CHAPTER 29: THE LETTER

Thomas was anxious to eradicate the memory others held of his scoundrel years, as he referred to his earlier life at the Abbey. He became obsessed with performing his job to perfection, and his pursuit of perfection often led to insomnia. Bates and Mrs Hughes knew the signs. He would stop eating and become withdrawn and even clumsy. His eyes would disappear in black shadow. Bates and Mrs Hughes dreaded the melancholy and paranoia that sometimes followed.

Soon after Minnie embarked on her new position at the Abbey, Bates and Mrs Hughes were relieved to see the shadows fade from Thomas' face and his hearty appetite return. Mrs Hughes had insisted that Minnie report to Thomas because she functioned more in his realm than hers. Thomas found he could rely on Minnie. She was cheerful without being sweet. (Thomas found sweet women to be annoying.) She never rushed through a task to get to the end but rather was a mistress of detail. Never again did Thomas have to re-polish the brass dragons at the front door.

The only hiccup was Minnie's tendency to sing while she worked. She had gotten into the habit at her previous position working for an older woman who had grown deaf. The woman's family would be out and about during the day, and the staff would share all the latest songs while they worked, and no one knew the difference. Thomas was amused by Minnie's impish voice singing Baby Face but was forced to remind her that members of the Crawley family would not appreciate the concert.

As his insomnia dissipated and his vigour returned, Thomas became secure again in his blossoming relationships and accepted Bates' friendship for what it was. He knew Bates returned his affection, maybe not in kind, but he returned it nonetheless, and Thomas knew it was sincere.

On the other hand, Bates wondered if their friendship wasn't tying Thomas to a life he had outgrown. Times were changing, but the change in London was more robust than the change in Downton Village. Perhaps there was a place in London for Thomas to build a more satisfying life. Bates decided to take a chance. He retrieved Novello's card, which he had saved as a souvenir of a moment he knew would never come again, and wrote a letter.


Dear Mr Novello,

I am taking pen in hand to prevail upon your good nature on behalf of a close friend, Thomas Barrow, the butler who attended you during your visit to Downton Abbey in Yorkshire. I am hopeful that you will recall giving me your card upon your departure.

Mr Barrow is an artistic sort, such as yourself, and I fear that he has anchored himself to a village too quaint to offer him an outlet for his creative energies. I wonder if London might offer Mr Barrow a more fulfilling future. I am confident you have the sensitivity to grasp my meaning.

Mr Barrow has spent several seasons in London, but a servant has little time to discover the potential of a city. In addition, Mr Barrow will not have occasion to visit London in his capacity as butler this season. Our employer will not be opening Grantham House until next year.

I humbly request your advice on this delicate subject. I have not told Mr Barrow that I am writing to you and would appreciate your discretion.

Yours obediently,
John Bates


Bates mailed the letter half-hoping that he would not receive a reply. He wanted Thomas to be happy, but he did not want to lose the man who had become the outlet for all his brotherly affection.