CHAPTER 100: PERFECTLY ORDINARY

Immediately after

Thomas Barrow's Bedroom
Maison de Bennett

"Was that necessary?" muttered Bates as he straightened his robe and removed himself to the dressing room.

The question annoyed Thomas, who distracted himself by examining the limited selection in his wardrobe. He shoved hangers back and forth until he settled on the dark charcoal. The suit's smart cut would show off his trim figure and perhaps draw attention from his wired teeth. He caught sight of his forlorn evening trousers and paused to mourn the demise of its matching jacket. No matter. It wouldn't be any fun to strut about if John had nothing spiffy to wear.

Bates reappeared and walked briskly to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. In a fit of exasperation, Thomas slammed the wardrobe shut and stood outside the bathroom waiting for Bates to sense his righteous presence. Bates gave him no such satisfaction.

"John ...?"

"I'm bathing."

Fine. I can play that game. I can be insouciant. Thomas had learned the word during his time in Paris and thought he sounded continental when he used it. At last Bates opened the door, wrapped in a towel, and Thomas followed him to the dressing room. "So I tickled you," he remarked offhandedly. "So what? So now we're at outs?"

"I'm dressing," replied Bates. He shut the door, leaving Thomas on the other side.

"But that's it, isn't it?" Thomas shouted through the door.

"Is it?"

"Don't pull that mystery man stuff on me, John. I know you too well."

"Do you?"

"Why must you always have the last word?"

"You're imaging things, little brother."

"Don't patronize me, John!' barked Thomas, irritated by Bates' composure. "Why must everything be your way? Why must you always be the one who decides how things are going to be?" Thomas lowered his voice. "Are you aware that you all but ordered me to confess my worst years to you. You weren't satisfied until you heard every sordid detail. Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to tell you about Northcott?"

Bates opened the door. "I believe I do," he answered quietly.

For a moment, Thomas lost his sense of the argument. Bates was standing too close, and the faint scent of talc was too appealing. Bates stepped away, and Thomas' indignation was reignited. "What about you, John?"

"What about me?"

"What are your secrets? What makes Bonnie John tick? Hmm? You don't confide in me the way you expect me to confide in you."

"Of course not."

"But ...?" Thomas' resentment dissolved, and he leaned against the door frame. "John ... don't you trust me?"

Bates pulled on his trousers. "I trust you completely, Pooh, but there's one crucial difference between us."

"What difference?"

Bates held up two pairs of shoes. "Which, little brother?"

"The quarter brogues. Answer me, John. What's the difference between us?"

"The difference?" Bates sat on the bed and pulled on the shoes. "The difference is that I'm a coward."

Thomas took a moment to grasp the words. "You're teasing me. That's not kind of you, John."

"You wanted my confession, Pooh, and that's it. I'm a dyed in the wool coward. Now help me find my reading glasses. The housemaids move everything."


An hour later

Thomas Barrow's Bedroom
Maison de Bennett

Thomas emerged from the bathroom refreshed and hungry. "John?"

"In here," called Bates from the dressing room. "I thought I'd get a start on packing."

Thomas dressed as well as he could manage. "Help me, John. This cast is impossible."

Bates leaned into the bedroom grinning. "Look at my little brother asking for help."

Thomas waggled his finger. "Mind your manners, you old goat."

"Why, I'm as docile as a lamb," teased Bates, batting his eyelashes. Thomas laughed, and that was all Bates wanted. He gave Thomas' hair one good tousle before doing up his buttons and fastening his cuff links.

Thomas looped a tie around his neck. "I thought I heard you speaking to someone while I was in the bath."

"Did you?"

"Yes. It sounded like Brouette."

Bates fixed a proper knot in Thomas' tie. "I remember now. He wanted to know if his little invention kept your cast dry."

"It certainly did. He made it from the sleeve of an old Mackintosh and added press studs. He's a clever man."

"Resourceful, too. You like him, don't you, Pooh?"

Thomas opened his jar of Brilliantine. "Why wouldn't I like him? Don't you?"

"That's not what I meant. I meant ... damn it, Pooh, you know what I meant."

"John!" Thomas lowered his voice. "You don't even know if he's ..."

"Uranian?"

