Downton Abbey:

Guy(s) Night

by Mirwalker

Chapter Sixteen: Open Alliances

"Thomas?" she called as the family and upstairs staff were dismissed from their post-search dressing down. The exasperated Earl of Grantham had dismissed them all with clear instructions never to speak of the storm, handkerchief or "ghost" situations again, as nothing whatsoever was found suggesting there was, or had been, anyone in the house who should not have been.

"Yes, milday?" he left his Lordship to a final drink, and approached the daughter who summoned him.

Edith waved him to the side of the hall, and looked about to be sure that everyone else had gone down or up to prepare for dinner. "I have a favor to ask of you."

He nodded, keeping his face pleasant despite desiring to get on with his own important business of the evening. He reminded himself that she too was searching for Ian's fairweather patron; and might have something useful to add, after today's hair-raising close call.

"Despite the afternoon's outcome, you know, as I do, that something was intentionally done to someone on that roadside. And that he headed toward Downton, leaving a bloody handkerchief on the step at the very least. A soaking wet cloth does now blow a few feet, much less several miles. So even if you do not believe that two different Downton residents have now seen the same, or at least similar, stranger on three separate occcasions, you understand that something did happen out there?" she nodded toward the front door.

"I know that we don't know what happened, milady," he mostly truthfully acknowledged.

"Precisely. And I won't ask you to disobey my father; so we won't speak of anything to him. But as you do know more than most, and seem to have a keen eye for the… unseemly-"

"Thank you?" He wasn't sure how quite she meant it.

"…So I would ask that you stay attentive, and let me know should you come across anything that might help us better understand. Simple enough, yes?" she smiled, as if she'd only asked him what he thought of the weather.

He certainly didn't want to cross the Earl; and he wasn't keen to share all he did know with the Earl's daughter. But, the connection could be useful. "As you wish, milady. It's just— Well, I could best know what to watch for, what's relevant, if you would also keep me updated with anything you learn. So I may be of best service to your Ladyship?" He grinned his most ingratiating grin, full charm.

"I do believe we give you too little credit, Thomas," she smiled mischievously. "Co-conspirators it is, then. And, as you saw yesterday, Mrs Crawley is also a trusted source and confidant. I hope that, amongst the three of us, we may get to the bottom of this yet, and perhaps before the police do!" She sighed smugly, and headed upstairs with a wink and nod.

Thomas also took a deep breath, and headed downstairs to see whether he had time to slip away before dinner was ready.

Only hours later, after an even terser than usual dinner—though with every piece of china and silverware twice accounted for, Thomas was finally able to slip out. Making sure he puffed more slowly than O'Brien did, he laughed that he was going to "enjoy as many minutes out of that tension tinderbox as possible," and let her head up to change the Countess.

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, he gathered an armful of supplies he'd tucked around the corner, and set off for Ian's cottage, hoping the night's chill would offset his exertion in the good livery. Reaching the entirely dark building in record time, he quietly knocked the pattern they'd agreed to, and waited.

A few, nervous moments later the door opened with a whispered relief, "You came?"

"Of course I came," he chided, slipping into the inky interior. "But it took me forever, because a certain someone got himself seen by the cook this mornin'; and we've spent the rest of the day searchin' the house from top to bottom for him, didn't we?"

Feeling the hand on his arm tense and then begin to let go, Thomas softened. "I'm sorry; but things obviously did not go as planned."

"No, I'm sorry, I-"

"First things first," he was interrupted. "Hold this stack while I cover the window down here." He could almost hear the grimace as Ian held out both arms to take the pile of cloth handed to him.

A quick, fast tapping suggested to Ian that Thomas was tacking a piece of the heavy cloth to the four corners of the solitary window on this story.

"Can you lead us upstairs?" Thomas suggested, putting his hand on Ian's shoulder, and squeezing gently to show no real hard feelings.

A few stumbles later, they were in the single bedroom upstairs, where Thomas repeated the window process, and then whispered, "Fireplace?"

Having spent the day in the space, Ian walked them easily to that centerpiece. Guessing a fire was next, he set the remaining cloth into the nearby chair, and then guided Thomas's hands to the pile of logs and newspaper already in the firebox.

A match strike from the pack in the footman's pocket gave them their first glimpse of each other since early that morning. Ian grinned guiltily as Thomas gave him a quick once over, before turning the flame to the kindling he'd placed there during several quick, stock-up excursions to the cottage over the past few days.

