His hands were all slick and smelled unpleasantly of the pomade that Mr. Carson so badly has insisted to see on his hair. He bite down on the low lip and reluctantly began rub it in between dark strands, wondering if Mr. Barrow is using so much of his cologne, because he wants to kill the odor of pomade. With the corner of an eye he noticed Mr. Bagwell watching him from behind with a cunning face, looking like he really enjoyed himself.

'Would you stop smirking at me?' He snapped annoyed. 'You were supposed to help me, not having a fun at my cost.'

'But I don't know how I'm supposed to help you.' He replied with raised eyebrow as he kept watching the footman who was trying to get his hair in order.

'I've never used a pomade. I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that.' He sighed and looked back at the valet. 'I thought you could show me.'

'I've never used it, either.' He confessed and bite down on his lip. 'But you just have to smoother it over your hair and then comb them back, so they won't hang down above your eyes.'

'I figured it out by myself, thank you very much.' Patrick scowled and looked critically at his own reflection in a small mirror. 'The problem is they don't want to lay the way I want them.'

'Because you're rubbing a pomade into the skin of your head!' He rolled his eyes and with pulled out face gingerly touched Patrick's hair. 'You have to make them lay flat, just like that.' He reluctantly demonstrated, sure of his skills, though the end result of his work didn't look like he had imagined it to be. The longer strands were making something close to elliptic paraboloid over Patrick's head, and the rest of his hair looked like it was wet of water. The footman gritted his teeth together and reached out for a towel, so he could wipe out that smelly thing from his head. 'Oh, please, it was almost done, and now look at you! You ruined it all!' Mr. Bagwell whined and pulled back with annoyed face.

'I doubt Mr. Carson would be any happier with my new handiwork, than with my previous hairstyle.' He snapped and threw a towel on the ground. 'I look funny!' He barked, close to tears, when his friend approached him with mischievous smile.

'Maybe instead you'd like me to help you with that?' He asked with a smirk and gently ran a finger over man's goatee and down his neck, making him shiver. 'Or maybe ask Mr. Barrow, I'm sure he'd love to touch your cheek.' He said in teasing voice and chuckled.

'I have no intention of shave it completely, and I don't see a reason why Mr. Barrow would like to help me with this.' There was that smile on Mr. Bagwell's face which he wears whenever he knows something that Patrick doesn't. 'Care to tell?' He prompted.

'Oh, it's nothing, really.' He said with innocent face. 'I just heard some gossips…'

'What gossips?'

'Well, Mr. Barrow…' He trailed off, when a sudden though occurred in his head. 'Exactly, Mr. Barrow!' He exclaimed.

'But what Mr. Barrow?!' Patrick was losing his patience with him.

'He's using pomade, isn't he? I'm sure he'd be more useful than me.' The valet suggested with a small smile. 'He won't say no, he's too much fond of you.'

'I think you exaggerate with him being fond of me.' Patrick disagreed, though he wouldn't mind if the under butler indeed was. He'd like Mr. Barrow to be his constant companion – he was sure, they both could make a perfect match. 'Besides I didn't intent to show myself to him, before I get everything in order.'

'Well, well, what a lady of you.' He mocked and hissed with pain when the footman has slapped him on the arm. 'You don't have to take everything so personal!'

'Fine, I'll ask him to help me.' He sighed deeply and kissed softly the corner of Mr. Bagwell's lips. 'And I'm sorry for hurting you.' He apologized sincerely with warm eyes. 'I didn't mean to.'

'Apology accepted.' The valet muttered with a gleam in eye. 'Well, you can't blame me for being jealous…'

'Of Mr. Barrow?' He looked at him in disbelief, clearly surprised with man's revelation. 'You're ridiculous! I'd never, ever thought about him in any sexual way, and you know that.'

'Oh, really?' The challenge in valet's voice angrier him even more. He couldn't believe his own ears. 'You like him, you talk about him all the time.'

'I do not!' He protested, flustered, though the long, knowing look from Mr. Bagwell cooled him down, and made him realize that he might be right in some parts. He looked panicked around the room. 'Well, I like him, and there's nothing wrong about that!' He crossed his arms against chest, feeling like a deer caught in a trap.

'I'm only saying you never know what might happen, that's all. I don't attack you, Patrick, and I don't suggest anything, either. It was only observation, and well, I wanted to satisfy my curiosity.' He didn't like that forced smile, but decided to let it go. The valet was only winding him up. Just like always.

'I hope you already satisfied it.' He murmured irate and picked up a jar with pomade. 'And if I was you, I'd try to be more talkative around people.' He added, deciding it was time to pay back.

'What do you mean?' He inquired alarmed.

'You barely talk with anyone, they began wonder what kind of secret do you keep.' The valet shifted nervously on the feet. 'If you don't want to expose Lord Brasher and his crafty plan, I'd advise you to think about what I said.' He couldn't help a small smirk forming on his lips, finding the whole situation amusing.

