Brothers United: Forging a Shared Future

by Just-A-Beginner-2

AU: Thomas has a half-brother he wants to get hired as the new chauffeur at Downton. Tom and Thomas are half-brothers, an exploration of the relationship of Tom and Thomas if they were half-brothers and how this would affect Downton Abbey.

7. Chapter 7

Brothers United: A Time of War Part Six

The first sensation that greeted Thomas as he stirred was a searing pain in his left arm, burning like a brand. He cautiously opened his heavy eyelids and found himself in an unfamiliar hospital ward. He lay there, still trying to piece together what had transpired to land him in this bed. The fog of sleepiness and memory gaps hung over his mind, making it hard to recall the details. He strained to remember, grasping at fragments.

He remembered being in France with General Callwell, but what had happened? The face of Colonel Janssens and his frustrating power play came to mind. Thomas struggled to make sense of the muddled memories.

His left arm continued to throb with pain, drawing him back to the present. The realisation of his predicament began to sink in as he looked around the crowded room. Still in a half-dazed state, he couldn't help but think of what a terrible patient he had probably been in France. For he was sure he was no longer in France. It felt like his mind was sifting through hazy images of doctors and nurses, but it was all too fragmented to be sure. Thomas slowly drifted back into a restorative slumber.

Eventually, Thomas blinked back to consciousness, this time fully alert. A nurse bustled around his bed, making notes on his chart. As she went about her work, he noticed a face that startled him. "Lady Sybil?" he uttered, confused by the sight.

"Nurse Crawley now, Captain," she replied with a gentle smile. "You're in the hospital in Downton."

Drowsy and still disoriented, Thomas slowly recollected the events that had led him here. The Townhall, the German sympathiser, and the gunshots. He had hazy memories of being in a hospital in France, but they were disjointed and unclear.

"Tom will be relieved that you're awake," Sybil added. "He's been hovering around the hospital since you arrived."

"Tom is here?" Thomas inquired, still not fully alert. "Mary arranged for Tom to stay at Downton while you're here," Sybil informed him before bustling away to attend to other tasks.

Thomas conducted a quick inventory of himself, mentally taking stock of his body. He was relieved to find that all his limbs were still attached, though he did feel the signs of a black eye and a healing split lip.

Major Clarkson, the hospital's chief physician, soon appeared by Thomas's bedside. Picking up Thomas's chart, he proceeded to give the injured Captain an update on his condition.

"Well, Captain, you'll be pleased to know that your injury isn't too serious, though it's somewhat complicated," Major Clarkson began. Thomas waited anxiously to hear the details of his injuries. "You have a gunshot wound in your upper left arm. It's a through-and-through wound, which is the best kind to have in such situations. The bullet entered and then exited your arm. Fortunately, you were in a fairly clean environment when it happened, so there are no signs of infection at the moment."

Thomas listened attentively, absorbing the information. "And what's the complication you mentioned?" he inquired.

"Regrettably, the concussive force of being shot at close range caused a fracture in your arm," Major Clarkson explained, which provided an explanation for the persistent pain in Thomas's arm. "The problem is that we can't put your arm in a cast due to the gunshot wound. Therefore, we've had to apply an external brace to your arm to ensure you don't move it. In a few more days, when the wound has healed further, we'll attempt to splint your arm." "This does mean you will have to remain immobile, until we can properly splint your arm," said Dr Clarkson.

The prospect of having to remain immobile didn't sit well with Thomas. "How will I manage my basic needs?" he wondered, concerned.

"A nurse will assist you," Major Clarkson replied. Thomas, alarmed at the thought of the situation, quickly specified, "Not Lady Sybil."

Major Clarkson, seeming to sense Thomas's alarm, frowned. "Nurse Crawley will carry out the duties assigned by the ward sister," he said. "But if it's distressing for you, we'll have someone else attend to you," he relented.

Relieved, Thomas nodded his approval. He knew Lady Sybil as a kind and caring nurse, but some matters were better handled by less familiar hands.

Thomas, ever the workaholic, then inquired about when he might be able to return to duty. Major Clarkson probed, "What unit are you attached to?"

"Military communications. I work as a translator, and I'm right-handed," Thomas explained, including the information about being right-handed in case it affected his prognosis.

Major Clarkson took a moment to ponder. Most of his patients thus far had been active-duty officers serving at the front in various capacities. He seemed puzzled by the nature of Captain Barrow's work. "I'd say six weeks before you can return to the office," he eventually suggested.

Thomas's dismay was palpable. "Six weeks?" he muttered.

"Captain, you may be underestimating just how much energy is required for your recovery," Major Clarkson said, trying to emphasise the importance of patience and rest. "In the first week, you'll have to remain motionless. Following that, you'll experience another week of pain at the minimum. Your body will require more sleep than usual to facilitate your recovery. Even though your arm will be splinted, you will still need to limit your motion,"

Feeling that he had little choice in the matter, Thomas nodded in reluctant agreement. He had only just woken up, and with his arm throbbing and six weeks of convalescence ahead, he thought it might be best to wait before he resumed his quest to return to duty.

This time, as Thomas slowly regained consciousness, he felt a gentle hand stroking his hair. He shifted his head toward the source of the comforting touch and drowsily opened his eyes, revealing Tom sitting at his bedside. The initial expression of concern on Tom's face shifted into one of relief as he realised that his brother was finally awake.

"Don't worry, you said, I'll be 50 miles from the front, you said, I won't be anywhere near the actual fighting, you said" Tom scolded his brother gently, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the affectionate kiss he planted on Thomas's forehead, as he repeated Thomas's, words of reassurance that he had given him before leaving for France.

"I don't think I've ever felt fear like the day I got the telegram that you had been shot," Tom confided quietly, his voice tinged with the raw emotions of worry and relief. Thomas looked at his brother, seeing the signs of emotional distress etched onto Tom's features. "I'm sorry," Thomas replied, his voice sincere.

"I contacted Rosie as soon as I got word of your injury," Tom said, his voice conveying his deep concern and relief that his brother was finally awake and lucid.

"Turns out she knew more than I did and told me you were shot in the arm and were being sent to Downton," Tom informed Thomas. The mention of Rosie, his fiancée, brought a reassuring image of her to Thomas's mind. He remembered her kindness and how she had been a supportive presence in his life, since being introduced to her by her brother Harry, especially during their walks and talks.

"Harry had contacted her as he was there when you got injured," Tom's words brought some clarity to the situation for Thomas. He remembered Harry being with him now. He listened as his brother continued to share the information he had received.

"She said it was your general who arranged for you to be sent to Downton, because he remembered this was where you were from," Tom added, a sense of pride evident in his tone. Tom was pleased that his brother was so well regarded by his general that the effort had been made to send him to a familiar and comforting place for his recovery.

"That's a relief," Thomas admitted, a sense of gratitude in his voice. "I wouldn't want Rosie to worry too much," he added, knowing how much Rosie and Tom cared about him, "or you," Thomas said with an apologetic smile. The knowledge that he would have familiar faces and the support of his loved ones during his recovery was a comforting thought in the midst of his ordeal.

Tom placed a comforting hand on Thomas's right shoulder, though it wasn't entirely clear if it was meant for Thomas's comfort or Tom's own. The bond between the brothers was strong, and the recent scare had clearly shaken them both.

"Do you remember what happened?" Tom asked, eager to hear his brother's account of the events. "It's getting clearer every time I wake up. Did you get my letter?" Thomas inquired. Tom couldn't help but grin at his brother's question. "Impressive language, I thought," Tom said. Thomas returned the grin with a weak smile, appreciating his brother's humour in this stressful circumstance.

Thomas began to recount the events that had led to his injury. "I was run ragged by Janssens and was exhausted. The general had decided to hold a townhall, a more casual meeting where delegates can discuss the topics of the convention, while having light refreshments. While there, I found a soldier spouting German propaganda slogans with a gun. I wrestled the gun from him, and in the tussle, the gun went off," he explained, downplaying the event and his actions for his brothers peace of mind.

Tom frowned at his brother's account. "I thought you had a gun as part of your uniform. Why didn't you just shoot him?" Tom asked, puzzled. Thomas felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "I forgot I had the gun," he confessed. "Besides, I'm an absolutely lousy shot. My drill instructor said I probably shouldn't try to use the thing, in case I shot a fellow Brit," Thomas admitted ruefully. Tom couldn't help but laugh at his brother's candid confession. "Okay, probably not a good idea to pull a gun in a room full of top brass then," Tom conceded.

Thomas continued his story, revealing his uncertainty about why he had been sent to Downton. "This bit is a bit blurry, but I think I tried going back to work just after my surgery and frightened the life out of the nurses. I think they had to get the general to come down and order me to bed," he explained, casting another sheepish glance at his brother, causing Tom to laugh even more.

"I think they sent me here to be out of the way of temptation," Thomas said with a hint of irony in his voice, implying that perhaps his strong work ethic had driven him to push the boundaries of his recovery.

"So, what did the doctors say about your injury?" Tom asked his brother as they continued their hushed conversation. Thomas replied, "Basically that I have a broken arm and a gunshot wound." He indicated his injured arm, encased in its unusual metal brace, and sighed wearily.

"And that they can't put my arm in a cast until my wound on my arm is healed," Thomas explained, his voice tinged with discomfort. "Ouch, sounds painful," Tom sympathized, clearly understanding that his brother was in for a difficult recovery.

"Yeah, hurts like hell, and I have to try and remain immobile," Thomas said, his expression indicating just how challenging that was for someone as active and independent as he was.

"The doctor says it will be at least a week before they will even attempt a splint," Thomas added. He couldn't help but glance around the ward to ensure that no nurses were within earshot. "I have to have assistance relieving myself and bed baths," he admitted, looking mortified. Tom made a face, able to fathom how embarrassing that must be for a grown man and feeling empathy for his brother's situation.

"Did you know Lady Sybil works here as a nurse?" Thomas asked, changing the topic. Tom's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and horror. "She hasn't had to assist you, has she?" he whispered back.

"No, I refused, caused a bit of a fuss, and then Mrs. Crawley did it," Thomas said with a grimace. Tom's expression showed his understanding. "She told me not to be silly and did I know how many bottoms she had wiped, including Lieutenant Crawley's," Thomas added with raised eyebrows. Tom couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. "Bloody hell! I suppose that's the downside of being sent home to recuperate," Tom mused.

"Well, I will just wish you a speedy recovery so you can at least do the basics for yourself," Tom said, offering his support and best wishes to his brother.

Thomas, appreciating his brother's encouragement, shifted the conversation to Tom's experiences at the big house. "So, how are you getting on at the big house? Nurse Crawley told me Mary had arranged for you to stay," Thomas inquired, wanting to know how things were progressing for Tom in the upper echelons of society.

Tom sighed and began to share his experiences. "You know, a bit awkward. Lord Grantham is friendly enough, but Lady Grantham is pretty cold. She's steamed that Mary and I are stepping out. Individually, Edith is friendly, except when Mary is close, and then it's daggers out. I just don't understand how two sisters could be so hostile to each other," he said, shaking his head in confusion. The brothers had a close relationship, and the animosity between siblings, like Mary and Edith, was difficult for them to comprehend.

Tom continued, adding, "Oh, and of course Carson wants to kill me. I sometimes think he would try and poison me at dinner if it wouldn't cause a scene." Tom's expression turned slightly gloomy, but a playful grin soon surfaced as he admitted, "So, I had to get Mary to help with the cufflinks and make sure I was presentable." Thomas teased him lightly, "Well, you probably enjoyed that," which earned a laugh from Tom.

"On the positive side, Mary has stopped telling me to get a valet. I think she finally understands that I don't need one for my day-to-day life," Tom said. Thomas nodded in agreement. "As soon as I am up at the Abbey, I can give you the once-over before dinner," Thomas reassured his brother. "That is, if you stay that long?" he added, prompting Tom to share his plans.

As Tom continued to sit by Thomas's bedside, discussing his plans to visit Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore, Thomas nodded in agreement. The pain in his arm had subsided somewhat with the painkillers, but he still felt drained and weak.

"I plan to go in through the servant's door on the way back so I can say a proper hello to Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore. Do you think you can manage to write a quick note to them? Or shall I just tell them how you are getting on?" Tom asked, concern evident in his voice.

Thomas took a moment to assess his condition. The idea of writing a note seemed daunting given his weakened state, and he didn't want to struggle with it. "No, I don't think I can manage it right now," he replied, his voice soft and tired.

Tom, understanding his brother's limitations at the moment, nodded in reassurance. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I will let them know that you're awake now. You might see them as visitors at some point," Tom suggested, offering a comforting, and understanding smile.

Thomas appreciated his brother's support and felt relieved that Tom would take care of letting their friends know about his condition. With a soft sigh, he settled back into his hospital bed, hoping that the pain medication would provide some relief and rest would help in his recovery.

Thomas smiled in relief to know that his brother would be around during his recovery. Their conversation was interrupted when a nurse approached. "Right, Captain, it's time to check your wound and redress it, and after that, it's dinner time," she said bluntly. She then turned her attention to Tom. "It's time for you to say goodbye to your brother, and I daresay it's time for you to return to the big house," she declared with a stern look. Thomas understood that Tom had likely been a handful for the hospital staff and they wanted him to leave.

