Thomas slept for a solid uninterrupted 13 hours. As he came around, his eyes studied the room, this wasn't his quarters. There were rays of natural light streaming across the bedspread, soft pillows under his head and a thick duvet that was tucked in at his sides. Once things became a little less foggy, he realized that he wasn't in a strange place, but rather a guest bedroom within Downton. He struggled to prompt himself into a position half-sitting. He pulled the blanket over his stomach self-consciously.
She eyed his mid-section, "Don't you think for one minute that it's doing anything."
"How long had you known then?" Thomas replied bitterly, trying to maintain an unaffected smile.
"For a while." Mrs O'Brien responded cryptically. "Feeling better?" Thomas looked away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing his clenched jaw. "You really caused a scene, right in the middle of dinner."
"As if I already don't resent myself, there's no need to rub it in."
"I thought you'd like to know that Carson was told by Dr Clarkson, so naturally His Lordship will know by now." It took every inch of professionalism not to laugh maniacally, practically swimming in his discontent.
"Isn't that spectacular. Looks like I'll be out of a job soon enough." It was only a matter of time. Thomas knew that he wouldn't be wanted in the house once they all found out. He'd planned to quit once it became too hard to hide, but apparently, he loved Downton and his position far too much. Practically, the default plan was to be inevitably fired.
"Mrs Hughes still helps that hussy and her baby." She added, so casually unveiling a secret she had no right to mention.
"I am not anybody's burden."
"Have you looked into a mirror lately? You really think anybody will take you in looking like that?"
"You're enjoying this far too much. Don't forget that I may be pregnant but am no invalid. I'm sure Her Ladyship would love to hear some of my stories." He grinned proudly.
"You wouldn't dare."
"What wouldn't you, Mrs O'Brien?" Carson appeared, "I take it that you're feeling better. I would have liked to have been informed about your current state by yourself, but no matter. His Lordship has been told, and he wishes to speak with you."
"That can't be good." Thomas rolled his eyes. It would be one thing to be called into Carson's office and be served with a far from glowing reference, but for His Lordship to visit whilst still tied to his sickbed was entirely different.
Carson paid the family a visit during breakfast to inform them that Thomas had woken up and was going to be just fine. It would seem that His Lordship had neglected to tell the rest of the family, even his own wife, for the moment. That is, until he heard from Dr Clarkson directly, and came up with a viable solution that worked for everyone.
"I do wish you'd tell us what's going on, Robert." Cora pouted from above her cup of tea. Robert glanced over and gave her a look which told her, 'not now', which she was hardly used to. She frowned at him in response.
Thomas had decided that he'd overgrown his welcome and struggled to get out of bed. His body felt bruised and not from his fall, but rather abused and neglected. Being pregnant was little help, already heavy on his feet, there was a fair bit more of him to manoeuvre. Perhaps a pitiful sight to anybody who should walk in. He reached for his dressing gown that Mrs O'Brien bought up, which is when the door knocked from the other side.
"There was no need for you to get up, I'd dare say that you would do better resting a while longer."
"Thank you for your concern, My Lord, but I've abused your kindness."
"Nonsense. Carson has informed me of your current situation, can you confirm the case?"
"I cannot deny it, My Lord. I haven't a clue to what you've been told, so I cannot confirm everything."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, the first and most important instance looks to my own eyes to be true. Carson's story hadn't ended there, he tells me that this," His Lordship gestures openly with his hands to Thomas' middle, "was not of your choosing?"
"Dr Clarkson has left little to fill in myself it seems."
"So, it's all true?"
"Unfortunately, so."
"I feel somewhat personally responsible, and I'm not sure why."
"I should have been able to handle myself; I am a man after all." In the beginning, Thomas was overwhelmed by emotion. Sure, he was angry and resentful, but most especially – embarrassed. He'd been overpowered by somebody he knew and trusted. He fought and fought until he had eventually given in and allowed the abuse. Threats to his social life, his job, and soon his life.
"If it remains a promise of absolute secrecy, would you confine in my as to whom left you this way?"
"By speaking aloud Sir, I'm afraid that it'll bring back what I've only gotten past."
"Whenever the burden becomes too heavy to bear, please let me know."