'They would never find out, unless you tell someone.' Patrick kissed lightly the pale cheek.

'I don't see a point why I'd like to do that.' He shrugged off. 'Besides if I reveal your secret, nothing would stop you from return the favor.'

'You can be sure I will.' Mr. Bagwell muttered back with a wicked smile and watched the other man walking toward the door.

'I'll keep it in my mind.'

Thomas has barely buttoned up his shirt, when a soft knock came to his ears. He glanced at the mirror and smoothed his hair once again. He smiled to himself and before he has a chance to open the door, someone has done it for him. He was ready to reprimand whoever has an audacity to walk into his room without his permission, when he recognized it was Patrick. Well, who else could it be, he thought with a smirk, as he already has learnt that the footman doesn't has any manners at all.

'I'm sorry I burst in here like that, – At least this time he felt obligated to apologize, he thought sarcastically, - but I need very badly your help.' Thomas had on the tip of his tongue a question how badly he meant, but restraint himself. Instead he took a look at the young footman and noticed a small changes. Most of his dark hair were flattened at the top of his head, goatee trimmed neatly and he could smell a faint scent of perfumes floating around the man. He looked more civilized as Mr. Carson would say, and was even more attractive, than the first time he'd has seen him. And somehow it made him feel uneasy again.

'So, what do you need, then?' He asked causally, hoping his voice wouldn't betray how nervous he was.

'I need a favor.' The under butler raised his eyebrow questioningly, his mind occupied with a wild scenes of the favors he'd like to do for the young footman. 'I don't know how to use a pomade, and you're seemed to be an expert with it.' Patrick explained further, his cheeks were rosy pink. 'I've tried to smooth them…'

'Well, I already have my hair done, but if you insist I could instruct you…' He didn't finish as Patrick grinned at him widely and unceremoniously stood in front of him with his back turned to him. Thomas watched him agape, when he handed him a jar of pomade.

'Thank you very much, Mr. Barrow.' He muttered and kept watching Thomas in the mirror, waiting for his first move. Thomas was petrified; it was already a torture he had to stand so close to Patrick, let alone touch him.

'Are you sure?' His breath hitched.

'I don't want to stay in Mr. Carson's bad books to the end of my stay in Downton.' He smiled at the mirror, and Thomas cautiously dip his fingers in a slick pomade. He took a deep, long breath and gently began smooth the hair toward the back of head, in gently voice advising Patrick how he's supposed to take care of them every morning. The lad was nodding his head as far the under butler was letting him, in understanding, didn't dare to come into older man's word, and was trying his best to keep his eyes open. But the gently caress of Thomas slender fingers felt too good to focus on the correct use of pomade. He wanted to purr like a cat when the under butler tugged softly at a few long bands of hair and moved them behind Patrick's ears, his eyes unwillingly closed.

'You might cut them down a bit.' Thomas advised in a low voice, his eyes over and over kept staring back at the mirror, so he could watch the younger man's reaction to his efforts.

'What about the long strands at the front?' Patrick sighed. 'I look silly when I brush them back.'

'Because you're silly.' He retorted and smirked as he noticed a flash of anger in hazel eyes, which has snapped opened in a minute. 'There's no other way like make a fringe of them.' Before he could complain, Thomas grabbed for his brush and gingerly combed the long strands at the left side of Patrick's face and let it fall over his eye. 'Now, you do look much better.' He stated, deciding his new hairstyle was giving him a bit of character. 'You just need a last touch.' He murmured and reached out for pomade.

'Yes, it looks nice.' Patrick said carefully, not quite enjoying his wet-like hair, but he liked the fringe. 'I think you lost your vocation, Mr. Barrow. You should be a barber, not serving at Downton.' If it meant he could touch him more, he wouldn't mind to take care of his hair every day.

'And what's the difference between being a servant or barber? In both cases you're supposed to serve other people. Besides I doubt putting a pomade on the hair it's the only thing the barber is doing.' His voice dripped with sarcasm.

'Well, yes, but you have a nice hands, so...' He smiled softly and closed his eyes when Thomas ran a hand through his hair, causing Goosebumps all over his body. 'Ah, Mr. Barrow.' He gasped, when the fingertips touched the sensitive skin behind his ear.

'Yes, pup?' The under butler muttered, didn't stop massaging the skin. His lips parted, so inviting, it took Thomas all his willpower to not lean closer and kiss them.

'I think they look fine, Mr. Barrow. My hair, I mean.' He stuttered and with a deep blush pulled out from the man, didn't feel so embarrassed with his body reactions in ages. He should know better to not ask the under butler for help, knowing how sensitive he is when someone plays with his hair. Damn you, he thought angrily, when the cunning face of Mr. Bagwell flashed in his mind. 'Thank you for your time.' He hoped Mr. Barrow wouldn't think he is different; that was the last thing he needed right now.

