Hi everyone! Thank you for hanging in there with this one. I lost my file with the next few chapters, so I'm trying my hardest to push through some new content, but my motivation has taken a hit. Whilst I am optimistic that I'll finish this fic, please continue to be patient.

Chapter Text

Shifty eyes glanced between one another accusatorially, everyone hoping someone among them would confess before things became any worse. The last thing anybody wanted was for Carson to intrude into their personal space, checking their drawers and under their beds. Some kept foodstuffs and materials that would likely be confiscated if found, hence the need to keep them hidden. The night rolled by painfully slowly until lights out. Fate would decide the outcome of the next few hours.

Thomas was understandably on-edge. His track record was stacked against him and made him the obvious target. Carson's patience with him was at an all-time low and would love to be able to use this as ammunition. The only drawback being that it wasn't him. His future at the house was fragile and there was no reason to rock the boat even further. Not that he needed the keys, what would he gain from having them? It was highly likely that his room, above all the others, would be checked first. He wasn't sure whether that fact made him feel angry, victimised, or fearful.

While all the house was silent, Thomas was not the only one stirring. Matthew was also up and out of bed, leaving Lady Mary to snooze alone. He made his way through the house and downstairs, a hand clenched around the keys in his pocket, holding them still as to not give away his position. It was a long way down, and trying to remain undetected was something he wasn't rehearsed in quite yet.

It was near impossible for remaining keys on the set not to clank together as he searched for the right one. On a set of nearly twelve keys, he was relatively lucky finding the right one by the fourth attempt.

Despite the late hour, the rattling had been enough to perk the ears of Mr Bates who had been purposefully awake on look-out. At the smallest of sounds he would run to peer through his peeper, if anything had been amiss Bates would be the first to know. The last few times he'd appeared at the door had been nothing more than creaks in an old house, this was different, purposeful. He approached the door half knowing what he might find on the other side.

There he was, in his robe and slippers, Matthew Crawley, slinking around in the dead of night. What was he to do? He and Anna hadn't come up with a plan had either of them caught the perpetrator in the act. Could he really, so brazenly, approach Master Crawley and question his actions without any repercussion? He had little time to think as Matthew left his sight, and with a sharp knock at Thomas's door, he opened his own.

The only thing he could think to do was swing his head, looking around as though he thought the knock was tapped on his own door. Looking right he caught Matthew' eye, the man looking like a deer in headlights, caught in the act. "Master Crawley. I'm sorry, I didn't expect to see you at this late hour. Young Mr Barrow is likely to be asleep. Is there any way that I might be of assistance?" Bates asked.

"Err-" He cleared his throat. "No. Its nothing that can't wait until morning." Matthew announced.

"It's no bother." Bates reiterated, making Matthew mightily uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Mr Bates...but I'll seek Mr..." Such formalities felt out of sorts given their personal relationship, "-Barrow's help another time." The entire interaction had left his heart racing with anxiety. He'd been caught, by Mr Bates, goody-goody and none other than His Lordship's valet. His behaviour had been suspect and his reason for being where he was had been flimsy. Matthew wasn't quite sure what tomorrow morning would look like.

Thomas had his ear to the door but hadn't the nerve to answer. What's worse, no matter how much he hated Matthew, their unborn child thrived from the sound of his voice. Once the conversation had dispersed, Thomas received another knock at his door followed by a soft voice, "Thomas might you really be asleep?" After a lengthy pause, he assumed Thomas fortunately nestled up in bed.

After Bates' door clicked closed he could finally relax. Bates moving back in had been a happy coincidence.

The morning rolled around and Bates was eager to confess to his wife exactly what had gone on. He caught her on her way to breakfast, taking her hand as she walked by. He knew it to be inappropriate, but in the empty hallway, he stole a kiss from his wife.

She smiled bashfully, having missed her husband. "Did you sleep well?"

"Aside from wishing you were with me," He replied charmingly. "Something happened last night, after dark." Bates began. Anna's happy face sunk into apprehension. "I managed to intercept but I don't think it'll be enough. He may try again. What do you suggest we do?"

"How did he get through the doors?" Anna contemplated. "They were locked, right?"

"It seems as though we might have found our key thief." Bates hated the thought, somebody as polished and outwardly appeasing could resort to petty theft as a means to solve his problems. That Matthew might go above and beyond to assault anybody was perhaps a small glimmer of his true nature.

"Let's not speculate, we don't know for sure that Master Crawley took the keys. Maybe Carson will find them during his search?" The two could be hopeful but nothing was certain.

"If he doesn't? What then? Would either of us have the courage to tell?" Bates paused, "to risk any consequence?"