"It's okay, Tom, you can go. I'm starting to feel tired anyway," Thomas said, offering his brother a reassuring smile. "I'm sure you can come back tomorrow," he added, looking at the nurse. She confirmed, "Yes, tomorrow, after 10 am."

With that, Tom stood and gave his brother's right shoulder a firm squeeze. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Do you want me to bring you anything?" he asked. Thomas thought for a moment and requested, "Maybe some newspapers?" Tom nodded in agreement. "Oh, before I go, I meant to tell you that Rosie will be heading to Downton tomorrow, so you'll have more visitors in the afternoon," Tom added as he prepared to leave.

"Great, thanks for letting me know," Thomas replied. With a final wave, Tom headed out of the hospital, leaving Thomas in the care of the nurse. Thomas sighed, mentally preparing for the nurse to proceed with her painful task of cleaning and redressing his wound.

Tom walked back to Downton Abbey with a noticeable spring in his step. The burden of worry had lifted somewhat since he received the telegram from the War Office informing him that his brother had been injured but was now out of immediate danger. The telegram had been a heavy weight on his shoulders, and the news of Thomas's improved condition lightened his heart. Although it seemed that Thomas would have a challenging recovery ahead due to his injury, it was far better than Tom had initially feared.

The late afternoon air was cool and refreshing, making the walk between the hospital and Downton Abbey a pleasant experience. With a sense of relief and newfound optimism, Tom made his way to the grand house.

Remembering what he had told his brother earlier, Tom deviated from the main path leading to the front entrance. He chose a less conspicuous route, heading around the side of the house to the servants' entrance. It was crucial for him to avoid Mr. Carson, the butler, as they were not on the best of terms.

As he entered through the archway into the yard adjacent to the servants' entrance, no one was out. Tom approached the heavy wooden door to the servants realm, he slowly opened the door, Tom glanced around to see if Mr. Carson was present. Fortunately, he only spotted Anna, the head housemaid, in the servants' hall. He seized the opportunity to enter unnoticed.

Once he confirmed the butler's absence, he stepped inside and discreetly closed the door behind him.

Inside the servants' hall, he approached Anna and asked her if Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, was available. Anna informed him that she believed Mrs. Hughes was in her sitting room.

With a grateful nod and a faint smile, Tom swiftly made his way to Mrs. Hughes's sitting room. The kitchen servants were bustling about, busy with their pre-dinner tasks, but this was the part of the day when Mrs. Hughes's main duties had concluded, handing over the responsibilities to the ladies maids, who would look after the women and assist them to dress. While Mr Carson who was in charge of all the male servants working inside the house, inspected the silver, prepared the wine to be served and saw that the dining room was set to his liking.

Tom approached the door of Mrs. Hughes's sitting room and knocked. Tom waited for her response. After a moment, he heard the soft voice of Mrs Hughes calling "Enter." Tom pressed down on the door latch, and the door swung open. Mrs. Hughes looked up from her ledger and her face lit up with recognition when she saw Tom.

"Mr Branson, please come in," she welcomed him. "Why don't you have a seat by the fire?" She gestured to the comfortable chair near the hearth, and Tom obliged.

Taking a seat by the fire, Tom settled in comfortably. Mrs. Hughes walked over to the second chair, welcoming him with a warm smile. Her concern for Thomas was evident in her eyes as she asked, "How's Captain Barrow?"

"Much better than I expected," Tom replied, feeling a sense of relief in sharing the news. "Thomas sends his regards."

Mrs. Hughes expressed her gratitude, saying, "That's very kind of Captain Barrow." She leaned forward, her curiosity evident. "And the doctors, they've given him a good prognosis, you said?"

Tom nodded in confirmation. "Yes, he was shot in the upper left arm, and somehow, his arm was broken at the same time." He hesitated, still trying to make sense of it. "Did Thomas tell you how he came to be shot?"

"He only said that there was some meeting, and there was a German soldier there, and he shot Thomas before he could be subdued. He wasn't too clear on the matter," Tom relayed the limited information he had received.

Mrs. Hughes let out a sympathetic sigh. "Oh, the poor boy," she said, her motherly concern evident. Her use of the term "boy" to refer to Thomas made Tom smile, for it felt almost endearing to think of his older brother that way.

"Unfortunately, due to the nature of his wound, the doctors have insisted on him remaining immobile for at least a week," Tom added. "They can't splint his arm, given the location of the injury," Tom explained further. "I don't think Captain Barrow will like that," said Mrs Hughes.

Tom agreed with a knowing smile. "Anyway, the nurses say he's allowed to have visitors now. If you and Mrs. Patmore would like to call in for a visit, I think the nurse mentioned that any time after 10:00 a.m. would be fine, from tomorrow" Tom informed her.

Mrs. Hughes glanced at the clock on her mantle, realising that it was getting late. "Thank you for letting me know. It's getting quite late," she remarked, hinting that it was time for Tom to leave. "I should be making preparations for dinner."

Tom stood up and said, "I'm going to get ready for dinner as well. I'll be calling in to see Thomas tomorrow morning, and if there's any more news, I'll let you know."

Mrs. Hughes nodded her understanding. "I've also heard from Miss Styles, Thomas's fiancée, that she'll be arriving sometime tomorrow afternoon. I dare say she'll want to visit Thomas right away," Tom informed her. "I'll ensure her room is ready for her when she arrives," says Mrs Hughes.

With a parting smile and nod, Tom left Mrs. Hughes's small sitting room and made his way to his guest room. He needed to prepare for the dinner that night, a small celebration marking his return and the improved news regarding Thomas's condition.

Tom was well aware of the importance of timing when it came to joining the family downstairs for dinner at Downton Abbey. He wanted to ensure that he met Lady Mary at the top of the stairs, allowing her to give him a quick once-over before he joined the rest of the family. With this in mind, he stepped out of his room and looked up and down the corridor to make sure no one else was in the vicinity. Satisfied that he was alone, he made his way toward the grand staircase, keeping an eye out for Lady Mary.

A sense of relief washed over him as he spotted her approaching the grand staircase from the opposite direction from the Batchelor wing. She walked gracefully, exuding an air of confidence and elegance that Tom always found captivating. As they met, Lady Mary greeted him with a warm smile. "Tom," she said, her voice equally warm and welcoming.

"Mary," Tom replied, matching her smile. He knew she was the best judge of his appearance, and he appreciated her discerning eye. "Let me have a look at you, then," she said, stepping closer. Tom obliged, doing a slow turn to allow her to assess his outfit. As she observed, she couldn't resist making a subtle adjustment to his jacket, giving it a quick tug to ensure it laid perfectly.

"I must say," Lady Mary began, her tone filled with admiration, "I do like your new dinner attire," her appreciative comment made Tom's smile widen. Tom nodded his thanks, and humour danced in his eyes as he responded. "So, I am presentable, then?" he asked playfully.

Lady Mary gave him another thorough, appraising look, her expression taking on a slightly mischievous twist. "You'll do," she teased, and with that, Tom offered his arm to Lady Mary as they began their descent down the grand staircase. It was a moment of shared familiarity and camaraderie as they made their way to join the family for dinner, a touch of playfulness underscoring the significance of the evening.

During dinner at Downton Abbey, the family's curiosity about Thomas and his condition grew, prompting them to direct their questions toward Tom. Mrs. Crawley and Lady Sybil were present, and they could have provided most of the answers, but the rest of the family sought Tom's perspective.

Robert, Lord Grantham, started the inquiries. "How was Captain Barrow? Were you able to speak with him today?" he asked, his voice reflecting genuine concern.

"He didn't make too much sense when he first regained consciousness, I am told, but he was lucid when I was able to talk to him," Tom informed the table. Mrs. Crawley chimed in, offering her insight. "Yes, this is quite common when patients first wake up, especially if there was some sort of violence associated with the injury, it can be very disorientating for them."

Edith followed with another question. "Was Captain Barrow able to tell you how he had come to be injured?" The rest of the table listened with interest, especially Mary.

"How does a translator end up being shot?" Cora, Lady Grantham, inquired. Mary's growing preference for Tom over her other suitors had not gone unnoticed by her mother, and she had become colder toward Tom and his brother as a result of it. Sybil, who had observed the dynamics between the two women, was convinced that her mother's strategy wasn't effective. Her mother didn't quite understand her oldest daughter at times and Cora's insistence on control was often at odds with Mary's stubbornness. Mary did hate being told what to do.

"He told me that they were having something called a Townhall meeting, a more casual get-together with the delegates," Tom explained. "Thomas told me that there was a German soldier present somehow. Thomas tried to apprehend the man and was shot in the process."

Robert, drawing from his military experience, posed a question. "Where was the military police?"

"I don't know, Lord Grantham," Tom replied. "Thomas wasn't very lucid after he was first shot and has no information on what happened after he was shot, except that the German man was apprehended."

Sybil interjected with her perspective. "It was lucky that he was sent to Downton then."

"Apparently his General sent him to Downton as he remembered he was from the area," Tom explained. His pride in the fact that Thomas was so highly regarded by his general was evident, and Robert nodded in approval. However, Cora's expression hinted at her mixed feelings about the situation.

Tom continued to provide information. "He did tell me he was very surprised to see Lady Sybil working as a nurse when he woke up," he said with a quick grin for Sybil.

Sybil acknowledged this comment with a smile. "Yes, he put up quite a fuss when he saw me and wouldn't let me see to him."

"It's quite common for some of the soldiers not to like a pretty young nurse looking after them, especially if they know the nurse too," Mrs. Crawley explained, attempting to placate Cora, who remained displeased with her daughter's career choice. "I hope Thomas didn't cause too much trouble," Tom inquired.

"Not at all," Mrs. Crawley reassured him. The family had become resigned to Sybil's nursing role, even if it sometimes ruffled their traditional sensibilities. Mrs Crawley and Sybil were careful to downplay some of her duties like performing bed baths and the like. This had erroneously led the family to assume Sybil's main job was to sooth fevered brows and read to the men, not any of the gruesome medical care that she had to perform. As her mother would definitely think this was unsuitable for her daughter.

Mary redirected the conversation toward Tom. "What will you do now that you're up here, Tom?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

Tom's attention shifted fully to Mary. "Well, while I'm here in Yorkshire, I thought I might write some stories about how the war is affecting rural life in England. There are plenty of story ideas I have," he shared with a fond smile.

Mary pondered the idea. "That's not a bit tame for your editors?"

Tom assured her. "Oh, no, they like a few lighter stories sprinkled in the paper, just so not everything is about the war. To give people something else to think of," he explained.

Tom then presented another proposition. "I was thinking of writing a story on the Home Guard, too. I was hoping that you, Lord Grantham, might provide an introduction for me?"

Robert considered the request. "I don't see why not," he agreed, providing Tom with the support he needed for his new venture. Tom decided to push his luck and floated the idea of interviewing Lord Grantham himself, after all he was the Lord Lieutenant for Yorkshire. Tom was pleased that Lord Grantham liked the idea, he looked puffed up at the thought. Lord Grantham had difficulty at remaining home during the war, acting as a figure head instead of participating in an active role.

As the evening unfolded and the dinner continued, the mood at the dining table lightened. Mrs. Crawley, always an elegant and composed presence, shared her anticipation for Lavinia's upcoming visit with a warm smile. She spoke of the joy of the thought of having her son Matthew return home for Christmas, expressing her heartfelt hope that he could take a break from his duties and join the family during the festive season.

The sentiment resonated with everyone at the table, and the affectionate bond within the Crawley family became more apparent as they joined Mrs. Crawley in her hopes and well-wishing. There was a sense of unity and love that transcended the war and its challenges, reminding them all of the importance of family during trying times. As they dined together, they cherished these moments of connection and found solace in the prospect of spending the upcoming holiday season together, regardless of the uncertainties of the outside world.

After dinner had been served upstairs to the Crawley family, the servants gathered in their own quarters to partake in their evening meal. The atmosphere among the staff was somewhat charged, and it wasn't just the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of voices that filled the room. Mr Carson, the ever dutiful but often stern butler, was in a particularly foul mood. The talk of Thomas and Tom upstairs dining with the family, coupled with recent developments, had put him in a less-than-pleasant disposition. Mr Carson found it difficult to reconcile the change in positions that the brothers had experience since leaving service at Downton. His black and white view of the world and his devotion to the Crawley family felt that the inclusion of the two brothers into the Crawley's world was beyond the pale.

Seated around the table, the downstairs staff partook in their evening meal. William, the last remaining footman in the house, found the entire situation quite exhilarating. A former footman, Thomas, had risen to the rank of Captain in the army, serving his country with bravery and dedication. William couldn't help but let his imagination run wild, entertaining thoughts that perhaps he, too, would one day be recognised for his potential and be given the chance to become an officer.

He had made the mistake of expressing this aspiration a few months back when news of Thomas's promotion had reached Downton. The result had been merciless teasing and mocking from his colleagues, particularly when Miss O'Brien, the chief lady's maid, had asked him how many languages he spoke. William had been a bit dejected by their response, but he knew it was all in good fun, and it didn't stop him from indulging in his daydreams from time to time.