'Whenever you need my help, don't be afraid to ask. I'd try my best.' Thomas offered with a small smile, hoping he wouldn't notice how disappointment he was that he can't touch him anymore.

'You're so kind, Mr. Barrow.' Patrick muttered and as quickly he arrived, so he left the room, leaving Thomas alone. The under butler wasn't kind. Deep down he knew he was doing it only for purpose to get closer to the footman, and convince the young thing they don't have to stop at the small touches they've already shared. Judging by his reactions, Patrick seemed to be an easy target, and if he plays it right, he might enjoy his visit in Downton more than he has ever thought he would.

'Ah, there you are, pup!' Lord Brasher beamed, when he spotted a young man rushing behind the pillars in the Hall Entrance.

'Good morning, my Lord.' Patrick bowed with a small smile and reluctantly approached the older man already in his brown, hunting clothes and with big sunflower pinned – probably by his beloved daughter - to his hat. 'Have you been looking after me?'

'Yes, I have.' The lord nodded and moved closer to the footman. 'I hadn't asked you, yet, how are you feeling about living and working in Downton. Do they treat you good? I mean, other servants, of course.'

'Oh, yes, my Lord, they're very helpful and nice to me.' Patrick replied, a flash of surprise crossed his face. 'I really enjoy my stay in here.'

'I hope so.' Lord Brasher smiled widely, and like always it has been in the habit, he was going to ruffle the footman's hair, when at the last moment he has noticed that there was something different about the lad's appearance. 'Have you cut your hair?' His eyebrows drew closer, as he tried figure out what was missing.

'No, my Lord, I just used pomade.'

'Why?' Lord Brasher inquired with a stern look.

'Mr. Carson is afraid my appearance is beyond the standards of the house.' Patrick explained further, couldn't stop himself from a small grimace. 'I was also asked to shave.'

'It is ridiculous!' The older man exclaimed at the whole Hall. 'How I am supposed to recognize you in the crowd, when you'd be looking like any other servant in the house?!' The footman shook his head slightly, get used to his specific humor, when Lord Brasher was shaking with laugher, enjoying his little joke.

'I don't think Mr. Carson would sees it that way.' He stated with a dry voice and took a step back as he noticed Lord Grantham making his way toward them. 'Good morning, my Lord.' He bowed.

'Ah, good morning, Patrick.' Lord Grantham said back with a small smile. 'We are ready to go, if you are, George.'

'Yes, of course, I am. I was just talking with Patrick to kill the time. Melanie and Charlotte are beyond endurance, when they are trying to fit into their new dresses.' He rolled his eyes with a snort. 'And you should tell me that Patrick does not meet the standards of the house, so I could do something about that.' The footman's cheeks were drained off the color.

'I would, if I know about that.' Lord Grantham said with a frown, surprised with revelation. 'And in truth I do not understand the problem. Patrick looks clean and smart.' He noted and eyed up the young lad.

'I believe your butler does not improve pup's unusual look. And he made it quite clear.' Lord Brasher persisted, clearly demanding from his friend to make the decision.

'Carson?' He more stated than asked, and sighed heavily. 'I'm sure he doesn't has nothing wrong on his mind. He is just old-fashioned and sometimes it is very hard for him to catch up with today's fashion. Still I would tell him to not be so harsh on Patrick. He is your servant.' A faint smile crossed the lad's face.

'I'm sure we can make some compromise.' The other man grinned and patted Patrick's back. 'But that it is for other time. Now, let's go hunt!' He rubbed his hands together.

'But what is all about your hat? Is it a sunflower?' Lord Grantham asked in disbelief as he spotted the unusual thing decorating man's hat, his eyebrows drew closer.

'It was Charlotte's idea. She thought it might look good.'

'Yes it might, when you're the one who'd be hunted.' Patrick bite down on his low lip to stop himself from burst into laugh. 'I really don't think it is wise to be so much on the view, George. Someone might take you for…someone else.' He continued softly, hoping he wouldn't offend his friend's feelings, though, after one look at his suddenly red face he knew the damage has been already done.

'And have you ever seen a boar with a sunflower?!' Lord Brasher bristled annoyed, making his point, while the footman used the occasion to run back to the Servant Hall, before one of the men bring him into conversation.

James was bored. He had enough lying in the bed and though he'd never been first to work, he'd just give anything to be able to go down and help others. Though he wouldn't mind if someone just visit him and stay for a small chat or round of poker. But no, no one thought about that, even Mr. Barrow hadn't show up, though he has promised him he will. Bunch of liars, he thought angrily, couldn't believe no one cares.