"I have to ask, my job-"
"Please continue with your duties. I will speak with Carson about a reduced routine. I hope that you can confide in your fellow man downstairs with your secret. You will be relying on them for support in the coming months."
"Thank you for the advice and thank you for your hospitality."
"I won't hear another word. Rest for as long as you can, and then some. I would expect that Carson is eager to throw you back on the horse."
Thomas slipped away to the window, he needed something to watch outside to distract his mind from replaying his life's darkest days. It'd been days, maybe a week or two since the last time he'd retreated to the cloudy parts of his mind, a good streak considering that he lived with the consequences. A hand drifted to his stomach above the spot where he could feel the small kicks of his growing child.
A year earlier~~~~
Thomas loved to pretend that he was strong, cold, and invisible. In the trenches and at the forefront of the war, collecting bodies and narrowly dodging bullets, each move over the top made him want to cry and grovel to be sent back home. The war was brutal and here he knew nobody, Thomas felt more alone these days than ever before. That was until one day, through the shelling and his own panic, he heard a familiar voice call out to him.
"Barrow?" Thomas focused through his daze to make out the officer who'd just grabbed his sleeve. "It is Barrow isn't it?" The voice prompted. A thousand men ran through these muddy pits, but Thomas knew this one, who seemed to also remember him.
"Master Crawley?" Hidden under the helmet was the softest blonde hair he'd ever seen, and staring directly into his own, unmistakably mesmerizing blue eyes. Thomas wouldn't have thought that a rich chap would have been sent to the front. In all honesty, it was selfish to be grateful for a friendly face. Especially this one, that he'd often thought about during perilous times.
Both men were, unbeknownst to themselves smiling brightly. It began just as innocently. That same night Thomas shared some coffee over a small fire and the two of them relieved the old days for hours on end.
On the next rotation of men, Thomas went to the base to bathe and retrieve a set of clean uniforms. The last person he'd expected to see was, in fact, the very person that he wanted to see the most. Which is why he was surprised to see Matthew away from the front. "I've been looking for you, it would appear that you are a very hard man to trace. I didn't expect to see you here." Instead of showering with the other men, Thomas had found an executive bathroom.
"Well, a man has certain standards," Thomas replied casually. "I would rather boil the water myself and enjoy the privacy. Which brings me to ask, what are you doing in here?"
"I think you'll find that I'm actually allowed to be here." Matthew reached for the towel that Thomas had hung, "if you're finished, then there's something I'd love to run by you." Thomas accepted the towel and Matthew turned to give Thomas privacy.
He could blame himself for how the next few months would pan out. See, instead of drying himself and putting on a fresh set of underwear, he dropped the towel and edged closer to Matthew. It was wrong to be so bold, but the chemistry between them had flourished over the last few days and he had assumed that, since their almost kiss the night before, that Matthew would reciprocate.
Matthew turned around, having waited long enough. Nose to nose with a dripping Thomas, he coughed awkwardly, "Barrow, are you sure that this-" Thomas held Matthew's cheek and leaned in slowly when Matthew didn't turn away like last time, and Thomas took that as an invitation. He kissed Matthew softly, until Matthew turned up the heat, pouring passion into their embrace. A kiss had been one thing, but Thomas hadn't expected any more to come of it yet didn't reject Matthew stroking his excited member.
Was it loneliness, attraction, or anything in between that pulled them together? Neither knew. Neither tried to attach labels or try to explain why things took off. Instead, the two enjoyed a heated night together. Matthew's news to bring Thomas on a tour of the country, trying to recruit more young men, only prolonged their frivolity.
Their affair went on for a number of months before things turned sour. Matthew had reverted from the soft lover Thomas was used to and turned violent. Something rather unpleasant occurred at Downton and Matthew reverted all of his anger into their relationship and into Thomas.
"You've been avoiding me this evening," Matthew yelled. "Don't lie to me, you're bored of me now. I'm not good enough for a servant like you. That's it, isn't it?" Thomas had, had enough. He'd been bullied by Matthew for a few weeks and he'd given up on arguing back.
Instead, Thomas apologized, "That's not how it is! I'm sorry. I haven't been feeling too good is all." He pleaded.
"Good, that's a relief. You see, I thought you loved me, how silly." Thomas was settling into the emotional blackmail. "Come here." Matthew opened his arms, waiting for Thomas to nestle in as he expected.
