For the second time in my life, I found myself reeling out of Jimmy's bedroom, eyes burning and heart pounding in confusion. But this time I was angry as well as hurt and confused. I had respected Jimmy by keeping my distance all year since the last incident, and I had also been careful not to take advantage of our new friendship. But what was he playing at?
So he had written the note after all, but not while in his right mind, apparently. I'd dared to think for a few minutes that Jimmy was coming around to what I hoped were his true, and buried, feelings. His body had certainly been aroused just now, and God knew my own had been – I was still so hard that it was painful. But a nagging voice in my head reminded me,
"He was aroused with Lady Anstruther too. It was probably thinking of her, with your hands on him, which aroused him in the first place."
I wished now that I hadn't given in to my lust – it had complicated our friendship, just when we'd had such a lovely day together. We could have gone on as friends, but Jimmy had been so eager, and I'd been so sure it was what he wanted. I never would have dreamed of touching him if he hadn't begged me, but being pushed away had wounded me deeply.
There would be precious little sleep for me tonight, that much I knew. Sinking wearily onto my own bed, I reached under my pillow out of habit to withdraw Jimmy's note. It wasn't there. I checked the bedside table, the pages of my current book, under the bed, and any other conceivable place in my room where the note could be, but it was nowhere to be found.
Consumed with panic, my arousal now long forgotten, I crashed down the stairs to the servants' hall. Come to think of it, I had no memory of picking the letter up after Jimmy's asthma attack, so it was probably still on the table. All was dark and quiet, and I switched on the light, sure I'd see the note, but I did not. Wildly, I searched high and low, checking every nook and cranny in the kitchen as well as the servants' hall, but without success.
My only hope was that Jimmy had put the note in his pocket without my noticing, and it seemed the only logical explanation, so reluctantly I turned off the light and made my way back up to my lonely bedroom. I pulled from beneath my mattress a well-worn book of poems, a present from the Duke that I had never been able to bear to part with.
The series of poems was called "Calamus," by an American poet named Walt Whitman, and the Duke had told me that the poems were considered highly controversial because of their "unnatural" themes. I thumbed through the pages and found a particularly appropriate verse:
"I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs."
Tears streamed down my face as I continued to read.
"For the one I love most lay sleeping by me under the same cover in the cool night,
In the stillness in the autumn moonbeams his face was inclined toward me,
And his arm lay lightly around my breast—and that night I was happy."
"Oh God," I whispered, not at all sure anyone was listening. "Will I never escape my loneliness?"
Sleep eventually claimed me, a blessed relief from the hell in which I now lived.
"Mr. Barrow?"
Mr. Carson's voice interrupted my bleak thoughts as I polished silver in the butler's pantry the next day.
"Yes, Mr. Carson?" I responded, trying not to let my misery show in my face. I hadn't spoken to Jimmy all day.
"I have a favor to ask you," the butler continued. "Mr. Bates and Anna have received a telegram informing them that Anna's mother is gravely ill. They have requested, and been granted, time off to visit the poor woman."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said as I went on polishing.
"However, His Lordship has also just informed me that he must travel to London on some matter of business involving the settling of Mr. Matthew's will," Mr. Carson continued. "Once this morning's burial is behind us, he wishes to get this matter settled as soon as possible. I thought perhaps you might accompany His Lordship as his valet in Mr. Bates' absence."
"Certainly I can," I answered, feeling a bit of excitement. I hadn't been to London in a long time and the change of scenery would do me good.
"Or I could ask Mr. Molesley," Mr. Carson considered. "The poor man hasn't known what to do with himself these past few days, since the horrible accident."
I felt genuinely sorry for Mr. Molesley. The man was a bit of a sad sack, but he was pleasant enough and now he found himself in the same position I'd been in last year – out of a job. I assumed Mrs. Crawley would take him back as butler, but nothing had been officially decided yet.
"Oh, no; I think I'd be better suited to the task," I answered quickly. "After all, I've already been His Lordship's valet."
"Right, then," Mr. Carson agreed. "You had better get everything packed now, assuming you plan to attend the funeral later this morning. His Lordship wishes to leave on the five o'clock train."
Later that night, in the Crawleys' seldom used London house, I unpacked His Lordship's pajamas, aware that the older man was a million miles away. I cleared my throat.
"I haven't had the chance to say, my Lord, how very sorry I am. Mr. Matthew was a good man."
Lord Grantham's eyes were red-rimmed. "He was the son I never had, Barrow," my employer said in a wooden voice. "And I'm more heartbroken than words can say. I thank you for your sympathy."
I nodded, finished the nighttime preparations, and closed the bedroom door. I made my way to my own room, where I pulled out the newspaper I'd bought earlier at King's Cross station. After catching up on the day's headlines, I found myself reading a small advertisement, tucked in the bottom corner of a page.
"The Golden Fox, a pub for men of refined and unusual taste," the copy read. To the casual observer that might mean nothing, but the Duke had enlightened me a great deal on the culture of men like us. Nothing could be stated outright, of course, but he had told me that one or two clubs existed that catered to men of our sort, and that one had to read between the lines of the advertisements.