He threw the quilt off his body and pulled his feet down. A hiss of pain escaped his lips when he tried to stand up, and he'd be already lying sprawled across the bed if he hadn't reached for a bedside table on time. He kept his injured foot in the air, till the pain has reduced, and tried to take a small step. He cried with hurt and decided that he might not be in good enough condition to get back to work, yet. Upset, he has slumped back on the bed, at the same time as someone knocked on the door.

'Come in.' He called with a tired voice and leaned against the wall. His eyebrows raised up in surprise, when an unknown young man slipped inside his room. With some difficulties he balanced a tray to his bedside table and clearly relieved put it down. 'Who are you?' He scowled at the lad.

'I'm Mr. Bagwell, Lord Brasher's valet.' He introduced himself with a pitching voice and stood straight in front of him. 'Since everyone are very busy with preparations for the picnic, Mr. Carson asked me if I could bring a breakfast for you.' He explained further, when James kept watching him with the same confused and irate face. 'Lord Brasher doesn't need me at the moment.'

Well, thank you, Mr. Bagwell.' James said flatly, still surprised with an unusual visit. It wasn't the valet's place to be – Mr. Carson shouldn't let anyone stranger walk into James or other servants rooms without their consent.

'Do you need anything else?' He asked softly, dauntless by the other man combative behavior, and took a look around the room. 'Shall I open the window? It's very dusty in here, and today's very warm outside.'

'If you insist…' He shrugged off and warily watched the valet. 'Do you perhaps know when Alfred or Mr. Barrow are going to see me? They promised to drop a few books for me.' He asked casually, hoping he didn't sound too desperate.

'Oh, well, Mr. Barrow doesn't has any free time since he has to take care of Mr. Coleman.' James winced. He knew from the same beginning that there was something more going on between Thomas and the new footman, than his friend has admitted. James felt betrayed and lonely like has never before, as he thought how Mr. Barrow very quickly replaced him with a young, probably very good-looking, Mr. Coleman. 'And Alfred doesn't want to see you, after how badly you treated him last time.' Mr. Bagwell informed him and sat at the free chair.

'Ah, that one.' James muttered as he recalled the scene he has made in front of poor footman. He hadn't meant to offend him or threw a plate after him, Alfred just has chose the worst moment he could to visit him. 'That would explain why he's not coming to see me.'

'I could ask him to come over for a minute, so you could apologize to him.' He offered, but the first footman wasn't convinced at all if there is really a need to apologize to Alfred. It was just one, innocent quarrel between friends - one of the many others they've already shared – nothing serious.

'There's no need to bother him.' James decided. 'I'll just talk with him, when I come back to work.'

'As you wish.' Mr. Bagwell nodded with a small smirk, his eyes fixed at the other man's face. 'If you don't need anything else, I have to go. I'm sorry, but I can't keep you company, although if you wish I can come over after work. I could ask Mr. Barrow to give me that books you wished to read.' He offered.

'Oh, that would be really kind of you, Mr. Bagwell.' He might not know the man, and normally would show him the door, but so far he was the only one interested in visit him and even offer his free time to spend it with him, so he decided his company wouldn't be such a bad idea at all. He bet Mr. Coleman would never offer anything like that, as he is too busy fawning like a dog around Thomas legs and making sure he'd get James position. The little bastard.

'I'll see you later, then.' The valet smiled at him in friendly manner and in hurry walked out of the bedroom.

'Yea, see you.' James muttered and threw himself on the pillow.

Daisy practically pushed the basket with packed lunch into his hands, before he even crossed the threshold of the kitchen, and shooed him back without hearing what he wanted to say. He muttered annoyed something under his nose and almost get a slap from the wet cloth gripped tightly in cook's hand, when he had stood on her way.

'You're still there?!' Mrs. Patmore growled with a red face, sparks poured in from her small eyes. 'Daisy already gave you a basket, so what are you waiting for? Take it upstairs!' Patrick tightened his jaw and marched out of the kitchen, didn't has any clue what he's supposed to do. Mrs. Patmore and Daisy didn't feel obligated to tell him something more, and there was no signs of Mr. Barrow downstairs.

'Mr. Coleman?' He wasn't sure if he should feel relief when Mr. Carson's voice called behind his back, or get worried that he'd get an ear-bashing for standing in the middle of corridor like the last idiot.

'Mr. Carson!' He said back with a small smile and turned around, deciding he was indeed happy to see the butler. 'I'm so happy to see you, Mr. Carson. I really don't know what to do and I can't find Mr. Barrow, anywhere.'

'Mr. Barrow is helping Mr. Bates with the alcove and he will not be able to help you in any way.' There was something in the way he had said the last words, Patrick didn't like at all. He felt almost offended, like he has been accused of something. 'I see you have tried to do something with your appearance.' He noted with not quite pleasing expression on his face.

