Note: -TW for talk/mentions of suicide/suicide attempt.

-Two chapters this time! I originally wrote them as one, but decided to split them at the last minute as the impact is stronger that way.

A narrow stairway led Richard and Thomas down from the corridor they'd first walked through, having used the side entrance to Joanne's the next day. They'd both been clueless so far as to what this surprise or secret that Joanne, along with Jimmy, Izzie and Lucy, had been keeping from them all this time. Joanne led the way unlocking a misty glass door marked private which led to another set of stairs that descended to what Richard assumed must be the basement. On the landing at the base of the stairs were two doors. To the side of them, a room that looked like an office. Joanne unlocked the double doors ahead of them, wooden this time and again indicated as private. Neither Richard or Thomas could have guessed what lay beyond.

"Welcome to the private room," she announced as she threw the doors open with a proud flare and invited them inside.

"Bit more than a room!" Thomas exclaimed, glancing around.

"It has an uncanny resemblance to the club upstairs, like a replica," Richard added. It was a smaller space than the main club they'd danced in the evening before but other than that, strikingly similar with the same layout colour scheme, complete with a decent open floor, stage, tables against the walls and even a small bar. "You hire this place out upon request I take it?"

"That's one of its purposes, yes," Joanne smirked mischievously, as though she was bursting to tell them a great secret. The door at the opposite end, beyond the stage opened. Richard hadn't even seen it until now. A hidden door? "Ah Jimmy, there you are."

"Hello again," Jimmy greeted them both.

"What is going on Jimmy?" Thomas asked with a frown. "This place is equally as impressive as upstairs but we can't afford to hire it if that's what you're thinking."

"I know and it's not. Joanne, perhaps you should explain," Jimmy prompted.

Joanne walked over to the piano on the stage that was raised by a couple of steps above the floor. Jimmy gestured for them to follow. She said nothing for a minute as she ran her fingers in a fond manner over the keys so a couple chinked. Her gestures were accompanied by a sad smile. "This is not as expensive as the one upstairs. It's actually second hand. Belonged to my late brother Johnny. He played better than anyone I knew, at the time."

Richard saw the look Thomas glanced at him and he remembered how Thomas had told him how she'd mentioned her brother was dead but neither her nor Jimmy had elaborated on it. "I'm so very sorry Joanne," he said sincerely. "I know how it feels to lose someone you love."

"Thank you Richard. I've had my time to grieve, and my time for anger, but I'll get to that." She gently closed the piano lid before continuing. "Johnny was three years younger than me. He'd never really had the head for reading or numbers. People called him stupid or simple because of that, but what he lacked in academic skills he more than made up for in his talent for music," she began with a note of pride in her voice. "Our parents both died before their time from various illnesses and so in the end it was just us. We managed well enough, we both got jobs that paid the bills but we started to earn from our love of music. Johnny got this old thing from a junk shop in the east end." Joanne tapped the top of the piano. "He refurbished it and one day took it out into the street. Quite a crowd gathered and I'd say that was our first public performance. After that we took it around places local to us. Johnny added wheels so we could push it from street to street," she added with a reminiscent laugh. "Word got round and we played at a few pubs and such, he played and I sang, sometimes we'd duet. For someone who started off shy, he really shone then. He loved the attention of the audience, and of the men," she emphasised.

"Wait, Johnny was..." Thomas began, unsure as to whether he should say it out loud.

Joanne nodded. "He was like you two, yes. That is why I have no judgment towards you or anyone like you. It was never strange or uncomfortable to me. I knew for years before Johnny told me. He had been so scared at the time, worried I would reject him, but how could I reject my own brother?" Richard saw Thomas look to the ground, a flicker of that mask he had kept for so long threatened to cover his features, like it did when he felt vulnerable or scared. Instinctively he reached out and squeezed his hand. Joanne noticed. "I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn."

"No, no. That's my family, not yours," Thomas insisted. "Carry on."

"As I'm sure you are aware there are many places for people like him and you to meet and be yourselves. Johnny found a few, was invited to a few. I couldn't go with him of course, I wouldn't want to be the clingy big sister, but I was terrified each night he wouldn't return. The police were, are, getting more and more clever. They send in spies, bribe for information, follow the patterns. He did return each time and my confidence grew. But then...one night he did not." Joanne swallowed, her grip on the edge of the piano grew tighter. Richard could see Jimmy shuffle in the corner of his eye. He must have known what was coming. "They caught him, and thirty others. Rounded them up and took them off to the local station."

Richard had felt it coming but hearing it only brought back memories. Him behind a wall watching Thomas, Chris and the others that night in York when everything changed. Thomas's fear even after they were safely in the car on the way back to Downton, his shaking hands, glances over his shoulder as if he expected them to be following as they drove. "Joanne I-I" It was all he could manage.