Miss O'Brien, with her knack for stirring the pot and a burning jealousy of both Tom and Thomas for their ascent beyond their station, used this moment to fan the flames of discontent. "Well, he certainly got his feet under the table," she commented dryly, referring to Tom's position within the family as the chauffeur, and Thomas's rise to Captain. "My Lady's is heartbroken over Lady Mary being seduced by that jumped-up chauffeur," Miss O'Brien added, her voice dripping with disapproval and disdain.

Mr. Carson, the staunch advocate of tradition and the household's impeccable reputation, scowled at this reminder of Lady Mary's association with Branson. "Why his lordship allows him to impinge on a delicate young woman like Lady Mary, I just don't understand," he grumbled, his frustration evident in his tone. At his words, most of the women in the room looked at him in sheer astonishment. To call Lady Mary "delicate" was a descriptor that hardly fit her assertive and strong-willed character.

"Come now, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes interjected, her defence of Tom and Thomas a testament to her fair-mindedness. "Mr. Branson is an educated young man with good prospects. And no one can say that Lady Mary doesn't have a mind of her own." Mrs. Hughes believed that, if anything, it was Tom who was taking a considerable risk in pursuing Lady Mary, given her spirited nature and determined personality.

Miss O'Brien, never one to let go of an opportunity to provoke, shifted her focus. "I want to know how Thomas got shot," she declared, her eyes scanning the room to ensure she had everyone's undivided attention. "You do hear stories of men purposefully injuring themselves to get out of serving," she continued, her voice laced with a hint of malice. Some of the younger, more impressionable servants looked shocked at the suggestion, while Mr. Bates, ever the honourable and upstanding presence, looked positively furious.

Before Mr. Bates could articulate his response to Miss O'Brien's insinuation, Mrs. Patmore, the cook, entered the room with her characteristic bustling manner. "Oh, give over, everyone knows he loves it in the army," she chimed in, putting an end to Miss O'Brien's spiteful conjectures. Mrs. Patmore had little patience for such rumours and gossip, preferring practicality and common sense over idle speculation. Her no-nonsense approach served to dissipate some of the tension that had hung over the room, if only temporarily, allowing the servants to return to their meal and their own musings.

In the bustling servant quarters of Downton Abbey, curiosity often got the better of the newer staff members, especially when intriguing guests were involved. Ethel, one of the recent maids, couldn't help but voice her curiosity.

"But who are Mr. Branson and Captain Barrow?" she asked, her wide eyes scanning the room, seeking answers from the other servants who were present. Anna, a trusted figure among the staff, took on the role of explaining. She began, "Captain Barrow used to be a footman, and his brother, Mr. Branson, was the chauffeur, here at Downton." Ethel's amazement was palpable, and she couldn't help but look around the room to gauge the authenticity of Anna's statement.

"You mean to say, they are like us?" asked Ethel, a dreamy look already on her face at the thought of the untold riches the brothers must have, now they had escaped service. "I wouldn't say 'like us' at all," Miss O'Brien chimed in, her tone haughty and dismissive. Her disdain for Thomas and Tom was well known throughout the staff, and she felt compelled to express it now.

However, Mrs. Hughes, ever the voice of reason, intervened with a stern reprimand. "You shouldn't be gossiping about his lordship's guests," she warned, casting a wary eye at Mr. Carson. She knew that the topic of the brothers could potentially exacerbate his volatile blood pressure.

Ethel, a lover of gossip and a dreamer of loftier aspirations than being a mere maid, was undeterred. She hungered for more details. "What does she mean, though?" she asked Anna, her curiosity unabated. Anna, feeling the weight of her loyalty to Thomas and Tom, hesitated for a moment. It was always difficult to explain their complex past.

She had known Thomas since he was a scrawny, innocent fourteen-year-old sent to earn money for his family. He had always been open about his illegitimate status, having been raised in Bray and then fetched home by his mother to work in service. However, now that he had risen to the rank of captain in the army, the staff believed it was inappropriate to delve into his private history, especially considering what Lady Mary had told Anna about Tom's upbringing.

Anna sighed and chose her words carefully. "We shouldn't gossip, Ethel. Mr. Branson and Captain Barrow are good men," she said finally, attempting to steer the conversation away from sensitive territory.

Ethel, though, scoffed at the notion. "Why shouldn't I know? You all know," she pointed out. Sensing an opportunity to add fuel to the fire, Miss O'Brien decided to chime in. "They are illegitimate," she stated with a sly, knowing smile. Ethel's eyes grew wide, and then her expression shifted to one of deep contemplation.

"What does this Captain Barrow look like?" she asked with a conniving look, hoping to gather more information about this eligible bachelor. Unfortunately for her, the household staff were well aware of Ethel's ambitions to secure a better life for herself, and her favoured strategy seemed to be to attach herself to any relatively well-off man that came her way.

"Engaged is how he looks," Mr. Bates offered, his response aimed at curbing Ethel's romantic aspirations.

Undeterred, Ethel pressed on. "Oh, but what does she look like?" she persisted, though her intentions were not lost on the observant staff members. They were all aware of her desires for a better station in life.

"Pretty as a picture, and the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in England," Mrs. Patmore chimed in, her voice a mix of amusement and bemusement as she delivered her response along with a tray of toast and jam for tea. "You've got no chance, girl. So, you can get those thoughts out of your head," she concluded, her words making it clear that the notion of her catching a gentleman, even a half-gentleman like Thomas, was a distant dream for Ethel.

Miss O'Brien smirked, delighting in putting Ethel in her place. She held nothing but disdain for Ethel's romantic ambitions, believing her to be overly ambitious and far from the ideal candidate for a future with a gentleman, half or otherwise.

The servant quarters at Downton Abbey, as it always did, buzzed with intrigue, and whispered stories, proving that below the aristocratic surface, a world of its own thrived among the staff.

Ethel's defiant tone hung in the air as she rebuffed the idea of social inequality. "Well, if they are illegitimate, I am just as good as they are," she retorted, her chin lifted in a show of defiance. Her comment rippled through the room, evoking various reactions from the other servants.

Mrs. Hughes, always the voice of reason and authority, weighed in to provide some clarity. "Because they are educated professional men, that's why," she explained. But Ethel wasn't ready to back down. "That doesn't make them gentlemen, does it?" she protested, her tone a mixture of resentment and longing.

The seasoned servants exchanged knowing glances; they had their own theories about the parentage of the two brothers. Details about Tom's education being privately financed and their upbringing in Bray had fuelled their curiosity.

Ethel remained stubborn. "They better not be putting on airs around me, I tell you," she grumbled, her mood sour. Mrs. Hughes, not one to tolerate insolence, reminded her sternly, "You will be polite to any guest of Lord Grantham's and any officer in the King's Army," making it clear that there was no room for impertinence.

William, a romantic at heart, was thoroughly captivated by the story. "They were raised by a German Count," he shared with excitement. Mr. Carson, however, couldn't help but express his disdain. "A German Count," he echoed with derision. "I might remind everyone that we are at war with Germany. It's nothing to be boasting about," he chastised the table with his stern authority.

"But that was before the War, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes explained patiently, refusing to let the judgment on the two men stand unchallenged. "They haven't been in contact with their foster parents for years because of the war." She understood Tom missed his foster parents deeply; they had raised him since he was a baby after all.

Miss O'Brien, perpetually looking for opportunities to spread her spite, couldn't resist a pointed remark. "I am surprised they let Thomas in the army with his German connections," she added, her voice dripping with venom. "I don't see how a German Count counts for much anyway," she continued, further needling the topic.

Ethel, clearly puzzled, looked to Mr. Bates for an explanation. He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how someone with her length of service could be so ignorant of the nuances of the aristocracy. "It means that their father was a powerful man," he educated her. But Mr. Carson, ever cautious and stern, responded with a counterargument. "We don't know that," he retorted, though his underlying worry about the implications was evident.

Mrs. Patmore, the cook with a shrewd understanding of the world, stepped in to clarify the situation. "They were given to the Count to raise. That doesn't happen unless their father was higher than he was, and they paid for Tom to go to university," she explained, laying out the evidence for all to see. Ethel's expression now vacillated between awe and fascination. "Oooh! Do you know who it was?" she asked eagerly, her curiosity uncontainable.

Mrs. Hughes, uncomfortable with the conversation and keen to protect the brothers' privacy, was quick to intervene. "Now that's enough, gossiping about his Lordship's guests like this," she chided the group, her stern gaze particularly fixed on Mr. Carson, who should have known better. "What would he say if he heard you?" she scolded.

"I think it's time for you to finish your tea and get back to work," she directed, quelling the discussion. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes," the others chorused obediently. The tea table was hastily cleared, and the servants resumed their duties, mindful of the lines that were better left uncrossed in the intricate world of Downton Abbey.

Miss Stiles

Rosie disembarked from the train, where she was met by Tom, Thomas's younger brother. Her eyes immediately caught Tom's relaxed demeanour and cheerful countenance, prompting a sigh of relief. Rosie knew that Tom would only appear this way if Thomas was not in grave danger from his wounds.

Tom greeted his future sister-in-law with a chaste kiss on the cheek, and they exchanged pleasantries. "How was your journey?" Tom inquired. Rosie replied, "Good, luckily first class wasn't too crowded."

Concerned about her fiancé, Rosie asked, "How's Thomas?" Tom proceeded to explain, "Oh, much better. Unfortunately, Thomas is a grumpy patient and is being difficult for the nurses." Rosie looked concerned as Tom continued, "The wound he sustained to his arm was also broken, which means he has to remain as still as possible, and the nurses must do everything for him, including feeding him."

Rosie's alarm was evident. "Don't worry," Tom reassured her, "it's just because of where the break is, along with his wound, that his arm cannot be put in a cast. The doctor has put his arm in a strange metal cage so Thomas can't move until his wound is healed enough to splint his arm. The doctors have assured Thomas and me that this will probably happen in six days."

Rosie looked relieved as Tom elaborated, "No wonder poor Thomas is so cross tempered then. Thomas is such an active man; he is probably frustrated over his situation." Tom smiled warmly at Rosie, grateful that she understood his brother's character so well.

Tom had been extremely concerned about Thomas when he first started courting Rosie, knowing the risks his brother faced due to his homosexuality. He believed that marriage would be the best protection for Thomas, given the societal norms of the time. However, Tom, being an inherently honest man, didn't like the idea of deceiving an innocent young woman, even if it was to protect his brother.

He was relieved when both Thomas and Rosie reassured him that their relationship was mutually beneficial, as society strongly adhered to conventional gender roles. It didn't take long for Tom to see the genuine affection and love between the couple, even if it wasn't romantic or sexual. It was a true meeting of minds and a deep understanding of each other. Tom wished them both happiness and was equally pleased that Rosie's parents were delighted with the match, as Rosie was already twenty-six and would be twenty-seven by her wedding day.

Rosie's younger brother, by only eleven months, Harry, often teased her, saying that their parents would have welcomed a vagabond into the family if it meant Rosie would marry. Everyone involved was happy with the outcome of Rosie and Thomas's relationship.

Tom then arranged for Rosie's luggage to be sent to Downton, where Mrs. Hughes, the efficient housekeeper, would ensure that her belongings were delivered to her room. One of the maids would unpack her possessions, ready for her arrival later that afternoon. Tom guided Rosie through the charming village of Downton, with its stone houses and shops typical of the region. He pointed out landmarks and points of interest that he thought Rosie would appreciate.

Eventually, Tom and Rosie reached the hospital, and Tom introduced her to the various nurses on duty, with a particular intention to introduce her to Lady Sybil, known as Nurse Crawley at the time. He believed that they would become fast friends. Tom searched for Sybil, and when he spotted her in her crisp nurse's uniform, he waved her over.

"Hello, Tom," she said cheerfully, though somewhat harried. "I just wanted to make a quick introduction to Miss Rosalie Stiles, Captain Barrow's fiancée," Tom said, introducing Rosie. "Rosie, this is Lady Sybil, currently Nurse Crawley, one of the unfortunate souls who have to look after Thomas," he said with a teasing smile. Sybil sighed, acknowledging, "Yes, Captain Barrow isn't the most cooperative of patients." With that, she had to rush off to complete her duties.

Tom led Rosie to Thomas's bed, where Thomas had to remain flat and immobile for a week. Despite being bored and frustrated, Thomas brightened considerably when he saw Rosie and Tom approaching.

"Rosie," Thomas greeted her with a smile. "Oh, Thomas!" Rosie said with relief when she saw him. "I was so worried when Harry contacted me," she told him. "I'm sorry that I upset you," Thomas apologised.

Having spent time with his brother that morning, Tom decided to give Thomas and Rosie some private time. He left for a walk around the village and to check if the evening papers had arrived yet.

Thomas shared the details of his injury and the doctor's prognosis for recovery with Rosie, while she updated him on her family and the latest gossip. Time seemed to fly by, and before they knew it, Tom had returned. He had walked back to Downton and borrowed one of the estate motors to drive Rosie back to the grand house.

Tom left the evening papers for Thomas to attempt to read himself, or one of the orderlies would come by and read some of the articles to him later. Rosie bid her fiancé a warm farewell, and they both left for the evening.

Rosie Stiles had been a guest at Downton for the past three days, and her stay had been growing increasingly comfortable with each passing moment. The knowledge that her fiancé, Thomas, was on the mend from his war injury brought her a sense of relief and contentment. The Crawley's, in general, were a kind and welcoming family, sympathetic to her circumstances. The grandeur of Downton Abbey was different from the Estate she grew up amongst the Pennines, a far cry from her usual surroundings, but the warmth of the family made her feel at home.

