After my unexpected encounter with the Duke, I was flying high, euphoric thanks to the unexpected and welcome release, and also because after so many years, I had been able to confront Philip and put him in his place. And about time, too. Although it had been a long time since I'd had feelings for the arrogant aristocrat, I had still found myself filled with unresolved anger every time I thought about him, and now that was gone. Good riddance. He was someone else's problem and for multiple reasons, I pitied his wife.
Back at the London house, I quietly unlocked the door – thank goodness I was in charge and didn't need to answer to anyone as to my whereabouts at this unseemly hour - and made my way to my room. Wonder how Jimmy will get on tomorrow at the lung specialist's, I mused, a pang of fear washing over me. I couldn't stop replaying in my mind the terrifying moment when my friend had been unable to breathe. I'd seen a man die in the trenches of an asthma attack – he'd apparently hidden the condition, because he would have been deemed unfit to serve had it been known.
Why did Dr. Clarkson think Jimmy needed to see a specialist? Was something seriously wrong with him? No matter what our uncertain future held, I knew in my heart that I would love and care for Jimmy Kent until my dying day. I wouldn't allow myself to even consider the absolute worst, that Jimmy could be suffering from consumption. If so, he'd have to go to the seaside for his health, and even that was no guarantee of recovery.
Reluctantly, I got ready for bed and tried to sleep. I wasn't tired, but it was a few short hours until I needed to be up to dress His Lordship for his business meetings with Mr. Matthew's solicitor and executor of his will.
I slept restlessly, wishing for the thousandth time that I had someone to share my bed. "I envy you," I'd told Mr. Bates over a year ago, and it was still true. He and Anna shared their love openly, and society was happy for them. I was, it seemed, condemned to a life of loneliness and longing.
The next morning, after dressing His Lordship and sending him on his way, I found myself with a rare bit of time to myself. There was always something to keep me busy at Downton, but opening the London house for a night required little effort on my part. I was to give the house a once-over to make sure everything was in order, but other than that, nothing was expected of me. His Lordship and I were taking our meals out, and a maid would be brought in after our departure to see that the house was put back in order.
Unaccustomed to the luxury of a few hours to myself, I took off my jacket and tried to lose myself in a novel I had recently purchased, "Howard's End" by E.M. Forster. I had been fascinated by Forster's writing even before reading a story in a tabloid which claimed that the author had unnatural attraction to men. That had only increased my interest, although of course none of his published novels actually involved men like me. The tabloid article had claimed, though, that Forster had a great many scandalous writings which he planned to leave unpublished until his death.
I became engrossed in the story, which involved interactions between the classes, but after a time, found myself nodding off due to my nearly sleepless night. I must have slept the entire morning away, and then some, because it was well into the afternoon when I was jolted awake by a knock at the front door.
Who could that be? I wondered. His Lordship had told me he was going to dine at his club this evening after his day of meetings, and not to expect him until late. Curious and a bit irritated to have my afternoon nap interrupted, I put on my jacket, strode through the front hall, and answered the door.
To my utter amazement, there stood Jimmy, looking disheveled and seriously ill. What in God's name –
"I love you, Thomas," he choked out, and I caught him just before he hit the ground.
Gasping in disbelief at the unexpected and welcome words, and with the effort of supporting Jimmy's weight, I half carried, half dragged the young footman through the hall and onto the sofa in the front room. Panicking, I took his pulse and was relieved to find it weak but steady.
Just as I was wondering whether I could take the risk of leaving Jimmy alone while I telephoned for a doctor, his eyelids began to flutter and he began stirring.
"Mr. Barrow," he mumbled, and even in the midst of my confused worry, I felt a pang of disappointment. A moment ago Jimmy had called me Thomas for the first time, and I wanted to hear it again.
"I'm here, Jimmy," I murmured, daring to brush his golden hair out of his eyes. Oh, God, he was so perfect. Yet so very vulnerable. What on earth was wrong with him? And why had the lung specialist apparently sent him away in such an appalling condition?
"What's happened, Jimmy?" I breathed, helping him into a reclined position on the sofa. "What did the lung specialist say?
"I didn't see a lung specialist," Jimmy answered haltingly, pausing to cough deeply. I winced at the hacking, rattling sound that indicated severe lung congestion. "I saw a specialist who tried to…cure me."
"Cure you of what?" I feared the very worst. It might be worse than consumption.
Jimmy's eyes filled with tears and he turned his face toward the back of the sofa.
"My unnatural urges," he whispered. "You saw how I reacted to your touch the other night. It scared me because I know how wrong it is, and Dr. Clarkson told me there was a doctor here in London who could help."
"Help you how?" I was a little amused. "What'd he do, bring in a tart for you? Give you lessons on how to be a proper ladies' man?"
But Jimmy was deathly white and I saw fear mar his perfect features.
"It was barbaric," he said haltingly, turning to face me. "He gave me electric shocks, but that was nothing compared to the water torture. He brought me to the brink of drowning, over and over. I breathed in a lot of water and I think it's aggravated my lungs."
Rage immediately surged through me. "Of all the bloody rubbish!" I was seething. "What in Christ's name gives him the right?"
"Well, I did," Jimmy admitted with another long, deep cough. "I signed the consent form."
