Downton Abbey:
Guy(s) Night
by Mirwalker
Chapter Twenty-nine: Dispersion
Ian's eyes and cheeks burned with disappointment and anger, as Thomas saw he'd also guessed at his angel's separate, and secret, intentions.
"I'm sorry, Ian," Isobel said, looking to and meaning Thomas as well. "I- I-"
"Mrs Crawley has gone to great trouble to have this doctor see you," Thomas turned toward Ian and calmly presumed the true foundation for a greater, but equally probable lie. "He's agreed as a personal favor to her; and having someone else along with you was not part of their arrangement. I know it's not ideal; but beyond being so generous, Mrs Crawley is a nurse herself. I trust her to make sure you're well taken care of; and I'll join you a little later this afternoon."
Ian looked to the nodding host, not disbelieving her intentions; but not liking being without his guardian in this city, much less in such a vulnerable situation. "I've never seen a doctor," he reminded, hoping they might be swayed by an admission of how novel and nervous-making the visit would be, and how much more important it was than Thomas' clandestine activities.
In as much physical connection as he dared in mixed company, Thomas put his hand behind Ian's neck, stroking the close cropped hair. "You are strong; she is good; and this will make you better..." He meant more of the day's intentions than just the medical examination. "Please?"
"You promised…" Nothing more about my past. The dark eyes burrowed into him for a more reassuring understanding. "Why?"
Thomas knew full well that Ian meant more than the honest apprehension over the hospital visit, anxiety-producing as that was. But he knew the larger stakes, and greater potential, for his other two appointments; and he needed Ian to trust his long-range actions more than to rely on his short-term presence. He glanced at their audience, who seemed concerned, not suspicious, and whispered simply, "Angel."
Isobel's brow wrinkled at the odd utterance; but seeing Ian sigh, swallow and nod, she understood that some core commitment had been invoked between the relations.
Ian cleared his throat and turned to her, asking quietly, "You don't think they'll… take me arm, or-?"
"My dear boy, no!" Isobel exclaimed, believing she now understood the root of his reluctant reaction. She walked over and added her soothing hand to his good shoulder. "Is that what you've worried over; I'm so sorry. No! You're able to move the arm and fingers; so I promise it's just a matter of mending, not taking, the arm."
She looked to Thomas with an apology that the younger man had carried that worry. "But we should be on our way. Thomas, would you mind returning the tea service to the kitchen while I gather my things?"
"My pleasure," he nodded to the non-presumptive request, and released Ian's neck with a quick squeeze and wink.
"Just set in on the table, and we'll see to it when we return. Just through there, thank you," she called. Turning back to Ian, Isobel suddenly noticed, and asked without judgment, "Do you not have a coat beyond this one jacket I've seen you in now twice?" His embarrassed shake sent her quickly to a small closet off the main hallway, from which she returned brushing off a nice, if dated long coat.
"Try this on. It was Matthew's when he was smaller. Carefully," she helped with the bad arm, explaining as she settled it on him and sized him up, "I am sorry Thomas isn't able to join us. I hadn't realized how important he was to you."
"He's all I have, mam."
"What of your family?" She fixed the lapels with motherly fuss, as she likely had with its previous occupant.
Ian shook his head, "Only him."
She looked up from her satisfied match, with a sad expression that she promptly forced to reassurance. "Then… Downton Abbey are not the only ones lucky enough to have him so devoted."
"Ready?" Thomas appeared.
"I think we are," Isobel matched Ian's shy smile. "Just let me freshen up. I'll only be a moment," and she stepped upstairs quickly.
"Did she just give you that coat?" Thomas stepped up to make his own adjustments on the lapels.
"I think so… Or maybe she's lent it," Ian confessed. "I don't understand why she's being so nice."
"Best not to poke, lest you pop the bubble," Thomas tutted, as he pulled something from his own jacket pocket. "Here's some money. It's not likely enough to settle any bill; I expect the… good lady," he admitted aloud again, "will also have covered this expense. But you should pull this out, and make at least an effort to pay; you'll look all the more honourable. And if I've somehow misjudged her, then tell her I'll cover the difference quick as I can."