Anna was quiet. She had promised not to tell, and she wanted to respect his wishes, but at what cost? A moral dilemma, essentially two ugly heads of the same coin. She was again conflicted.

After an intense breakfast, the footmen they laid the table, serviced the family and Thomas pressed the newspaper while Carson conducted his searches. Room to room, looking under mattresses, under beds, in drawers and wardrobes. No crevice was left unchecked. His frustration grew with each door, the searches were turning up empty, not even sourcing contraband like food or lewd materials. James' and Alfred's rooms were immaculate, too immaculate for men their age. Carson suspected that anyone with a secret would have squirreled it deep away by now.

He went through Thomas' room with a fine-toothed comb expecting to find the keys. Carson gathered his dignity before squatting on the floor. He pulled out an old suitcase, and began digging. It was full of baby things that Thomas had obviously wanted to keep private. Carson's disregard for Thomas' personal property prompted Mrs Hughes to speak out. "Is this entirely necessary?" She watched Carson pick things up and shake them hoping something would drop out. "This is going too far." Mrs Hughes took the garment from Carson, "what possible reason would Thomas have for stealing the keys?"

"I do not trust him, and I'm quite surprised to see that you do." Carson retaliated.

"He's not done anything to be unworthy of my trust." She began, "It seems as though you want the boy to be guilty." Mrs Hughes accused. "I know that you don't well approve of how Thomas is living his life, but he does not deserve this, and certainly not his unborn child."
"I-I-" he stuttered. "I was simply looking." Carson was well aware of how careless he had been rummaging through Thomas' things, but did not share Mrs Hughes' moral point of view.
"If I must say, your search here is over." Carson groaned uncomfortably. It wasn't often that Mrs Hughes spoke to him like this, it wasn't appreciated.
Upstairs the family sat around the table eating their breakfast. Lord Grantham read the paper at the head of the table while his family chat among themselves. Matthew took a warm sip of tea before exhaling; "Isis looks rather pleased with herself." He observed. Isis was hovering around the table watching crumbs fall to the floor.

Lord Grantham put his paper away, "Indeed." Isis wasn't usually allowed in the dining room, but today had been an exception. "She's barely wanted to leave my side since Thomas found her yesterday." He patted her on the head. Isis had gone to bed with him and woken him up particularly early this morning, in fact he quite enjoyed the attention.

"It was particularly good to see Thomas doing so well, particularly after the last time I saw him." Matthew added. "Healthy even."
"Yes, yet it was." His Lordship snapped. "So, Mary-" he began, in an effort to deter the subject.

"Is he? Whatever was the matter in the end? It was quite frightening for a moment there." Edith asked, being the only person around the table and likely the house who was yet to be informed.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong with him." Mary couldn't help but gaze over the rim of her cup, her eyes glancing incitefully at her father. He glared in response, lifting his paper to cover his face once again. A physical barrier between him and his daughter's inquisitive mind.

"He's fine darling, don't you worry about it." Her Ladyship took her daughter's hand and smiled.

"There's something, isn't there? Why am I always the last to know?" Lady Edith sighed heavily. "It's obvious that there's something you are all keeping from me. What is it? There's nothing that Mary can know which I can't."

"Oh Robert, it seems all of us here know what's going on, it's not fair for us to keep Edith in the dark like this." Their mother hummed compassionately.
"I knew it. Am I alone not allowed to know this family secret?" Lady Edith was frustrated and a little distraught.

Robert once again put down his paper and released a large sigh. All he wanted to do was have a quiet morning free of drama, but it seems drama had chased him down, interrupting what should have been a relaxed breakfast. "You were not left out maliciously I can assure you. I am only now realising that this secret is in fact so poorly hidden as to not actually be considered a secret anymore. You were likely to find out on your own soon enough, so I might as well tell you."

"Please." Lady Edith pleaded.

"Mr Barrow is with child. Whilst I do not believe this to be proper conversation to be had over breakfast," He paused, thinking about how to phrase his next words delicately given present company, "before you come to any assumptions as to his character, I'll let you know that this child is one to be born out of violence."
"What a poor thing. Is there any way we can help? Perhaps find who did it and lock them away..." The pregnancy landed extraordinarily well, glossed over even. Instead, Edith chose to be angry about the right part of her father's story. "I'd hate to think whoever committed such a vile act is still-"

Lord Grantham interrupted his daughter, "This is to remain a secret, for Mr Barrow's safety. We have offered him somewhere to stay, childcare and job security. The last thing I would like to see is Mr Barrow on the street."

"It's the least we can do." Her Ladyship said in support of her husband. "I think we're all in agreement."

"The one thing I ask of each of you is to keep this from your grandmother. She is the last person who ought to find out. She would certainly not see it the way we do."