Downton Abbey:
Guy(s) Night
by Mirwalker
Chapter Twenty-Three: Mates
Another wave of emotion swept over Ian—rage this time; and he stood abruptly, pointed in the direction of the appeared assailant.
"Whoa, there," Thomas grabbed his nearest arm and spun him back, glad the wrenching pain in that bad shoulder shocked Ian out of his vengeful intent.
Still, Ian's head snapped up at him; and he growled, "I may know nothin' of pints and pubs; but even locked away all me life, I know I'm due some justice."
"And you'll have it," Thomas promised, admiring the shift from having nightmares, to wanting to bestow some on the accused. "But not one-on-one with a bad arm; and not today. We have some bigger fish to catch and fry, if you can trust me on the longer game…?"
He stood and stepped into Ian's line of sight. "Believe me, I know revenge. It's much more satisfyin' if it's planned, not just a reaction. And, we have the advantage that no one but me knows you were there and survived that night. Let's use that mystery, not show all our cards in the first hand…"
As he'd talked, Thomas had purposefully calmed and slowed his voice, modeling the shift in emotion they both needed to make for this opportunity to be productive.
Ian glanced at the laughing man across the room. His jaw flexed as he wrestled with competing desires.
"Please, Wink; for me?" Thomas asked, with a gentle squeeze to his wrist. "They will all pay. But we have to be smart about it."
"Fine," Ian exhaled and agreed. Barely. "What do we do?"
Handing Ian his jacket and hat, Thomas instructed, "You are going to slip out the front door while I pay for our meal. Head up to the square, and find someplace out of the way to wait for me. I won't be long…"
"But I-"
"Let your angel of vengeance work, love," Thomas whispered.
Trusting, if not liking, Ian strode out casually as Thomas slipped on, but didn't button up, his own outwear, taking stock of the situation and its options. He noticed that Tessie's attentions to the new man weren't flirtatious, as they were with most every other man she served; this was familiar and affectionate, but nothing more. He was family!
And from the angle Thomas watched, he noticed the man's arm slowly sliding down the back of his neighbour's chair, as they all chatted amicably. Until Tessie's cousin or brother had smoothly and expertly rifled through the draped jacket's pockets, and transferred their contents to his own. He was a thief! How disappointing, not surprising, and useful…
Making a point of keeping his wallet out as he walked to the bar and settled his tab with Mr Hislop, Thomas also made sure his display of cash—however small—was clearly visible to the bandit. Trading good wishes with the barman, he checked his watch, draped it sloppily into his vest pocket, turned toward the door, and conveniently walked right past the family reunion. Catching Tessie's eye, he made sure to pause long enough to acknowledge her with a smile and a nod… And was rewarded with her calling and reaching out to him, just as he'd hoped.
"Mister Thomas! If you've a moment, I'd love you to meet me brother!" Working her way out to the paused, smiling guest, she patted Thomas' arm and gestured to the man who did indeed resemble her, if rougher. "Willy, this is Mister Thomas; one of our regulars. He works up at the Abbey; but is never so high and mighty to not catch a bite and share some news with us common folk."
The two men nodded and shook hands, each a little heavy on the grip, just to make a point.
Thomas could tell Willy giving him a good once over, undoubtedly given that the man's sister was fawning noticeably over him. But when the protective brother's gaze tarried over the shiny metal timepiece, hardly hidden at his waist, he knew he'd have his desired chance. With the scruffier sibling.
"Pleasure to meet you, Willy," he continued to grin, as Tessie relished the meeting of two men apparently important to her. "Tessie mentioned her strapping older brother, of course—helps keep these bastards at bay," he laughed about the other gathered drinkers. "But I don't know that I've seen you in before."
Willy played along with a glare at the other men, before explaining, "I'm in Leeds these days, scraping out a living best I can. But I come back to see me sis as often as work and wages allow." He took a draught from his nearly empty tankard, as if a toast to himself. "While you, sir, seem to be doing quite well for yourself on the scraps from that posh table out the country."
Thomas smiled more coolly, knowing he still represented the household, even if he wasn't playing this out for them. "I don't always intend to be on the serving side of the dishes; no, sir. And for all their fancy cuisine, nothing beats a pint and platter from my favorite public house and staff!" He turned to give an exaggerated wave to the owner, a playful, but appropriate, hug to Tessie, and an opportunity to the brother sitting at his opposite side.
And, as everyone around added to the rousing chorus of agreements and accolades for their hosts, Thomas felt the fingers at his waist and dropped his waiting hand to grab the wrist in mid-pick. Tightening his vice-like grip on the struggling and watch-filled hand, Thomas turned back as the others did, a smile still on his face. Before anyone else could act, he looked from Willy, to the clear evidence, back to Willy, and said loudly, "But I've got to be back to it now, with thanks to all for the hospitality and company as always. Willy, I hate to walk away having just met; perhaps you'll join me for a smoke outside?" A squeeze of the wrist and raised eyebrows suggested that the refusal would have painful and public consequences.
The brother demurred with false modestly, trying one last time to release himself, to no avail. "Well, perhaps if I might have me glass topped off while I step out… Who am I to turn down such a friendly offer by me sister's mate?"
So pleased at the connection between to the two, Tessie whisked the glass from the table and promised to have it back waiting on him.
