CHAPTER 97: NOTHING UNTOWARD
Late that afternoon
Thomas Barrow's Bedroom
Maison de Bennett
"I'll get it."
Thomas did not grasp the words, but they woke him just the same. He opened his eyes to a pyjama-clad neck. His eyes followed the neck to a stubbled chin and familiar eye crinkles. Bates was sleeping on his back with his head tilted slightly towards Thomas. He must have been talking in his sleep. Thomas could feel Bates' slow, warm exhalations in his hair, and he was filled with a sense of peace. There seemed nothing untoward about his being nestled in the crook of Bates' arm or having his arm wrapped about Bates' waist. There seemed nothing unseemly about his reaching up to touch Bates' hair.
Bates stirred, half-opened his eyes and closed them again. "You should move over now, Pooh. Brouette could come in."
Subdued, Thomas moved silently to his own side of the bed, being careful to use only his right hand for assistance. He leaned against the headboard and tried to assemble his thoughts, which seemed to stand in line, each waiting for its turn to be catalogued and filed. This concussion has made me stupid, he complained to himself. When he recalled how he had come to be sleeping in Bates' arms, he was mortified. Bates had been forced to comfort him as though he were an infant. If John ever has seen me as a man with a man's sensibilities, then that was the end of it.
An hour later
"Anna, we overslept!" Bates sat up in a frenzy, then realized where he was. "Thomas?"
"In here," came Thomas' voice from the bathroom.
Bates yawned and stretched luxuriously and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Thomas in his robe.
"Sleeping Beauty has awakened without a kiss," Thomas remarked without looking at Bates. "You can't trust a fairy tale."
Bates picked up the alarm clock and held it at arm's-length so he could see the time without his glasses. "I can't make up for lost sleep the way I could when I was your age."
"You were never my age." Thomas walked to the fan and opened his robe to enjoy the breeze. "I'm buying a fan when we return to London."
Bates watched Thomas' robe flutter. He's in a peculiar mood. "Turn around and let me get a look at you."
Thomas tied his robe and turned.
"What's that, Pooh? A goatee?"
"Yes."
"To hide the stitches?"
"That's right."
"Clever. I wonder what Lady Grantham will say."
"She'll say, Don Quixote lives!"
Bates chuckled. "You took a bath by yourself?"
"I don't recall having visitors."
"No difficulties?"
"Only my ribs, getting in and out of the tub."
How's your head?
"John, I thought we were done with all the questions!"
"Do you have a headache?" demanded Bates.
Thomas sighed. "Only a bit, but the dizziness is gone."
"Do you want an aspirin?"
"I've had it already and wrote it on the record you've been keeping."
"Good. No need for Mama Bear."
"That's right. No need for Mama Bear. Only ... the bandages, John ... I can't quite manage ..."
"I forgot. Give me a few minutes." Bates disappeared into the bathroom. When he reappeared, he slipped on his glasses and motioned Thomas to the medical tray. "Slip out your arm."
Thomas slipped his arm from his robe and pressed the robe to his chest.
Bates gave the robe a playful tug. "We've shared a bed, and now you're going to be modest?"
Thomas did not answer.
Bates gazed at Thomas a moment and then refocused his attention on the bandage. "I don't see any sign of infection. You're like a cat with nine lives," he mused as he applied a new dressing. "Dr Sauvé must have told me at least a half-dozen times how lucky you were to have come away with only a flesh wound. The bullet could have hit an artery or damaged nerves or muscle or even shattered your shoulder joint." He sank onto the bed.
"Are you unwell, John? You look a bit green about the gills."
Bates smiled wanly. "I'm fine, Pooh. It's foolish of me to let myself worry about what might have happened."
"I suppose that's the burden of being a Mama Bear." A knock sounded and Thomas fixed his robe. "I forgot. I rang for Brouette while you were sleeping and asked him to bring us afternoon tea."
Bates nodded. "I'll finish the bandages after we eat."
Thomas opened the door, and Brouette entered the room pushing a cart. "I'm glad to see you up and about, Monsieur Barrow." He proceeded to transfer the tea service and platters from the cart to the table.
Bates previewed the appealing display of sandwiches and sweets. "Will you join us, Brouette?"
"I appreciate the invitation, Monsieur Bates, but I've fallen behind in my duties."
"I'm afraid I've made a large dent in your routine," apologized Thomas.
"Not at all, Monsieur Barrow. The staff here is efficient. I'll have to put on quite a show of buttling this afternoon, or they'll think they can manage without me," joked Brouette.
Thomas laughed appreciatively. "Another time, then."
"May I suggest that you take a stroll this evening, if you're up to it. The housemaids can freshen your room while you're out."
"I don't know about you, Pooh, but I'm desperate for some fresh air," replied Bates.
Thomas agreed. "We'll let you know when we leave the house, Brouette. And please notify Lady Grantham that I'm well enough to travel."
Brouette smiled. "Perhaps I should inform Her Ladyship after you've left the house. There are three ladies downstairs waiting to spoil you."
The men shared a laugh, and Brouette excused himself.
Bates sat at the table. "Tea?"
"I can do it."
"Shall I cut up a sandwich for you?"
"I can manage!"
"I beg your pardon."
"I didn't mean to snap, John, but you've forgotten that this isn't the first time I've had make do without my left hand. It's only the bandages I can't manage."
"You're right. I had forgotten."
The two men fell to eating. Bates did not want to make Thomas self-conscious as he clumsily cut his sandwich into bite-size pieces. "Would you like to hear a story about my childhood, Pooh?" he asked casually. "A happy one," he added quickly.