'I've tried my best, Mr. Carson, and I think I look good enough to not embarrass Lord Grantham round his guests.' It was a bit cheeky from his side and dangerous as today he was sentenced to the butler's company, and there was no Mr. Bagwell or Mr. Barrow in sight to save him.

'We will see.' Mr. Carson said shortly with gloomy face. 'Now, what was that problem you had, Mr. Coleman?'

'Daisy gave me a basket without saying a thing, and so far I don't even know my duties for today, since Mr. Barrow disappeared just after the breakfast.'

'Mr. Bagwell offered he'd help outside, so give the basket to him. And about you… I think you'd stay in Downton and help with silvers, till luncheon. Later you'd serve at table in alcove.' The man decided after awhile.

'Oh.' Patrick didn't hide his disappointment. 'As you wish, Mr. Carson.' He muttered and looked bitterly toward the butler's tiny room. He should knew that day would turn into completely disaster for him.

'And I'm asking you to not bother Mr. Barrow, today. If you have any questions or problems, speak to me.'

'Yes, Mr. Carson.' He nodded, unhappy.

'Mr. Bagwell is still in Servant's Hall. Don't forget to give him a basket and clean the all silvers.' Mr. Carson's face softened as his eyes followed the young footman until he disappeared in the Servants Hall, and shook his head slightly.

'I really don't understand how it is going to help anyone, if you keep punishing Patrick for something he hasn't done.' Mr. Carson didn't has any clue when and how long Mrs. Hughes was watching them, but for sure she was just standing behind his back now, with unreadable face.

'I'm not punishing him, Mrs. Hughes.' The butler disagreed. 'I do not!' He added fiercely seeing the woman's impassive face, feeling offended with an accusation.

'I'm sure he'd rather to be outside Downton, than sit here alone, cleaning silvers.' Mrs. Hughes noted and gave the man a look she'd always has given to a petulant child. 'Mr. Carson if anything is going to happen - though I doubt in it - between Patrick and Thomas, it will happen no matter how hard you would try to keep them away from each other.'

'Fred, the hall-boy, said he has seen Patrick in Thomas room, this morning.' The butler said with red face. 'Thomas was helping him in dressing.'

'I would be more concerned why the hall boy was spying on Thomas and what he was doing upstairs. Wasn't he supposed to work?' The butler watched her unimpressed.

'I asked Fred to search for Thomas, as he was already late. I was worried he overslept and we will not prepare everything on time.' He explained, a corners of Mrs. Hughes lips goes upward in a light smile.

'Well, Thomas already informed us that Patrick's livery has to be send to tailor, maybe he couldn't button it up or have the other problem with it.' She suggested, but the man didn't look convinced.

'If it was not harmful help, Fred wouldn't say a word about that to me, only keep it for himself. It had to troubled him whatever he has seen as it was worth to bring it to my attention.'

'He was only following your orders, Mr. Carson. If you forget, since the accident with James, we are ought to report to you if we find Thomas in a close company of another man. I believe he thinks that whenever Thomas is alone with a man, he is intimate with him.'

'I don't think that's the reason, Mrs. Hughes.' The man disagreed with a snort. 'And I really do not understand why you are always on Thomas side. We both know he is far from being innocent.'

'If he has done anything inappropriate, I can assure you, Patrick would be first to report that to you. But he hasn't complained on Thomas, yet, has he? I would even say he is very eager to be around him and is seeking for help at Thomas.'

'It will not harm anyone, if Patrick stays away from Thomas for awhile.' The butler decided. 'I'd take him under my care.'

'I'm sure he will be pleased with that.' Mrs. Hughes with ironic smile and with a shake of her head, she walked off in the opposite way.

'I know what I'm doing!' He called after her, but she hadn't answer or stop.

Mr. Bagwell passed by him with an impish grin while he was fighting with very stubborn stain on the silver saucer, didn't bother to even look at him. It took Patrick's all efforts to not threw at him a toothbrush he was using for the last few minutes to scrub gently some grease. Alfred followed him shortly, but in contrary to Charles, he stopped on the track when he noticed the footman, clearly in the mood for a friendly chat, while Patrick wasn't, even in a one bit. Maybe if I pretend I don't see him, he'd just go away, he pondered, though it was obvious that the other man wasn't going to leave him alone.

'Are you cleaning the silvers?' Alfred asked stupidly like it wasn't already obvious what is he doing with that all silvers exposed on the table.

'And how does it look like?' He snapped sarcastically back and nervously rubbed his nose.

'Mr. Barrow asked you to do that?' He continued his play with hundred questions, his face pulled out with confuse.

'No, Mr. Carson.'

'But we need you outside.' Patrick smirked and returned to scrub at the saucer with a toothbrush.

'Try that one with Mr. Carson.' Alfred's eyebrows drew closer, eyes looked at him in sympathy. 'You might be lucky enough to get only an ear-bashing instead of being ripped apart by him.'