Tom and Mary, whom she considered friends, were her companions during her stay at Downton. Her relationship with Tom was more familiar, as she had encountered him often in London. He was an intelligent, friendly, and warm individual, a sharp contrast to her own Thomas, who was more reserved but equally intelligent. Whenever she saw Thomas and Tom together, she noticed a more relaxed and carefree side of Thomas. She cherished the moments when he seemed genuinely happy, and the longer she knew him, the more she felt she was witnessing a side of her fiancé that he didn't often reveal.

Rosie was intrigued by the contrasting personalities of Tom and Mary, which made her question the nature of their relationship. While they appeared to be polar opposites, she realised that both Mary and Thomas shared more similarities than differences in their dispositions. She couldn't help but wonder if these similarities were what drew Tom to the cool and beautiful Lady Mary Crawley.

During her stay, Rosie couldn't help but observe the subtle disapproval of the relationship between Tom and Mary, from Mary's mother, Lady Grantham, and her younger sister, Lady Edith. Lady Edith's disapproval seemed to stem from a general dislike of her sister. In contrast, Lady Sybil was exceptionally friendly and welcoming, giving Rosie hope for a fast-growing friendship. As for Lord Grantham, he appeared to be a jovial man, slightly puzzled but ultimately resigned to his eldest daughter's choice of life partner.

Rosie's conversation with Lady Mary revealed that Lavinia Swire, Lieutenant Matthew Crawley's fiancée and a pretty redhead, would be visiting Downton on Saturday. Rosie had met Lavinia twice before, so she was looking forward to getting to know the young woman better and strengthening their friendship.

Overall, Rosie was enjoying her stay at Downton, looking forward to the end of the week when it seemed her fiancé Thomas would be transferred to Downton proper to continue his recovery. The grandeur of Downton and the warmth of the Crawley family made her feel not only welcome but hopeful for the future.

Rosie Stiles had quickly become aware of the only source of unease during her stay at Downton Abbey— was due to Miss O'Brien. The Crawley family's historic estate had been temporarily converted into a convalescent home for wounded soldiers, and due to the house's extended occupancy, Rosie had decided not to bring her own maid. She was assigned Miss O'Brien to assist her with her dress, a decision that would prove to be a mixed blessing.

Rosie was a perceptive and clever young woman, adept at reading people and assessing their true intentions. Her keen observational skills made her an excellent judge of character. In the short time she had interacted with Miss O'Brien, Rosie couldn't help but sense animosity and a certain degree of malevolence.

Miss O'Brien seemed to harbour a particular dislike for Rosie's fiancé, Thomas. She had embarked on a subtle campaign to discredit him through seemingly innocent comments and sly innuendos. It was clear that Miss O'Brien wanted to undermine Thomas in Rosie's eyes and plant seeds of doubt about their relationship.

One of the early salvos in Miss O'Brien's campaign came as a seemingly congratulatory remark: "Congratulations, Miss Stiles, on your engagement to Thomas. Oh, excuse me, I meant Captain Barrow." Miss O'Brien's words were laced with insincerity, and her intention was to highlight the contrast between Thomas's former status as a footman at Downton and his current rank. Rosie responded with practiced grace, smiling and saying, "That's alright, Miss O'Brien. I understand it can be quite an adjustment, especially now that Captain Barrow holds a higher rank. Let's remember to use the correct address for the Captain." Rosie couldn't help but notice the tightening of Miss O'Brien's lips—a sign that she had struck a nerve.

Miss O'Brien's next tactic was to drop subtle hints about Thomas's homosexuality. Rosie chose to adopt the role of an innocent ingénue, widening her eyes and feigning puzzlement in response. She was cautious not to provoke Miss O'Brien into making a direct accusation of homosexuality against Thomas. Such an allegation could be not only damaging to Thomas's promising career in the British Army but it was also illegal. Instead, Rosie devised a cunning plan—a diabolical strategy aimed at making Miss O'Brien refrain from any further comments regarding Thomas or herself. A wicked grin crossed Rosie's face as she contemplated her scheme, determined to outwit Miss O'Brien at her own game.

Rosie found herself in the small library at Downton Abbey, sharing afternoon tea with Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, and Lady Edith. The room exuded an air of elegance and refinement, befitting the grand estate. Antique furniture adorned the space, and the walls were adorned with classic paintings and bookshelves lined with books, reflecting the aristocratic tastes of the Crawley family. Mr. Carson, the unflappable butler, presided over the tea service, ensuring everything proceeded with the utmost decorum. He also stood watch to prevent any unwelcome intrusion from the recovering officers who might disrupt this quiet family time.

As Rosie enjoyed the company of the Crawley ladies, she couldn't help but feel that this was the perfect opportunity to put her plan into action. She gracefully excused herself from the gathering, expressing a desire to get some fresh air. With a warm smile, she left the library, leaving Lady Grantham, Lady Mary, and Lady Edith to their tea.

Having previously observed the layout of the grand estate, Rosie made her way through the halls and corridors. She descended a stone staircase surrounded by white walls, a stark contrast to the opulence of the upper floors. As she continued her descent, Rosie arrived in the bustling heart of Downton Abbey's servant quarters—the servants' hall. It was a room filled with activity, where the household staff gathered to take their meals and engage in conversation. Rosie couldn't help but notice Miss O'Brien among the other servants at a large wooden table. Although Miss O'Brien appeared taken aback by Rosie's presence, she concealed her surprise admirably.

Rosie politely inquired about the location of Mrs. Hughes' room. One of the maids, a pleasant blonde, directed her down the hallway to a closed door. Rosie thanked her warmly, masking her true intentions from the sharp eyes in the room. Having grown up in a large house, Rosie was well aware of the pervasive nature of gossip in the servants' hall. She suspected that they had devised ways to eavesdrop on the butler and housekeeper, making it the ideal place to stage her planned conversation with Mrs. Hughes. Rosie wanted to ensure that the servants could overhear what she had to say, as part of her intricate scheme to deal with Miss O'Brien.

Rosie knocked lightly on the door that the helpful maid had indicated, and she heard Mrs. Hughes's composed voice say, "Enter." With deliberate care, Rosie pushed the door open, and while closing it, making sure there was a deliberate gap to ensure that those outside the room could clearly hear what transpired within.

Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, rose from her desk when she saw who had entered her room. Her soft Scottish accent lent an air of calm authority to her presence. Rosie returned Mrs. Hughes's gaze with a nervous but sincere smile. Her hands twisted anxiously in her lap as she prepared to discuss her delicate concerns, ensuring that Mrs Hughes noted her projected nervousness.

Taking a moment to collect herself, Rosie began, "I didn't know who to go to, but I thought it best I come to you directly, instead of taking my concern to Lady Grantham." She dipped her head slightly, adding, "This is rather delicate."

Mrs. Hughes, her brows furrowing slightly in anticipation of what would follow, replied, "Yes, you can tell me your concerns."

Rosie heaved a relieved sigh and cleared her throat before proceeding, "It's about Miss O'Brien." She made sure her voice carried, ensuring that anyone eavesdropping just outside the door could hear. Rosie hoped the servants were listening closely.

Mrs. Hughes leaned in attentively, a sense of worry creeping over her, she and Mrs Patmore had thought Thomas might be a homosexual over the years, but they seemed to have been mistaken, what with his recent engagement. "Yes," she encouraged Rosie to continue.

Rosie paused for effect, looking around the room except at Mrs. Hughes, projecting an air of embarrassment. "Well," she stammered, "I think she has designs on him."

Mrs. Hughes was taken aback by the revelation and probed, "Designs? How do you mean?"

The young woman brought her hands to her mouth as if unable to contain her shocking revelation. "I think she has sexual designs on him," Rosie blurted out, her eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and concern.

Mrs. Hughes was speechless, of all the things she thought the young woman might confide in her, this wasn't one of them. She encouraged Rosie to continue. "Go ahead, Miss Stiles," she said gently, sensing that there was more to this story.

Rosie took a deep breath and continued, "She keeps mentioning his looks and his 'special ways' in a very suggestive voice and expression." Rosie said, "every time she is alone in my presence, she brings up about what type of husband Captain Barrow will be and how she didn't think I was suited to be his wife, she sounds positively jealous," Rosie said, she thought Harry her brother would be very impressed with her acting when she was able to produce a single tear, which she delicately wiped away.

The gravity of the situation was not lost on Mrs. Hughes. She was deeply concerned about Miss O'Brien's behaviour and the implications it held. Rosie then introduced an intriguing twist to her narrative, "You hear such stories. I mean, I've read 'The Passions of Miss Sloan,' how an older woman can become bewitched by a handsome young man's good looks," Rosie innocently confided. "I didn't think that sort of thing really happened," Rosie said looking shocked.

Mrs. Hughes suppressed a laugh at the mention of the scandalous novel, about a middle-aged heiress who has a scandalous affair with handsome stable hand. "I understand," she responded, struggling to keep a straight face.

With her plan progressing as intended, Rosie played her part well, stating, "But everyone will admit that Captain Barrow is a very handsome man." She blushed slightly, adding, "So, I do understand why her head would be turned." Leaning forward, speaking loudly and distinctly, so any external listeners were bound to hear, Rosie proclaimed, "But I fear she wants him for herself, it is indecent. She is old enough to be his mother!"

Mrs. Hughes was surprised at the interpretation of Miss O'Brien's words and manner, she knew the woman to be mean spirited and a bit of a cold fish, the implications of Rosie's revelations, seemed unlikely. Nevertheless, she offered the young woman a small sherry to ease her nerves. As Rosie took the drink, Mrs. Hughes contemplated her response, 'old enough to be his mother', Mrs Hughes thought Miss O'Brien might be 15 years older than Thomas, she didn't know what to think, except that Miss Stiles was obviously an extremely sheltered and innocent young woman.

"I will speak to Miss O'Brien," Mrs. Hughes assured Rosie, but the young woman was determined. "I will be keeping an eye on Miss O'Brien," Rosie asserted. "If I think she is acting inappropriately towards my Thomas, or any other young man on the premises, I will go to Lady Grantham. What if she seduces a poor recovering officer, I've seen them in the hospital the some of the poor dears don't know which way is up? That would be a terrible scandal for the house. My god what would the British Army say if there was a, a, a nymphomaniac loose in the house," Rosie looked horrified at the thought, Mrs Hughes was afraid the young woman might become hysterical.

As Rosie and Mrs. Hughes concluded their conversation, Rosie thanked Mrs. Hughes for her understanding. Mrs. Hughes gave her a reassuring smile and walked her to the door.

With the conversation over, Mrs Hughes noticed that the door was ajar, she frowned, she was keenly aware that anyone outside could hear their conversation. Leaving Mrs. Hughes to address the delicate situation, Rosie passed through the door.

Outside the room, Rosie couldn't help but notice the flushed hall boy, who appeared to be near bursting with laughter. From her vantage point, she could see the back of Miss O'Brien, sitting at the large wooden table, her white-knuckled grip on her teacup betraying her emotions. Rosie's plan had indeed worked, the humiliation she felt would ensure that Miss O'Brien would think twice before spreading harmful rumours about Thomas, in case Rosie would go to Lady Grantham or god forbid, the other servants thought she had designs on Thomas.

With a bounce in her step, Rosie climbed the stairs, her mind turning to visiting Thomas at the hospital before dinner. Her work was done, and her intended message had been delivered with great finesse.

"Thank you, Sybil," Rosie said to the young nurse who had helped Thomas get settled on one of the wrought iron benches on the terrace at Downton. Sybil gave her a warm smile before heading back into the house. Thomas had spent eight days in the hospital, allowing his bullet wound to heal enough to be placed in a sling. Unfortunately, he hadn't handled his forced immobility gracefully. He was fractious with the nurses and only slightly less so with Tom and Rosie.

Thomas's foul mood even led to a heated argument with his patient and caring brother, Tom. Tom, in an attempt to relieve the nurses' burden, had volunteered to change Thomas's dressings daily. Mrs. Crawley and Sybil had taught Tom how to do this correctly, emphasising the importance of keeping the wound clean and dry. Tom learned about the critical nature of wound care, as infections could be fatal, and the medical staff had limited means to fight them off.

In an attempt to take their minds off the tensions, Tom and Mary had travelled to York for the day, where Tom was meeting with the editor of the local paper regarding a story they wanted to commission. It was uncommon for them to have a reporter of such distinction willing to write for the paper.

This left Rosie in charge of overseeing Thomas's transfer to Downton. Due to limited space, Tom had suggested that Thomas share a guest room. An orderly had set up a hospital bed in the room, a decision, Thomas thought glumly, that Tom would now possibly regret.

Thomas was allowed to walk short distances; his arm having been splinted and now held tightly against his body in a sling. The doctors had become wary of the addictive nature of morphine, so they only administered a single dose of morphine before bedtime. For the rest of the time, Thomas was given a tincture of willow bark with a hefty dose of honey to help disguise the concoction's bitterness. His arm ached terribly, and he knew he owed the nurses and Tom an apology for his recent beastly behaviour.

