A/N: Sorry for the super long delay in updating this story. I still have ideas for it in my head, but not much time to actually write them down. Please forgive me. I hope this makes up for it a bit.
He couldn't remember exactly when things had changed but by the end of their fourth trip to York, there was no denying the different atmosphere anymore, as Miss Baxter graced him with a soft smile from across the small table in the crowded pub. Molesley returned it, then turned his gaze back down towards his meal, slightly embarrassed by the affectionate gesture. Pushing around the food on his plate he was lost in thoughts, feeling a tinge of guilt when instead of focusing on the task at hand all he could think of was how relaxed his companion was that day. Gone were the worries and the ever-present frown over the possibility that they might not be successful in their attempt to help Anna and Mr. Bates. The changed attitude suited her, it made her look so … young.
Molesley blushed and stuffed a spoonful of stew in his mouth to keep himself distracted from those thoughts. He was used to his own daydreaming by now, there wasn't much else he did in his spare time since Miss Baxter had suggested to accompany him on his little mission, but he would better not risk it with the object of his thoughts right in front of him.
Phyllis Baxter was glad that Molesley had finally gotten over his cold by the fourth day they were to spend together in York. In the days between their last day off and the current visit she had worried that dragging the half-ill footman through York again might cause a backlash they couldn't afford. They had to find some evidence for Mr. Bates's innocence, they just had to, the sooner the better. And she would have dreaded to find it on her own, without Mr. Molesley around, when all had been his idea in the first place. How clever he was, she reflected, thinking of how he had told her his brilliant idea to search for someone who remembered seeing Mr. Bates on that fateful day. She chuckled inwardly – Molesley would certainly take a double turn at her choice of words, refusing to let himself be called brilliant in any regard. She liked that about him, he was modest, often to an extent of not quite believing compliments, shrugging them off and laughing awkwardly. She would tell him every day how wonderful she though the was if she could, to give his lacking confidence a well-deserved boost. But propriety stood in the way of expressing such praise. They were colleagues, friends, and nothing about that suggested her any right to speak so openly, even if she wanted to. And oh, how much she wanted to. How much she longed to be in a position of casually reaching across the table and take his hand, softly inquiring what had made him so quiet suddenly. But the almost burned down candle in the center of the table served as an invisible barrier between them. She pictured it in her mind … Molesley's head would snap up, his eyes going wide at the sudden touch, and she would quickly pull her hand back, as if burned. They'd not mention it again – that day or any other – but the certainty of having overstepped a mark would linger.
Not wanting to get lost in her thoughts, she put her attention back to her plate. If her own meal was any indication, this wasn't the best place in York to have dinner at. It looked like Molesley wasn't too keen on his, either, given that all he did was push his food from one side to the other. However, they had slightly lost track of time for a bit earlier and so had missed their usual train back home. Taking the late train would mean missing dinner at Downton and Molesley had wanted to make it up to her that his enthusiasm had caused their delay. So she wouldn't complain about the dry sliced ham or the overcooked potatoes , not when he was as gallant as ever, insisting on paying for both their meals.
They must have been an unusual sight, sitting so quietly at their table in the midst of men having their drink after a hard day of work, both lost in their own worlds with a meal in front of them just for the sake of it and because it was their usual dinner time. It was a restricted world they lived in, defined by rules and schedules that gave stability and reassurance on the one hand and felt antiquated and frustrating on the other at times. Without knowing it, or even presuming it likely, it was a thought they both had had more than just once this past month whenever they were secretly wishing for something to happen that might open an opportunity to express their fondness for each other.
To Phyllis, not being able to show her growing affection was almost physically painful. She wasn't proud of her past experience of the romantic sort with a man, it had been a relationship that hadn't exactly taught her restraint, quite contrary if she was honest with herself. She knew that how it was now, with Mr. Molesley, was the decent way for these things to proceed, how could it not be when all that was happening felt so right?!
She had been foolish enough once not to see past the compliments and empty promises and seemingly nice things a man had done for her, not even when he had started asking, no demanding, for things in return. Things that barely made up for a few dinners and visits to the cinema, things that had ruined her forever.
