Evenin' -or morning- all! I've recently undergone some serious surgery, so there's been a little delay in me writing. I am feeling a lot better now and am reclaiming my writing mojo. I only have one more chapter pre-written after this one but I hope to be able to keep up, maybe create a writing schedule or something. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter Text
With the house empty, and the ladies at the Dowager's for tea, and the service all out searching for the dog, he could rest assured that Carson's office would be left unattended. Still, he crept around the service corridor like the fiend he was. Hiding behind every corner and tiptoeing around to avoid being caught by anybody. When he approached Carson's office door, he was pleasantly surprised to find it open. Perhaps in the kerfuffle, the old man had forgotten to lock up.
His luck had stopped there, the key hook next to the door was empty. He could have kicked something to vent his bubbling rage, but his mission meant leaving little evidence of his crime. He took a moment to think logically, Matthew surmised that there must be a spare key hidden somewhere. Matthew rummaged through cabinets, searched between bottles on shelves, and lastly in the drawers in Carson's desk. No such spare could be found. He threw himself into Carson's chair, agitated.
A heavy set of heels could be heard coming his way, in a fright he leaped from the chair and buried himself among a set of coats. The person on the other side of the door tapped lightly before trying the handle. Matthew held his breath, not wanting to make a sound. "That man." She sighed, disappointed with Carson's carelessness. Mrs Hughes strode in, keys-in-hand.
"Mrs Hughes!" Came a desperate voice from the hall. Mrs Hughes put the keys back onto a hook beside the door before turning back.
"Whatever now?" She answered, shutting the door behind her.
Matthew paused for a moment as the noise came further and further away. The venture had not been fruitless after all. He stuffed the keys into his pocket before cautiously making his exit. The corridor had been empty, but he narrowly avoided suspicion whilst walking towards the backdoor, claiming he was doing a thorough sweep of his own. Once the coast was clear he stepped out to find the rest of the hunt. It was clear that the entire house was still going barmy over this 'lost dog'. Should he be the first to 'find' Isis such a task would likely earn him brownie points.
Meanwhile, Thomas sat defeated on a tin of paint, waiting for his rescuer. For the first ten minutes, he had tried to run into the door, either dislodging the lock or perhaps taking the door from its hinges. With the confined space not being enough for a run-up, and the added weight in need of protection strapped to his front he quickly gave up. Instead, he'd shifted some of the barricades between him and Isis, she had been grateful enough to reward Thomas with a sloppy kiss. Every so often Isis would let out a small howl to alert any passers-by whenever she heard a twig snap or leaf rustle.
He had no way of knowing exactly how long he'd been trapped in the shed, but one thing was for sure, he was desperate for the bathroom and his child refused to sit still. Suddenly Isis began barking, louder, and more ferocious than before.
"Isis?" Came a familiar voice.
Thomas' hopes shot through the roof, "Branson?" He cried out.
Soon came hasty footsteps crunching their way through a path of dead leaves. "Thomas, is that you?" Branson asked from the other side. He began to jimmy the latch, opening the door. "Why are you stuck inside-" Branson stopped mid-sentence.
In all his glee, Thomas had forgotten that not all the family had been introduced to his new form, "the door," he coughed awkwardly, "It closed behind me, and..."
"It locked you in." Branson avoided the elephant in the room.
Thomas nodded, "We found Isis." He noted as the dog sat at Thomas' feet.
"His Lordship will be pleased." Branson commented, "we should go and tell the others."
"I need to," Thomas trailed off awkwardly. There was little chance of him making it back to the house before wetting himself. Branson turned away as Thomas took himself slightly further into the brush. Both were put-off and uneased.
Thomas re-joined Branson and Isis, "So…" Branson posited. "There's been whispers around the house as of late. If I'd known sooner, I would have paid you a visit."
"You don't have to say anything if this makes you uncomfortable," Thomas said bluntly.