Sitting in silence, Rosie allowed Thomas to catch his breath. The move to Downton had visibly drained him of what little colour he had left in his face. Rosie recognised that he was in a great deal of pain but hoped that being mobile again and sharing a room with Tom would improve his mood. She knew that he could rely on his brother to assist him with his personal needs instead of a nurse or orderly.

The beautiful September afternoon spread its warmth across the terrace, offering a stunning view of the lush countryside. The sunbathed the leaves of the trees in its golden light, gradually turning them into a brilliant tapestry of autumn hues. Rosie drew in a deep breath, savouring the clean, refreshing country air. The countryside had always held a special place in her heart, and she found solace in its serene beauty. In the distance, she watched a few men playing with a shuttlecock, engaged in a friendly game that echoed with shouts of camaraderie and occasional bursts of laughter.

"I'm sorry I have been so horrid," Thomas said, his voice tinged with regret.

Rosie turned to look at him, her warm smile gracing her face. Fortunately, she was sitting on his good side, allowing her to gently squeeze his arm. "It's okay, love," she reassured him. "I understand that you were in a lot of pain, and your temper was bound to be frayed," she said, her understanding gaze offering comfort. "Besides, I don't think it's me you really owe an apology to," she added, prompting Thomas to consider someone else.

"I know," Thomas replied softly, his gaze dropping as he acknowledged his behaviour. "I was thinking you could ask your mother to go to Selfridges for me and buy a big box of chocolates for the nurses," he suggested, seeking a way to express his gratitude to his caretakers.

"Yes, that sounds lovely. And Tom?" Rosie asked, her eyes filled with curiosity.

Thomas flashed her a genuine grin. "Oh no, Tom owes me one. If you heard how he carries on every time he gets a cold, you would understand. I pity poor Mary when she marries him," he teased, sharing a playful moment with Rosie. Her laughter filled the air, understanding their close bond as siblings who could simultaneously torment and fiercely love each other.

Their conversation took a more serious turn as Rosie shifted her gaze to Thomas. "Do you think you will be fit for the wedding?" she inquired, her eyes locking onto his.

Thomas regarded his fiancée with a solemn expression. "The doctors have assured me that in six weeks I will be able to return to the office and should be fully fit for Christmas and our wedding," he explained, reaching for Rosie's hand, and gently pressing his lips against it. "I am very sorry for scaring you," he added with sincerity.

Rosie responded with a playful glint in her eye. "Oh, not as much as you scared mother," she said, a cheeky smile gracing her lips. Rosie knew how keen her mother was to see her daughter married. "She would never forgive you if you died before marrying me," she informed him playfully, embodying her mother's relentless determination.

Thomas was captivated by the extraordinary stroke of luck that had brought Rosie into his life. Never before had he encountered someone quite like her. Rosie's perspective on sexuality was a revelation for him, marked by its uniqueness and open-mindedness. She approached his homosexuality without a hint of judgment, allowing him to confide in her about both his past disastrous encounters and his current flirtations with Peter, his good friend Bertie Pellham's cousin.

Rosie, in her efforts to bridge their worlds, shared with Thomas her experiences of navigating a complex environment filled with perplexing behaviours of her peers and conflicting information she received from society. It was a world she had found herself struggling to understand.

As she matured, she began to realise that her view of life diverged from that of her friends and her brother, Harry, who was very close in age. She and Harry exchanged many confidences over the years, including his escapades with girls and women as he grew older. Society continually impressed upon women and girls the need to "be good" and the sin of lust, as though it were a temptation they had to resist. To Rosie, the concept of resisting temptation seemed straightforward, and she couldn't comprehend why other women couldn't do the same.

It came as a shock to Rosie when she eventually grasped that women were just as sexual as men, yet society mores imposed celibacy on women, except within the confines of marriage. The realisation hit her like a thunderbolt. She began to understand why her mother, like many other women around her, were eager for her to marry, viewing it as the natural progression in life. This realisation led Rosie to a firm decision that she would never marry, unable to imagine herself being intimate with a man, as society dictated.

Rosie was profoundly grateful to her brother for introducing her to a man who would never expect her to perform her wifely duties according to societal norms. With Thomas, they could give the appearance of conforming to society's ideals, a facade that was made easier by their shared physical attractiveness. However, Rosie didn't see her relationship with Thomas as a disguise. She loved him deeply, and she knew that Thomas reciprocated those feelings. They simply didn't feel a sexual attraction to each other.

Yet, amidst the warmth of their unconventional connection, one question loomed in Rosie's mind: the matter of children.

Rosie and Thomas found themselves on the sunlit terrace of Downton, where the countryside stretched out around them. The view was both serene and beautiful, with the leaves on the trees beginning to transition to their autumnal colours. Rosie took a moment to breathe in the crisp countryside air, her love for the rural setting apparent in her eyes. Her gaze wandered over a group of men engaged in a game of shuttlecock, their laughter and friendly competition filling the air.

Turning her attention to Thomas, Rosie decided it was time to delve into a crucial topic they needed to discuss. With a casual glance to ensure their privacy, she began the conversation. Thomas, taken slightly aback, listened attentively as she mentioned the subject of children.

They both instinctively scanned their surroundings for potential eavesdroppers, acknowledging the need to maintain discretion until their marriage provided them with more freedom. Thomas couldn't hide his surprise as Rosie mentioned the topic of having children. "I thought you said the idea of laying with a man made you want to vomit?" he inquired, still slightly puzzled by her change of heart.

With a furrowed brow, Rosie considered her response. "I've been thinking about it, and the longer I've known you, I'm now 85% confident that I won't vomit on you if we have sex together. Well, 75% confident, anyway," she said with a teasing grin, attempting to ease the seriousness of the conversation. Rosie didn't shy away from frank discussions about sex, viewing it as an abstract idea devoid of emotional involvement.

Curious, she turned the question back to Thomas, seeking his perspective. "What about you, will I make you vomit?" Rosie asked, her straightforwardness making Thomas blush. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the level of candour with which Rosie approached the topic. To her, it was like discussing gardening, a concept detached from any emotional attachment.

Thomas hesitated for a moment, considering his response. "Erm, as I've mentioned before, I've laid with a woman before," he admitted, his voice low, "I just felt awkward and empty, like I was going through the motions mechanically." He confessed his experience, revealing his unease and fear that he might be doing it incorrectly or that the woman would realise he was different.

Rosie nodded, understanding that there didn't seem to be a mechanical barrier to them having a baby. But her next question made Thomas even more uncomfortable. "Ok, so do you know how to make a baby?" Rosie asked. The question caught Thomas off guard, and he blushed even deeper. "I thought you knew how?" he responded, bewildered.

Rosie sighed, her gaze shifting out over the extensive grounds of Downton. Thomas's response left her feeling a little lost, as she had expected men to be more knowledgeable in such matters. While her brother had been informed about these matters by their father, Rosie's own education had been quite different. Her mother had barely explained anything about menstruation, leaving it up to her governess to address. All she had been told was to avoid holding hands with boys and to never sit on a boy's lap. Harry had given her more practical information than any of the women in her life.

Unexpectedly, Rosie directed another question at Thomas. "Would you like a baby?" she inquired. Her query startled him, and he jumped in surprise, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his injured arm. Despite the momentary pain, he couldn't help but smile at the thought. The idea of having a child, perhaps a daughter, was something he had secretly cherished but never shared, not even with his brother Tom.

"Yes," he replied with simplicity and sincerity.

With determination, Rosie concluded their conversation. "Well, I will have to find out the exact procedure of how a baby is made. I think I will ask Mrs. Crawley; she seems like a sensible, informed woman." A plan formed in Rosie's mind as she looked at Thomas, who appeared utterly horrified by the prospect.

Mrs Crawley

"Thank you, Mosely," Mrs. Crawley expressed her gratitude to the butler as he carefully set down a tea service, complete with a plate of delicate sandwiches. It was an afternoon tea to which Mrs. Isobel Crawley had invited Miss Stiles. Rosie had approached her the previous night during dinner at Downton, seeking a private conversation. Mrs. Crawley had kindly accepted the invitation, understanding that Rosie was planning to marry Captain Barrow this Christmas, and she likely wanted to discuss his recent injury.

Sitting in the elegant drawing room of Crawley House, the two women helped themselves to the delectable sandwiches and poured cups of tea. They began with light conversation, discussing the pleasant weather and the anticipation of autumn and winter.

Isobel smiled warmly at Rosie, sensing that the time had come for her to broach the topic she had in mind. "You wanted to talk to me privately?" she inquired, initiating the conversation.

Rosie's expression became lively, her demeanour upbeat. "Oh, yes," she replied cheerfully. "As you know, Captain Barrow and I are getting married this Christmas, and I was hoping you could tell me exactly how babies are made," Rosie asked, her curiosity evident. Isobel nearly choked on her tea at the unexpected question.

"You want to know how babies are made?" Isobel asked for clarification, her voice revealing her surprise as she grappled with this unforeseen topic.

Rosie nodded, her cheerful disposition remaining unaltered. "Oh, yes, I thought it would be nice to have a baby on our wedding anniversary or maybe on Thomas's birthday. Definitely around the first year of marriage," she explained enthusiastically, her eyes fixed on Isobel.

Isobel was an advocate for women's education but found herself in a rather unfamiliar territory. In her case, her husband, Reginald, who was a doctor, had taken charge of their son in this situation and Matthew had been thoroughly educated in these matters. As a result, Isobel had never needed to explain them to a maiden before. She hesitated before starting to provide an answer. "Well, a married husband and wife would have sexual intercourse," she began.

Rosie interrupted her, displaying a level of knowledge. "Oh, I know about penis in vagina, but how does that make a baby, and how can I ensure that I have the baby next Christmas?" she inquired.

Isobel looked at Rosie in confusion, now beginning to grasp that Rosie's knowledge had some gaps. "Well, the woman produces an egg, and the man provides the seed or sperm in the form of an emission from the penis into the vagina, where the egg is then fertilised by the sperm," Isobel explained.

Rosie's expression shifted to one of horror at the mention of "emissions." It appeared that this aspect of marital relations hadn't been disclosed to her before. "Emissions! That doesn't sound hygienic," Rosie proclaimed. "No one mentioned emissions to me before; are you sure?"

"Yes, it's called semen," Isobel confirmed. Rosie didn't seem particularly thrilled with this new aspect of sexual relations. "Okay, so there are emissions, but what is the technique to get pregnant?" Rosie returned to the main topic.

Isobel gently clarified, "There isn't a special technique; there's just sex." Rosie's puzzled expression showed that she expected something more to the explanation.

"That's not very scientific. This is the twentieth century; I thought there would be more information. So, I can't pick the time I want a baby? Is there any information that could make a pregnancy more likely?" Rosie inquired.

Isobel regretfully responded, "I'm sorry, Miss Stiles. There are still a lot of unknowns when it comes to conception. The latest research indicates that if you have regular sex mid-cycle, which is the point halfway between when you start your period and when you expect to start your next period, the cycle roughly 28 days in total, you are more likely to be successful at conceiving. I believe fertility doctors are recommending that women who are trying for a baby should keep a diary or calendar so you can best estimate when this would be."

Rosie seemed somewhat disillusioned by the lack of concrete information. "My governess always told me not to hold boys' hands or sit on their laps. I thought that there must be some secret method of getting pregnant," she admitted, her mood dampened. "Unfortunately, society doesn't provide accurate information to women or girls about their own bodies; instead, they just give out nonsensical advice," Isobel lamented.

Rosie continued sipping her tea, deep in thought. She realised she and Thomas would have to discuss this in more detail. She supposed she could start keeping a diary to track her cycle and increase their chances. The notion of multiple sexual encounters wasn't appealing to her, as she had initially thought it would be a one-time affair.

"Do you have any books on the subject?" Rosie inquired. "They are quite difficult to obtain, and my husband's books would be woefully out of date now. But I will see what I can find," Isobel reassured her, smiling comfortingly at the young woman. "If I discover anything, I'll let you know," she promised. "Thank you, Mrs. Crawley, for explaining things to me. I understand better now," Rosie said, expressing her gratitude.

With this, Rosie gracefully rose from her seat, prepared to leave Mrs. Crawley, and take a contemplative walk back to Downton. She had much to ponder regarding her forthcoming marriage and her newfound knowledge.

As Thomas and Rosie meandered through the enchanting rose garden at Downton, the tranquil surroundings provided a sense of privacy that allowed them to speak openly. The blooming roses cast a soft, fragrant ambiance around them, and their colourful petals added a picturesque backdrop to their conversation.

Curious and slightly frustrated, Rosie asked Thomas about a subject that had recently come to light. "Did you know about the emissions?" She looked up at him, her eyes searching for an answer, her vibrant hair catching the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves. Thomas, his countenance puzzled, regarded Rosie and brushed a stray lock of his inky black hair away from his eyes.

"Emissions, what are you talking about?" Thomas inquired, his tone carrying a hint of confusion.

Rosie clarified with a touch of impatience, "During sex!" She had taken the initiative to delve into this uncharted territory with Mrs. Crawley and now sought to share her findings with Thomas.

Thomas responded nonchalantly, "Oh, yeah, I thought you would know about that." Rosie exhaled, revealing her frustration with the limited knowledge they both possessed.