"You didn't light a fire earlier today? Weren't you cold?" Thomas worried as the dry wood caught quickly, and a soft glow and slow warmth spread into the small, chilly space.

"I was afraid to," Ian admitted. "I knew I'd been seen at the house… And I didn't have nothin' but sheets to cover the windows 'til now. No one had found me by sunset; no need to risk callin' attention to meself…"

Thomas couldn't be irritated at that reasonable concern, or the face invoking it. But he was quite annoyed, on top of his relieved fears for that face's unknown escape fate. Before addressing that, he made himself ask instead, "You did eat?"

Ian nodded to the crate he'd brought down with him that morning. "Like you told the grocer, perfect for a 'day trip picnic.' I made a sandwich midday and for supper, and can set it by the door to keep it chill now that you've gotten me a fire."

"Good," Thomas smiled genuinely, before modeling the shivering squatter to warm himself by the stable fire. "I can't stay; but wanted to bring you the coverings, that blanket and a hanging kettle for the fire. There should be tea and sugar in the crate as well."

"You've set me up a right nice hideaway," Ian nodded gratefully, still seeming to be surprised at the consistent and costless generosity.

"Which you nearly didn't get to," Thomas turned serious, frustrated at the morning's near miss. "Why didn't you just leave directly, like I told you to?"

"I was going to!" Ian protested in his own defense. "I'd cleaned up meself and the room too; and was on my way out when… when it occurred to me that I might not have another chance to see the space you work in, to see more of your life—what you do, and what you want. I didn't touch or take nothin'; I promise. I just walked around and had a look see; it's huge! So many rooms, and fancy things…!"

Hardening from being briefly touched by Ian's interest in his daily life and greater designs, Thomas' face indicated he was not concerned with the beauty of the house in which Ian was almost caught.

"And they weren't supposed to be back so soon, you'd said; so when I heard the voices out the window, I just froze in place, hopin' they'd keep on. But when she looked in and saw me, I was gonna tell her I was makin' a delivery. And then she fainted; so I ran. Downstairs, out the door, and through as much brush as I could to get here. I'm sorry!"

"Well, thankfully, no one seems to have noticed you once you did leave. And our search of the entire house proved to almost everyone that there was no one lurking about. But had you tarried a moment longer, or not been on your way out in the first place… Mister Carson would have discovered you himself when he went through my room this afternoon."

"I am sorry," was really all Ian could say. It was clear he was most disappointed at having let down his benefactor.

"Just don't do it again?" Thomas asked, with a playful bat to the nose, before he stood and headed for the bedroom door. "So, if you're good for at least the night, I must get back to that same, suspicious house. I'll check on you-"

"Thomas?" Ian jumped up and called out, with a tinge of panic, stopping the footman instantly.

Turning, he could immediately see the swallowed fear in Ian's eyes and fidgeting hands.

"What if someone comes? Or... or somethin' happens?"

Thomas walked back over and took hold of drooped shoulders, to calm their understandable anxiety. "You'll be fine. Should someone come—which they won't—hide safely if you can, or tell them I let you in, if it comes to it; it's on me that you're here. Or, if you can, get to the service door up at the house, and ask for me. We'll figure it out from there."

Ian nodded an unconvinced understanding.

Knowing it had not been enough, Thomas tipped up the doubting face, pointing out he knew that, "There's something else."

Ian swallowed, and his jaw rippled with tension as he worked up the nerve or words to haltingly confide, "I've never really been by meself… I'm not used to… sleepin' on me own. In strange places. At night." He looked like he expected Thomas to laugh in his face for fearing the dark or being alone, or to strike him across it for the suggestion they spend yet another night in close quarters.

So he was entirely caught off guard when, instead, the taller man just wrapped his arms around him, confessing, "I've grown to enjoy the company myself."

The long exhale accompanying the returned embrace suggested that the appreciation was mutual.

Thomas relaxed his grip enough to catch Ian's eyes and admit, "I can't promise ya dozens of bunkmates like you grew up with. But if you'll take quality over quantity, I'll go make my goodnights, and be back quick as I can." Not wanting to go at all, he interrupted their shared smiles to risk adding a kiss to the top of his roomer's head. "Wait up for me?"

The unchanging smile on the nod propelled him toward the house with an urgency that had nothing to with the risk of being caught. In fact, he understood fully that he had already been ensnared, happily and completely.

tbc...