This time, she wouldn't be foolish, not with Mr. Molesley being so completely different in every regard from her past lover. He was so much more than she deserved, she knew that. And yet, there he was, accepting her company, accepting her friendship, accepting her. It made her heart flutter.
Phyllis was sure that Molesley would rather persist on letting her pay her own bill than wanting her to think he might have any ulterior motives, but had he really not? Despite everything being so different, so slow and pure, this time, her instincts told her that she didn't misread the lingering looks when he had thought she wasn't noticing. But she had noticed, that day when he had been too weak to walk around with her and had sat by the bar of their last stop instead, and she noticed them now, the little glances that were a mix of concern, kindness and something else that she was afraid to acknowledge, even to herself. They were nothing like the steadfast, lustful stares that used to give her goosebumps for various reasons. They were soft and they made her insides warm up, giving her the impression of being worthy and wanted, for herself instead of for what she would give in return.
"A penny for your thoughts?" Molesley's familiar voice tore her out of her reveries. He must have noticed her irritated expression and quickly explained, "You seemed a bit … away, lost in your own world."
"I was", she admitted ruefully, "And I apologize. Thank you for the dinner, even if I was terrible company."
"You weren't terrible", he objected, putting emphasis on the last word to make sure she understood his joking. She smiled, feeling slightly less embarrassed about her behavior than she had expected to be.
In that very moment, Joseph Molesley wished this evening would never end. If he was forced to stay there forever, in the stuffy and overcrowded pub that was filled with loud, booming voices of men getting drunk and that served below-average food, he wouldn't have minded a bit as long as Miss Baxter was there with him, smiling and lost in her thoughts long enough for him to study her face without the fear of being caught staring. But the clock chimed, barely audible among all the noise, reminding him both of the time and the train they had to catch.
They weren't late yet but would be if they lingered any longer so he hurried to the counter to pay for their dinner. When he returned to their table, Miss Baxter was already waiting for him, fully dressed in her light brown winter coat and hat that made her look so much more lively than the black lady's maid's dress he was accustomed to.
"Come on, we better hurry", she said, nudging her head towards the front door while she tugged on the hem of her gloves to adjust them.
"Yes, we better", Molesley agreed, offering her his arm.
"Thanks", Phyllis muttered when he pushed the wooden swinging door open and held it for her. She stepped out onto the narrow pavement of the alley that was covered in a thin layer of snow, then turned around to face her companion just in time to see him put on his cap and pull his scarf around himself a bit tighter in an attempt to shield him from the icy wind and the falling snowflakes. The cap was slightly worn and not exactly in style – many other male servants preferred the more formal bowlers - but it suited him well, it was a look that Phyllis liked, so different from the usual footman's livery.
An amused smile appeared on her lips when one single snowflake found its way under the hat and right on top of Molesley's nose. He grimaced and wiped the tiny snowflake off, then returned her smile with an offended look in his eyes, not at her – she had come to understand that by now – but over the realization that he had been mocked once more, and by the innocent snow to make it worse.
The fresh air and quietness of the street surrounding them was relaxing compared to the crowded, smelly pub, the noises from the inside now only a faint humming sound in the background. It was late and the dark winter sky not very welcoming for any wanderers, and Phyllis felt a little tinge of uneasiness creeping up inside of her. She wasn't afraid of the dark but wary of the dangers lurking in the shadows, and they weren't in the most upscale area of York. With Mr. Molesley beside her she felt oddly safe, not simply because it meant she wasn't by herself or because he was a man but because he was him. However, they had to be at the train station soon and she had no desire to stay in this shabby alley longer than necessary and risk some unpleasant encounter with a local drunkard.
"Let's go", she said determined, beckoning him to follow her.
Phyllis moved to take a step backwards and at the same time sensed herself being tugged into the opposite direction. Someone shouted, she closed her eyes instinctively.
