A/N: Hey Guys! I haven't really been doing authors notes so far, but I'm using this one to beg for reviews :D This is my first fanfic and I'd really appreciate some constructive feedback. So pretty please review 3
13 March 1919
I returned to Downton pining for my lover like a lass from a sappy romance novel. I still kept my letters from him in their green ribbon, but they weren't the only thing I took away from the experience.
During the time I had known him, the Duke had made several disparaging remarks about servants. Him teasing me about going in the front door is one example, disregarding his valet's feelings and stealing his clothes is another. I felt inferior to him and very conscious of my rank. Being a footman no longer felt good enough and I was determined to rise somehow through the ranks at Downton, so I could feel myself not quite so unworthy.
When his lordship's valet left and I replaced him, I did for a time feel better. At least until I was replaced by that cripple, Mr Bates. I'm not proud of my behavior towards the man but I honestly felt I could do his job better and I truly wanted to advance. I realise now that this was no excuse for knocking his cane out from under him and deliberately sabotaging him at work. What must you think of me now John? Your lover used to abuse a man with shrapnel in his leg because he'd taken his job.
I next saw James after writing to him about Lady Mary's newfound fortune, or what I thought would be her newfound fortune, as I imagined the family would challenge the entail. He once again contrived to have me serve as his valet and I looked forward to spending the night with him. I could better manage spending the night out of my room at Downton as there were many more staff for Carson to keep track of and I felt confident I would not be missed. I did not however, spend the night with James as I had planned.
Our conversation began easily enough as I undressed him and we discuessed Lady Mary's disapointing lack of fortune. When I began alluding to the future however and pointing out that he'd once offered me a job (which I wanted, to be close to him), he turned cold and reminded me that "one swallow doesn't make a summer". I grew distressed at this, as I gradually began to realise that our relationship meant barely anything to this man and I'm not proud of this, but I threatened to expose him. I was angry and wanted revenge. Few people see me vulnerable and he had. I wanted some power back.
James was one step ahead of me, however. He'd visited my room with Lady Mary earlier in the day and stolen my letters out of the drawer I kept them in. He burned them in front of me and I attempted to save them, half because I wanted to keep my memories of him and half because I wanted to avenge myself on him, while he held me back. Afterwards, to add insult to injury, he asked if I wanted to spend the night. To this day, I am eternally grateful I had enough self respect to walk out of that door and never contact that man again.
14 March 1919
After the incident with the Duke, I rose to the height of my "unpleasantness". I did anything I could think of to hurt others, including flirting with Daisy the kitchen maid to annoy William, my fellow footman. I also developed a slight drinking problem and when Bates caught me stealing wine from the cellar, I was so scared I'd be sacked it became my mission to destroy him.
Things continued without much improvement until talk of war began and I devised a way of escaping the duty of becoming a soldier. Training as a doctor. I think you thought back then that I was patriotic to sign up so early. The truth is it was cowardice. I don't view myself as a strong character. I never was one. You served as doctor during the war; you may not have been on the front line as I was, for a time, but you saw good men die. Yet you can still talk, you can still function like a human being. I can't and it's because I'm weak.
16 March 1919
I hope you realise John, that I've never talked to anyone else about any of the things in this journal and I'll never talk about them to anyone again. Some of the things in here about the Duke, might help you understand the way I treated you when we were first...together. But it's probably not really any excuse for my behavior. The point is, I'm sorry for the way I act, but I don't know how to...be different. This is all I am and you somehow accept it, so you're either crazy, or the most generous, warm hearted person I know. (My money's on the former, by the by).
I remember when we were first training under you as recruits. I was training to be a surgeon and I was head of my class because of my steady, clock making hands (the one thing I can thank my father for). I noticed that you would guide my hands unnecessarily often during a dissection, or look at me for longer than was polite and stand closer to me than strictly necessary. (Don't worry, I don't think the other students noticed). I thought you were interested, but I didn't want to make a move. The one time I attempted to seduce another man went horribly wrong.
I'm sure you've heard of the scandal involving Lady Mary and the Turkish diplomatic attache? Well, I'm afraid I had a rather unfortunate hand in that. After misinterpreting some conversation I had with Kamal Pamuk, I made a move that was repulsed with some vehemence (I don't know if that's ever happened to you, but it's rather unpleasant). He also threatened to inform the Crawleys, which would have definately resulted in my getting the sack. However, he had a deal in mind. If I showed him Lady Mary's bedroom, he'd keep my mistake a secret.
I felt I had no choice but to comply. If Pamuk told the Crawleys about the incident, not only would I lose my place, what I was would be all over the village. None of the staff felt a scrap of loyalty towards me aside from Sarah and they'd see no reason to keep my shame a secret. So I showed him to the bedroom and the next morning I found him back in his own room, dead. I can't say I wasn't relieved about this, for the obvious selfish reason, but I was also shocked and I certainly wasn't glad it had happened. I never for a moment thought he might have died of anything other than natural causes until O'Brien wondered aloud whether he'd gotten back to his room "under his own steam". Since then I can't help but wonder whether Lady Mary murdered him. If she did, I feel as though it's at least partly my fault. I don't like the idea of having sent that young man to his death. But if I did, it's just one of many horrible things I've done in my life.