Dr. Clarkson shut the door with such a solemn expression that Mrs Hughe thought that Thomas had died.
"Can we speak privately?" The doctor inquired and Mrs Hughes led him to Mr Carson's office, which despite the lateness of the evening was still occupied by the butler, who with furrowed brows calculated this month's expenses.
"May we come in?" Mrs Hughes asked after a brief knock, "Thomas woke up and Dr. Clarkson needs to talk to us." The butler nodded, "Of course, please come in. Dr. Clarkson would you like to have some tea?"
"No, thank you, Carson." The doctor declined as they sat down, and whether intentionally or not Mrs Hughes found herself next to Carson, both facing Dr Clarkson like worried parents.
"Unfortunately, I have no good news," the doctor finally remarked.
Carson raised his eyebrows. "I thought Thomas just woke up? How can that be no good news?"
"Well," Dr Clarkson inhaled deeply, „I want to and I have to be honest with you. The fact that Thomas woke up after all surprised me." Mrs Hughes gasped, but Dr Clarkson continued, "His head injury was fairly severe, and that fact that he is alive only shows how well you cared for him. Superficially the head wound healed neatly but as it seems the injuries inside his head did not heal."
"What does that mean?" Carson asked.
"It is difficult to explain because the brain is such a complex organ. But to keep it simple: While harm to the hand, such as a a cut, heals with time, damage to the brain does not. We do not know why yet, hopefully we will in the future, but for know," the doctor shrugged his shoulders, "What's broken in the head cannot be fixed."
"I still don't understand," Mrs Hughes said, „He did wake up, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did, and he even ate some broth, but he is altered."
"Altered?" Carson repeated.
"He is not himself. He cannot remember who he is or where he is. He has trouble coordinating he hands and feet. He speaks in simple sentences and it seems as he understands simple words but no more. He has adopted a child-like behavior."
The room fell silent as both Mrs Hughes and Carson tried to understand the situation; yet imagining Thomas as anything but a proud footman seemed impossible.
"I will personally inform Lord Grantham tomorrow." Dr. Clarkson said, but Carson still did not understand, "Saying what?"
"That Thomas will no longer be able to work as a footman. I doubt he will work in another capacity in the future. O the contrary, he will require assistance to get through his day. To what extent I cannot say yet. I must first do more testing."
"Oh my—. That's horrible." Mrs Hughes looked at Carson who with his wide eyes reflected her own astonishment. Dr. Clarkson shifted on his chair, knowing the next question was not an easy one.
"Do you have an address or a way to contact Thomas's family?"
Mrs Hughes's shoulders fell, "As far as I know he doesn't have any family left. His mom died when he was a child and the difficult relationship with his father ended last year when the man died, too."
"How do you know that?" Carson asked, surprised by the fairly intimate details she knew about the man who kept only to himself.
"Some days all you have to do is to be there and to listen," she smiled with watery eyes.
"With no family left," Dr Clarkson interjected, "I might be able to arrange a place in a nearby asylum."
"No!" Mrs Hughes stood up, pushing her chair away forcefully. "He cannot go to an asylum."
"That's not for you to decide. If he cannot work any longer, then he has no place here," Carson words sounded harsh in her ears but his warm hand on her arm betrayed his tone. "It is Lord Grantham's decision alone."
"But," Mrs Hughes's voice was thin by now, "are you sure that he will not recover? That he won't be able to do even the simplest task like watering the flowers or cleaning the dirty dishes ?"
"Elsie," Carson warned, and she knew that he wanted her to stop pushing but she couldn't let it go.
"I don't know." Dr Clarkson said, "I understand that is not the response you were hoping for, but I really don't know." And with that Elsie Hughes crumbled and the tears she had been holding back since Thomas's accident flowed so profusely that the men in the room had to avert their eyes; and even Tom Branson who had been listening to the conversation, hidden by the shadows of the night and turned into stone by his guilt, finally turned around to ran up the stairs, his legs moving as fast as his heart was beating until he reached the servant's quarter again.
"Thomas, do you want more broth?" Anna asked as she pointed to the empty bowl in her lap, but he had already forgotten the question as he was fighting is tired eyes to stare at the man in the doorway.
"Thomas?", Anna asked, "What are you looking at?" Then she turned around and to her surprise faced a pale-looking Tom Branson.
"Is everything alright, Tom?" Anna placed the bowl on the nightstand. "Am I needed?"
"No, no, I just—," he entered the room until he stood next to Anna, "How is he?"
"Thomas?" Anna asked, glancing at the sleeping form of Thomas Barrow, "I don't know. He ate a bit but something seems off."
"What do you mean?" Even though he already knew the answer, he wanted to hear it from Anna too.
"He is different. He couldn't remember my name, and I sure he also couldn't remember his name but reacts to Thomas by now." She yawned, "I'm sorry, Tom. I've been sitting with him the whole night."
"No, problem. Do you—," he looked to the ground as he spoke, "Do you want me to stay with him?"
"You would? You haven't been here since the accident."
"I know, I just couldn't." Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I feel guilty. For all of this."
"Tom," Anna stood up and placed her small hands on his arms, "It was an accident. You hear me, Tom? An accident."
For a moment they stood in silence. Tom savoring the warmth of her hands and the stability she provided. Then he whispered, "They want to send him away. To an asylum."
Anna gasped, "Who?"
"Dr Clarkson. He said that Thomas's injury is so severe that he won't be able to work anymore. And without work he has no longer a place at Downton."
"No," Anna shock her head, "I cannot believe that Lord Grantham would send him away." Tom snorted, "I can. I mean Thomas is a good footman but not a good employee. He is or was trouble. Why would Lord Grantham keep him?" Defeated Tom sat on the chair next to Thomas's bed, "I ruined his life."
"Oh, Tom. Let me talk to Lady Grantham tomorrow. We'll find a solution. I mean, he is not totally helpless. He ate his broth, and I am sure with a bit of help he will be able to walk and to do something."
"I don't know, Anna. I feel terrible."
"Why don't you sit with him and talk to him a bit? Figure it out for yourself what he can or cannot do, but don't forget: nobody expected him to wake up, but he did. So don't underestimate Thomas Barrow."
Tom nodded, "You're right."
Anna smiled and went to the door.
"Anna?"
"Yes, Tom?" He could see that she suppressed another yawn.
"Why are you so kind to him?" She stopped, The hand that was reaching for the door handle dropped as she turned around, "What do you mean?"
"More than once he didn't make your life easy."
Anna smiled, "And more than once he helped me, even without asking. But that's between him and me. Goodnight, Tom."
She shut the door, leaving Tom Branson alone with his guilt and the burning desire to find a way for Thomas Barrow to continue living at Downton Abbey.