"The secrets we keep"
Thommy.
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After Thirsk, despite their newfound friendship, Thomas is still madly infatuated. And Jimmy, because of their newfound friendship, learns things he shouldn't have. It's hard to keep things close to your heart when your heart is in your sleeve and you haven't even noticed.
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Tags:
Slow burn, gay panic, some angst, fluff, more angst.
Definitely internalized homophobia and period-typical attitudes.
(Also from now on proceed with caution because the fic will sporadically touch on some nasty implications about Jimmy's past that he hasn't yet fully realized because it's the 1920s and men can't possibly be victims, right?)
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Am I still alive? Yeah. Are you? (Me at my one (1) reader. Sis, if you want I can just send you the pdf on tumblr or something. Posting without engagement gets really discouraging sometimes).
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Doing away with the formatting warning now. Just. Spanglish.
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September, pt. II
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A couple days later, as Ms Elise was leaving her Ladyship's room, some needlework in her hand, she was surprised to find Thomas at the top of the staircase, looking rather anxious. He walked towards her as soon as he spotted her, making it evident he'd been waiting.
- I could use some help, right now – he said, urgency in his voice.
- I'm just fetching something for her Ladyship, I have to come back- - -
- Elise, please – insisted Thomas -. I must to talk to him.
Ms Elise blinked, surprised first, then defeated.
- Where is he now?
- Winding the clocks.
Thomas dashed down the stairs immediately and Ms Elise had no choice but to follow.
They headed, quietly, towards one of the parlours on the southern side of the house: a room with two doors on opposite ends, rarely used in general, but more so around this time of day. Jimmy had just walked in. Thomas must have timed this very carefully.
- I'll knock if anyone comes – said Ms Elise -, but please be brief, Thomas.
He nodded and sneaked inside.
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Jimmy hadn't even inserted the key when he heard Mr Barrow's voice behind him, startling him.
- Christ, Thomas! You want to kill me with a fright?
He frowned, doubly upset with himself for letting Mr Barrow's name slip on top of dropping the key.
- You can't avoid me forever, Jimmy. Let us talk.
- I bloody well can try! – Jimmy exclaimed, leaning down to pick up the key - You wanna talk? Or you want something else? – he added in that accusatory voice.
- I'm just trying to understand what's happening between us.
- There's no us, Mr Barrow – Jimmy clarified.
- Of course not. But you cannot blame me for thinking it could.
Jimmy snorted so disdainfully it must have hurt to hear. Scorn had always been his weapon of choice.
- Well, nothing's happening because I am not like you. I don't feel anything. I don't want this.
- I don't believe you. You kissed me. Twice – Mr Barrow reminded. That wiped the smirk right off Jimmy's face.
Well, Mr Barrow wasn't wrong, but Jimmy didn't like being contradicted, and he was determined to put this issue well behind him, for his own sanity, so he dug deep until he found some pride within.
- So have you! – he defended.
- You asked me for one of those.
- And I was asleep for the other one!
Jimmy regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Mr Barrow had gone quiet.
- I'm really sorry about that – he said after a while -. You didn't accept my apology back then. Perhaps you could take it now? I really, really regret that.
- We, uhm, we've never really talked about it – Jimmy couldn't help but blush. There was a long, heavy, uncomfortable silence before he gathered the courage to ask -. Why… What was that about? What were you thinking?
- I wasn't – quickly replied Mr Barrow, ashamed -. I was misled.
- By me?
- O'Brien. She, uh, she knew about my… inclinations, and she could read my feelings for you. She swore you'd told Alfred about me, and I was so easy to convince. I trusted her. God, Jimmy, I was so infatuated, and you were so nice to me and I thought we had a connect- - -
- She told me to get on your good side – Jimmy blurted. Now it was his turn to be ashamed -. You were his lordship's valet and I was chasing a promotion.
Mr Barrow was stunned, and Jimmy did everything in his power to avoid looking him in the eye.
- You weren't genuine, then? – said Mr Barrow, his voice clearly pained.
- I was… uh… sometimes. You were likeable enough, and very welcoming, but you were so… familiar, always touching me, and I felt watched. O'Brien was over me all of the time, pushing me towards you, just like Mr Wells… I… I was so uncomfortable.
- I'm so sorry – repeated Thomas -. I thought… I know I was wrong- - -
- Were you? – Jimmy mumbled before he realized what it was he was saying - I… I let you think- - -I mean… I never stopped you.
- You wanted to?
