Hey hey! New chapter. This may be the last chapter I add for a few days, as I will not have access to a computer until Monday week. However, I hope you all enjoy this, and please please keep up the reviews – they mean so much!
Sparki: I own nothing!
"A new footman, Mr. Carson?"
It's over. Oh God, it's all over.
Sitting at his desk, Carson nodded. "Yes, Jameson Bentley," he informed a very pallid-faced Thomas. "He's only young – this is his first place of employment, as it were."
Hidden safely behind his back, Thomas' hand had clenched themselves into fists. He could feel sweat, cold and clammy, forming beneath his interlocked fingers. Weakly, he cleared his throat.
"But Mr. Carson," he began, hesitantly, "do we... that is, do we truly need another footman. What with James, Alfred, and myself-,"
Carson held up a hand. "But you are not a footman, are you, Mr. Barrow?"
What have I done? What could I possibly have done?
"Well... I just thought, seeing as Mr. Bates will be returning in a fortnight, and-," Thomas ventured, tentatively, but once, a raised hand from Carson halted his words.
"You will not be returning to your former duties," he informed the younger man, who struggled to hold back a cry. Thomas felt his heart begin to race, as his mind scrambled frantically for a single strand of logic.
You can't sack me! He can't – I ain't done anything!
Fighting to keep his frenzied emotions from leaking forth, Thomas implored the butler with pale eyes. "Please, Mr. Carson," he urged, holding out his hands. They shook, he noted with annoyance. "What's the point of hiring a new lad when you've got three here who know how to do the job like the back of their hands?"
But Carson simply shook his head. "You, Thomas, will not be a footman again." With a sigh, he folded his hands upon the cluttered desk. He looked up at Thomas, with something not unlike apprehension glinting in his eyes. Unconsciously, Thomas gulped.
"I didn't want to do this, Thomas," the butler sighed, "not again. But, I'm afraid, I have no choice."
Thomas felt he would be ill.
"It's true, that Mr. Bates will return within the fortnight," Carson continued. "It is also true that Mrs. Hughes and I have seen fit to hire a new footman." Here, he glanced once again at Thomas' pale expression. "This, I'm afraid, leaves you, Mr. Barrow, in quite a precarious position-,"
"Yes, Mr. Carson," Thomas interrupted, "and I know that, in the past, I've not been at my best. But changed – you know I have. I've put everything into this, an-,"
"What on earth are you on about, Barrow?" Carson asked incredulously. He gave the panicked man a strange look. "You look as though you've seen a ghost!"
Steadying himself, Thomas took a deep breath. He longed silently for a cigarette. As he stood quietly, biting his tongue to keep from pleading, he couldn't help but wonder what reason Carson could possibly give for dismissing him.
"His Lordship has asked that Mr. Bates be assigned his usual duties," Carson murmured, "as soon as he is fit." Thomas' stomach dropped.
"However," Carson continued, "His Lordship has also spoken very highly of you, Mr. Barrow." Thomas glanced up.
"Me, Mr. Carson?" he queried. The butler nodded.
"I am not convinced that you deserve such an opportunity," he mumbled, more to himself than to Thomas, "not again." With a heaving sigh, he addressed the younger man with a heavy-handed gaze.
"It is His Lordship's wish," the butler announced with lacking enthusiasm, "that you, Mr. Barrow, be promoted to under-butler."
Thomas almost fell over.
Under-butler? Me?
At first, he though perhaps Carson had suddenly developed a sense of humour – sickly though it may be – and was pulling some sort of cruel joke. But when Thomas met the man's steady gaze, there was no hint of a laugh in his eyes. Struggling to regain his wits, Thomas stood a little straighter.
"Really, Mr. Carson?" he all but squeaked. "So... you're not dismissing me, then?" Carson raised a brow. "Why on earth would I be dismissing you, Thomas?" he asked. When the younger man failed to reply, Carson sighed once more. Leaning forward, he fixed Thomas with a piercing look.
"Thomas," he began, his tone solemn, "this is your final chance. I was apprehensive about granting you the task of His Lordship's valet, but this...," He shook his head. "It is beyond my wildest comprehension as to why I even considered Lord Grantham's request, let alone adhered to it."
If looks could kill, Thomas Barrow would lay dead on the floor. Carson stood up, and begrudgingly offered the man a hand. "But for now," he grumbled, "congratulations, Mr. Barrow." Tentatively, Thomas shook the butler's hand.
"T-Thank you, Mr. Carson," he breathed, unable to keep the tremor from his voice; so overwhelming was his relief. With an indignant huff, Mr. Carson dismissed his startled under-butler. Without another glance at his brooding superior, Thomas turned, and walked – as slowly as he possibly could – to the door.
For a time, Thomas Barrow stood in the deserted corridor. His mind raced, and his breathing struggled to catch his heart, as it beat itself against his ribs.
"I... I still have a job," he marvelled aloud. "I... I have a better job!"
Thomas gave a laugh – a joyous laugh. For the first time in ever so long, he felt like singing.
But of course, he didn't.
He simply buried his smile beneath his lowered face, and made his way to the servant's hall.
"But Robert, is it really necessary?" Cora asked her husband. From where she sat upon the drawing room longue, she watched as her husband paced restlessly across the carpeted floor, and gave a sigh. He had been pacing more of late; it was never a good sign.
"Yes, Cora, it is entirely necessary," Robert replied, stopping in his tracks, only long enough to address his wife's inquiry. Cora sighed once more.
"But what about Tom?" she pressed. "Won't he feel... redundant?" At this, Robert chuckled.
"My dear, Tom is cooped up in London's Medical establishment," he reminded the Countess . "I doubt he could be made to feel anymore redundant than he currently does." Cora scowled.
"Doesn't mean you have to try," she murmured. It was Robert's turn to sigh.
"Cora," he began, "Tom understands why this is essential." Cora raised two delicately shaped brows. "And he told you this, did he?" she scoffed. To her surprise, Robert nodded.
"Yes, he did," her husband shot back. "In fact, it was Tom who suggested we look at hiring a temporary agent." Cora scowled again.
"But why, Robert?" she exclaimed. "I'm afraid that I don't understand why not having a financial agent for the next few months is-,"
"But it won't just be the next few months," Robert cut in, frowning deeply. "Even if Tom recovers-,"
"When Tom recovers," Cora corrected him, and Robert, thankfully, nodded his agreement.
"Yes, when Tom recovers," he continued, "Dr. Clarkson had clearly stated he is not to leave this house for at least another three months." With a heavy sigh, Robert lowered himself down beside her. "It could be more than a year before I have a fully functioning Irishman at my side once more." Cora rolled her eyes, but did not dispute the truth. She knew that nothing she would say could change Robert's mind; in truth, she wasn't certain as to why she objected the presence of a temporary financial agent.
Perhaps she was simply worried for little Sybbie. The last thing Cora wanted was for her granddaughter to feel as though her father were being replaced. Cora closed her eyes against the thought. She gave a great sigh, and felt a hand rest upon her own.
"What is it?" Robert asked softly. Cora opened her weary eyes.
"I'm worried for Sybil," she admitted, and her husband's face darkened. "She's never been without her father, not for so long." Robert mirrored the woman's sigh. Moving a little closer, he pressed a tender kiss to his wife's cheek. Despite herself, Cora smiled.
"I'll arrange for Sybil to visit her father," he promised Cora. "Perhaps she can go with Miss Michaels... or Anna, if the ladies can spare her." Cora nodded, and returned her husband's sentiment. His cheek was warm against her mouth.
"Alright," she agreed, and for a short while, allowed her worries to fade.
Ta-da! Hope you all liked it ;)
