Thomas hadn't left the room all day, and now it was time to bite the bullet and head back downstairs. No doubt everyone was waiting on his return, the floorboards were likely rattling with gossip. Spread by none-other than Mrs O'Brien herself. The Lady's Maid had planted seeds and spoke in riddles to keep the bait dangling. It was around nine that Thomas braved the path down the stairs. He checked his path every few seconds to be sure that he wasn't spotted by a member of the family. In front of his stomach, he held balled up pyjamas to mask the bump should anyone did come around any corners.
He held the bannister with one hand as he crept down the spiralling staircase. Already he could hear laughter and merriment from the others who appeared to be fairly content for whatever reason. It seemed a shame to ruin their fun, by bringing them such news, but it was impossible to keep hidden any longer.
Thomas apprehensively walked through the hall and into the dining room where he stood in the doorway silently for a minute or two before anybody took notice. "Oh look, it's Thomas." Daisy broke away from James, having been dancing in his arms. His secret hadn't been obvious just yet, and the anticipation was killing him. "Mrs O'Brien told us you were ill."
"Looks perfectly fine to me!" Mrs Patmore rolled her eyes.
"I'm not ill for starters," He delayed, not sure if he could muster the courage for such an announcement.
"Then whatever's the matter? We were all really worried about you, you know." Anna chipped in. Thomas rightfully believed that Anna was concerned for his health, the others – he should be so lucky.
"Well," he lost the bundle, dumping it on a nearby counter. He stood up straight and bashfully waited for the gasp that would hopefully fill the gap in his explanation. Few people said anything, instead, Mrs Patmore inhaled sharply with her hand covering her mouth, and the other's eyes danced between one another in confusion.
"Are you going to tell us or what?" Daisy spoke, rather densely.
"Heavens, you're, not are you?" Mrs Patmore asked. Thomas was hardly surprised by the reaction; he would have been shocked should they all have erupted with songs of congratulations and joy. However, the lack of even a sympathetic vote destroyed his confidence. The small smile he'd managed to keep, just slipped away.
"What? I don't understand." Daisy seemed to be the only one in the room who couldn't arrive at the answer. Nobody wanted to say it out loud out of shock from the situation.
"Thomas, my office, now." Carson pulled Thomas away from the scene, leaving behind sorrowed expressions. Mrs Patmore pulled Daisy aside and kept her busy. She didn't quite know what to say to the youngling, but she would break the news eventually. Carson sat behind his desk and gestured for Thomas to also take a seat, seeing at the boy looked apprehensive. "That was nicely handled." Carson put sarcastically.
"They had to find out sometime." He shrugged. He played it off well, but he actually felt pretty emotional having just done the unthinkable.
"Mnn. Whatever his reasons, Lord Grantham has decided to let you stay at the house. Upon his request, I've made significant changes to your position and of course, you will have different responsibilities. If you are fit and able tomorrow, I would like you to return to work."
"I do believe I can. What would you have me do?" Thomas knew it would he remedial, unimportant work.
"Odd jobs, this and that. You will be removed from your footman duties effective immediately. Unless called for, you will not go upstairs under any circumstances."
"I suppose that you should know, I'll be moving elsewhere after the baby's born. Lord Grantham said I could live on the top floor, and that the nanny would look after it while I work." Carson frowned, livid. Thomas couldn't sympathise, seeing as he was the fortunate party in this debate.
"How have you spun that to your advantage? This seems highly unlikely, and I will be speaking with his Lordship."
"Nothing stopping you. If we're done here, I'd like to go to bed. Tired, on account of being pregnant and all." Thomas loved the speechless expression on Carson's face, he'd seen the man lost for words before, but he had obviously struck a nerve. Without permission, he climbed out of his chair and trotted out of the office.
