CHAPTER 4

The next morning at breakfast, Jimmy was surprised to find Thomas dressed and sitting at the table when he walked into the servant's hall. The previous afternoon had been exhausting as they prepared for the unexpected early return of the family. Mrs Hughes had the girls running up and down, polishing and cleaning. Jimmy had been sent into the village with a shopping list from Mrs. Patmore, and Alfred had been put to work helping her in the kitchen. Mr Carson meanwhile, stomped about trying to occupy himself but getting in everybody's way instead. When the servants had finally been sent up for the night it was almost one o'clock in the morning. Jimmy had dropped into his bed and fallen fast asleep. When he looked in on Thomas in the morning, he had found his room empty.

Looking across the table at him now, Jimmy was stuck by how elegant he looked despite his battered face. His hair, freshly washed and falling over his brow yesterday, was today slicked with pomade and combed back away from his forehead. His broad chest and lithe body were once again concealed by his high-collared uniform, his scarred hand once more hidden inside a glove. He had a different air about him, he sat straighter, held his head higher and observed everything from a cool, aloof distance. Even the way he spoke and held his cigarette was different. It was hard to believe that he was the same man Jimmy had fed soup to, helped rinse his hair in the bathtub, and almost poured his heart and secrets out to the day before. There was nothing warm in Thomas' eyes, until they fell on the blond footman sitting opposite him, then his expression softened and the quick smile he gave Jimmy was filled with affection.

Mr. Carson's entrance at breakfast was announced by the sound of chairs scraping on the stone floor as they all stood up to greet him. He nodded and said good morning to them, then his eyes fell on Thomas.

"It's good to see you back at work Thomas," he said in his loud, slightly gruff voice. "We didn't expect to see you for a few days yet. I trust you've sufficiently recovered?"

"I have Mr. Carson," Thomas replied. "I heard the family are coming back early and I thought you'd need all the hands you could get."

"We do indeed," Mr. Carson boomed, "But mind that you stay downstairs Thomas, yours is not a face currently fit to be seen serving in an Earl's dining room."

"Oh it's just a few scrapes and bruises," Mrs. Hughes cut in. "They'll hear about our adventures at the fair soon enough and you can't keep Mr. Barrow confined below stairs forever."

"None the less Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson told her. "I'll not have scrapes and bruises on show in this house. We have standards to maintain here. The family have already had to contend with the wild Scottish Highlands, I'll not have them greeted by a face that looks like it's been in a Glaswegian pub fight on their return."

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes and the rest of the servants stifled their giggles. Even Thomas smirked quietly to himself. He had no intention of keeping out of sight and staying downstairs at all.

0oo0

It was an hour before the train was expected, Matthew Crawley's car was on its way to the station, ready for him to drive straight to the hospital. Bates had telephoned to say that the rest of the family would only be arriving the following morning as they hadn't been able to get ready and make it to the station on time to catch the same train as Mr. Crawley. It gave everybody a bit more time to prepare but it didn't help Mr. Carson's nerves at all.

He looked like he would have a heart attack when the front doorbell rang and Alfred came down from answering it to announce that the police were here, and they wanted to see Mr. Barrow.

Jimmy was sitting at the table, polishing the silver platters when Alfred broke the news.

"What have you done!" he hissed through clenched teeth at the tall footman.

"Nothing, I didn't call them this time," Alfred mouthed back at him.

"I'll get Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said rising from his seat. Whatever was happening, he wanted to get to Thomas first and warn him.

"You'll do nothing of the sort James. Sit down and finish your work. I'll get him." Mr. Carson boomed. He was furious and Jimmy sat down quietly and picked up the polishing cloth again. "Where is he?" the old butler demanded.

"Serving tea to Mr. Branson in the library," Ivy offered, when nobody else wanted to say.

"Tea is not served in the library!" Mr. Carson roared. "What is happening in this house? Has civilization completely abandoned us?"

Mr. Carson flew up the stairs faster than any of them knew he could move. He strode across the entrance hall, ignoring the two officers standing just inside the front door where Alfred had told them to wait.

"What is the meaning of this Thomas? You of all people should know that tea is served in the drawing room."

"That'll be my fault Mr. Carson," Tom Branson piped up, his head appearing over a stack of papers on His Lordship's desk. "I'm working my way through the estate papers and I didn't want to drag the whole lot into the drawing room with me."

"Very well Sir," Carson said with an impatient cough. This is what happened when uppity revolutionaries came through the front door, standards and traditions went out the back, Mr. Carson thought to himself.

"Thomas you're wanted downstairs," he barked at the under-butler who had been standing near the window unloading a silver tray of tea things. "The police are here to see you."

Both Tom Branson and Thomas looked up in surprise. "Why?" asked Thomas incredulously. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Clearly the authorities think you have." Mr. Carson retorted.

Far be it from him to question His Lordship's wishes, but when the Earl had insisted that 'The Incident' between Thomas and James, as Carson liked to refer to it, be overlooked and Thomas be allowed to stay on, the senior butler had seriously questioned his policy to never speak his mind to the Earl. He knew keeping Thomas on would bring trouble, and now here it was, waiting in the shape of policemen at the front door.