"I told you that I'm not feeling well." Thomas felt the pricks of tears well in his eyes. Matthew hadn't liked being rejected, actually, he hates it. Thomas regretted saying anything almost instantly after. Matthew interlocked the fingers of his right hand with Thomas' left and twisted Thomas' arm painfully behind his back.
"You make me sick because you're a dirty homosexual," Matthew whispered into Thomas' ear. Thomas ceased to stand up for himself. There had been once at the very beginning when Thomas had punched Matthew for this type of behaviour. He'd made his life an awful mess. Matthew sent Thomas to the front every day, most days running through the mud until early hours the next. He'd threatened to write home and expose Thomas for being gay. He'd likely never work again after that. It became too easy to give in.
This time was no different. He had lifeless sex with Matthew and returned to his bunk. The walk back gave him time to think, and through the tears, he had a magical epiphany. His way out had been staring at him in the face the entire time. Discharge. If he were to be sent home, then he would be free from Matthew until the war would end. It hadn't taken long to come up with a plan. After all, he'd seen the cries of desperation from the others in either trench.
It took strength and determination, but he lit his lighter and held it high above his head. Sure enough, a German soldier keeping watch had spotted the light and aimed to shoot it out of contention. The bullet pierced his hand, and whilst being overwhelmed with agony, he couldn't have been more thankful.
He was sent home. He was sent back to safety. That was until Matthew returned every so often to visit. Whilst the physical violence stopped, Matthew was still manipulating and scheming. Thomas had no choice but to sustain their relationship on Matthew's visits. What would have been the last visit before Matthew's discharge, had been familiar to the humiliation that he'd fled war to escape.
Thomas had believed Matthew when he talked of change, having learned some kind of lesson from being alone and after worrying about Thomas' life after the injury. These promises made Matthew likewise to his previous loving self.
Tonight, was to be the lasting imprint; where Matthew would help create the life still growing within Thomas.
The family had gone to bed, and Thomas stupidly went up to Matthew's room to where he knew things would end bloody and soul-destroying. Thomas knocked on the door softly, preying not to be heard. Of course, he wasn't lucky enough for that. Matthew grabbed Thomas by the chest, pulling at some hair underneath his pajamas. Thomas hadn't any time to react before he was slammed into the wall, his head bouncing on the solid surface below. Matthew suffocated Thomas under a stampede of kisses. Thomas turned his head briefly to catch his breath. Matthew pulled Thomas by his hair back into the embrace.
Thomas pushed Matthew away, struggling to breathe. Matthew stabilised and realigned his jaw, Thomas found fear in the silence and tried to make a break for it. Chances were, Matthew wouldn't chase him through the Abbey. Matthew slammed the door the five inches that Thomas had managed to pry it open.
Thomas was thrown down onto the bedside table, splitting his right eyebrow. "I'm sorry that I had to do that. You know how I behave when I'm angry. Why you tempt me, is your own fate." Somehow Thomas became afraid for his life.
"You're right, Matthew. I don't know what I was thinking." Thomas begged, blood trickling down his face.
"Master Crawley while we're at home, don't you dare call me Matthew." He snarled. "Don't make me hurt you again. I'm leaving again in the morning; you can at least pretend to love me for one night longer." Matthew threw his dressing gown onto the floor and stripped off. Thomas did the same, shivering with fright.
Matthew hadn't bothered to spend enough time preparing Thomas for his entry, so Thomas cried out the entire way through. Matthew attempted to gag the man by covering his mouth and at a later stage by choking him. Thomas left the room violated and in agony. He would recover like usual but sluggishly returned to his own room, legs buckling several times on the way other. Once in his own bed, he cried himself to sleep.
It wasn't clear as to why, after countless other moments of intimacy, this one night resulted in something more. It wasn't until a few weeks later that he was told such news and having it broadly coincide with Matthew being gravely injured in the war, he kept himself to himself. He'd dare to visit, now that he was truly free. Matthew's brush with death left him paralysed below the waist and consequently incompetent. Morbidity and shame meant that Matthew hadn't sought Thomas out, and he had very little planned to.
