Joe Molesley felt a continual sense of déjà vu, showing up at Downton once again to inquire about a job with Mr. Carson. But this time was different than the last. There was certainty in every step he took. A purpose.
Alfred was leaving for his cookery course at The Ritz after all. This meant there would be a need for an additional footman at Downton. And now was Mr. Molesley's chance. He wouldn't miss it like he did the last time.
So he knocked on the door to Mr. Carson's office, gently nudging it open before snaking his head around. Offering a complacent smile, he tentatively stepped forward.
"Ahh Mr. Molseley, what can I do for you?" Came Carson's genial greeting while he sat behind his desk, setting aside some papers.
"I was at the station this morning," He began, his hands gesturing while he explained himself, "We're...we're redoing the gravel out front. And uh, I ran into young Alfred, he's off on his way to London."
"Yes?" Carson prompted with a lifted brow.
"So as he is going on after all, I thought...I'll look in...to confirm my willingness to return to Downton," He exhaled the breath he'd been holding in the entire time, grinning confidently that Mr. Carson couldn't refuse him now.
"Mr. Molesley," Carson folded his hands together on top of his desk, and shifted forward in his seat. Tilting his face up towards Molesley's, he studied him solemnly, "I'm glad you are, as you put it, willing. But I cannot feel the word expresses the kind of enthusiasm I'm looking for in a new footman."
Molesley visibly flinched at the unexpected nature of the words. They struck him just as swiftly as if Mr. Carson had reached forward, and smacked him with his hand.
"What?" He echoed, unable to process the response.
Mr. Carson took in a deep breath, and then explained very matter-of-factly, "When we last discussed it, you made it quite clear that you didn't wish to plunge down the ladder of preferment."
"But...yeah...well...I was willing to..." Molesley stammered, feeling as though the opportunity was slipping away from him again.
Carson interjected, "Assss you keep saying you are, but I don't want to humiliate you. You feel you're meant for better things, and I won't contradict you. Unfortunately, we have no higher place to offer in this house."
"B-but I know...I said..." His eyes widened in shock, only to be met with Mr. Carson's finality.
"And you have your pride, and I respect you for it."
He stood there, paralyzed. Barely hearing Mr. Carson's, G'day Mr. Molesley, he mutely shuffled out of the office truly at a loss on what to do next.
Baxter was mending a pair of gloves in the servants hall whenever the bell to Lady Grantham's room dinged unceremoniously. It was unusual for her to hear from Her Ladyship at this hour. Generally, she was either catching up on correspondences, taking a walk with Lord Grantham, or busying herself with leisurely activities in the library.
So Baxter took it to mean the call was urgent, and quickly hurried up the stairs. She scurried up the red staircase, pausing just outside her Ladyship's dressing room to catch her breath before she made her presence known.
"Is everything alright, your Ladyship?" Baxter intoned in a singular breath, her heart still rapidly beating inside of her chest.
Her mind raced for a split second at the possibility of her entire world unraveling at Downton with a single conversation before she forced it to stop. She couldn't know.
Perched on the edge of her window seat, book spread across her lap, she placed a finger on the page to mark her place before looking up to meet Baxter's eye. "Baxter, I have to take the late afternoon train to London," She informed her calmly.
Why she hadn't mentioned this early whenever she was dressing her for the day, Baxter wasn't sure. Perhaps it was a last minute decision? Or it simply slipped her Ladyship's mind? She did seem a bit preoccupied these days, what with planning a celebration for his Lordship's birthday.
The mention of London made Baxter feel a bit uneasy, but she knew traveling was part of her duties and she would never vocalize her unrest. Tilting her head to the side, she wondered, "Should I pack a trunk for overnight then, Milady?"
"Oh no," Lady Grantham flipped a hand at this, "it's just a committee meeting and then we're going out to dinner in some frightful hotel." Her eyes widened as she emphasized the word.
Baxter chuckled softly to show that she picked up on Her Ladyship's intent.
"I should leave at six, but I'll be back later this evening."
Folding her hands at her waist in front of her, Baxter inquired, "What would you like to wear, Milady?"
Lady Grantham let out a sigh, pursed her lips together and then lifted her gaze up and off to the side. "Well...I suppose I should look as though I tried. But I also don't wish to offend them," She refocused her attention on Baxter.