'Have you told Mr. Barrow about that?' With every questions he was getting even more irate with the ginger.

'I haven't seen him.' He hoped his short answers will bore Alfred and he goes away. But to his dismay he was still hovering above him and if it could be any worse, the butler joined them looking like a hailstorm. Patrick quickly get back to work and Alfred got himself busy with a dirty left leg of his trousers.

'Is everything alright?' Mr. Carson asked, his hard stare fixed at Alfred. 'Shouldn't you work outside? Ladies are almost ready to go.'

'Oh, we're almost done, Mr. Carson.' The footman quickly replied and stood straight. 'We just need to bring the chairs.'

'Then what are you waiting for?' He thundered. 'Go, take them.' He ordered irate.

'But there's only me and Mr. Bagwell to bring the chairs.' Alfred explained with a red cheeks, feeling very intimidated under butler's stare. 'Mr. Barrow and Mr. Bates are taking care of alcove, so it would take us half of the day to get everything in order. We need someone to help us.' Patrick's one eye glared in anticipation at the oldest man who seemed to consider Alfred's note. 'It's Mr. Barrow decision.' He added, hoping that would be helpful in his further negotiation with the man, and that Mr. Barrow will go along with his lie.

'Everything has to be done in one hour.' Mr. Carson informed, his bushy eyebrows drew in closer. 'Tell Mr. Barrow I'll ask Mr. Moseley to help you with chairs. It shouldn't take him long to come over.' Alfred's face fall down.

'But Mr. Carson, we need help right now! We can't wait another half hour for Mr. Moseley!' He argued and looked in despair toward smirking at him Patrick. 'We already have Patrick, here, and Mr. Moseley loves cleaning silvers.' The butler looked almost offended with Alfred's disobedient.

'I'm in charge in Downton and it is me who says who, were and what are going to do, Alfred.' He reminded, barely stopping himself from shout at the lad. 'Patrick is staying in here, just as I wished.'

'But why, Mr. Carson?' The older man watched him in utter surprise – normally Alfred would already give up and just go to do what he was asked to, but today he was not only undermine the butler's order, but was putting him into some nonsense discussion. 'We really need his help.'

'Outside is very muddy today and since Patrick has only one pair of shoes, I won't let him walk around Ladies and serve at table in a dirty ones.'

'But you said I'd serve at table today.' Patrick noted with a hint of panic in his voice, surprised with man's answer. There was no way he was going to spend all day in Servants Hall cleaning silvers. 'You hadn't say nothing about sho…'

'That's all Mr. Coleman.' Mr. Carson came into his word with a hard gaze.

'Oh, does it mean I have to change my shoes also?' Alfred asked worried, trying to recall where he had put his the other pair. The butler looked dumbfounded for a moment, but very quickly collected himself back.

'I thought it is obvious.' He said sharply, and the ginger footman almost growled.

'Of course, Mr. Carson.' He muttered and gave Patrick apologetic smile. 'I'll go and help Mr. Bagwell.' The butler has watched him intently until he disappeared behind the door, and he moved his eyes at other footman.

'Do you know what to do?' He asked softer. 'If you need any advise with silvers…'

'Mr. Barrow already showed me how to effectively clean them up without making any damages to their surface.' Patrick said firmly, didn't hide his anger. 'I believe I am able to take care of them on my own.'

'Very well, then.' The footman ignored him, knowing that if the man stays here any longer, he'd say something he shouldn't. It was enough he already got a punishment and wasn't looking forward to get another one. It was obvious that Mr. Carson would make sure he won't leave the Servant's Hall till his leaving day – though he didn't understand why he was treated so badly by him - and he'd give anything to see Mr. Barrow in doors.

Thomas was daydreaming. A silky, white material which was supposed to hanging down from the roof of the alcove in a poor imitation of the wall, was still in under butler's hands - his long fingers were crumpling the soft material, creating wrinkles on its surface – and Bates didn't has to ask Thomas what is he doing. A small smirk formed on his lips as he watched the absent man with a dreamy smile, being far away from Downton. He looked so calm and relaxed, Bates didn't wish to break the spell and just leave him to enjoy his little world, but he also knew it wouldn't take too much time for the butler to check if they're finished with alcove.

'Are you still with us, Thomas?' He asked amused and gently pulled out the material from between the under butler's fingers. 'If you keep kneading it further, Mr. Carson make sure we won't forget that picnic for the next month.' Thomas eyes snapped back to the reality, and he looked around himself confused, looking like he just has been woken up from a dream.

'Oh, right. I have to drift away for a moment.' He muttered with slightly pink cheeks and quickly got back to work, trying to avoid the valet's stare.

'Indeed you have to.' Bates nodded with a chuckle, deciding he'd spare the fact that Thomas was lost in his thoughts for more than twenty minutes.