One thing after another, William had died. Thomas became self-destructive, alienating himself. He struggled with guilt, depression, despair, and for a while crossed paths with suicidal tendencies. The only thing that kept him going, turned out to be the job he undeniably loved and soon, the child he was carrying.
All of that seemed to be behind him now, except for the odd occasion such as now. When he was sad, as though a rainbow through the rain, his child pounded for attention. A reassuring gesture to remind him that there was more in life to live for.
Thomas smiled as yet again the baby had saved him from a dark moment.
"You are big, look at you." Mrs O'Brien barged in with a breakfast tray, Mrs Patmore had scrambled him some eggs, and made a fresh pot of tea, among a whole tray full.
"Still a way to go." Thomas drew the dressing gown. Mrs O'Brien's staring was becoming uncomfortable.
"You're sure that there aren't two or three of them in there." She teased.
"Dr Clarkson would have told me if there were." Truthfully, Thomas was growing worried. He had considered himself to be fairly filled out, not that he had seen many other pregnant women before. Dr Clarkson dismissed his worry about multiple births and promised that he was heavier simply because he was a man. The presence of a bump on a man's middle was bound to catch the eye and feel alien, but his weight gain, by comparison, was perfectly normal.
"Or so you'd hope." She allowed Thomas the decency to get comfortably back into bed before giving him his breakfast. It was easier to be nice to Thomas when the boy was unconscious, that way she didn't have to pretend that she couldn't care. Now that he was awake, she'd snapped back to her usually abrasive self.
Downstairs, Carson had confided in Mrs Hughes. The predicament he faced was far beyond his expertise, so he asked for help from his female counterpart. As somebody entirely tolerant of Thomas' lifestyle, even she was shocked. "You've really got a pickle on your hands." Her entire adulthood was spent in this house and from experience, maids who fell pregnant -however rare- usually left the house. Married maids would leave before they were due. Even the latter occurred as a single event, not enough to warrant the title of expert.
"I can't possibly imagine why His Lordship has extended such tolerance, I for sure would not have." Carson sighed.
"He must have his reasons. Now, what are you going to do? If he's really as far along as Dr Clarkson says he is, then you should put something into place before Thomas returns to work."
"I suppose I could have him doing the light work, buffing the shoes, mending clothes, polishing the silver. Things below ground. I would not stand for the family's reputation being tarnished by this."
"Then it's sorted. Give the boy one more day and start him from the morning." Mrs Hughes got up from her chair, "Carson, if Thomas really has gone through such torment, I'm sure that he would appreciate your forgiveness."
Carson rolled his eyes right round to the back of his head. Mrs Hughes was right, and he didn't care to admit it. Soon after she left the room, Carson called for the doctor. Now that he was considerably calmer, he had a list of questions to ask Dr Clarkson on his visit. The good doctor was finishing his morning rounds and coming straight to the house.
Carson escorted Dr Clarkson up to the room where Thomas was staying but came across a rather unsettling scene. It would seem that Thomas was throwing up the little breakfast he'd eaten so far this morning. He'd been quite grateful for the bucket placed next to his bed, as he didn't think he'd have made it to the bathroom.
"Good morning Thomas." Dr Clarkson greeted from the foot of the bed. Carson disturbed found it easier to wait outside for now. "Are you quite alright?" Thomas gave a shaky thumbs up. It took a moment for the vomiting to stop but it did sure enough. Thomas threw his head back into his pillow and sighed.
"Won't miss that." He rubbed his eyes, getting rid of the tears and his week cheeks in the process. Dr Clarkson removed the bucket and sat on the edge of the bed. "You don't need to tell me just how disappointed you are." Thomas interrupted.
"You told me that the family had been informed and that you were taking it easy as it was."
"Didn't have to, had that thing." Thomas shamefully looked over at the corset that hung over the arm of the beside chair.
"Short-term, you would have had to tell somebody sooner or later, you couldn't have hidden a child away in such close quarters." He wouldn't have put it past Thomas to try. "Never mind that now. What's been done cannot be undone. Let's take a look at you." Dr Clarkson pulled the duvet away and lifted Thomas' shirt. He pushed and prodded around his stomach, "any pains or odd feelings?"
"Not at all, I probably don't deserve my health." Guilt-ridden for his own stupidity, he couldn't quite believe in his good fortune, for it'd never blessed him before.