"Elegant, yet simple," Baxter deciphered her mistress' wishes. "I know," She added, already mentally running through a list of dresses that might fit the bill.
Lady Grantham studied her expression with a warm smile, "I'll let you choose."
"Very good, Milady," Baxter bowed her way out of the room.
The dress she had in mind for Her Ladyship's evening out was in the laundry wing downstairs. There was an entire closet that might as well have been the size of Baxter's dressing room full of clothes that weren't commonly worn by the ladies of the household. There was a bar that ran along the perimeter of the room, holding up several hundreds of formal evening gowns, traveling clothes, coats, and other attire that belonged to Lady Grantham and her two daughters.
Above this was a shelf full of various hats, gloves, shawls, and shoes, all arranged for easy accessibility. And of course, in the center of the room were an assortment of items that didn't fit anywhere else in the house. Traveling cases, handbags, and additional shoes were tossed in a variety of baskets laid out in the center of the room. As were several racks of clothing that belonged to Lady Rose.
When Baxter first laid eyes on the room she was shocked to learn anyone could own so many clothes. But then she reminded herself that there were four ladies of the house at Downton whereas at Overton Square, Mrs. Benton was the sole women upstairs.
It was overwhelming at first, trying to precisely exact which clothes and accessories belonged to each lady. But Anna and Madge were helpful in explaining where O'Brien and then Braithwaite kept Lady Grantham's things. They lined the wall to the immediate left. Lady Mary's was to the immediate right, and Lady Edith's to the wall adjacent to her sister's. The back wall that was more bare than the others once belonged to Lady Sybil.
Baxter heard talk of how Lord Grantham wished to be rid of everything that reminded him of his youngest daughter when she dissented by marrying Mr. Branson. He was successful to a point, but rumor had it Lady Grantham forbid him to touch all of their late daughter's things.
Even now the clothes stayed. Untouched and collecting dust, Baxter, Anna, and Madge cautiously placed the overflow of their mistress' wardrobe on the spaces on either side of Lady Sybil's small collection.
She wondered what would happen if they ran out of room to hang the new clothes. Would she have to inform her Ladyship? She wouldn't feel right suggesting that Lady Grantham get rid of Lady Sybil's things. Especially if His Lordship had been met with resistance on the matter. She doubted anything she said would matter if Lady Grantham disregarded her husband's suggestions on the issue.
Perhaps Anna could make mention of it to Lady Mary, and she bring it to her mother's attention? Baxter tried not to think about it. It wasn't a problem that needed to be immediately addressed.
What did need addressing was the matter of what to fit Lady Grantham with that evening. Baxter began shuffling through the selections on the rack. Black is always elegant, she thought, moving further down the rack where the darker hued items rested.
She looked through several options, discrediting a sleeveless one with fringe that might appear too kitschy for such an event. There was a black high collared dress that looked more appropriate for mourning, Baxter pushed that one off to the side. Next she came across a heavier velvet fabric with a wider neckline, and string of buttons that ran down the sleeves. Was it too simple? Baxter wondered, chewing on the inside of her cheek while she attempted to envision Lady Grantham in it. Perhaps with the right jewelry...
"Ms. Baxter?"
She pivoted on the spot at the soft enunciation of her name, watching Anna approach her. Gesturing to the gloves Baxter left in the servants hall, she explained. "Mrs. Patmore wanted to lay for tea. I wasn't sure where you wanted these."
"Oh, I'll take them, thank you." Baxter smiled appreciatively.
Anna nodded and was about to exit whenever Baxter called out to her.
"Uhm, Mrs. Bates, I could use your opinion on something." She pulled the dress off of the rack, and then showed it to her, "Do you think this would be suitable for Her Ladyship? She's dining out at The Cumberland following her lady's committee meeting." She glanced up, watching Anna assess the dress splayed out in her arms.
"I think it'd be a bit plain for Lady Grantham," Anna commented lightly.
"I agree, but she wants it to be simple yet elegant. I was thinking with the right jewelry...she has this diamond necklace with a low dangling pendant..."
Anna's face lit up with recognition, "The one with the black diamond in the center?"
"And interspersed around the collar as well," Baxter finished, touching various points along her neck to paint a clearer picture. "With matching earrings," She tugged lightly on her earlobe while explaining hesitantly.
"I think that would be more than suitable for the occasion, Ms. Baxter." Anna assured her kindly.
