and..."
"Whoa, whoa!" Joseph Molesley, raised his hand to halt the verbal onslaught he could barely hear. He was baffled. Why was Lottie so upset over Miss Baxter's dress? "What does Miss Baxter's dress have to do with anything?"
Lottie blinked. "Nothing, Mr Molesley," she whispered, equally as baffled, her face aflame.
"And I don't think Lady Grantham was a criminal before Miss Baxter was, do you?" He joked, to lighten the mood and put the young girl at her ease.
The joke fell flat, however. "No-o, Mr Molesley. Sorry," Lottie mumbled, more puzzled than ever.
Why was Mr Molesley talking about dresses and Lady Grantham being a criminal? She turned away, embarrassed, wishing she'd never said anything, but the footman caught hold of her elbow.
Although Lottie's mumbles were garbled and he couldn't make out several words, he had at least picked up on the names. He guessed the maid-of-all-work had been nearby when Mr Barrow and Miss Baxter had a difference of opinion. He didn't like Barrow and he resented him calling Miss Baxter a criminal, but he never for a moment thought there was any truth in it. Thomas Barrow was a nasty piece of work with nasty turns of phrase. "Lottie," he said. "Do you think you could tell me exactly what was said?"
Surprisingly, Lottie could. Whilst she rarely, if ever, joined in any conversation she had an excellent memory for it, and in mumbles, whispers and stammers, she recited everything she'd overheard.
"Thank you, Lottie," Molesley said, when finally he understood. "You can leave it with me to deal with now." He had no qualms about warning the young girl not to tell anyone else. It had taken all Lottie's courage and energy as it was to talk to one person. He didn't know why she chose him to tell, but he was glad she did. Barrow was up to something underhand, and he intended to rescue Miss Baxter from it!
As for Lottie, she heaved a sigh of relief that the burden was lifted from her thin shoulders. Mr Molesley would sort everything out. She hated telling tales about her two favourite people, but she just wanted them to be friends again, and she returned to her duties feeling a good deal happier, unaware she had just opened a can of worms…