With a wave to all, and without releasing his grip, Thomas politely 'allowed' his new friend to lead, and 'followed' him closely out to the street.
"Here's the deal, 'big brother,'" Thomas pre-empted as soon as they'd stepped clear of the door, "I will let you go without breaking your wrist, and without sharing your attempt on my watch and actual lightening of your tablemate's jacket, on one condition…"
His hand locked and his pockets full of damning evidence, Willy thought it best to at least know his options before choosing. Plus more talk meant more time to loose— But the grip tightened again, interrupting his scheming and causing him to call out in pain.
Smiling and pretending to holding up his drunk friend, for the benefit of any passers-by, Thomas' voice held no mirth. "You tell me everything about your failed job on Guy Fawkes Night."
That got the man's attention.
"I know you and two mates had dinner here, got a message from someone at the Grantham Arms, and then waylaid a car on the north road. The old man and the boy got away from you in the storm; so I know it didn't pay off well for your cold, wet and dark tree chopping. But unless you want the police, Mr Hislop or your lovely sister to know what you've been up to, then, today and probably during other visits here when things have gone missing…"
"You've no proof of anythin'," Willy protested.
"I'm holdin' a good bit, you daft bastard," Thomas reminded. "And the boy got away from you that night, leavin' a trail of evidence as you might have heard. But no body's ever been found. So far…"
Willy's eyes widened again. Did this angry stranger mean there was a body? That they'd actually killed the boy? Or just that there was a witness whose pride and good name weren't so delicate at the old geezer who preferred to protect his honor over truth, just as they'd been promised he would.
"Tick tock," Thomas reminded with another twist to the wrist. "If not for your own sorry arse, then just imagine how Mr Hislop would react to the mere accusation that dear, sweet your sister had been inviting a thief into his reputable business? He'd have to sack her, whether or not he believed she didn't know. Surely even a big man from Leeds can appreciate how these small towns do talk…"
"You wouldn't…," Willy glared, revealing some weakness where preserving his sister, or at least her victim rich place of employment, was concerned.
Thomas leaned in. "Don't let my nice clothes fool you. I only work for a gentleman…"
What little doubt the man had, or better recourse he'd sought, was gone. "What do you want to know?"
Thomas knew his time was actually short—to maintain his hold on the man, and not to be interrupted. So, to the point. "Who set up the ambush?"
"It weren't me; one of me mates in Leeds. He knew the man who knew the mark."
"And who was this fellow then?"
"I don't know him. Only that he was the manservant of the old man. He knew when they'd be on the road; and we worked out the stop here in Downton."
"And the plan was to…? To rob him? Kill him?"
"'Course not kill him. We ain't murderers… Too messy. Just rough up the boy while they was sleepin' at the nicer pub, and run him off so as to look guilty, while we took anything of value we could get off 'em all."
"Why? What was the goal?"
"Who's daft now?! For the money!"
"Not your goal. Why did the servant want the boy blamed?"
"He seemed to have it in for the welp," Willy sneered as he passed on the gossipy bit of his story. "He weren't happy about the codger's attention to the new, young thing… Seems he didn't appreciate bein' replaced as the sole caregiver."
Or sole heir to the lascivious old letch… "And when they moved on despite the storm?"
"His man sent us a note; and we had to come up with a way to get 'em on the road. Bastards... drove off leavin' us with nothing but the brat. Who broke me tooth, and me mate's fingers afore slippin' off. We couldn't even ransom him back…"
"How unfortunate for you," Thomas feigned sympathy, recalling the full extent of Ian's injuries, beyond the cold and trauma. And adding to his admiration that Ian could fight when needed.
"Well, the old man's pride couldn't stand people knowing 'bout the boy, or being robbed; so he's told the nice policeman nothin'. Our being here was just… coincidence as far as they can prove. And we'll be able to squeeze that servant for …compensation for a long while yet." Willy was all but smiling at how the deal might have become more profitable for its challenges.
"What's this servant's name?" Not that Thomas couldn't find out easily enough, as he knew the master. But for Willy to tell him would confuse suspicions down the road, if needed.
"I dunno. Nor the old man's. Didn't need to; don't care to," he offered his most honest sharing of the afternoon. "But I do know they'll soon miss us inside. I'd hate some for someone to come lookin', and… misunderstand our prolonged rendezvous. You know how these small towns do talk..."
Personally intended or not, the implication revolted Thomas on multiple levels. Having gotten all the information he probably could, save the names of Willy's accomplices, he released the knave's wrist with a shove to put some distance between them. "You'd best've spoken the truth to me today."
"And you'd best keep your word about holdin' your tongue," the knave's confidence returned with his freedom.
His physical advantage gone, and time's passage likely to invite curiosity from someone, Thomas knew it was best to wrap up quickly. "Our understanding should benefit us both then; and we're both better off for the conversation."
"Indeed," Willy grudging agreed as he backed toward the door.
"Though," Thomas added casually, "it is a shame you stumbled into the doorpost after I left you…"
"What? I didn't-"
The right hook caught Willy, and his nose, entirely by surprise. As he realized there was certainly blood, if not breakage, a voice standing over him explained, "That's for 'the boy.' And let your mates know: should I ever hear tell of any attempt to un-even our score, Mr Hislop will receive some most unfortunate news."