Turning her attention to the heart of the matter, Rosie conveyed her conversation with Mrs. Crawley. "I spoke to Mrs. Crawley, and she explained that there is no real guaranteed method to ensure a baby. We just have to have sex at the right time," she explained to Thomas. Curious, he asked if Mrs. Crawley had elaborated on this "right time."

Shaking her head, Rosie responded, "She says the specialists don't really know, and that the best advice they give is to have sex mid-way through the monthly cycle." Thomas, not particularly comfortable discussing such intimate matters, scrunched up his nose in response.

Seeking to reassure Thomas and maintain their shared optimism, Rosie took his good hand in hers as they continued their leisurely walk. "So, I think we will just have to try this mid-cycle business and see where it goes," she offered. She was aware that the idea of sex might not be the most appealing to Thomas. "And if we really don't like it, we can give up the idea of having a natural child. We can see about adopting children, there must be a great many in light of the war who need a loving home."

Thomas nodded in agreement, his gaze locked with Rosie's. The prospect of adoption had not been something they had previously considered, but now it offered a potential solution to their situation. A warm smile slowly graced Thomas's face as he contemplated the idea. Adoption, he thought, could provide a path to a fulfilling future.

Adoption, Rosie emphasised, could be a plan they explored more seriously once they were married. She also recognised the need for patience in light of the ongoing war, with Thomas serving in the military it wouldn't be the most stable of situation to bring a child into. "Yes, after the war, when our future is more settled" Thomas agreed, and Rosie returned his smile with warmth.

Hand in hand, they continued their stroll through the rose garden, lost in thoughts of their future together, and the prospect of raising children in an idyllic setting like Downton.

Corporal Jones

Corporal Barney Jones, with a carefree gait and a merry whistle lingering on his lips, strolled away from the Downton train station. As he meandered through the picturesque landscape of Yorkshire, he reflected on the stark contrast between this tranquil countryside and the bustling East End of London where he had been born and raised.

In his childhood, Barney's grandparents used to take him on a train journey to Brighton, a cherished escape from the urban bustle for the young lad. His fondest memories involved playing in the sea and relishing chips on the train ride back to London. Those moments of looking out of the train window at the passing scenery were his first real glimpses of the world outside the city.

The Yorkshire landscape, however, was profoundly different from what he had grown accustomed to. It had a certain atmospheric and brooding quality that intrigued him, capturing his attention as he made his way towards the grand Downton estate.

Barney's grandparents were Russian, and English wasn't his grandmother's strong suit, which led to him learning to speak Russian from an early age. With his parents working long hours, his grandparents became the primary caregivers in his formative years. His grandfather's backstory added a layer of richness to Barney's upbringing. In his native Russia, his grandfather had been a French teacher, but he was forced to flee the country due to the pogroms.

Faced with the task of nurturing a lively and curious child, Barney's grandfather took charge of his education. Barney would forever be grateful to his grandfather for imparting knowledge and values that elevated his educational standards beyond the usual working-class upbringing. This foundation of languages, with proficiency in Russian and French, opened doors for him in the military. When he noted these language skills in his army application, his test results ranked high enough to assign him to HQ as a clerk. This role also afforded him the luxury of occasional visits to his family, strengthening the bond between them.

Now, as he approached Downton, he was filled with pride and admiration for the man he served, Captain Barrow. The captain, much like Barney, came from a working-class background, having worked as a footman before the outbreak of war. Captain Barrow's rise in the military was a source of inspiration for Barney's own family, representing the working class's ascent within the army. In celebration of the Captain's engagement to the lovely Miss Stiles, Barney's grandmother prepared a traditional Medovik, a honey cake made from layers of honey-infused dough with a sweet cream filling, a gesture of heartfelt congratulations.

As Barney ambled closer to the grand house, he couldn't help but be struck by the lush greenery and the invigorating freshness of the air. This natural beauty was a far cry from the crowded streets of London and left him marvelling at the tranquillity of the countryside.

Upon reaching the house, he pondered the choice of entrance. He knew that Downton was currently serving as a convalescent home for the army, and he paused briefly to weigh his options. Finally, he recalled the praise Thomas had often given to the cook, Mrs. Patmore. With the promise of a sweet treat in mind, he decided to make his way towards what he presumed would be the servants' entrance, where he might be able to procure a delightful snack.

Barney's arrival at Downton Abbey was marked by a distinct clash of worlds as he entered the servants' hall, his strong London accent contrasting with the quiet grace of the grand estate and the soft northern accents of the various staff. The wooden door, heavy and ornate, swung open to admit the corporal, revealing a young and nervous 15-year-old hall boy named Albert.

Albert, aware that his duty was to maintain order and decorum in the servants' hall, greeted the corporal with uncertainty. "Mmm, I don't think you're meant to be down 'ere," he stammered, his eyes darting around for someone in authority. However, he hesitated to disturb Mr. Carson, the formidable butler who held a certain level of fear over the young boy.

The corporal, unassuming and cheerful, addressed the boy confidently. "I was told to report to Downton. I didn't know which entrance to use, so I thought it best to come to the servants' entrance." Albert blinked, his indecision palpable as he grappled with the unfamiliar situation. In the background, the sounds of a bustling kitchen permeated the hall, with clattering dishes and hurried footsteps.

As the young hall boy contemplated his next move, Barney's gaze wandered around the servants' hall. He was a man of action, accustomed to military discipline, and the current atmosphere was a stark contrast to his usual surroundings.

Albert, realising that bothering Mrs. Patmore during dinner preparation was an ill-advised option, reached a decision. He would seek out Mr. Carson, who was undoubtedly the figure of authority in such matters. After all, the thought of missing pudding for dinner was a consequence he couldn't bear.

With a deep breath, Albert made a decision. He walked over to the pantry door and gave a tentative knock. "Enter," Mr. Carson's voice called out from within.

Albert cautiously opened the door wide enough to stick his head through. "Mr. Carson, there's a Corporal here," he informed the butler. Mr. Carson frowned fiercely, deeply creasing his aging face. His black suit and polished shoes highlighted his imposing presence.

"What does he want?" Mr. Carson inquired, his tone firm and slightly irritated.

"He says he was ordered to come to Downton," Albert said meekly, attempting to present the information as precisely as possible.

With a frustrated sigh, Mr. Carson marked his place in the ledger he had been working on and stood. He adjusted his waistcoat, which had ridden up over his rotund belly as he sat. Mr. Carson exited his room and headed toward the servants' hall, where he found the corporal looking around with curiosity.

"I am Mr. Carson, the Butler," he introduced himself, his stern demeanour unwavering. Barney greeted him with a smile. "I am Corporal Jones. I was told to report to Downton Abbey," he replied with slightly more formality.

Mr. Carson, still bewildered, raised an eyebrow. "Why were you sent to Downton? Are you an orderly?" he inquired.

"No, I am Captain Barrow's Batman," Barney explained with increased seriousness. Mr. Carson was shocked, unable to conceal his disapproval of this unconventional arrangement.

"Why, pray tell, have you been sent to Downton? This is a convalescent home," Mr. Carson asked, his tone reflecting his perplexity.

"I don't question my orders; I just do as I am told," Barney replied with a grin, displaying a sense of duty and loyalty.

Mr. Carson let out a harrumph at the irregularity of the situation. "Well, do you have your orders at least?" he demanded, expecting the corporal to present the relevant document.

Barney, however, looked at Mr. Carson with an incredulous expression. He couldn't believe the butler expected him to hand over official army documents to a civilian. "I will give them to Lord Grantham," Mr. Carson declared impatiently, snapping his fingers dismissively.

Now, Corporal Jones was looking at Mr. Carson with open shock. "My orders are for Captain Barrow's eyes only," he stated firmly. His manner had shifted, emphasizing the seriousness of the situation. To ensure there was no misunderstanding, he added, "I cannot hand over official army documents to a civilian or to someone not in my chain of command."

Mr. Carson, angered by this turn of events, was appalled at the corporal's disregard for his authority as the butler of Downton Abbey. "Well, that is unacceptable," he asserted, his voice rising as his temper flared. "Well, you or your lord can take it up with Major General Callwell, the head of Military Intelligence and Communication for the British Army. As soon as the General gives me an order that states I am to give confidential documents to a butler, I will do so. Until then, I will be following my current orders," Barney explained, his tone unwavering in the face of Mr. Carson's indignation.

Mr. Carson, now deeply affronted, struggled to contain his anger. The insolence displayed by the corporal was a rarity within the walls of Downton Abbey. He couldn't fathom that someone would dare to defy the authority of the butler in his own house. "Well, I never! To hear such insolence in Downton Abbey!" Mr. Carson blustered, his face flushed with outrage.

With little recourse, Mr. Carson stormed off to inform Lord Grantham of the corporal's arrival and the impertinence he had displayed to both the house and his lordship. The unexpected arrival of Corporal Jones had certainly disrupted the quiet order of Downton Abbey.

Lord Grantham sat in his study, a room adorned with the trappings of aristocracy and history. The polished wooden panels of the walls gleamed in the soft sunlight streaming through the large, ornate windows. The room exuded an air of quiet sophistication, filled with antique furniture, leather-bound books, and a fireplace that crackled with warmth. A portrait of an ancestor gazed down at him from above the mantel, a silent witness to the changing times.

In his hands, he held the Yorkshire Herald, the local newspaper. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as he gazed at his own image in a picture accompanying an article. The article itself was penned by Tom, his former employee who had risen to become a respected journalist. It was a source of great satisfaction to see his home and family represented in the media, as the article delved into the impact of the war on the lives of the local residents. Lord Grantham was particularly pleased that the piece focused on the resilience of the English countryside during these challenging times.

The newspaper lay on his lap, momentarily forgotten, as he revelled in the rare opportunity to relax and enjoy his morning tea. The porcelain cup was delicately adorned, its saucer resting on a polished wooden desk. Steam wafted from the cup, carrying the fragrant floral aroma of freshly brewed earl grey tea.

However, his moment of tranquillity was soon interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Carson, the butler. The presence of the butler alone indicated that something was amiss, and Lord Grantham observed the man's tense posture and disapproving countenance.

"What is it, Carson?" Lord Grantham inquired, his voice calm but expectant. His eyes never left Carson, and he understood the man was about to address a matter of great concern to him.

Carson hesitated for a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully. "There is a Corporal Jones in the servants' hall, my lord. He says he is Captain Barrow's Batman." The way Carson said "Captain Barrow's Batman" was loaded with disdain, and he hoped that he wouldn't need to discuss the respect due to a King's Officer with the butler.

Lord Grantham set his teacup down and sighed, recognising the gravity of the situation. He couldn't help but feel the weight of the changes in society and the world at large. The butler had come to him to address the unexpected presence of a military man within the confines of Downton, and his tone indicated a hint of righteous indignation.

"Did he say why he was here?" Lord Grantham inquired, his voice maintaining a measured calmness.

"No, my lord," Carson replied, his tone marked by outrage. "He said he was ordered here. My lord, I asked for his orders to bring to you, but he said he couldn't give his orders to a... a civilian."

Lord Grantham rubbed his brow with a weary gesture, his patience tested. "Carson, you should never ask a soldier for their orders, even if they are a corporal. It's against army protocol. Could you ask Captain Barrow to join me and then send Corporal Jones up to us?" Lord Grantham instructed, setting in motion the process to resolve the matter.

While it was not without its challenges, Lord Grantham had come to accept the changing circumstances that had befallen Tom Branson and Thomas Barrow, his former employees. He had always assumed that Tom would eventually find a middle-class job after gaining some writing experience, and he was proud to see the success Tom had achieved. As for Thomas, Lord Grantham had to adjust to the reality that Thomas was indeed overqualified for a servant's role. Now a British Army Officer with the rank of captain, Thomas had earned the respect of his peers. Lord Grantham was unwavering in his conviction that a King's Officer, whether enlisted or an officer, deserved due respect and honour.

With regret, he folded up the newspaper, setting it aside for later reading. He had hoped to enjoy it at his leisure during the day, but duty called. The peace of the study was disrupted, and there were matters to attend to.

A quick knock at the door signalled someone's approach. "Enter," Lord Grantham called, his tone welcoming. In walked Captain Barrow, his stride confident but somewhat altered by the unique attire necessitated by his injury. With one sleeve of his shirt removed, he wore a woollen cardigan over a shirt and tie, making the injury to his arm evident, as it was now firmly held in place by a sling.

"You requested my presence, sir?" Captain Barrow inquired, his sharp features bearing an expression of curiosity. Lord Grantham couldn't help but notice the unconventional choice of attire, but with his arm incapacitated, he hardly expected the man to be in full uniform.

"Have a seat, Captain. There is a Corporal Jones here to see you, with some orders. I've asked Carson to show him up," Lord Grantham informed Captain Barrow as they began to address the unexpected visitor.

After a few minutes had passed since the initial interruption, another knock sounded at the door, heralding the arrival of Mr. Carson. Following him was a corporal, a young man with sandy red hair, appearing to be around 27 years old. The corporal's attire was immaculate and displayed the discipline and professionalism befitting a military man.

Upon the corporal's entrance, Captain Barrow rose from his seat, an instinctual response to the arrival of his subordinate. The corporal, recognising his superior officer, smartly saluted, the gesture crisp and precise. "I have orders from General Callwell, sir," he said in a professional tone. He stepped forward with military precision and handed the captain his official orders from the army. Thomas returned the salute using his right hand and accepted the orders, "at ease corporal".