Thomas had gone pale. If Richard's memories of that time were bad, Thomas's were ten times worse. The neutral facial expression to hide any emotions, any reactions at all was fully plastered over his face. His hands were balled into a tight fist each side of his rigid upper body. "What did they do to him?" Thomas asked, his voice taught like a spring ready to break.

"Gave him a sentence of seven years. They saw him as one of those in charge since he was in the band. He only served just over two."

"What did they do to him?" Thomas repeated, his voice weaker now.

"They...they," her voice wobbled. Jimmy raced to her side, and reached for her hand. She shook him, and the tear on her cheek away with determination. After a few breaths she held her head up level to face them. "They found him one morning...hanging in his cell by bedsheets." This time Joanne did not refuse Jimmy's support.

"Fucking bastards," Richard muttered. He was about to say more, but Thomas had begun fiddling with his wrist, rubbing his hand back and forth over his scars. He looked at the floor with a trance-like gaze, as though he didn't know what he was doing. "Thomas." Richard tentatively touched his wrist.

Thomas jumped to look up at him with fearful eyes. "Sorry."

"You're okay." It wasn't a question, but a reassurance.

"They said it was his own fault. That he was weak, simple and other things I will not mention for the sake of his memory. I wanted a proper funeral, he had friends who would have come, you know? That was the one thing, people didn't all abandon him. But I couldn't, the church didn't allow it due to the circumstances of his death. Instead we buried him out of the city, by the seaside where we went on a summer holiday a few times as children, up on the cliff top. He would have liked it there. After that, after I had mourned him, the anger set in. I didn't know what they subjected him to whilst he was in prison but I could guess and it became too much for him. They pretty much murdered him. I tried to get someone to hear my case, his case, I wanted something to change. I came to realise after about a year that I was never going to get any justice through the courts, not when, in their eyes, he'd broken two laws. So I left. I ran away to New York. Spent a few years there, trying to make something right, to carry on living. But then I found myself missing home and the memories I had so I came back to London, though a different part of it. I sat in a bar one evening, after a few too many, listening to a band performing when it dawned on me."

"What?" Richard asked, captivated by her tragic tale, desperately wanted something good to happen.

"The way to honour Johnny's life and get revenge for his death, all in one." Joanne waved a hand to their surroundings. "This is it." Richard and Thomas must have looked baffled as Joanne quickly continued. "You see Johnny loved to perform, our dream was to have a club of our own. He also kept on saying that even though he loved the time he spent being himself, around his own kind as such, he hated how it was always in dingy surroundings such as old warehouses or factories. He wanted a place where he could take those evenings and put them into the type of clubs that everyone else could enjoy. He saw no reason why they had to have the second best."

Richard looked around their surroundings of the so-called 'private room' once more. It was starting to add up. He held his tongue though as Joanne deserved to say it.

"I had little money but enough to buy this place. It was an old warehouse ironically, and in a bit of a state. I never expected to get it up to this standard but remember those friends of Johnny's I mentioned? The ones who didn't abandon him?"

"Yes," Richard answered.

"They helped, some are still with me, in my band for example. I got upstairs running officially so I could get the funds to start work on downstairs."

"You mean this private room is in fact a club for people like me?" Thomas asked in disbelief. A flicker of hope had fractured that mask from moments before.

"It is. For all of you and anyone who doesn't 'fit the mold' as such. I apologise for not telling you sooner, for making Jimmy keep quiet, but I am careful about who I tell and who sees this. I meet everyone who comes here, before they come here. It's the way I do things, for everyone's safety."

"Joanne Simpson, may I say, you're incredible," Richard exclaimed. "Honestly, I mean it. Johnny would be proud I know that."

"And you're part of this?" Thomas asked Jimmy.

"I play here when I'm not upstairs. Sometimes we have two clubs at once." Jimmy's tone, for someone who had once shunned Thomas for who he was, was surprisingly matter-of-fact. If Richard needed proof that Jimmy had grown and changed, not that he did, then he knew he need not look further.

"You play in a club for homosexual men?" Thomas repeated, not quite believing it.

"Err, yeah. Well, women too, but yeah," Jimmy blushed as Thomas broke into a smile.

"Forgive me Joanne, but you said this is revenge too?" Richard asked.