'Where's Mr. Bagwell?' Thomas asked suddenly, noticing there was no signs of the man around, and he even didn't remember he has let him to go anywhere. Was it another act of his insubordinates? If it was the case, he'd make sure that this time he'd learn to not play with a fire.

'He and Alfred went back to house to bring the chairs.' Bates informed. 'About ten minutes ago.' Another flush appeared on under butler's normally pale cheeks. 'I believe Mr. Bagwell needs a one as well as Ladies. He's too short to reach the top of alcove.' He continued with a smirk, not quite being fond of the valet. He reminded him of Thomas from his early days in Downton, and there was something about him what makes Bates feel uneasy around him.

'It should be Patrick giving us a hand, not Mr. Bagwell. It was obvious from the beginning he's not suitable to that work, and I don't understand why Carson sent him, here.' Thomas muttered and frowned, when he suddenly realized that he hasn't seen Patrick since the breakfast, and hadn't even told him about today's duties. 'Christ, I knew I've forgotten something!'

'Sorry?' Bates raised his eyebrow questioningly, when Thomas began walking back and forth, taking deep breaths.

'I forgot about Patrick. I was supposed to take care of him.' For a change, this time his cheeks were unnaturally pale. 'Carson will kill me.'

'I'm sure he wouldn't do that, if he hasn't done it yet. He probably spotted Patrick after breakfast and already give him something to work.' Bates assured him. 'He is too much absorbed with picnic to waste his time for you.'

'Maybe.' The under butler said unconvinced and walked into direction where he has spotted Mr. Bagwell and Alfred moving toward the alcove with four chairs. 'Have you seen Patrick?!' He called, worried.

'He's in the house.' Mr. Bagwell replied shortly and almost huffed, when his hopes about Mr. Barrow going down to help him with the chairs, have been ruined, when the man rushed by his side without looking at him.

'Alfred?' He asked, clearly not satisfied with the other man answer.

'Oh, he's sitting in Servants Hall and clean silvers.' The footman replied and put the chairs down, when the under butler crossed his patch and it didn't look like he was going to let him go anywhere. 'It was Mr. Carson's order.' He added with panic voice, like he was afraid he'd be the one to be blamed for Patrick's absence.

'What?' Thomas snapped in disbelief. 'He's needed here, not in Downton!'

'I know! I said the same to Mr. Carson, well maybe not that forward, but I gave him a hint we could use Patrick's help…'

'And?' He inquired, though he already could imagine the only answer the butler could give to Alfred.

'Mr. Carson said that today is very muddy outside and since Patrick doesn't has any shoes for change, he can't work outside and later serve at the table in the same, dirty shoes.' Alfred said with sheepish smile. 'And I think he has a point. I've already changed mine.' He lifted his one foot to demonstrate the shiny, black boot. 'I'm sure Dowager Countess would be first to notice I'm serving in dirty shoes and nothing stops her from make some remark about that.'

'It makes no sense!' Thomas protested, blood boiled in his veins. 'Even if Patrick stays in Downton till luncheon, he needs to make his way through the muddy terrain to get to alcove.' He snapped, couldn't believe how naïve the footman could be, and how the butler tried to be so crafty. 'No matter how hard he or we will try, our shoes will be dirty, unless we learn that we can fly.' He added sarcastically and Alfred seemed to understand his point.

'So, Mr. Carson said that only to get rid off of me?' He watched the older man in disbelief. 'And I spent so much time to find my other pair of shoes!'

'I'll talk with Mr. Carson.' Thomas muttered, not in mood for further discussion with a ginger idiot.

'But he already sent for Mr. Moseley!' Alfred called after him.

'To help us with alcove?!' The under butler snapped in disbelief. 'Not a chance.'

'But Mr. Carson…' He trailed off as he noticed Thomas wasn't listening to him, only stormed out toward the residence.

He was like a one, very big puppy, and if he only has a tail, Thomas was sure it would be already waggling between his legs. His heart thumped against the ribcage, when the reason of his previous daydream has pulled back from the table and approached with full of hope smile.

'You're going out with me.' Thomas announced in the tone more like he was asking him for a date, not give him another job to do, but it was too late to improve yourself and he could only hope that he will not scare the lad.

'I thought you would never ask, Mr. Barrow.' His breath hitched, as the lad dazzled him with a full of teeth smile, and he looked so eager to follow him, Thomas wondered, if he indeed hadn't take his announcement for an intimate offer. 'But what about Mr. Carson?'