With the envelope in hand, Captain Barrow moved towards the window, seeking the best source of light to read the documents. Observing this, Lord Grantham, ever the gracious host, offered Thomas his letter opener, a gesture that was met with a nod of gratitude. Thomas deftly slit open the envelope, his brow furrowing with consternation as he perused the contents. It was evident from his expression that the orders were going to complicate matters significantly, especially regarding the occupancy of Downton.

After a moment's contemplation, Thomas decided to pass the orders to Lord Grantham. He recognised the colonel as a man of authority, even if he lay outside Thomas's direct chain of command. "I think you best read this for yourself, sir," Thomas said, his tone respectful but tinged with concern.

Lord Grantham accepted the orders and proceeded to read them, his eyebrows rising in response to their contents. The inconvenience posed by these orders was not lost on either of them. "I apologise for the inconvenience this will cause, Lord Grantham," Thomas said, his voice conveying his understanding of the predicament. "But orders are orders. Is it possible for Corporal Jones to stay in the servants' quarters while he is here?" Thomas inquired, recognising that it would be a practical solution given the circumstances.

"Yes, yes, that's fine. Carson, see that Corporal Jones is situated in the men's quarters," Lord Grantham instructed his butler, who couldn't hide his displeasure at the thought of their new guest.

Corporal Jones was quick to acknowledge the command and answered, "Yes, sir," snapping out the response, more as an acknowledgment to Carson than to his captain.

Mr. Carson ground his teeth in frustration, but he followed his orders, leading the soldier out of the room, likely begrudging the arrangement.

With the matter of the corporal's quarters resolved, Lord Grantham handed back the orders to Captain Barrow. The captain's paleness and dark circles didn't escape the colonel's keen observation, and concern flickered in his eyes. "It's a bit unusual for them to expect you to work while you're still recovering," Lord Grantham remarked, voicing his unease regarding the captain's health.

Thomas sighed, understanding the situation all too well. "Unfortunately, translators are a limited resource at HQ. Many men are needed in the field for translation and coordination among the various allied forces. Then there are the prisoners of war, who require men who can speak with and interrogate their officers. It's a highly skilled and demanding job," Thomas explained, giving insight into the pivotal role of translators in the army.

"I fear that Lady Grantham will be inconvenienced by these orders," Thomas stated, his concern extending to the impact this would have on Lord Grantham's wife and the household.

"Well, orders are orders, and we all must do our part. I fear that Miss Stiles will be the most displeased with these orders," Lord Grantham added with a hint of regret. He was aware of Rosie and Tom's likely reaction to the situation, and it did not bode well.

"Do you mind if I use your telephone? I want to call the office and get more information. I will let you know how many they are sending and what equipment they plan to send. I do hope they have a plan for where they expect everyone to stay," Thomas asked, seeking Lord Grantham's permission to make a phone call.

"Of course, you're welcome to use it," Lord Grantham replied, giving his consent. Thomas expressed his gratitude and promptly left the study to place the call to headquarters. His intention was to gain clarity on the specifics of the orders and to remind them that he was not yet at full capacity even for office duty.

Corporal Jones proved himself to be remarkably adept at assisting Captain Barrow with dressing for dinner. The military precision that was ingrained in him translated well into the delicate task at hand. He efficiently removed the sleeve from the uniform jacket and skilfully inserted eye and hooks on the left seams of Thomas's shirts and jacket. This alteration allowed the captain to wear a semblance of his uniform, even though his arm was splinted and in a sling.

The medical staff had been keeping a close eye on Captain Barrow's healing bullet wound, and the doctor was cautiously optimistic about the progress. It was anticipated that next week, they would be able to place Thomas's arm in a proper cast, which would not only offer more freedom of movement but also alleviate some of the pain he had been experiencing. Considering the impending workload dictated by the army, this progress was essential.

Thomas's doctor had, in fact, been irate about the General's decision to put the captain to work and made his dissatisfaction known. As a result of their discussion, it had been agreed that Thomas would work for four hours each day, with no writing involved. Instead, the various soldiers acting as clerks would be responsible for taking dictation from Captain Barrow.

Meanwhile, Tom and Rosie were deeply disturbed by the decision, and Rosie had issued a stern warning to Corporal Jones. He had faithfully promised to monitor the hours Thomas worked and report any deviations to Rosie. Thomas couldn't help but smile at the thought of Rosie's unwavering concern and determination. He was indeed fortunate to have her by his side.

While Corporal Jones adjusted Thomas's jacket, he noted his captain's seemingly improved mood. "You seem happy this evening, sir," Jones commented. Thomas looked at him, his expression sincere. "Just thinking of Miss Stiles, Jones," he replied. The corporal couldn't help but grin. "Aye, she's quite a catch, sir," he said, fully aware of the fortunate position Thomas found himself in with his fiancée.

As they continued with their preparations The world of the upper crust, to which Rosie belonged, had a distinct air of sophistication that somewhat intimidated Barney. He couldn't help but shiver at the thought of Lady Mary, who seemed to possess the ability to freeze a man at fifty paces. He considered Captain Barrow's brother, Mr. Branson, to be exceptionally courageous for attempting to thaw the icy demeanour of the Lady Mary Crawley. The mere thought of her sent a chill down his spine.

Curious about Jones's experiences thus far, Thomas inquired, "How are they treating you, Jones?" Jones provided an honest assessment. "Everything is fine. I have a room to myself up in the attic, and everyone seems friendly enough, except for that Miss O'Brien, she's a right sourpuss," he said, a hint of distaste in his voice.

Thomas wasn't surprised by this observation and offered a word of caution. "Ah, Miss O'Brien. I would avoid her if you can. She's a sneaky and vindictive one," he advised. Jones nodded in acknowledgment, revealing that Miss O'Brien had already made a thinly veiled reference to Thomas's previous service in the household by asking Barney if he was in Thomas's old room in the attic. Her implication had unsettled Jones, and he looked to his captain for reassurance.

"Oh, is it two doors down from the bathroom on the right?" Thomas inquired. "Yes, sir," Barney confirmed. "That was my room when I first joined the household until my brother began working here in 1912 after he finished university. Then we shared a cottage on the grounds, a nice little place with two bedrooms," Thomas reminisced.

Barney's curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn't help but ask more about Tom Branson. "Oh, Mr. Branson went to university, but worked as a chauffeur?" Barney inquired. He was well aware that this was a somewhat impertinent question, but soldiers stationed at HQ were notorious gossips, and the circumstances surrounding the captain and his reporter brother intrigued them.

"He insisted on studying French poetry, not the most practical of choices. If you ever have a son or daughter and they go to university, try to get them to study something practical," Thomas suggested, his voice reflecting both amusement and a touch of wisdom. Barney, aware of the subtlety of Thomas's advice, nodded in agreement. The soldiers stationed at HQ found solace in witnessing one of their own, Captain Barrow, challenge the aristocracy and found themselves silently cheering him on.

The final preparations for Thomas's attire continued. Corporal Jones meticulously brushed the captain's red uniform jacket, ensuring it was impeccably presented. Once satisfied, he adjusted Thomas's bow tie, securing it in place. Thomas gazed at his reflection in the mirror and was pleased with what he saw.

"I'm glad you're here, Jones. I love my brother and Miss Stiles, of course, but they have no idea how to dress an officer," Thomas expressed his gratitude for his batman's skills. With a slight nod, he conveyed the upcoming plan. "I'll have my brother help me dress for bed. You can turn in when you like, and I'll be up at 07:30 tomorrow to dress," he instructed.

Barney, feeling somewhat out of place in the military surroundings of Downton Abbey, which the orderlies and medics occupied and being more accustomed to the comforts of London HQ, made his way downstairs to the servants' hall. He didn't have many other options for spending his free time, except for the orderlies' common room, and he felt a bit out of his element among the soldiers who had been on the front lines, unlike himself. At HQ, he could still see his family regularly and enjoy some semblance of civilian life. Though he recognised the importance of his contributions to the war effort, he also realised that he couldn't discuss the classified messages he translated or transcribed. Maintaining secrecy was an integral part of his job.

Yearning for company, Barney was somewhat uplifted by the fact that Lord Grantham had granted him the privilege of dining with the servants, as the army would reimburse the household for his presence at Downton. He looked forward to sampling Mrs. Patmore's cooking and, just as importantly, the prospect of engaging in conversation with the attractive maids.

Upon entering the servants' hall, Barney found an older man meticulously repairing a jacket, and a younger woman with blonde hair, dressed in a maid's uniform, sitting beside him, who introduced themselves as Bates and Anna. Several other maids were scattered about, busy with their mending tasks, while hall boys were making basic repairs. As Barney entered, they all turned their heads to look at the newcomer.

Eager to introduce himself and make a connection, Barney addressed the room. "Hello! I'm Barney Jones, Captain Barrow's Batman. I've been stationed here until the captain recovers."

The occupants of the room gazed at him with curiosity, and at last, the older man Bates signalled for Barney to take a seat nearby.

"Captain Barrow's Batman? I thought he lived out of barracks. I was Lord Grantham's batman during the Boer War," the man remarked.

Barney clarified, "Yes, that's true. I only perform the traditional duties of a batman when Captain Barrow has to travel for the Army. But day to day, I act as his private secretary, I suppose."

It was around this time that Miss O'Brien entered the room, and the usual pleasantries and introductions transpired as the servants acquainted themselves with their new guest. Soon, the room was filled with a complete assembly of both the staff and their guest.

William and Carson, returning to the servants' hall, elicited a collective stand from the assembled servants. Confused by this unexpected gesture, Barney slowly rose to his feet alongside the others, inadvertently earning a disapproving glare from Carson, for not moving quickly enough for his liking.

William, an ardent enthusiast of all things military, was eager to engage with a soldier in his company. He asked Barney, "So, have you seen action?"

Barney responded, "I am Captain Barrow's batman, so I work at London HQ with him."

William's enthusiasm waned upon hearing this, and his youthful dreams of daring military exploits were momentarily dashed. Miss O'Brien, however, couldn't resist the urge to comment with her characteristic maliciousness.

"Thomas, the former footman, has a servant now?" she remarked, her tone tinged with disdain.

Mr. Bates, though not particularly close to Thomas, had developed a more neutral relationship with him since his brother Tom had arrived at Downton. He frowned at Miss O'Brien's comment, and he was one of the few who understood and respected the hard work and merit behind Thomas's advancement in the army, given his social disadvantages.

"Most senior officers have a batman; there's nothing strange about that," Mr. Bates interjected calmly, seeking to quell any potential conflicts.

Miss O'Brien, undeterred, persisted with her insinuations. "How extremely lucky for you that Captain Barrow has avoided active service," she remarked, implying that there was something underhanded about Captain Barrow working at HQ.

Barney couldn't believe his ears, a maid was questioning his and his captain's loyalty and Captain Barrow's bravery, while he was in the house recovering from a gunshot wound, sustained in the line of duty. In his indignation, he responded firmly, "Captain Barrow is one of the top translators for the army, and the British Army has decided that London HQ is the best place for Captain Barrow to serve his country. Might I remind you that the captain is in this house because he was injured in the service of his country."

Mrs. Hughes, recognising the potential for a heated argument, decided to intervene. "Now, Miss O'Brien, you know better than to speak disparagingly of a King's officer at this table," she admonished, restoring a sense of decorum.

Seeking to learn more, Mrs. Hughes inquired, "Tell me, Corporal, are you able to tell us why you were ordered to Downton?"

Barney, grateful for the redirection, explained, "The general wants the captain to do some translating work while he is here."

The shock in Mrs. Hughes's voice was palpable as she asked, "They want him to work while he is recuperating?"

Barney clarified, "Only for four hours a day. The captain is extraordinarily proficient in many languages, especially those of our enemies, and he always has plenty of work to perform."

His response shed light on a lesser-considered aspect of the war effort: the logistics of providing for soldiers on the front lines. He described how the army required translators to negotiate for goods, emphasising the crucial but often overlooked roles played by individuals like Captain Barrow.

Dinner continued in a much calmer atmosphere after the initial clashing of tempers between Miss O'Brien and the new Corporal Jones. The servants enjoyed a hearty meal and chatted happily about the latest happenings around the estate and the nearby village. Mrs. Patmore, known for her culinary skills, had prepared a special treat for dessert – a delicious Jam Rollypoly served with custard. This delightful choice garnered a collective hum of appreciation around the table, and even the usually reserved Mr. Carson couldn't help but complement Mrs. Patmore on the sweet pudding she had masterfully crafted.

As the servants savoured their tea accompanied by generous helpings of the delightful dessert, the hall boys, known for their ravenous appetites, were particularly swift in inhaling the sweet treat. Miss O'Brien, ever the provocateur, steered the conversation back to the topic of Thomas, her inquisitive nature manifesting in a sly inquiry about how a translator had ended up being shot.

However, she quickly lost control of the conversation as William, brimming with youthful curiosity, eagerly asked for more details about the dramatic incident. Even the younger hall boys, wide-eyed with fascination, were keen to glean more information about the event that had left Thomas injured.

Mrs. Hughes, sharing the general curiosity about the incident, added her voice to the request, noting that Thomas hadn't been forthcoming with the details. It was at this point that Corporal Jones, who had been present at the fateful meeting and was eager to share the story, perked up.