She smiled, reverting her attention back to the dress. "Thank you, Mrs. Bates."
It was always nice to hear a second opinion, particularly Anna's since she had a keen eye for fashion. She suddenly felt a burst of excitement while she sought to prepare the outfit for the evening. It was the first time Lady Grantham had given her free reign of such a task, and Baxter hoped she would approve of her choice for the evening.
His father took him to the Grantham Arms for a drink and a sandwich that afternoon. It was a distraction from him having to face the reality of going back to roadwork. But after another rousing talk, Molesley decided he was going to give it another chance. Only this time, he'd work another avenue to get his way back into Mr. Carson's good graces.
He checked his pocket watch as he entered through the backyard again. The family would be up at dinner by now, which meant he wouldn't have to face Mr. Carson directly. With any luck, Molesley would be able to achieve his desired goal without him ever finding out.
After meeting with Madge in the servants yard, she let him back into the house. He mentioned wanting to speak with Mrs. Hughes, and Madge helpfully pointed in the direction of the housekeeper's sitting room.
He rapped his knuckles lightly against the door, and then peered into the room.
"Mr. Molesley," Mrs. Hughes greeted with a pleasant smile, "how can we help ye?"
He cleared his throat, "I was...wondering...if by any chance...Mr. Carson had changed his mind?"
Mrs. Hughes pleasant expression melted into one of regret. She shook her head, and muttered down into her teacup. "I'm afraid not."
Mr. Molesley glanced between Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore, his weight shifting beneath him. "I...I would've thought he'd value my...caution in wanting to weigh up the pros and cons before rushing in."
Neither one of the women made a comment in favor or against him. His stomach fluttered uneasily. Despite his best efforts to remain stoic and calm, he felt himself unraveling as he spoke next, "So is this it then? Do I just go back to mending the roads?"
His throat closed with emotions he never anticipated bubbling to the surface. Turning his back to them, he brought a hand up to cover his forehead and conceal his feelings.
"Oh, don't give up so easily," He heard Mrs. Hughes' soothing tone, followed by the sound of her setting her teacup back down on the table. When he looked up again, she had the teapot in her hands, and gestured for him to sit down in one of the nearby chairs.
"Now...let me get some more hot water," She suggested.
He sunk down in an empty chair, resting his face in his hands and letting out a heavy sigh. If this didn't work, Molesley wasn't sure what else he would do.
The choice of evening wear yielded a favorable response from Lady Grantham. She aired her gratitude for Baxter's styling her without reservation this time. It felt like they were making great progress in their acceptance of one another, which made Baxter feel both grateful and uneasy.
She was glad that their rapport was growing strong. It would only strengthen the bonds of trust between them. But the looming secret of her past that Thomas held over her also had the power to shatter any trust they might build in the meantime.
Yet Baxter was still determined to try and get along with her mistress. To make a lasting impression that would showcase her desire to please her and remain in her post. Even if she were to learn of Baxter's past, she could never deny Baxter's dedication and quality of work as anything less than superb.
While her Ladyship was out for the evening, Baxter decided to sit with Daisy in the kitchen. She was airing her grievances about Ivy, who'd gone out for the evening with Jimmy. Baxter listened with rapt attention. She empathized with young Daisy, having been placed in this very position many times before throughout her life.
She was about to offer some sage advice, only to be interrupted by the jangling of keys and clicking of heels. Looking over her shoulder, Baxter met Mrs. Hughes eye.
"Oh good, Ms. Baxter, you're here," She breathed while continuing on her way towards the sink.
Ms. Baxter wondered, "Did you need something, Mrs. Hughes?"
"I thought I'd tell ye, Mr. Molesley dropped in," She informed her over the sounds of running water. "He wanted to see if Mr. Carson had changed his mind."
Baxter guessed sadly, "But ye haven't been successful on that front?"
An audible sigh escaped Mrs. Hughes, her shoulders slumping a bit. "No, I'm sad to say. He still stands firm on the matter."
She shut off the sink, and then placed the pot back on the hot stove.
"I wonder..." Ms. Baxter trailed off for a moment, pausing to work through it all before sharing with Mrs. Hughes, "...perhaps, if Mr. Molesley could show his usefulness and his desire to be so in...another way. It might make a difference? In Mr. Carson's eyes?"