"But did he tell you what the treatment was? I demanded.
"To be honest, I didn't even ask," Jimmy admitted, and I felt like shaking him. Honestly, did the man have any common sense at all? He had signed a paper for some unknown treatment without even knowing what it was? But I couldn't stay angry at Jimmy for long. He might be naïve, but who would have expected this? It was the 20th century, after all, and even though I knew men like me were abhorred by most respectable people, I hadn't thought medieval-style torture was standard practice. Then again, I'd never attempted to "cure" myself either.
That line of thought had me annoyed again. One thing I'd always prided myself on was my self-respect. I knew my preferences were different, but I refused to accept society's judgment that they were perverse and disgusting. Jimmy, on the other hand, was a picture of self-loathing. I wasn't passing judgment on my young friend, but at his age I had long since come to terms with who I was, and I wished he would do the same.
"Well, given what you said to me on the doorstep just now, I guess the treatment didn't work," I said wryly, wondering how Jimmy would react.
He flinched and turned to face me. "Mr. Barrow –"
"Isn't it time you started calling me Thomas?" I interjected softly. "You said it to me just before you fainted."
"I thought I was dying," he admitted. "I wanted to tell you that I finally remembered writing the note. I remembered because it's the truth. I love you, Mr. Barrow, and I guess I always will. But life isn't like a fairy tale. Nothing can come of it; surely you know that."
"No, Jimmy, I don't know that," I answered hotly. "How can you sit back and allow an unjust world to dictate your future? How can you stand yourself?"
"That's where we'll always differ," Jimmy said simply. "I care what the world thinks of me – I always have. It's why I'd never even allowed myself to acknowledge the side of me that desires men. I couldn't face it, but then you – well, it was different with you. I've fallen in love in spite of myself."
How long I had waited to hear these words. But never had I thought they could bring so much pain.
"So that's it, then?" The harshness in my voice surprised me. "Well, there goes our friendship along with it."
Jimmy looked pained and tried to speak but I cut him off.
"I was prepared to love you but content myself with friendship, Jimmy," I began, willing myself not to cry. "I could accept it when I thought you were a ladies' man. But this is beyond my understanding and beyond my forgiveness."
"Mr. Barrow, please," Jimmy pleaded. "Can't we go back to the way things were?"
"I don't think we can, Jimmy," I answered, my heart breaking. "I wish we could. One of us needs to leave Downton."
Jimmy let out a strangled sob and launched into his heaviest round of coughing yet, ending with him bringing up a sizable amount of blood. Alarmed, I went to the telephone and had the operator put me in touch with the nearest hospital. After I explained Jimmy's condition, it was agreed than an ambulance would be dispatched to the house.
Meanwhile, I brought Jimmy a drink of water and a blanket and did my best to make him comfortable.
"Mr. Barrow…Thomas…" Jimmy's voice was weaker than it had been. "I'm not sure I'm going to live, and I'm not sure I want to."
"Don't be silly," I said brusquely, trying to hide my fear. Jimmy could be a bit dramatic at times, but his symptoms really were concerning.
"I mean it," he continued. "And you're going to hate me for asking this, but even though it can't ever go any further, would you…could you…kiss me?"
I hated myself for giving in, when I was so frustrated and disappointed in Jimmy. But wild horses couldn't have kept me away. Tenderly, I knelt in front of the sofa and brought my lips down to Jimmy's own soft, inviting ones.
"You won't push me away this time?" I breathed, breaking away from the sweet embrace. Jimmy's only response was to wrap his arms around my neck and pull me closer, deepening the kiss. My quickening breaths matched Jimmy's own labored breathing. How long I had yearned for this moment, and I never wanted it to end. Because when it ended, I would be faced with the harsh and cruel reality that things were at an end between us. Jimmy had made up his mind, and he had chosen conformity to the world over me.
Several minutes passed blissfully as I held Jimmy close, relishing the feel of his chest against mine, wondering how I would face my life once we parted. And all too soon, I heard the sharp knock of the paramedics at the door. Hurrying to answer it, I bustled around the room, making use of my medical training as I assisted the paramedics in transferring Jimmy to the waiting ambulance.
"Will you come with me?" Jimmy's eyes were pleading.
"I'm his cousin," I said to the nearest paramedic in an attempt to explain the situation. "And no, Jimmy, I can't. I can't have His Lordship coming home and finding me missing."
I hated the look in his eyes, but there really was nothing I could do. I touched Jimmy's shoulder briefly.
"You'll be all right," I said by way of goodbye, and turned on my heel and made my way back into the house, where I finally let loose the tears that had been threatening to spill themselves ever since Jimmy's arrival.
A/N: Sorry for so much angst, but you never know what's ahead! And I haven't forgotten about the missing letter, either! Thank you all so much for the kind reviews. It is so exciting every time I see that there's a new one! Oh, and also, E.M. Forster really did write a book called Maurice in 1913, but stipulated that it couldn't be published until after his death (in 1970) because it was a male/male love story. The Merchant Ivory movie they made from it is sooo good, and I actually discovered it thanks to one of the authors here on FF who wrote a story in which Jimmy meets Alec Scudder, one of the men in Maurice! I definitely recommend the movie, and if you do watch, bear in mind that in my opinion, the second half is better than the first. Thank you all again!