- I don't know – he confessed -. I knew… I knew you might fancy me. At least I feared it.
His words must have felt like poison on Mr Barrow's ears, for he looked shaken.
- You were afraid then? – Mr Barrow managed, dismayed.
- Yes.
- And you're afraid now – he didn't say it like a question. It was a truth and he knew it.
Jimmy's voice choked in his throat. He was, he truly was. He was terrified, horrified at himself and his inner turmoil.
- I don't want this to happen. Whatever it is.
Mr Barrow took a step towards him. Jimmy took a step back.
- Please don't run away from me, Jimmy – said Mr Barrow with eyes that spoke of a heart broken in a million pieces.
Jimmy couldn't take that look, he froze in place in the middle of the room.
- What do you want from me, Mr Barrow?
- I want you, Jimmy! – he somehow yelled in a whisper - I'm in love!
The second that followed that declaration stretched into an eternity. Jimmy's eyes went wide, a tight knot tying in his throat. He couldn't tell if his face flushed or paled. He felt hot and cold at a time, his hands slightly trembling. Love?
Mr Barrow had once again closed the distance between them, and he was looking at Jimmy with such raw, open adoration in his eyes, that Jimmy's heart skipped a bit. His soul was sinking in his chest. The lad had to close his hands in fists around the clock key in an attempt to keep them busy, otherwise he might have touched Mr Barrow. He wanted to so badly.
Still, this was not the time nor the place to let himself want anything, much less something as sinful as this.
- Don't say that – Jimmy refused -. I'm sorry I misled you. I can't give you what you want.
- Is that what it was? A misleading?
- A mistake – Jimmy admitted -. But it doesn't matter 'cause it's not happening again. I can't… This is wrong. And I'm sorry.
- There's a part of you that doesn't want this, I believe it. You're confused, you're afraid. I felt that once, too – Mr Barrow's voice was so soft, his eyes so fond. Jimmy felt his chest warm up, his breathing speed a little -. There's nothing wrong with you, Jimmy. With us.
Then why did he feel so loathsome? So revolted? Why would he flee these feelings he was discovering if not because they were unnatural? Jimmy could very well try to believe Mr Barrow, but he simply would not allow himself to. He took a deep breath.
- I'm not like you – he insisted, gritting his teeth -. Leave me alone, Mr Barrow.
- Not like this.
Mr Barrow's voice trembled slightly as he shook his head in negation. He took one more step to close the gap between them, lifting his right hand to cup Jimmy's face. Jimmy shoved it away immediately, aware that colour ought to be rising to his cheeks as his eyes unwillingly focused on Mr Barrow's lips for half a second.
Mr Barrow must have noticed and taken it as cue, for he leaned closer. Jimmy failed to react on time, and when their lips touched, soft and delicate, he kept his eyes open, even though he wasn't seeing much. He was lost. Lost in warmth and lost in need. He knew what this meant, he knew how Mr Barrow would take it. He wasn't being touched, he could have pulled away any moment he wanted. He did not.
He kept thinking to himself that he should. "Push him away! Punch him! Do something!" his mind reeled, but just like that night when he overheard the Duke, there was this thing holding him in place, nailing him to the floor. This sort of inexplicable curiosity, of forbidden fascination. A sense of possession, as if he had the sole right to Mr Barrow's secrets. Back then his imagination had run wild and he'd wanted to know what Mr Barrow was all about, and by god he was learning.
Mr Barrow then pulled away, a hopeful smile on his face, and he raised his other hand to Jimmy's chin. Jimmy couldn't find it in him to reject it this time. It was his wounded hand, he knew.
Thomas' fingers touched him with such delicacy…
Jimmy leaned into his touch and closed his eyes in response, welcoming the new kiss well and proper. He even lifted his own hand to hold Thomas' wrist, his thumb caressing the sliver of exposed skin between glove and sleeve.
"I don't want this – he reminded himself, somewhere in the corners of his mind -. What am I doing?"
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock!
Jimmy's soul dropped to his feet, his gaze now glued on the door. Thomas pulled away with a groan, rubbing his hand against his face in frustration.
- What if someone sees this? – gasped Jimmy, terrified.
- Right. No one can catch us here – Thomas agreed.
Straightening up his livery, Thomas fled through the other door.
It was the longest ten seconds of Jimmy's life.
No one came into the room, of course, but Jimmy was able to hear the Lady Edith's and Ms Elise's voices outside, the former wondering if everything were fine and the latter explaining she only had a dizzying spell and needed to lean against something for a second.