Folding her arms in front of her Mrs. Hughes admitted just as puzzled as she appeared to be, "I just...don't know how we could go about bringing him on. Even if we do temporarily. Mr. Carson is the one to have the final say."
"Aye, and I don't mean to disrupt that, Mrs. Hughes. I hope you don't think me causing you anymore trouble than I have in the matter."
"Oh no, Mr. Molesley is a good man, and a hard worker. He deserves our help." She remarked with a sincere air full of pity for the man. A sort of pity that Ms. Baxter also felt for him, her reasons difficult to fully explain.
When the kettle began to whistle, Mrs. Hughes picked it up off the stove, and moved back the way she came. She proposed evenly, "I'll talk it over with Mrs. Patmore & him just now. See if we can come up something."
Lady Mary arrived about the same time Baxter at Lady Grantham's door that evening. "Should I come back, Milady?" Baxter eyed warily, still uncertain of what opinion (if any) the eldest Crawley daughter held of her.
"Oh no," Lady Mary flipped an indifferent hand. "You mustn't keep Mama waiting, I'm sure she's exhausted." She paused, waiting for Baxter to step into the room before her.
"I've only come in to see how you got off," Lady Mary announced herself to her mother, whom was sitting in front of her dressing table and disposing of her jewelry.
Baxter wordlessly crossed the room to closet, pulling out a fresh nightgown and housecoat. She began splaying both items across the bed, only picking up on bits and pieces of the conversation between Lady Grantham and her daughter.
"It was nice of you to give them a lift."
"I was glad to. But...I may be mistaken but I'm afraid things have gone wrong between those two."
"That's sad to hear," Lady Mary groaned with a hint of sympathy.
Baxter moved towards the foot of her Ladyship's bed, picking up the gloves that were already deposited there. She placed them atop of the outer coat already sprawled across the bed.
"It's not just a case of a marriage gone sour. Anna's been hurt somehow and Bates feels as though he should have protected her."
There was a shift from the sweetness in her tone as she ordered more firmly, "I don't want any of that to leave this room, Baxter."
Feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end for being addressed suddenly. She lifted her head, and offered a reassuring, "Of course not, Milady."
She wanted to pretend like she hadn't heard. If she were to come across Thomas that night, Baxter wasn't sure if she'd be able to disguise this new piece of knowledge that came to fruition. He read her more easily than anyone else ever could.
He knew the troubles of her childhood that only continued through adolescence. And he knew the darkest chapter of her life on top of all that. How deeply she regretted it all. How the memories of her former life still weighed her down with immense guilt that she feared she'd never be rid of. He would know she learned more in regards to the situation with the Bates'. And he wouldn't rest until she told him.
Her heart hammered loudly beneath her ribs, footsteps scraping back down the steps at a maddening rate. All she had to do was deposit the dress in the laundry, the shoes in the boot room, and the jewelry in the family safe. Then she could discretely disappear back to the safety of her bedroom, mull over the words Lady Grantham had spoken, and put on a braver face in the morning.
Baxter dropped off the shoes in the boot room, flashing a brief smile up at Mr. Bates before muttering a polite, g'night. Then she resolved to walk further down the hall to the laundry wing, handing off the dress to one of the girls there. Next was the jewelry safe behind the locked room in between Mrs. Hughes sitting room, and Mr. Carson's office.
She jiggled the doorknob, relieved whenever it was already unlocked. The velvet box that housed the necklace in question remained on the table in the center of the room. She placed it back inside, along with the earrings.
When the clasp snapped shut, Baxter was about to hurry out of the room whenever Mr. Barrow stepped in front of the doorway. His greedy smile played at his lips, and felt her heart sink. She'd have no choice but to tell him as he blocked her only exit to her sanctuary.
Letting out a disheartened breath, Baxter hung her head in shame as she disclosed, "Her Ladyship notices something's off with them as well."
He took a few steps deeper into the room and asked lowly, "What did she say?"
"Only that," Baxter peered up at him, watching his eyes study her, "Mrs. Bates has been hurt in some way. And Mr. Bates feels he should have stopped it."
He hesitated, and she took her chance at an opening. "That's all I heard," Baxter insisted, trying to step around him.
But Thomas blocked her path, his height towering over her. He inquired unrelenting, "But how was she hurt? What happened to her?"
