***chapter 26***

A bitterly cold and surly late autumn slipping into what promised to be a particularly harsh winter was not the most pleasurable time to walk in the grounds, but it was the only place they could be sure of not being overheard.

"Her Ladyship listened more patiently than I had any right to expect." Phyllis Baxter's breath rose like blue smoke on the icy air. She gazed at the silver frost sparkling on the piles of fallen leaves as she spoke, thinking how sad it was that all too soon they would be swept away by the wind or, if this was not to be their fate, then a man sent to clear the path and create a bonfire. Of course she had seen fallen autumn leaves before, but never before had she mourned their passing so deeply.

She would miss Downton Abbey.

It was elegant and quaint and brooding and its centuries-old walls could surely tell a thousand tales of love and romance, of intrigue and betrayal, if only they could be persuaded to speak. Not even the ancient hall situated on the remote Scottish island with its thick, swirling mists and wild sea that oddly calmed her mind after three years in prison, and where she was employed happily as ladies maid until the death of her elderly mistress, held the same emotional tie to capture her heart.

"I am fortunate that she did, no matter what the outcome may prove to be. I do not deserve her being kind enough to listen after obtaining my post here by deception."

"You had every right to be heard. Please, Miss Baxter, do not be so modest." Joseph Molesley thought it ironic he should be giving such advice when he himself was so self-effacing. Martha Dewhurst, his best friend since childhood, and whom he always hoped, though it was never to be, one day his wife, told him scornfully, when first he entered domestic service, that those who did remained always timid and servile, which were not desirable traits and ones which she had no intention of acquiring. Nor did she; finding employment instead as secretary to an important businessman who dealt with clients from all four corners of the earth. And perhaps there was some truth in the matter, after all, for Miss Dewhurst developed confidence enough to travel around the world, while Joseph never outgrew his shyness and still lived in the same small village in which he was born.

"Thank you, Mr Molesley." Phyllis smiled, a little sadly. He was a wonderful man, kind and caring, clever and amusing, polite and patient. And handsome. The latter, however, and to her great surprise, would not appear to be a view shared by many; she often heard cruel, and in her opinion unjustified, whispers about his baldness or his large ears or "peculiar" nose.

Joseph took a breath to say more about how he would help Miss Baxter should the worst come to the worst and Lady Grantham choose to dismiss her after the revelation she had been in prison and stolen from a previous employer when they were interrupted.

"Miss Baxter, letter for you!" Daisy breathlessly caught up with them, waving an envelope. "I dunno what it's about, but it says urgent.," she said in her attractive homely Yorkshire accent, absently wiping her flour-smeared forehead with a flour-smeared hand "I found it in staff biscuit tin. I've gotta get back else cakes'll burn." She added, as if they were entreating her to stay, and albeit not without a last longing glance at the correspondence, her curiosity yearning to be sated, the young kitchen maid was gone quickly as she arrived.

Puzzled and not a little alarmed, the addressee quickly tore open the envelope and gave a small sigh. "It's from Miss O'Hara," she explained in answer to Mr Molesley's questioning look, and handed him the brief note to read. Perhaps Miss Baxter was blessed with a faster grasp of understanding, for he needed to read the message twice in order to glean any sense from it.

"Dear Miss Baxter, Sam Platt and me running of to mary before we get any one stopping us you know how they carry on that lot about me laffing and jokeing and just torking. Had to leave Master Gorge in a hurry thow before his step dad got the cash its not a fortun but enuff to set us up and I thort Lotty would see to Master Gorge when shes moping but you know how stupid she is she mite not so could you make sure he is all rite in case she dousnt? I am sorry I have to go so fast to get wed and Im not heaving a baby thow they will say I am your the only one I ever liked exsept Anna and sum times Daisy so can you take care of Master Gorge he likes the yello blankit when hes crying and yelling a bit for his Mama. Thank you so much for being a gud friend to me and Ill never forget you with all my love and hope you meet a nice man to mary to sum day Sheila."