"Stop it, John!" Thomas stood in front of the mirror and carefully applied the oil to his hair. "That's not how it works."

"Then tell me how it works."

"John, you're impossible. You believe that if two queer men bump into each other, they fall in love."

"I do not. And don't use that word, Pooh. I don't like it."

"Well, that's the word they're using this season."

The two men fell silent. Thomas wiped his hands on a towel, and Bates stood by the mirror and watched as he combed his hair. "I'm sorry, Pooh. I only want you to be happy. I want ..."

"I know what you want, John. But you can't force these things."

"I know." Bates moved next to Thomas, and the two men gazed at their reflections.

"What do you think, John?"

"I think you look delicious."

Thomas laughed. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

"Starving! What about me? I don't look too bad ... for an undertaker."

"Don't worry, John. Ivor and I will get you fixed up before we go to the states."

"God help me."


A few minutes later

The Sitting Room
Maison de Bennett

Bates and Thomas found the women in the sitting room wearing their day dresses, and Bates was pleased by the simple gesture.

The Dowager stood when they entered and approached Thomas. "You've kept me waiting far too long. Let's have a look at you."

Thomas stood for a moment of inspection, then kissed the Dowager's cheek. "Will I do, my darling?"

Bates was stunned. "I beg your pardon, milady. It must be the concussion. My brother's confused."

The Dowager waved her hand. "Nonsense, Bates. Everything seems perfectly ordinary to me. Perhaps you're the one who's confused." The Dowager resumed her seat on the sofa. "Come sit by me, mon loulou."

"Whatever you wish, my darling."

Ella patted the cushion next to her. "Come take refuge here, John."

Bates accepted the seat gratefully. "Mon loulou?" he whispered. Ella nodded and stifled a giggle.

Lady Bennett took charge of the conversation. "Let's see the worst of it, Barrow. Show us your teeth."

"I couldn't possibly, Lady Bennett," replied Thomas. "It would offend you."

Lady Bennett smiled tolerantly. "Everyone here has lived through a war. We've seen far worse than two dismantled teeth. We're the cause of your condition, Barrow. You must allow us to see the damage and tell us what's to be done."

Bates could not restrain himself. "Milady, you've been generous, and I don't want to appear unappreciative, but I can't allow you to embarrass my brother."

"Do you make a habit of speaking for him, Bates?" chided Lady Bennett.

Thomas leaned forward. "He certainly does not. Look if you must." He curled up his lip to reveal the wire.

"Isn't that a cunning device," observed Ella.

"Does the dentist honestly expect the teeth to stick, mon loulou?"

"Enough to give it a try," replied Thomas. "And if they don't, I can always have a bridge made."

"If it comes to that, we'll take care of the cost, Barrow," insisted Lady Bennett. "It's only fair."

"Yes, it is," agreed Thomas bluntly, and to Bates' astonishment, the three women laughed genially.

"You could have diamonds where your teeth should be," suggested Ella. "I could design it."

"Diamonds! Would you consent to me having a blinding smile, my sweet?" Thomas asked the Dowager.

"I could manage it. I still have my eclipse screen." The three women laughed again, and Thomas joined their merriment.

"A smile like that won't be unique when you move to the states," remarked Ella. "I hear that Americans are more concerned with their children's teeth than their education. They worship dentifrice."

Bates was certain he had misheard, but Thomas shifted in his seat and spoke in a cautious tone. "You know about our ... interest in the states?"

The Dowager patted Thomas' hand. "My dear boy, you must know that Addy, Ella, and I are each a thousand years old ..."

"Excuse me, Vi, but I'm the youngest. I'm only nine hundred ninety-nine," corrected Lady Bennett.

"And I don't look a day over eight hundred," protested Ella.

"Very well. The point is that one does not survive for so many years without knowing everything worth knowing."

Ella tapped Bates' shoulder. "Let me decode that for you. She means we have spies everywhere."

"Does Lord Grantham know?" asked Thomas.

"My son? Let him recruit his own spies." The women laughed, and Thomas turned to Bates and shrugged.

"Dinner is served," announced Brouette.