The anticipation in the room was palpable as the corporal began to recount the events. The servants leaned in eagerly, their eyes bright and their faces flush with excitement, ready to hear all about the remarkable incident.

"It was the most amazing thing I've seen so far," Barney started, immediately catching the attention of those present. His statement raised a sceptical eyebrow from both Mr. Carson and Bates, though for different reasons. Undeterred by their reactions, he continued, "Well, the conference was a right slog, and poor Captain Barrow was run off his feet. The Belgian delegate was refusing to speak anything but Flemish, hence only the captain could converse with him. So, the captain had to translate all the documents into Flemish and still attend all the meetings to provide translations, he was working all hours. We all knew the blighter could speak French; he was doing it on purpose to be difficult."

Barney's animated storytelling even led him to use a bit of colourful language, which earned him a reproachful look from Mrs. Hughes, who reminded him not to swear in mixed company.

Barney's storytelling was delivered with such flair that the servants gathered around the table were hanging on his every word. He knew how to captivate an audience and had a talent for turning a routine event into an exciting tale. His recounting of the dramatic incident at the conference had everyone leaning in, eyes wide with anticipation.

As he continued, he set the stage with vivid descriptions, making the listeners feel as though they were right there amid the action. His pauses for dramatic effect only heightened the suspense, ensuring he had the full attention of his rapt audience.

"He was translating between Janssens and the general when Captain Barrow shouts out 'GUN' and pushes the general and Janssens to the ground and then leaps on an apparent Russian soldier, beating seven kinds of hell out of him. The soldier is now shouting and raging in German, things like 'for the Fatherland' and the like. He's getting in a few good punches too. The soldier did have a gun, a Nagant M1895 revolver. The captain is wrestling with the German assassin, trying to wrest it free from his hold. The gun goes off twice, 'BANG! BANG!'" The maids gasped in excitement, and even the usually unflappable hall boys were wide-eyed and spellbound.

Barney's vivid narration conveyed the chaos and intensity of the situation, and the fact that Captain Barrow had been shot during the scuffle only added to the dramatic tension. The maids and hall boys were completely engrossed, hanging on to every word.

"It was at this point that the observers of this event came to their collective senses, and the General ordered the military police to get in there and arrest the fellow," Barney continued. "So, at last, a couple of burly soldiers leaped into the fray and pulled the assassin off of the captain. The assassin is screaming in German, threatening to kill everyone and long live the Kaiser and so forth. I am pleased to say that a sergeant who pulled him off socked him good in the face, and that shut him up. Anyway, the captain is laid out on the ground, as he's been shot in the arm. Lieutenant Stiles was there too, and he knelt down to staunch the blood from the wound. The captain just managed to say to let Rosie know, that's his fiancée Miss Stiles, and then he passed out."

Barney's storytelling painted a graphic picture of the chaos and heroism that had unfolded. The maids and hall boys were thoroughly entertained, and William, in particular, couldn't contain his excitement, asking, "and was it a real assassin?" It was clear that this tale had fuelled his enthusiasm for military service.

"Oh Yeah it was a whole plot. He could speak Russian too, so the German army sent him to Russia to be a spy and everything, fake name & fake papers. It's still not clear how he ended up with the Russian delegation. But when his German masters heard where he would be they thought it would be a brilliant idea if he tried and kill as many of the high-ranking officers of the Allied Forces as possible. It was only Captain Barrow's quick action that saved the day. Everyone back at HQ are saying he is bound to get a medal," Barney told everyone excitedly.

Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore exchanged knowing looks, recognizing that this gripping story was unlikely to deter William's eagerness to join the army. The drama, courage, and intrigue seemed to have the opposite effect. Mrs. Hughes added, "He never said a word to his brother or Miss Stiles," to emphasize Captain Barrow's modesty.

After this captivating retelling of Captain Barrow's heroic actions, Mrs. Patmore rewarded Barney with a second helping of pudding, which he enthusiastically enjoyed. Throughout the entire meal, the hall boys and William bombarded him with requests for more details about the incredible incident. The servants' imaginations had been fired up, and they would undoubtedly be discussing this story for days to come.

Anna wanted to know what the Belgian delegate did after Thomas was injured, "well he only goes on speaking French all of a sudden, he said it must have been the shock. Major-General Callwell said 'it was a minor miracle and not telling how many languages Janssens will be able to speak by the end of the war,'" Barney roars here at the recollection of the sour look on the Belgian's face, some of the hall boys join in on the merriment.

Mr. Bates efficiently helped Lord Grantham with his evening routine, the soft flicker of lamplight casting a warm glow in the dressing room. The aristocratic ambiance of Downton Abbey permeated every corner, and the conversation between the lord and his valet carried an air of familiarity and ease.

Lord Grantham was inquisitive, eager to know more about the new houseguest's impact on the household. As he stood, assisted by Bates, he inquired, "Well, Bates, how is our newest houseguest settling in downstairs?" His tone was polite, yet his curiosity was apparent.

Bates, focused on his duties, reported calmly, "Well, Mrs. Patmore is already giving him second helpings of pudding, and William and the hall boys are hanging off of his every word, my lordship." His measured response reflected the sense of order and decorum that permeated Downton.

The mention of second helpings from Mrs. Patmore piqued Lord Grantham's interest. His response was filled with a touch of amusement as he sought to understand the reason for such generosity. "Golly, second helpings from Cook, what did he do to deserve such blessings?"

Bates offered a keen insight, suggesting, "He recanted the tale of how Captain Barrow got shot." The possibility of a thrilling story intriguing Lord Grantham, who raised an eyebrow in anticipation. "That exciting, eh?" he remarked, his tone revealing his curiosity.

With his wealth of experience, Bates speculated about the reasons behind Captain Barrow's modesty regarding his heroics. "It would seem that the captain has been downplaying his heroics, perhaps not to upset Miss Stiles or Mr. Branson."

Lord Grantham, fully engaged in the conversation, encouraged Bates to share the details of Captain Barrow's wound. "Well, man, spit it out, what were the circumstances of Captain Barrow's wound?" He was eager to hear the thrilling account.

Bates obliged, recounting the tale of the daring confrontation with the assassin. As he spoke, he painted a vivid depiction of the dramatic scene, describing how Captain Barrow had thwarted the plan to assassinate the high command and had personally grappled with the villain. Lord Grantham listened attentively, absorbing every detail. The revelation that Corporal Jones believed Captain Barrow was in line for a medal added an exciting dimension to the story.

"By Jove, exciting stuff, I can see why everyone is excited about the story," Lord Grantham exclaimed, his enthusiasm matching that of the young hall boys downstairs. He inquired further about the spy's infiltration of the meeting, showing a keen interest in the story's intricate details.

Bates replied honestly, explaining the limited information available regarding the spy's infiltration, the impersonation of a Russian, and the possession of fake identity papers. Lord Grantham nodded knowingly, acknowledging the limitations of army gossip.

With the exchange of intriguing details coming to a close, Lord Grantham expressed his satisfaction with the story and anticipated learning more now that Corporal Jones was in the house. He was ready to retire for the evening and let Bates know his plans for an 8 a.m. wake-up call the next morning.

As Bates bid his lord goodnight, he departed Lord Grantham's dressing room, both of them immersed in their roles and routines within the grand estate of Downton Abbey.

The tale of Thomas Barrow's heroic actions spread like wildfire throughout the hallowed halls of Downton Abbey. When Thomas had first arrived at the grand estate as a humble hall boy, he had yearned for acknowledgment, a chance to prove his worth. With a deep void left by the absence of his younger brother, Thomas had hoped that recognition could mend the aching wound that remained. Little did he know that his actions would eventually lead to the praise and recognition he had once longed for.

However, the reality of the acclaim and accolades left Thomas feeling somewhat conflicted. What he had done, he believed, was merely his duty, and any other soldier in his place would have acted in the same way. The grandeur of it all embarrassed him now. He couldn't help but think of the countless soldiers at the front, their lives irrevocably altered by the horrors of war, performing their duties with valour and courage. Where were their medals and accolades?

In a private moment, Thomas shared his inner turmoil with his brother Tom. He knew that Tom harboured deep reservations about the war, only maintaining a neutral stance due to his military career. Tom was determined to enlist mainly because of his concern for Thomas. The two brothers shared an unspoken understanding of the complexities that Thomas was grappling with. Being safe and sound in London, contributing significantly to the war effort, but not exposed to the same dangers as those on the front lines, had created a tumultuous mix of emotions within him.

Thomas's fiancée, Rosie, had a sense of pride that bubbled within her. She comprehended many facets of Thomas's character that remained a mystery to others. However, her upbringing had been one of love and support, even if her mother could be a tad overbearing. She couldn't fully grasp the profound impact of Thomas's uncertain early life. His inner turmoil left him in a state of confusion, torn between the divergent emotions of gratitude, humility, and uncertainty.

The news that Thomas would be receiving a Distinguished Service Order, accompanied by the pomp and ceremony reserved for such honours, had arrived. Rosie practically brimmed with pride, and even Tom, who understood the complexity of his brother's feelings, couldn't help but be pleased at the recognition that Thomas so rightly deserved. However, the honour, once unthinkable, had become inescapable. Thomas would have to face his destiny, graciously accepting the accolades that came his way.

Six long and arduous weeks had passed for Thomas, his body slowly healing from the wounds he had sustained. The doctors had finally signed him off for light duty, allowing him to resume some semblance of a normal life. He was permitted to work for no more than six hours a day and had to wear a sling when traveling. However, while in his office, he could start using his left arm again. The physiotherapist had given him a set of exercises to follow, and he was determined to adhere to the regimen.

With Thomas preparing to return to London, it was time for Tom to follow suit. The six weeks he had spent in the delightful company of Lady Mary had felt like a slice of heaven, strengthening his resolve to marry her. Although Mary had tentatively agreed to marry him at the end of the war, Tom was unwilling to ask her formally until he had amassed more savings and enhanced his reputation. He was determined to be self-reliant and not depend on her family's support. This concept proved challenging for Mary to accept, especially now that they had spent six weeks nearly living together. She already missed Tom desperately.

Tom's reunion with Mary was imminent, as she had been invited to the upcoming medal ceremony. Thomas had kindly extended an invitation to Lord Grantham as well, who gladly accepted, as he had never won a medal during his own service, only receiving mentions in dispatches.

Lady Stiles couldn't contain her excitement about being present at an audience with royalty. Her friends and acquaintances had been hearing nothing else for weeks since the announcement that Thomas would receive a Distinguished Service Order at Kensington Palace. On top of this, her daughter's wedding was only three short weeks away, and the captain would be able to wear his medal on his uniform during the wedding ceremony. Soon the pinnacle of her hopes and dreams for her daughter would become a reality. Harry enjoyed teasing his sister over their mothers' machinations. Rosie just laughed at her brother and reminded him that as soon as she was married their mother would turn her needle point focus on to Harry, this stopped Harry's laughter dead, leading Rosie to have a hearty laugh at her brother's expense.

Sir Cuthbert may not have cared much for the aristocracy, but he hated seeing them be rude to his wife. If his daughter's marriage to a distinguished officer could help elevate his wife's social standing, he had no objections. He would be glad when Rosie was married and he no longer had to listen to conversations about flower arrangements, lace and the constant changing of the wedding breakfast menu. At least Thomas wasn't an idiot, but a self-made man, like himself, who appeared to love and respect his daughter. With his great wealth he was afraid that she would be dupped by gold digger, but Thomas and Tom were wonderfully straightforward men with a strong work ethic and determined to make their own way in the world.

The big day had finally arrived. Thomas' uniform had been meticulously cleaned and pressed, and Corporal Jones helped him dress for the occasion. Tom was to wear a new morning coat, a choice that pleased Lady Mary. Lord Grantham's car would transport Lady Mary, Lord Grantham, Tom, and Thomas to the palace. Corporal Jones would ride up front with the chauffeur, while Rosie and the rest of the Stiles family would travel in Sir Cuthbert's larger car.

As the party arrived at Kensington Palace on a rainy and gloomy late November morning, footmen with umbrellas rushed out to escort them to an antechamber. There, a page went through the protocol for the ceremony, which was presided over by Princess Mary in the presence of Sir William Robertson, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, and Major-General Charles Callwell, an arrangement that greatly pleased Thomas, to know his direct superior officers would be present and witness his reward for duty.

The ceremony itself was relatively brief, with three other soldiers— a private, sergeant, and captain—receiving their honours alongside Thomas, each accompanied by their respective families. After the ceremony, the group was treated to a modest refreshment, which included sandwiches and tea.

Lord Grantham was graciously hosting a celebratory dinner at Grantham House in London, where the Stiles family were invited as well as Sir Charles and Sir William with their respective wives. Lieutenant Pellham as well as the Marquess of Hexham had been invited being particular friends of Captain Barrow. To balance the numbers Ladies Edith and Sybil were invited (Lady Grantham was eager for two of her daughters to meet eligible gentlemen at least) and Lady Rosamund, Robert's sister for a more mature conversationalist. Mary had asked that Miss Swires be invited as Mary and Miss Stiles were particularly friendly with her two.

In the midst of war the party was enjoyed by all with the hope that the war would end soon and there lives could continue if not the same as before, at least with hope for the future.

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