The walk back to the bedroom was lonely. He'd never felt more alone. Coming back to his barren room, the squeaky metal-framed bed, old mattress, and scratchy sheets. Right now, he felt like a puppy sleeping rough in the rain. He hated these pregnancy hormones, drenching his pillow. His sadness would have felt justified had his day been awful from the start. That way he could have run away in the night and never come back. Now, he had to stagnate for the next few months.
A loud knocking on his bedroom door awoke him the next morning. He hadn't heard the morning bell or any proceeding it, and with no natural light, he had no idea what time it was. Thomas wasn't usually a side sleeper, but it had since become impossible to sleep on his front. So, actually sleeping comfortably was a rarity, which dominoed into grogginess and mood swings. Meaning, he was far less fun to be around that his usual charming self.
He edged himself up and aimlessly walked to the door. With eyes still mostly glued shut and mind still unfocused, he wedged open the door. With only his head peaked through the gap, "Mnn?" He hummed unable to formulate sentences yet.
"These are for you." The boy at the door handed Thomas a set of folded clothes. "Mr Carson told me to hand them to you, said you should be wearing these."
"What time is it?" He grumbled.
"It's quarter past five." Thomas audibly sighed, he'd forgotten what time Hall Boys actually woke up. He closed the door on the kid and in anguish, rested his forehead on the grain. So tired, he could have fallen asleep standing, with the wood as his pillow. He yawned loudly before slumping down onto his still warm sheets to inspect what he had in his hands.
Carson had given him a freshly ironed uniform, the same as his last, just noticeably bigger. He laid out each piece anatomically and stood back for a better look. The waistcoat was faded, and the jacket patched up. Altogether not perfect but far from being shabby. He scoffed at how large everything was, far bigger than his actual body, surely.
A sudden and desperate urge to pee sent him buzzing to the bathroom, he'd under-appreciated the beauty of leaving his bedroom without something to hide his bump. No corset, oversized jumper, or a load of clothes to fuss with so soon after opening his eyes. Heads turned as he waddled down the corridor, but he'd expected that. News spreads fast among these halls, but like all drama, people inevitably become de-sensitized.
Much more awake now, having showered and brushed his teeth, he came back to the oversized set of clothes that stared back at him mockingly. The trousers were inches too big, but he cuffed them with a safety pin, and the vest needed tightening but being fully dressed in something that accommodated his size was alarming. His body had changed so quickly, and he needed to replace everything. Some mornings his shoes are ill-fitting, and his hands don't slip through his sleeves without the cuffs unbuttoned. A passing thought spared for who used to own these hand-me-downs.
He brushed and waxed his hair as the final touch. He admired his silhouette in the mirror, before exclaiming, "blah." It would be wishful thinking to assume that his physique would become less grotesque overnight.
It had now just gone six, a time he'd usually just be getting out of bed. Already Mrs Patmore was cooking breakfast, pots, and pans chimed as they hit countertops. He approached the kitchen slowly, unsure whether he would be welcome.
"Not so fast, Mr Barrow." Carson turned the corner from his office. "Glad to see everything almost in order." He referred to the new attire.
"Well yes, as orderly as it's going to get anyway," Thomas replied smugly.
"Have some breakfast and polish the silver." Carson handed Thomas a set of keys to the cupboard with the fancy silver. Carson would use this as a test, whether he could trust Thomas given the boy's history with stealing. At the end of the day, he would take inventory to be certain that Thomas wasn't skiving off of the family. Should he pass then Carson might just let him filter the wine. "Let me know once you're finished."
"Will do Mr Carson." Thomas tucked the keys away and walked to the kitchen, starving. Lingering around the active stove, peering into every pot. His hand became dangerously close to sampling some leek and potato soup before Mrs Patmore barged back into the kitchen.
"Ten steps back!" She yelled. "Take a seat and I'll bring you something over." Thomas did as he was told and took a seat. Mrs Patmore brought Thomas over a healthy ladle of soup; she'd even made sure to dig for some of the chunkier pieces of potato. The soup came with a freshly baked roll still hot from the oven.