"Not at all. Congratulations." Branson smiled. "You look better today than the last time I saw you." He joked. "I know I haven't been down in a while…"
"You're a blue blood now, you don't need to come and socialize with the rest of us," Thomas replied. "How's little Miss Sibyl?" He asked.
"Much better, I'd been meaning to give my regards, for looking out for Sibby." Thomas had noticed the nanny mistreating the youngest Crawley and subsequently set her up to fail. His sleuthing talents put towards something positive for a change.
"I would only hope that somebody do the same for me." The woman was vile from the off. Thomas knew that had the nanny not been a woman, he'd have thrown fists. He admired Her Lordship's restraint despite her obvious anger, for there was little chance he'd have let the woman go without a stern word or two, especially if it had been his own child. The new nanny was graceful and patient, somebody he had no qualms leaving his child with.
"In a heartbeat," Branson replied.
More voices could be heard in the near distance, and just along the horizon, were figures who were still hunting for the missing pet. As they approached, Isis shot off in a sprint, darting towards a group of two not so far ahead. Branson chased after the dog at a jogging pace, not wanting her to wander too far. It was only as he got closer that it realized Isis had run back to her owner and the two were now in a sweet embrace, Isis generously licking His Lordship under his chin.
"Just where did you end up?" He noted several splash marks of dried paint covering her fur.
"She'd gotten herself stuck in a shed at the edge of the garden," Branson replied.
"Nothing a thorough bathing won't clear. Thank you for bringing her back, I was beginning to worry." He clipped her lead to her collar and held on tightly to the reins.
"It was Thomas who found her." Thomas approached the scene slightly breathless.
"You don't say?" Thomas too had flecks of the same coloured paint staining his coat. "Thomas my good man," He extended a hand, Thomas accepted. "I cannot thank you enough." His Lordship replied earnestly.
"I owe you this at the very least." He smiled.
"Ah, there you are. I must have gotten lost-" Matthew walked, eyes to the ground as he climbed a small mound in the grass.
"No need to worry, Isis is safe." His Lordship greeted. The scene became tense, as their shared secret weighed down the air.
"Good news, I'm sure." Matthew grinned charmingly. "Mr Barrow, Mary has kept me informed, might I offer you my congratulations?" His Lordship observed the display, not sure whether his son-in-law was capable of such brazen deceit or whether he was being genuine. Thomas' gritted his teeth, jaw clenched tightly.
When Thomas' eyes became glassy, he took that moment to interrupt, "Yes, Mr Barrow here found Isis, so you can head back to the house and inform the others." He instructed.
"Of course," Matthew replied, heading away from the others. Matthew couldn't help but be concerned and paranoid as to why the mood changed so suddenly.
"Branson, would you mind giving us a moment in private?" His Lordship asked.
"Not at all, I'll help spread the word." Nothing could keep him lingering around any longer, not even the title to Downton itself.
"I apologise for leaving the house," Thomas began. At the time, he hadn't given it enough thought. All he could think of was proving himself, only to end up in a worse position than before.
"Please, you do not need to apologise." He sighed, "I wasn't aware of how much of the family knew until this afternoon. It's proved to be the worst kept secret. Not that we could shelter the others from this for too much longer."
Thomas unconsciously cradled his stomach, "the last thing I want is to be a nuisance."
"Spare no such negative thoughts, Barrow." Over the last few weeks, he'd seen Thomas go from an arrogant, and confident boy to somebody overly sorrowful. He pitied how difficult the transition must have been. "Carson tells me you still haven't moved into the lodge we talked about."
"In all honesty, M'Lord, I haven't got quite a lot of what I need yet." Whilst it wasn't his only excuse for his lack of apathy, it was the one pressing on his mind the most at the moment. If he dropped the baby today, a month from when it's expected, it would be housed in a dresser drawer.
"I trust I don't have to remind you of how pressed for time you are. I can put you in touch with a craftsman here in town to expedite things. It's always better to put money into the local economy than to buy from some catalogue."
"Thank you," He smiled.