"Yes. You see, this club is what it says on the door, a private room. I've had others hire it out, it pays the bills for one thing and also gives some satisfaction. I've had a retirement party for the local police division's sargeant for example. I enjoyed the feeling of how they drank at the same bar where only the night before, I had a male couple sitting on each other's laps for instance. But I suppose what is better, is I have created somewhere where they can enjoy what everyone else has the right to enjoy. Those who support and enforce those laws that keep this place secret, don't believe you are of the same class as them, that you don't deserve everything they feel entitled too. I can't promise it's watertight in terms of safety, but I've taken every precaution to try. I have people who tell me what the police are doing and when, I have spies of my own. I keep every meeting here unpredictable. There are multiple exits, if the police don't know about the real purpose of this place then I bet they don't know about those. But above all I hide in plain sight." To his and Thomas's surprise, Joanne laughed. "Oh I'm sorry I forgot. You are both invited along here Sunday evening. That's the next time we party here."

"We'll come Joanne, won't we Richard?"

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Richard agreed. "This must cost a lot to run though."

"It does and would be impossible if not for my sponsor."

"Who?" Thomas asked. "Though you probably can't tell us."

"I couldn't know, but anyway I've never met them. If you have time for another little tale, I'll tell you what I know." Joanne sat on the piano stall.

"Please, I'm intrigued," Richard encouraged.

"It started one night, oh I don't know, three or four years ago. I was locking up for the night. The street was gloomy, the lights obscured by the thick smog that had descended over the city, brought on by the fog coming in off the Thames. A man, probably about your height Thomas, approached from the other end of the street. At first I paid him no attention, but he came closer to me than he needed to. Naturally I felt on edge, and I feared I was about to be attacked. The pavement was wide enough for him to pass me without brushing past me, but he did anyway. I never saw much to distinguish him by. He was wearing a long brown overcoat, and a hat that covered his face in the dark. I do remember his shoes though, polished and shiny, and far too clean. Anyway, as he passed me, he dropped something at my feet, a package. It took me several moments to react. I was still in shock. By the time I had picked it up and called after him, he'd disappeared into the fog. I assumed he'd dropped it by mistake."

"Did you open it?" Thomas asked.

"Not at first. I genuinely thought he'd mistakenly dropped it, so I kept it in the safe in my office in case he should return and enquire as to whether I have it. I left it for a week, but he didn't return. I considered handing it in to the police, but considering my relationship with them and what I was planning, at the time, to turn the basement into, I wasn't keen on having them poking around here. So I opened it and I couldn't believe my eyes."

"What was it?" Richard didn't have the patience to wait. Joanne was a good story teller.

"Money. Specifically cash in notes. A lot. A couple of hundred."

"Blimey!" Thomas exclaimed.

"I know. Money and a note. Hand written on high quality paper, scented with something. It simply said, 'Accept this donation, no conditions attached bar one: use it for your good works.' It was unsigned of course. A few months later, another arrived, same amount, same note. It has been this way ever since. They never arrive on the day of each month, and sometimes there's a longer gap in between drop-offs than others. I assume whoever it is is being careful but is fully aware of what I use the money for." Joanne sat back against the piano. "So there you have it."

"That is indeed a mystery. You've never tried to find out who?" Richard asked.

"I thought about it, but decided not to. They don't seem to have an ulterior motive, I assume whoever it is has visited my club before or is a regular, but it is probably safest for them and me, if I leave it be. If they ever want to make themselves known, I'll leave that to them."

A consideration flashed through Richard's mind, but he dismissed it quicker. Thomas also seemed to be thinking. "There is one thing Joanne, about Sunday I'd like to ask?"

"Yes?"

"I know you have rules about who knows about this place, but I have a friend, two actually, who would benefit maybe more than us at being here on Sunday."

"Someone who you just know, or someone who really is a friend?" Joanne queried.

"A friend, and Richard's business partner." Thomas glanced at him. Richard had thought the same privately earlier. "His name is Chris Webster. He's been in Downton for just over a year but I met him five years ago. He took me to a place like this, well not like this but you know." Thomas flushed in his awkwardness. Joanne nodded in encouragement. "He and I, and a lot of other men were arrested when the police raided it. I got away, and he didn't."

"How did you get away?"

"I got him out," Richard interrupted. "Long story but I pulled some strings in a way. Chris got three years. He's known the brutality men imprisoned for such reasons can face first hand. He walks with a permanent limp, a result of an injury caused by a few of his fellow inmates and prison guards. I know he won't mind us telling you this if it's the price to pay to get him to come here. Now we understand if you cannot, and respect your reasonings but—"

"No, no. Invite him please. It is the whole point of this place. And the other friend Thomas?"

"David Mortimer. If Chris comes, he will too. David is also a childhood friend of mine, I trust him with my life."

"I think we have the room for two more."

"It is short notice for them," Thomas began.

"Well I hope they can make it. It shall be a marvelous evening."