The next thing she felt was a rough pain in the back. Then she heard the sound of a car driving away down the small street. Why hadn't she seen or heard it coming? Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes only to look up into the concerned face of Mr. Molesley. They were standing almost face to face, with her pressed against the cold stone wall of the building, the shock of what had happened clearly written on both their faces and for a moment, Phyllis almost forgot how to breathe. She wanted to reach up to him, it would be so easy to touch his cheek and pull him even closer towards her and … Unconsciously, she bit her lip upon noticing his hand was still firmly around hers, still protecting her even after the potential danger had long passed.
Molesley must have clearly felt it, too, the opportunity this incident had offered them. There it was again, that something in his eyes that often flickered up between his more prominent emotions. She had used to tell herself that is would be better left ignored, that it meant nothing. Oh, how silly she had been, when it meant everything. It changed everything. Phyllis turned down her gaze, slightly smiling at their joined, trembling hands, knowing that as soon as she would look back up again, she would see her own feelings reflected.
And oh yes, they were. Phyllis couldn't remember ever being looked at like in this moment. There was nothing but love and kindness in those blue eyes that were fixed on her face. On her lips, rather.
The door behind them swung open all of a sudden, carrying the noise outside, and gone was the moment. Molesley was squashed even closer to the woman before him, if that was possible, by the flying door.
"Watch where ya standin', will ya!" an angry voice reached her ears.
A drunken man staggered out of the building and down in the opposite direction, not before making a nasty, rather obscene comment at them. It was almost a comical sight, really, how they stood there, pushed against each other, eyes wide open in shock at the close proximity. Phyllis could have laughed if she hadn't felt the urge to cry so much.
After a minute or so of awkwardness and silence, Molesley stepped back and turned around, just about to shout some reply towards the direction of where the man was walking.
"Don't", Phyllis pleaded softly, her voice slightly creaking. "There's no time for a fight, and my virtue isn't worth it."
Molesley looked at the small figure before him, still pressed against the wall, looking at him through big, begging eyes. She was so pure and precious to him, there was nothing he wanted more than to protect her, to be good for her. He shook his head over the way she talked so lowly about herself. She couldn't have been more virtuous in his eyes. It surprised him to ends and not at all that she had wanted to kiss him, too. For the first time in his life, it felt as if everything that was right just naturally fell into place.
"We really should get going", she suggested once again, nudging her head in an attempt to take his attention away from the retreating form of the pub visitor. She didn't suspect he would say something after her pleading, but she really didn't want to risk anything. Drunk people often meant trouble if provoked, she had learned that lesson in the past.
"Yes, we should", Molesley agreed after short contemplation. He fixed his cap that had almost fallen off when the door had been slammed in his back, and offered her his arm with a half-smile that didn't leave any room for arguing.
"I'm sorry", Phyllis said, stopping in her tracks just before they reached the station. The walk had been a bit awkward, with both of them knowing exactly what could have happened there in front of the pub. If it hadn't been for the sudden interruption, they would have kissed. Mr. Molesley would have kissed her. The thought flooded her whole body with feelings buried so deep inside her that she had assumed she would never be able to feel them again. She felt funny that the mere idea of a kiss could still make her react like this, after all those stolen kisses and more in the past that she had never lost a second thought on.
"If I hadn't been so careless, we wouldn't -"
"No, don't be, please", Molesley shook his head, turning around to face her.
"Does it feel … unresolved to you, too?" she asked, not completely managing to hide her nervousness.
"Unresolved?" Molesley all but squeaked. "But of course, it does. I have a half-day next week, we could come back and continue with the search. I'm sure we'll find someone who remembers seeing Mr. Bates."
"Oh, that!", she was fast to agree, even if Mr. Bates had been the last person on her mind only a second before, "Yes, I will see what I can do about that half-day."
Phyllis didn't mind so much that Molesley had gotten her question wrong. In fact, whether it was Mr. Molesley's undiscerning nature or purpose, she was thankful that he had kept her from broaching a delicate subject in an entirely inappropriate place. She wasn't sure if bringing it up again might not have ended in her actually initiating a kiss right there and then, making everything so much more complicated and embarrassing than it was already. They might not have been able to act on their feelings yet, but they could be sure of them now. And for the time being, that would have to suffice. Phyllis smiled.
They caught the last train back to Downton just in time.