17 March 1919

Well I guess we've arrived at the part where you enter the story Dr Clarkson, with your kindness, patience, diplomacy, education and moustache. I think years of dealing with the Dowager Countess and a few months of dealing with both her and that Isobel Crawley woman prepared you for having such a difficult lover.

You were a very patient teacher and I was so desperate to be good at something that I worked hard and won your approval to some degree. We flirted subtly (and occasionally unsubtly, in your case) for months until I volunteered to stay behind and sort out the store room cupboard. I remembered thinking to myself that if you didn't make a move that night I would have to do something before I went crazy. I thought of sex almost constantly as I hadn't had any since the destruction of my relationship with James.

You didn't disappoint me however and when I felt your arms around me in the darkness of the storeroom I felt a rush of gladness, before remembering that it could have been anyone and hoping desperately that it was you. When I felt your moustache tickle my lips however, I knew it was you and I kissed back fervently. I'd never kissed a man with facial hair before (the Duke was always clean shaven and Mark had been too young to grow any, even if he'd fancied a moustache), and I found the sensation enjoyable. I quickly got down to business however (I was too horny for much foreplay), and got down on my knees before beginning to service you. I got the impression that you were rather shocked at my forwardness as you'd hoped to be the one taking charge, but I never let you do that until much later. Still, you were doing the opposite of complaining as you moaned and groaned with your head thrown back and resting on the shelves we used to store bandages in. After I was finished, you showed your gratitude by getting me off in the same way. You were without a shadow of a doubt superior to James, who I began to realise as you licked and fondled me, teasing out pleasant sensations, had been a very selfish lover. He only thought of his own enjoyment when we were together, getting me off quickly so we could get onto him. When we were finished I felt a little embarrassed about the amount of noise I had been making, however the dark storeroom hid my face, which I was glad of. I planned to leave almost immediately afterwards, but you stopped me with a hand on my arm, "Thomas, perhaps we should talk about..."

"No need to say anything, Dr Clarkson," I interrupted you. "I understand that you have a reputation to maintain and that we have to keep on working together. You needn't worry about me telling anyone, I know that this is just sex".

It was partially out of self preservation that I said this. I didn't want to end up getting hurt, like I had with James, thinking that we were something that we weren't. I also wanted to seem more in control than I had at the start of my last relationship. Looking back I realised that I'd been disgustingly needy and naive and that there was no way the Duke could have possibly respected me.

After my little speech I walked out of the storeroom, leaving you to button yourself up and make your way back to your rooms. I went back to the dormitories feeling relieved in one respect and worried in another. I was determined not to lose control this time. It was just sex.

18 March 1919

We continued our storeroom sessions (as you well know) with myself always leaving immediately afterwards. I realise this wasn't fair to you, but I did it partly out of self preservation and partly because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I had no intention of letting you get too close.

I remember after one such session I was a little slow in making myself presentable and you asked me, seemingly out of the blue, whether I missed my life at Downton. I snorted derisively and answered "no". You followed it up with a question about what I'd done before becoming a footman.

"Why do you want to know?" I challenged you.

"Because I want to get to know you, Thomas," you answered in a frustrated voice, "and you seem determined not to let me do that"

"You don't have to pretend to like me," I told you while dressing myself. "I know what this is and it doesn't have to be anything more"

"From the way you kiss me Thomas, I feel like you want it to be more," you told me, with that intense look in your pale blue eyes.

"Maybe I'm just a good kisser," I answered insolently. I felt as though I'd let myself down. I'd deliberately been trying not to put any emotion into what we were doing, but it appeared I had been. Instead of being offended, you just looked at me sadly and asked, "Who made you like this?"

"Like what?" I asked defensively.

"So cynical, so afraid of letting other people in," you answered without missing a beat.

I was getting frustrated with myself now, as I could feel all my bottled up emotions building up behind my eyes. "Listen," I began to speak, "I've done this a few times and it never...works out"

"What do you mean?" you asked me, making an effort to understand.

"I mean you have a family you don't want to disgrace, a job you don't want to lose and a reputation you'd rather keep unsullied. In the end, these things are worth more to you then I am and you want to preserve them. So a few quickies in a storeroom cupboard is all we'll ever amount to, no matter how much talking about our feelings we do. It's...better this way," by the time I finished I was crying silently.

"Thomas," you stepped forwards to touch my face.

"Don't," I stepped back. "Please don't, just leave me alone," it was your first warning, but you never took any notice did you?

"Thomas, we can be more," you took my hands. "We'll be a secret it's true, but we can be more and after the war..."

"You're a good man," I was endeavouring to get myself under control, but my voice was still shaking. "And I'm not. You deserve to be happy and I won't make you happy. You deserve someone better"

"I don't want anyone better," you said, cupping my face in your hand, which I finally allowed you to do. "I want you"

My heart burst when you said that and while I felt panicked as I lost control of myself, it was a sensation like floodgates bursting and I felt a huge sense of relief. I threw my arms around you and cried in earnest and though you must have been surprised you returned the embrace. I remember us standing there for a long time, you comforting me while I cried like a fool.