"What changed your mind?" Thomas spoke with a mouthful of bread.
"Do you really think that you're the first unwed mother I've crossed in my lifetime? No use being mad about it now. Eat up, you'll need to keep your strength."
"Sorry I'm late-" She ran in, breathless. She stopped, taken back to see Thomas casually sitting by the fireplace. "What are you doing here?" Daisy lectured. It was somewhat obvious that her sweet nature had been influenced by Alfie, the regimented fundamentalist who'd hated Thomas from the very moment that he'd been made aware of Thomas' sinful lifestyle.
"Leave him alone Daisy. Heaven forbid that you find yourself in a time of need." Mrs Patmore threw Daisy her piny, "now hop to it. You're late enough as it is." Thomas kept his head down to avoid Daisy's glare.
Thomas polished off his breakfast ravenously, still a little hungry. "That was lovely, thank you, Mrs Patmore." He placed bowl and spoon in the kitchen sink. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on his way out.
Just as he'd left the room, the rest of the service team came to receive their morning meals. Thomas scoffed, it seemed completely ominous as to why he had him up early, just to polish the silver. Carson had wanted to separate him from the others encase he ruffled feathers or caused a scene. Not everybody was as tolerant as Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes, he knew that much, but nothing bad could come of a little company.
It hadn't taken long to have everything gleaming; he'd done this so often before. Thinking about it rationally, he should have elongated the task, for who knew what else Carson had in store. Nevertheless, he called for Carson to check his work just as asked.
"You think that you've finished?" Carson arched a brow. The breakfast rush had just ended, and he had plenty of time to inspect that everything was up to standard.
"I have," Thomas responded.
"We shall see about that." Carson began picking up candlesticks, reflecting light off of plates, inspecting teapot spouts. Everything that wasn't as clean as he preferred was shifted to one side, "these can be put back, the rest needs some more attention." Carson ordered self-contemptuously.
"What was wrong with them?" Thomas asked, sure he'd given each piece the same amount of care.
"There are spots and blemishes that need some work, if you look closely, I'm sure that you'll see exactly what I mean. I'll be back in an hour to see that you're finished." Thomas held his tongue and did as he was told, first cleaning the 'dirty' pieces. He didn't want to run out of time fussing with arranging the clean things, and Carson walks in thinking that he's incompetent.
Thomas was sure everything was impeccable now. If he wiped down the cutlery any longer, then he'd start removing layers of silver. He was adamant that Carson would blame him for not scrubbing away a few spots of rust, but there was nothing he could do but replace things for them to look like new again. So, Thomas began to place the dubbed clean silver in the cabinet, knowing that Carson would simply rearrange everything to the way he liked once Thomas had left.
It was then that the cupboard keys slipped from his pocket unknowingly. He hadn't heard the chime as they hit the floor over the sound of the plates rattling together, having almost not caught them as they toppled off of the shelf.
It was ten to the hour and Carson would be along any minute. It wasn't something in particular that made him check his pockets, but thankfully he had. Panic set in as he unturned the lining of each pocket imaginable just encase.
He began searching the table, the floor around him, and everywhere else in the room. For the life of him, the keys were nowhere to be found. On his hands and knees, he searched thoroughly, he'd wondered under the table thinking that he'd seen a glisten in the corner when a voice called from the doorway.
Anna had been passing by and happened curious about what was going on. She'd appeared quite shocked to see Thomas crawling around. "Is that you under there?" She asked. "You know, you shouldn't be moving around like that."
Thomas reversed slowly, his head hitting a piece of the table on the way out. He reached out to the edge to pull himself up, Anna hurried to his aid. "I've lost the cupboard keys; Carson's going to have my neck."
"He might just," She laughed. "I'll help you find them. They couldn't have gone very far." She too began looking.
"Why are you so nice?" Thomas asked. Had it been anyone else who'd found him, they'd likely laugh or walk by blindly. Anna hadn't a single resentful bone in her body, always supportive and non-judgmental. Because of her nature, she often ends up in difficult situations.