"Your body has been under considerable stress which isn't good for you baby." Dr Clarkson took to his stethoscope, checking the heartbeat and other internal functions. "The baby is indeed active today."
"Don't I bloody know it," Thomas hadn't really felt the baby kick for days. It concerned him but should he stress about every little sensation and new experience, he'd never sleep. To feel the baby active was certainly a relief. "I'd expect the family to know by tomorrow, so that'll be going."
"I'm relieved to hear you say so. From now, I only want you to wear clothes that truly fit. Under my professional opinion, I wouldn't even condone maternity corsets. The pregnant body goes through many changes and to restrict the natural processes in any way would be dangerous. In a way, I'd like for you to take this as a warning."
"I feel so stupid." Thomas cried, he hid his eyes under one hand and sobbed lightly.
"No, no you're not, it's the doctors and retailers who endorse the practice who are." He handed over his handkerchief. "Have you given any more thought to my proposition?"
Flashback~~\\\
Thomas slipped off of the examination table, he'd stopped by for a check-up with Dr Clarkson. Having been given a clean bill of health and reassurance that everything was on-track he was happy to button up his trousers. Getting his shoes back on was beginning to become a task, bending in such a way sent blood pulsing to his head. He groaned sitting up.
From the sink, the Doctor asked, "Thomas, if you'll entertain the thought, can I run something by you?" Dr Clarkson dried his hands.
"Go ahead Doc, suppose you've done enough for me." Thomas smiled.
"As I've already told you, the only documentation of male pregnancy has detailed particularly long and ghastly childbirth. Perhaps you might be interested in a cesarean section. It's a big operation but I want you to be aware of the options available to you."
"What's the odds I'd survive this little surgery of yours?" He hadn't meant for it to sound sarcastic, having seen men on the front go through emergency surgery – being ripped open and sewn up again – not many of them lived. His comment wasn't a reflection of how little he trusted Dr Clarkson, just his skepticism of medicine.
"Very high, if I do say so myself. You're a healthy young man, and our hospital is well equipped. Very few women truly believe in the safety of the operation, so it would be wonderful to raise awareness. Of course, I will support whatever decision you arrive at, and deliver the baby at your wishes." He couldn't guarantee complete safety, no doctor could. Women died from sepsis, blood clotting and blood loss having undergone such an operation. Although, Dr Clarkson had high expectations for success.
"That would risk others knowing of the baby's unnatural conception, would it not?" So far, only Dr Clarkson knew about the baby, but the more people who were around him created a great risk that his quite normal pregnancy would be scandalous.
"The knowledge would stay within my medical team; news of the success would be anonymous." It came out close to a beg.
"You've certainly given me a lot to think about." That was Thomas's polite way of avoiding the word 'no', especially since he owed Dr Clarkson a lot.
"By all means. I'll expect to see you again in a month. Please don't forget my advice, please take things lightly, you will start to feel the effects of your last trimester pretty soon." Thomas wasn't ready to admit defeat just yet. The last few weeks had him feeling more like himself than he had done in months. He had a weird lick of energy and his skin stopped looking so pale. If it weren't for his pudgy middle and the occasional half-attempted kicks, he wouldn't even know that he was expecting.
"That, not particularly. Let's just say that I've been ignoring the inevitable." Quite the understatement from the one who suffocated himself to exhaustion. He winced slightly as the baby kicked his bladder and now, he needed to use the bathroom.
"Yes, I can see that. Tell me, now that the family know, will you promise to look after yourself better? Perhaps you can begin to prepare yourself, as I'm guessing you don't have anything for the child yet?"
"A few things that I've seen in shop windows, nothing more than a basket full." Under his bed sat a small wicker hamper, it was pathetically empty. All he'd managed to collect was a plain white cotton gown and a pair of knitted socks. Any attempts at shopping would be uncomfortable and he was very obviously out of place.
"I have to say, new-born babies don't fare well in drawers."
"I did just fine." Thomas grew up in a typical overpopulated family, it hadn't been just him that slept in a blanketed drawer, but his other siblings too. It was far from unusual.
"Now, I can't argue with that." The two chuckled, "Come down to the hospital in a few days for a full appointment."
"You have my word." If it meant anything, Thomas vowed to be more truthful. Starting tomorrow, he was going to work on himself.