"But you've no-" Ian tried to protest.
Making sure they were still alone, Thomas cupped his hand on Ian's cheek, silencing him with the gentle press of thumb on lips. "I'll have more by the time we meet later."
Ian looked cross and perplexed at the day's plans whirling around him without his full knowledge or agreement. He couldn't deny his need, or fault the generosity of these benefactors; but he also didn't have to like the process that merely dragged him along. As Mrs Crawley made noises of re-emerging from the upper rooms, he placed his hand on Thomas' and asked, "Smile for me, really smile, so I know you're truly happy with all this." If you are, I can be, he needn't say aloud.
Seeing the honesty of Mrs Crawley's unpatronizing charity, and knowing the relief the afternoon's visits would hopefully bring to Ian, Thomas smiled adoringly. The parts of the visit that Ian wouldn't like were necessary for the larger good, and moreover, were well-earned by those involved. He could smile openly and honestly at the doors that would close, and more importantly open, for Ian this day. How could he not smile at that?
Relieved at the genuine grin he received, Ian returned it, leading Mrs Crawley to smile herself as she descended the stairs and joined them. "Shall we?"
Coats, gloves, scarves and hats applied, the trio walked the few brisk blocks to the main road, with Mrs Crawley sharing tidbits on the occupants and architects of the larger homes they passed.
A tram was approaching as they reached the stop; and so Thomas took the moment to take his leave as Mrs Crawley pulled out fare for two. "I'll meet you close to four as I can. You be good," he pulled Ian in for a quick hug and peck on the hat. "And thank you again, Mrs Crawley, for everything."
Trusting to board, but not breaking eye contact even as they pulled way, Ian watched as Thomas faded into the dreary distance.
Still at the stop, Thomas took a deep breath and turned back into the nice neighborhood for his first unpleasant, if pleasurable, errand.
"I'm afraid her Ladyship has made no mention to me of a change in the quantity of her post." O'Brien's voice betrayed none of the contempt her face showed, as the middle Grantham daughter continued to babble ahead of her as they made their way past the shop windows along the nearest of the suggested high-end streets. "But then I am not usually present when the posts arrive or at meals; nor am I typically in or around Lady Mary's room." Obviously.
"Oh," Edith sighed with some disappointment, before dismissing the unsatisfying answer and its question. "Well, it's nothing, really. I simply had noticed, and wondered…"
"Begging your Ladyship's pardon," O'Brien stopped walking. "But I was under the impression we'd come along today to… keep an eye on Mrs Crawley and Thomas, not Lady Mary. Have I misunderstood?"
Edith turned with no small horror at the lady's maid speaking openly of the subterfuge; and she stepped back toward the unflinching, taller woman, "Well of course we have; but we needn't speak of it so openly."
"My apologies," O'Brien didn't apologize, before whispering dutifully, "May I also ask then, why we've let them send us off so handily? It might be easier to… observe them, if we could see them."
"That's true, of course. I just hadn't expected to be dispatched so suddenly, as you say. And I don't know this city well, and must come back with some purchases, else the whole family will have every reason to know our true purpose in coming…"
O'Brien forced herself to smirk and nod knowingly, commiserating. She gripped her hands so tight they hurt; patience's products were not without their trying payments. But she only looked about, leaned in and offered instead, "I know this trip is important to your Ladyship, that's why I suggested it as I did. And, if I might be so bold, I may have another way to help..."
Edith's eyes lit up with a new hope for the clandestine mission.
Seeing success alight there, O'Brien sold her idea. "You can remain here, shopping as you like; so that we can be honest about that purpose and passing of time. I have some knowledge of this city, and some ideas on where at least our young detective Thomas may be headed, on your behalf I believe. If you feel you'd be good on your own here, and if it would help, well, I could… see if I might be able to keep an eye on him for you…"