"Don't ask why just appreciate the kindness. People like you Thomas, you just need to let them."
"If they did, they definitely don't know." It wasn't much of a secret that he wasn't well-liked. He'd caused a lot of trouble over the last few years which made him extremely undesirable. Despite knowing his flaws, he made no effort to change. Yet, his unpopularity still affected him.
"It did come as quite the surprise, I must admit. It'll take some of the others some getting used to, but everybody will swoon over the baby." Anna was entirely envious, she longed for a family. Thomas would give birth to an undoubtedly beautiful child that he would love with every fiber of his being, regardless of the circumstances around its birth.
"His Lordship offered to take it on in the nursery."
"That was awful nice of him."
"Too nice, all things considered." The offer still seemed too good to be true.
"Don't torture yourself over the past, you've grown up since then." Her face lit up as she saw a glint in the corner of the room, "Thank goodness, look what I found!" She reached under a grooved foot to a cabinet, had it not been for a random ray of light coming through the window, those keys may have been lost forever.
"You've saved my life." He exclaimed.
"Why is that?" Startled, Thomas and Anna fixed their postures. Anna clasped the keys tightly in her hand to hide them from the very person who had no knowledge of their disappearance.
"No reason, in particular, Mr Carson." He lied.
"Run along please, Anna." Thomas wanted Anna to stay, encase he needed a witness to Carson's anger. She skilfully slipped the key set into Thomas' trouser pocket on her way out. She gleaned at him from the doorway once Carson had turned his back. Carson had immediately begun inspecting Thomas' work as soon as she left the room. His eye for detail scanning every inch of the delicacies.
"Much better, not perfect, but you'll develop a keen eye soon enough. If you could put the rest away, then you may go for a break."
"Thank you." Thomas felt like a new hall boy, being harassed by Carson. He wasn't so much of an invalid; he was the first footman after all. So, he didn't consider it appropriate to be treated like a child. Either way, he packed away the rest of the silver, it'd taken far longer than expected because there had been so much of it, that he couldn't make sense how it all managed to fit in before it was all taken out. It all went back eventually but Carson would likely have an aneurysm when he came back to check later on. He was hungry, and his patience running thin, so he locked the cabinet and left the keys on Carson's desk.
Lunch was being prepared to take upstairs, and everyone had congregated in the kitchen. As soon as Thomas walked in, all chatter stopped. "Don't stop on my account."
"How-How are you Mr Barrow?" Mr Mosley spoke amidst the silence.
"Very well, thank you, Mr Mosley."
"I do hope that Mr Carson isn't working you too hard." Mrs Hughes remarked, bringing some normal small talk to the kitchen.
"Can't say that he has, Mrs Hughes." Not that Thomas would say so if he had been.
"If you're not taking a tray, what are you doing clouding up my kitchen." Mrs Patmore raged, stress-headed.
"I've been banned from going upstairs, given everything, it's to be expected." He'd have been shocked if, after that display, he'd even be allowed outside of his bedroom.
"Don't fret, it'll be over in a month or two." Mr Mosley smiled.
"Thankfully." Thomas stretched out his back a little, bending left and right. Having been hunched over most of the morning, his back ached.
"Now you're being a distraction. Sit down and I'll fix you some lunch, just not right this second." Mrs Patmore fixed Thomas a few cucumber and cheese sandwiches. He barely had enough time to finish before Carson rolled around looking for him. Carson waited impatiently in the doorway for Thomas to scoff the last few mouthfuls, leaving behind a much-desired crust.
"His Lordship has just returned from walking the dog, I'll need you to clean and buff his boots, as well as these few pairs."
"This is a valet's job."
"Am I mistaken? Are you not still an employee here at the house? And are you not eager to earn your keep?"
"When you put it that way..."
"I trust you know where everything is. Finish all of this, then I see no reason why you can't join us for dinner."