"I'm just telling you what Her Ladyship told Lady Mary. I don't know anything else." She moved towards the other side of him, but he anticipated her action and move in front of her again.
"Then keep your ears open," He instructed.
Baxter felt her anger flaring up again. She did his bidding, and she'd carry the guilt of betraying her promise to her kind hearted mistress for the rest of her time here at Downton. She'd carry it all because of him and his unwavering desire to meddle in other people's affairs.
Setting her jaw, Baxter returned through clenched teeth, "I always do."
Thomas must have sensed this because he arched a brow and adjusted his tone to a more conversational level, "What's the matter?"
"I don't really like telling tales," She grumbled.
He narrowed his gaze at her, "You knew the conditions when you came here."
"I did." There was no point in denying it.
"So what's changed?"
"She's polite...she's considerate. I don't feel she's deserved it." It was the truth. Lady Grantham was trusting and kind towards her. Just like Mrs. Benton had once been.
"Now listen," Thomas leaned into her more menacingly, "what you have to decide is where your first loyalties are. With her, or with me."
"Alright," Baxter cocked her head to the side and retorted, "have it your own way."
"Oh I intend to." With a swift turn of his heel, Thomas stormed out of the room.
She was certain he wouldn't do anything. Not just yet. If he wanted more information from Lady Grantham he still needed her. And if her experiences at Overton Square taught her anything, it was how to make herself indispensable.
It was settled. He would come the next day to serve the servants tea. A task generally reserved for a member of the kitchen staff. He would appear contented to do so per Mrs. Hughes instruction.
Although Mr. Molesley didn't have to force such an appearance. He was content to be apart of the downstairs staff again, no matter how small a role.
Mrs. Patmore told him to wait close by as she hurried back into the kitchens to fish out an additional apron for him to don.
Madge noticed him hovering over the precipice of where the main corridor met the servants dining hall. She greeted him cheerily, "Hello, Mr. Molesley. There's a chair here." She patted the empty seat to her right.
"No, thank you," He slowly appeared into the room, his voice contrite. "I'm not here to eat."
"Why have you come then?"
He heard the question come from near the head of the table, and his eye met Ms. Baxter's inquisitiveness.
"Mrs. Hughes sent for me. She said that you had a big party tonight, and it would be useful to Mrs. Patmore if I served the servants tea."
Just then, Mrs. Patmore arrived with an apron and tea kettle with a cooling rag.
"What?" Mr. Carson inhaled sharply, casting a look towards Mrs. Hughes.
She explained with a shrug, "Mrs. Patmore has a lot to do. Mr. Molesley said he would help."
Mr. Carson squinted at her, as though he couldn't quite grasp the concept. "To serve the servants tea?"
Molesley finished tying on his apron, and then took the kettle from Mrs. Patmore. He started pouring a cup for Madge as Mrs. Hughes went on.
"He's not proud, Mr. Carson. He wants to be useful where he can be."
Nobody said anything for several moments while Mr. Molesley worked his way down the table. Only the sound of the water pouring into each cup and the scraping of cutlery against the plates could be heard.
The closer and closer he drew to Mr. Carson's end, the more tense the air grew. Molesley knew he was watching him closely, brooding over the fact that Mrs. Hughes took it upon herself to intervene on Molesley's behalf. It was whenever Molesley finally arrived at Ms. Baxter's place that Mr. Carson's broke through the silence.
"Oh, oh alright! I give in." He grumbled, shaking his head, "I cannot fight a war on every front."
"Mr. Carson?" Molesley looked up, blinking at him perplexed.
"Look out at livery. You can start tonight, move in tomorrow." Carson barked out his orders, effectively offering him the job.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson, very much." Molesley carefully set down the kettle in front of him, bowing his head and exiting the room.
"And...don't forget the gloves." Carson reminded him sharply.
Shooting an appreciative smile at both him and then Mrs. Hughes, Molesley swore he caught of glimpse of what appeared her looking similarly to Ms. Baxter. He couldn't read the other woman's face, but he wondered if Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore weren't the only ones who had something to do with his return to Downton.
Hope you enjoyed this latest Chapter! Molesley is finally good & settled back in his post at Downton (yay! poor bloke won't be running around from the village up to Downton anymore hehe). Next Chapter will feature the departure of his Lordship to America as well some more shared moments between Baxter & Molesley circa 4x07. Look for the update on Sunday if you want to stick with it! :)