'I'd deal with him later.' I don't think he'd be jealous, the sick thought formed in his head made him smile. 'Now, leave the silvers, and follow me outside. There'd be much more use of you than from Mr. Bagwell.' He felt almost proud and awarded that the under butler had a better opinion about him than about Lord Brasher's valet. Normally, they've never been competitive with each other, but today he didn't mind to pinned his ears back, and bring him down to the Earth. Sometimes it just looked like Mr. Bagwell was forgetting that he was a servant just like the others in this house, and he was just asking for some reminder of his position. And the footman wouldn't mind to be the one to do that.

'Mr. Carson would be mad with us.' Patrick said in cheated whisper, his eyes nervously scanned the room in search for the butler.

'He'd get over it.' Mr. Barrow said flatly, didn't sound like he was concerned with that in any way.

'Thomas, could you just help me get the clean tablecloths from the linen closet?! Someone put them on the highest shelf.' Anna suddenly called from the upstairs.

'That's what the tools are for.' The under butler muttered annoyed and looked back at the footman. 'Wait here.' He said and made a quick way upstairs. Patrick fidget nervously on his feet and like paranoid kept scanning the room in search for Mr. Carson. But there was no one else except Lady Grantham, her middle daughter Edith and older woman he hasn't seen before, heading toward the saloon. He leaned back against one of the pillars and looked up at the stairs, hoping that Mr. Barrow would be back in a minute, when he felt that someone was watching him. He unsurely turned a bit his head and stopped breath for a moment, when his eyes crossed with the ones belonging to the old lady. She was standing in the doorway and watching him intently, surprise and shock written over her face. Cold shiver ran down Patrick's back and he frozen to the spot. A flash of realization passed through woman's eyes and he knew she'd recognized him. She knows who I am, he thought, feeling like the panic raised in his chest, but how does she know? He didn't remember her, yet, she seemed to know him very well. She was smiling back at him almost with triumph, the early surprised expression on her face, has been replaced with curiosity. He almost scream, when someone's hand rested heavily on his shoulder.

'What is going on with you?' Patrick blushed furiously under Mr. Barrows lingering stare.

'No-nothing, Mr. Barrow.' He muttered. 'Can you just tell me who is this old lady? I haven't seen her before.' Thomas eyebrows drew in closer.

'It's Dowager Countess.' He replied shortly, small smirk appeared on his face as he fixed his eyes back at Patrick. 'Why do you ask? Did you just have a pleasure to talk with her?'

'No, I haven't.' He just wanted to get out, and though she already moved into the saloon, he still could feel her stare at himself. 'Can we just go outside?' He almost begged, amusing the older man.

'After you, pup.' Thomas said with unfading smirk, knowing that the lad wasn't completely honest with him. He seemed to be almost scared of Dowager Countess – and he's not the first or the last to be – while in return he has noticed the look of interest on the old lady's face. Maybe it was because he was one handsome lad, but Thomas felt in his bones, that there was something more behind that. Dowager Countess has never been interested with someone without a good reason. And if he sticks closer to her, he might find the answers vey quick.

'I see you have a new young man in Downton.' Dowager Countess said, her eyes followed the man until he disappeared behind the door along with Mr. Barrow.

'Oh, yes, we have a new footman.' Lady Edith noted with a frown - she almost forgot about the new servant. 'Mr. Coleman, I think. Our first footman had an accident and has to be replaced till he feels better.' She added and helped her grandma sit in one of the armchairs.

'Where your father has found him?' She continued in casual manner, didn't give her interest back to her granddaughter. 'It is hard these days to find a good servant.' She observed.

'In truth it was uncle George's idea.'

'Oh, it was?' Dowager Countess acted surprised.

'Yes, he insisted to take Mr. Coleman with himself.'

'That is something very unusual.' She noted, and Edith agreed with her. 'I do not think anyone is taking the footman with themselves, these days. Not even before the war…George doesn't has his own valet?' She inquired.

'Oh, he has, Mr. Bagwell… To be honest, I think it might has something to do with Charlotte.' Edith explained in a confidential whisper. 'Mama said, that aunt was complaining they seemed to be very close with each other. They are almost like twins.'

'Who would thought that?' Dowager Countess shook her head in a false agitation. 'Poor George, you never know who you take under your roof, these days.'

'Yes, but at least we get a footman. He arrived in the right moment, and uncle George was very kind that he let him work for us.'

'Yes, that was very generous from his side.' She said with sardonic smile, which not escaped the attention of her granddaughter.

'Do you know something, grandma?' She prompted, curious.

'Why would I?' She asked back with innocent face, but Edith knew her too well to believe in that. She raised her eyebrow at Dowager Countess, a small smirk played at her face. 'I just believe that it is very wise of George to keep that boy close to himself. It is better to keep him on his side, than rather have him on a wrong side.' She said, but Edith didn't understand what she has in mind. 'You just cannot be sure of people intentions, these days. They may disappoint you in many ways, my dear.' She continued in sadly voice, while her eyes stopped at Lady Brasher walking with grace into the room. 'They really can.'