It was all much easier in France and Italy, the Duke had said, where male relationships were tolerated and clubs catering to such men were much easier to find. I couldn't be sure I was even right about the Golden Fox, but my curiosity was piqued. I still longed for Jimmy, but if I couldn't have him, then I'd be damned if I'd waste a rare trip to London by doing nothing. I had made up my mind – I would check out the Golden Fox.
I didn't dare give the cab driver the exact address, so I got out at the nearest corner and made my way to the address listed in the advertisement. A man curtly greeted me just inside the door.
"Referral, please," he said.
"I beg your pardon?" I asked, confused.
The man looked annoyed that I didn't seem to know the rules.
"No one gets in without a reference from one of our existing members," he explained. "Are you acquainted with anyone who frequents this establishment?"
I answered without thinking, having no idea if it would work or not.
"The Duke of Crowborough," I answered, and the man gestured me through wordlessly. It had worked. I must be right about what kind of establishment this was, and what's more, the Duke apparently was no stranger here.
I made my way into the dark, smoky place and ordered a drink at the bar. Looking around, I felt as if I'd stepped into another universe. Men sat together intimately, some of them kissing, while some even danced together. Never in my life had I thought I'd see such a sight. It should have been exhilarating, but I couldn't seem to shake my loneliness. Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder and found myself looking into a face I hadn't seen for nearly ten years.
"Phillip." I spoke the Duke's first name rather coldly, not caring if he was offended that I would dare to address him so informally after all these years.
"Thomas," my former lover answered. "How are you?"
"What's it to you?" I snapped.
"Look, I want you to know, for what it's worth, that I wish things hadn't ended the way they did," Phillip told me. "I couldn't believe my eyes just now when I saw you walk in. And I thought perhaps I could make it up to you."
I felt his hand on my thigh then, moving closer to my groin. In spite of my best efforts, I could feel blood flowing to my penis. Bloody hell. I'd never brought myself to release last night after my encounter with Jimmy, and it was clear that my body was primed to respond to the slightest touch.
It was a strange feeling, the contempt I held for the man who sat next to me, while my body thrilled to his caress. All I could think of when I stared into his eyes, which held a certain coldness, was the way he'd treated me the last time we'd met. The letters filled with my love for him that he'd hurled into the fire. The sneer on his handsome face when he'd referred to our love as a "few weeks of madness."
But there was no way I could resist the indescribable feelings coursing through me as Phillip's fingers squeezed and stroked my now throbbing penis through my trousers. It had been far too long since anyone had touched me. Wordlessly, I got up and followed him as he led me upstairs to a private room. Breathing heavily, we tore at each other's clothes in a fury to get to bare skin.
Falling back onto the bed, one final memory came to me – the fact that Phillip had been rather a selfish lover, often losing interest after his climax and not bothering about whether or not I'd gotten release. What is there to like about this man? I mused. But of course, I knew. He was handsome and I'd been young and desperately happy to have met another man like myself. I couldn't have afforded to be choosy.
Then all thoughts vanished as Phillip kissed my neck, making me shiver in delight, and began working his way down, nibbling and sucking my nipples, sending waves of pure pleasure through me. He kissed his way down my stomach and I felt his warm breath on my penis, so tantalizingly close.
When his mouth closed over me, I groaned in pure ecstasy. I'd foregone this feeling for so long and it was intoxicating. Phillip's expertise had improved, if possible, and I feared I wasn't going to last long, despite trying to imagine Mrs. Patmore naked to slow me down.
"Oh, God," I gasped as Phillip swirled his tongue over the head before paying attention to the sensitive underside. With his free hand, he cradled my balls and stroked the sensitive patch of skin just behind them. I panted in desperation, feeling the telltale signs of impending orgasm. I arched my hips and cried out with the intensity of my climax, feeling spurt after spurt fill Phillip's mouth.
I lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow as my breathing and heart rate returned to normal, and smiled as I realized what I would do next. I sat up and observed Phillip, who was still quite obviously in a high state of arousal. His large penis was red and throbbing, and despite the fact that I'd just come, it turned me on a bit. But not enough to make me change my mind. Standing up, I turned away from Phillip and began putting my clothes back on.
"Thomas, where are you going?" asked a bewildered Phillip, reaching for me. I shook his hand off. "Please, I'm desperate for you," he tried again, and I made no attempt to hide my disgust.
"Oh, haven't you heard, Phillip?" I said dryly. "One swallow doesn't make a summer. How right you were."
"You'll pay for this, Thomas," Phillip threatened through clenched teeth and I gave him a withering glance.
"Oh, I don't think so," I responded easily. "You have far more to lose than I do. And if you do try to come after me, you can be assured that I will take great pleasure in informing your wife how you spend your nights away from her."
And with that, I swept from the room, down the stairs, and back out onto the street.
What just happened? I marveled as I hailed another cab. I couldn't stop smiling. Revenge had been sweet – and now I couldn't wait to get back to Downton. That was where I belonged.
A/N: The Walt Whitman poems are in the public domain, but he deserves full credit for them. Also, the Golden Fox, while fictional, is based on research I've done that indicates there were a couple of gay pubs in London at that time. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing; I appreciate it!