"At least she DID try to inform someone." Phyllis was glad to realise the young nanny had not abandoned Master George so completely. Although it was too late to do anything about it. Shortly after being told by Lady Grantham that she would consider her future as ladies maid in light of what she now knew and that Miss Baxter should await further communication from her, Phyllis learned from Miss Kelly, the housemaid who was hurrying up the stairs with extra blankets, the shocking news that Miss O'Hara had fled and Lottie found Master George alone and taken him immediately to his grandmother.

"Though she wouldn't win any awards for punctuation, grammar or spelling." Joseph Molesley, ever the stickler for education, observed, surprised that he had been able to comprehend any of the hastily written correspondence though he needed to – and did - seek further clarification regarding the "fortun" and Mr Platt's step-father's role in the drama.

"Oh. There was a story Mr Platt came into a small inheritance and his step-father was constantly borrowing from it." His companion spoke distractedly as if her mind was somewhere far away. And so it was. Love was blind and caused one to act hastily and foolishly – Phyllis knew this only too well. She did not doubt the girl's statement about being pregnant. But gossip loved something to chew over and others would cast doubt on her reputation and that reputation would follow no matter how far she travelled. If only Sheila had taken her into her confidence she would have advised against such a foolish action. But it was too late. All she could do now was pray for her and pray that their marriage would be a happy one. As still she prayed for Thomas.

How she hated having to admit to her Ladyship how the deception came about, but Lady Grantham would accept no vague answer and pressed for more. Poor Thomas, all he wanted was what every human being on God's earth wanted: to be loved.

But the world was cruel. It scorned Thomas because his love could only be for another man. It tarnished Miss O'Hara's reputation by suggesting she may already be carrying a child though it gave neither rhyme nor reason as to exactly why it was a sin to give birth out of wedlock. She'd met unmarried mothers in prison and come away with a very different perspective from her previous so-called Christian values. Several of those mothers had been jailed for prostitution - because they loved their children so very, very much they sold themselves to buy them food, shelter, warmth. Where was the sin in so great a love?

And Thomas, poor Thomas, he was never truly evil and yet she had condemned him, although, even while knowing her own position was no longer secure and desperation making her bold, she did, too, try to defend him, pleading his unhappiness, his harrowing childhood, his abusive father, the loss of his mother at such a tender age, how he lost within weeks the three people he was closest to when he was barely thirteen years old. Few aristocrats would have permitted a servant to speak so, but Lady Grantham not only allowed it, she listened patiently until the end, only saying she would hear Mr Barrow out, but none of it excused his behaviour. Tomorrow, Thomas would know his fate, for Lord and Lady Grantham would speak with him in the morning. It was only the absence of Mr Carson due to illness and thus the need for a butler that stayed their decision.

Until then, Miss Baxter was under strict instructions to say nothing to Mr Barrow, and nor did she, ensuring their paths did not cross, confiding only in Mr Molesley, who, try as he might, still could not mask his contempt for the man. But Thomas would always be a son to her in all but biology and she would always care for him..

She had mothered him from the moment they met through her friendship with his older sister Kate, recognising him for the caring and amusing, generous and kind-hearted boy he was. And though now he built an armour around himself, he was still that same vulnerable young boy inside and only children ever saw his kindness because only with children was he ever his true self. Benevolent though the Granthams were, however, she could envisage no second chance for Mr Barrow.

Her Ladyship had been incandescent with rage to learn of the blackmail. But Thomas was no monster. Underneath it all, he simply wanted to be accepted for being who he was. And, after all, where was the harm in two people loving each other, whether or not they were of the same sex? Truly, where was the harm in love? She dabbed her handkerchief to her eyes to stem a flow of would-be tears.

Heart scalded at Miss Baxter's distress, Joseph Molesley eschewed his natural shyness and social convention and took her arm in his as they walked. To his relief, she did not object. While it was normally a gesture Phyllis would have rebuffed from anyone else as being too familiar, somehow with Mr Molesley it did not seem forward. It felt natural.

It felt right.