Thomas escorted the Dowager and Lady Bennett into the dining room, and Bates offered his arm to Ella. Bates thought of himself as a man's man and was not adept at making small talk with women. He was relieved to be sitting next to Ella with whom he felt at ease. On the other hand, Thomas seemed to be in his element, joking and chatting and making the Dowager titter.

Bates knew that Brouette had consulted with the chef that afternoon about Thomas' cast. Thomas had no difficulty with the hors d'oeuvre: delicate quail eggs crowned with caviar. Cold tomato and tarragon soup posed no problem, and he managed the lighter-than-air fried fish quenelles easily with a fork. But when Brouette carved a crown roast of lamb, Bates could see the apprehension in Thomas' eyes. Bates had faith in the considerate Frenchman, and he was not disappointed. After the others were served, Brouette nimbly swapped the platter for a dish on which bite-sized morsels of lamb had been arranged, each a jewel glistening in a drizzle of hazelnut butter. He set the dish before Thomas with a cheerful wink. The lamb course was followed in quick succession by fig-stuffed squabs, presented with the heads intact, and asparagus à la hollandaise. Thomas received a specially prepared plate for each. As the meal progressed, Thomas defeated sweet potato fritters admirably, managed raspberry ice with aplomb, and held his own when it came time to crack the caramelized sugar on his crème brûlée. Brouette did not forget Bates' limitations and served him a refreshing mix of club soda and grapefruit juice whenever he made rounds with the wine. No one chose to notice these irregularities.

Bates did not want to overdo, knowing his plans for that night, but he also knew that his next dinner would be a filling but ordinary stew in the servants' hall of Grantham House.

The diners were picking at the last bit of blue cheese and berries when Lady Bennett rose from her seat. Bates and Thomas stood, and Lady Bennett addressed them. "We'll pass through now. Brouette has selected some excellent cigars for your enjoyment."

"You're most kind, Lady Bennett," began Bates. "The meal was delightful, and so was the company."

"This time my brother may speak for me," added Thomas.

The Dowager set down her serviette and stood as well. "Forgive us for the short evening, mon loulou. No cards tonight. Tomorrow is a long day, and you mustn't overdo."

"And the next time I see you, we'll be milady and Barrow?"

"That's how it will be, dear boy."

"Then I'll say goodnight, my darling." Thomas moved closer and kissed the Dowager sweetly on the cheek and whispered, "I'll miss you."

"D'accord. Goodnight, mon loulou."

Ella rose to join the women. "I'll see you in the morning, gentlemen. Enjoy the cigars. It must be someone's birthday somewhere, right Thomas?"

Thomas chuckled. "Right, Ella." He watched Brouette carry the cigar tray to the table and did not notice Ella and Bates' exchanging nods.

Thomas selected a cigar from the humidor and closed his eyes as he passed it under his nose. "Mmm, that's everything it should be."

Brouette and Bates took the opportunity to mouth a few clandestine words to each other.

Thomas opened his eyes. "Brouette, we insist you join us."

"If you can spare the time," hinted Bates.

"I appreciate the invitation, Messieurs, but our staff is small, and I must take care of my other duties."

Thomas trimmed the cigar with the cutter on the tray. "Certainly Lady Bennett will excuse you for our last night here."

Bates interrupted. "We can't continue to impose on Brouette's time, little brother. If we detain him now, he'll be forced to do double the work tomorrow."

Thomas looked from Bates to Brouette. "Is that true?"

"I don't mean to be rude, Monsieur Barrow."

"And I don't mean to be inconsiderate. But we'll see you before we leave tomorrow, won't we?"

"You have my word on it." Brouette reached for a tray of dishes.

"Wait, please," called Thomas. "What does d'accord mean?"

"D'accord? It means agreed."

"Agreed?"

"As though you and the person you're addressing are of the same mind."

Thomas smiled. "Thank you, Brouette." He selected a cigar and tucked it in Brouette's breast pocket. "Think of us when you smoke this."

Brouette returned the smile. "D'accord," he replied as he picked up the tray and left.

The British valet and butler took possession of chairs usually occupied by their betters. Thomas trimmed a cigar for Bates, and Bates ceremoniously held up the lighter. "Ready, mon loulou?"

Thomas grinned and waggled his finger. Bates performed the honours, and the two men sat side-by-side, cigars in the air, puffing away, until nothing was left but two small stubs.