"Bring them in here," Tom Branson suddenly said. "Let's hear what they have to say."

"If you'll forgive me Sir," Mr. Carson began, "I don't think it's fitting for members of the police force to be in the His Lordship's library. I don't believe they should even have been admitted by the front door. They should have used the tradesman's entrance at the back."

Tom Branson tried hard to hide his smile. "I think what the Earl doesn't know won't cause him any harm. Bring them in."

"As you wish Sir," Mr. Carson gave a small bow, but the tension in his voice made it clear that he was not happy about it.

When the policemen entered the library, Tom Branson was standing next to Thomas in the middle of the room. Thomas stood regally as he always did on duty, his hands clasped in front of him, his head held high, a look of disdain on his face. Tom Branson's stance was more relaxed, but his body language made it clear that they presented a united front. If the police thought they had business with one of Downton's staff, they'd have to get through the high walls of the family first.

Thomas looked calm, but inside his heart was racing and his mind flying through every memory of the last few days. He'd done nothing wrong. Yes, Jimmy had spent a lot of time alone with him, but he hadn't touched him, hadn't tried to do anything to him. Every cherished caress had come from Jimmy. There was a tightness in the pit of his stomach when he thought how upset Jimmy had been the day before when Daisy had burst into the room. He'd been about to tell Thomas something, but since then the whole household had been so busy that they'd not had a moment to talk privately. He'd only managed to pull Jimmy aside for a second to tell him they needed to finish that conversation, but Jimmy had given him the slip for the rest of the day. Thomas was cursing himself for not insisting that they find the time to talk, and kicking himself for falling exhausted into his bed last night instead of going to Jimmy's room to find out what was the matter with him.

A terrible thought occurred to him. Had Jimmy done something wrong? Was he in trouble? Had he been trying to ask for Thomas' help? Maybe it was Alfred, had he called the police again? His mind was reeling with worry. Was O'Brien still meddling even from the far away distance of Scotland? Was she that vindictive? Or that clever? Thomas didn't put anything past her. Or was it Daisy, did she think she'd seen more than she had?

"How can we be of assistance gentlemen?" Tom Branson spoke first.

The younger policeman stood at the door, the elder one strode into the room, much annoyed at having been kept waiting. This wasn't the first time he'd been called out on a case involving a member of Downton's staff, the very same man as now if his memory served him correctly. And he was in no mood to have his time wasted again. He announced himself as Inspector Lewis and his partner as Constable Brown. He looked Mr. Branson up and down, gave him a dismissive toss of his head, then stared straight at Thomas, taking in the cuts and bruises on his face.

"You'll be Mr. Thomas Barrow then?"

"With powers of deduction like that you'll be promoted to Detective soon," Thomas sneered at him.

"You were mugged at the Thirsk Country Fair on Friday?" the Inspector asked, ignoring Thomas' jibe.

"What's it to you?" Thomas glared at him.

"While we haven't been able to apprehend the culprits, we have managed to recover this, which I assume belongs to you?"

He handed Thomas a gold pocket watch and chain. Thomas smiled at the sight of it, he had never expected to see it again. He'd been indignant when the thugs had taken his money, not that he'd had much on him, but when they ripped the watch from his waistcoat he'd been furious and lashed out blindly, hooking one of them a good shot to the jaw. It earned him a kick in the ribs and another in the back.

"Where did you find it?" Mr. Branson asked.

"In the bushes near the river," the Inspector replied. "I expect they discarded it when they saw the family crest and inscription, probably knew they wouldn't be able to sell it with that making it so easily recognised."

Thomas turned the watch over in his hands and rubbed his thumb over the Grantham crest engraved on the front, then he pushed the lever and the front sprung open. He looked at the inscription that he'd read a hundred times before. Thomas Barrow, for ten years of loyal service. Thomas was not a sentimental man, but the watch was gold and it was the most valuable thing he had ever owned. He was glad to have it back.

"That's very good of you to see that it was returned," Tom Branson said, giving the policeman the same dismissive look he had received. "Mr. Carson will see you out."

"We can see ourselves out thank you very much," Inspector Lewis huffed and marched straight past Mr. Carson and out the library door.

Mr. Carson stared after them in disbelief. "Constables in His Lordship's library, whatever next?" he muttered as he left the room.

"Oh it wasn't all as bad as that Mr. Carson," Tom Branson called after him. "One of them was an Inspector."

Thomas couldn't help but smirk.

"Well that's at least something Thomas, I'm glad you've got your watch back," Tom said.

"It's Mr. Barrow now Sir, but yes, I'm glad I've got it back too." Thomas replied.

Tom rolled his eyes and turned back to the stack of papers on the desk.

Jimmy was waiting anxiously at the bottom of the kitchen stairs with Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes behind him. Mr. Carson just had time to tell them about the returned watch when a convoy of cars and waggons came rolling up the driveway.

The family were home and the house was in full swing again.

To be continued…..