"I'd like that."
Bates took a sip of tea before beginning. "I've told you that my mother's mother was Scottish. One summer, my father announced that he could afford to take us on holiday to Scotland to visit my mother's sister and her family. My aunt and uncle were crofters in the Highlands where they raised sheep." Bates took a bite of his sandwich.
"What kind of work did your father do?"
"He was a train guard in and out of London Victoria." Bates took another sip of tea. "My aunt had five boys ... five rowdies ... even the youngest, who was still in a dress as little boys were in those days. My cousins lived a hard life. I may have been taller, but they were tougher."
"Did you like them?"
"Like them? I worshiped them! I was a soft lad. Soft and a bit drab, to say the least. But my cousins were full of the devil. Each day with them was an adventure. My father insisted that I help with the farm, and I didn't dislike the work. But it was afterwards that the fun began. We'd build forts ... play pranks ..."
"Pranks?"
"Every night we'd sneak out of the house to see what mischief we could invent. One night, we managed to stand a grown sheep on the roof without the slightest noise." Bates began to laugh.
"A sheep?"
Bates slapped the table. "I'll never forget the look on Mam's face! The sheep was wearing her good hat! Of course, we were ordered to rescue it immediately."
"The sheep or the hat?"
"Both. I remember the sheep wasn't nearly as docile coming down as it had been going up."
"What did she think of your cousins? Your mother, I mean, not the sheep."
Bates shook his head. "Poor Mam. The next day she caught us smoking my uncle's pipe and told my father. I was afraid he'd cut our holiday short. I still remember what he told her. The lad needs a chance to have brothers. It's only for a few more days. That's when I knew what I wanted more than anything, but it was not to be."
Thomas smiled knowingly as though only he could appreciate the meaning of the story.
"It was the way the boys were with each other. Always arguing and teasing. But if one was hurt, the others rallied. If one was in trouble, the others confessed. If one needed advice, the others shared their wisdom. Pooh, do you think I'm in my dotage to ask you to fill their shoes ... at my age?"
Thomas dropped his eyes to his plate and shrugged.
Bates sipped his tea as he watched Thomas spear a piece of sandwich with his fork and guide it carefully past his wired teeth so he could chew it safely with his molars. "Are your teeth attaching?"
"I can't tell. I can't feel anything. I'm supposed to give it three weeks before I go to a dentist."
Bates nodded. "Pooh?"
"Yes."
"Look at me, Pooh."
"Leave me be, John."
"Something's wrong, isn't it?"
Thomas shrugged.
"Is it your head? You must tell me if you're in pain." Bates pushed back his chair. "I'll ask Brouette to ring the doctor."
"No, John. It isn't anything like that. Can't you leave it alone?"
"Tell me what's wrong, and then I'll tell you if I can leave it alone."
Thomas carefully inserted another piece of sandwich into his mouth and chewed in silence.
Bates poured himself a second cup of tea. "After what happened this morning, I thought we were beyond this. I thought we truly could talk to each other about anything."
"I don't want to talk about what happened this morning."
"Is that it, Pooh? Are you upset about what happened?"
Thomas shrugged.
"I'm sorry, Pooh. I know my behaviour ... crossed a line."
Thomas raised his head. "Your behaviour?"
"I embarrassed both of us."
Thomas set down his fork. "John, I was the one ..."
"I need you to trust me, Pooh," interrupted Bates. "I need you to believe what I'm going to say."
"I trust you, John."
"Do you? I'm afraid you may believe ... because I chose to sleep in your bed ... because I wanted to hold you ... I don't want you to believe that I was trying to seduce you. You've had enough men take advantage of you."
"Seduce me?" Thomas pressed his lips together. Then his eyes watered, and he burst out laughing.
"See here, Thomas Barrow, I know how to be seductive if I choose to be!"
Thomas clutched his sides as he doubled over. "Oh, John, my ribs!"
"Are you done?"
"Yes ... but ... you won't try to vamp me, will you?"
"Why do I bother talking to you?"
"I'm sorry, John." Thomas grinned as he collected himself, and the wire on his teeth glinted in the afternoon sun from the window.
"I should be glad, I suppose, that you think it's ridiculous."
"Tell me what you were going to say, John. I'm ready."
"Are you?"
Thomas wiped his eyes and nodded.
"I only want to explain my behaviour." Bates took another sip of tea as he considered exactly what he wanted to say. "Pooh, I had no idea how badly you had suffered after your mother died. It overwhelmed me. It made me want to smother you with the affection you missed from her. There was nothing more to it."
"I never thought otherwise, John."
"No?"
"No. But ... what about my behaviour?"
"Your behaviour? What was wrong with your behaviour? You did what I asked. You let yourself get carried away and let young Thomas cry."
"But ... never mind."
"What, Pooh? Tell me."
"I don't want you to see a boy when you look at me. I want you to see me. I want you to see the man I am now."
"I see the man, Pooh."
"Truly?"
"Truly. But what happened to the boy is a part of the man you are now. Just as this cake is going to be a part of me." Bates reached for the sweets tray and tousled Thomas' hair before making his choice. "Cake, little brother?"
"Don't eat it all, you old goat!" Thomas protested as he filled a plate with the treasures he coveted for himself. "I can't keep up with this damned wire."
Bates and Thomas shared quips, and Bates was satisfied that Thomas' mood had passed. He took a final sip of tea and excused himself to take a bath. As he bathed, he turned over in his mind the words that had passed between Anna and himself as he had packed for Paris only a few days before. They had known only that Thomas was missing and wondered if they would ever see him again. It was time to tell Thomas what they had decided.