So Thomas had conspired with Ms Elise for a moment alone with him. Jimmy felt his stomach turn. His face went cold, probably pale, and something very similar to anger began to swell inside him. "She knows".
Thomas' (no, Mr Barrow's) kiss still tingled on his lips, and upset he pressed the back of his hand against them to wipe the sensation off, except he never did the motion. He'd be damned, but he didn't want to.
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Meals were the worst part of the day. At least while working Jimmy could try really hard to pretend nothing was happening, but he couldn't afford such delusions at the table. He knew Mr Barrow stole looks towards him every now and then, tender ones, trying to hide the hint of a smile that curled his lips. Jimmy wondered if the change in Mr Barrow's mood (from heartache disguised as bitterness to the most tranquil he'd looked since Jimmy had been at Downton) was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. The thought of it turned his hands sweaty and clumsy.
"Can you pass me the butter?" Anna had asked with a patient voice, and Jimmy realized it probably wasn't the first time she said it. Really, the nudge Alfred gave him on the ribs should have been clue enough, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to properly function in society. With shaky hands, and under the curious look of half everyone at the table, Jimmy did as requested.
Anna thanked him with such a sympathetic smile that it only made Jimmy feel worse.
And then Ivy, woefully ill-timed and clueless Ivy, had to remark on the colour on his cheeks and the sweaty sheen on his brow. She even touched his forehead with the back of her hand. "Are you sick, Jimmy?"
Maybe he was, if being anywhere near Mr Barrow in public after their last encounter had him shy and nervous to this extent.
- I need some fresh air – he mumbled, dropping his napkin on the table.
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Jimmy got up from his seat, discomfort crystal clear on his face. Thomas couldn't help it when he saw the lad walk away, he called to him, his voice unintentionally joining Alfred's in near unison concern. The whole room went silent, eyes shooting wide in surprise. Thomas realized a second too late that he'd made a terrible mistake. Mrs Hughes looked at him and Jimmy alternately, eyebrows arched high on her forehead. Alfred, too, was gaping, confused and scandalized in equal measure but clearly trying to hide it. Jimmy seemed ready to die of embarrassment as he hurried out the hall in a heartbeat.
Ms Elise then had a perfectly timed coughing fit that had her accidentally drop her cup and make a mess of things, calling everyone's attention to her.
Everyone but Mr Bates', who amusedly exclaimed "Whatever happened to Mr Kent?", and even though Anna reproached him to leave it alone as she tried to aid Ms Elise, Thomas still snapped back in a venomous voice: "Whatever happened to Mrs Bates?"
Mrs Hughes gasped; even Mr Carson shot him a glare. Bates' face went sombre, his mouth a thin line of indignation. Thomas lifted his paper strategically, trying to seem unaffected, but that didn't spare him from noticing Anna's appalled expression, the shine of tears welling in her eyes. She didn't say anything, though, she just got up and took Ms Elise with her to the kitchen, promising to take care of the broken cup and the spilled tea.
Thomas frowned in remorse behind his paper. First Jimmy, now this, he should have bitten his tongue.
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Jimmy had been unfortunate enough to overhear Mr Bates' teasing from the hallway, "Whatever happened to Mr Kent". The whole thing made him feel dizzy. Now he really needed some fresh air, beyond the mere excuse to leave the servants' hall. To his bad luck, rain began to fall just as he stepped outside.
Even more unfortunate was that he had barely spent five minutes alone when Ms Elise caught up to him.
- I'm in need of some fresh air myself, it seems. A pity about the cup – she said as she cleared her throat affectedly - . Anna is such a sweet soul. James, may I have a word?
"Just call me Mr Kent again, please" he thought, mortified. Ms Elise watched him with such knowledge in her eyes that Jimmy shied away from them.
- You seem very tired as of late – she continued in her characteristic soft voice -. The reasons are none of my business, of course, I just wanted to pay you a kindness.
Jimmy looked at her with real venom in his eyes. He didn't find her lack of inquiring soothing; quite the contrary, he despised hypocrisy. She knew about him, she was bound to as Mr Barrow's confidante. And since the alternative to hating on her was hating on Mr Barrow, Jimmy was ready to see her as the worst of his enemies.
All of the rage he channelled in his eyes clearly didn't impress her, though. She let out an apathetic sigh and offered him a small tin box.
- It's a tea, to calm your nerves.
Jimmy reached for it, hesitant, and opened it for examination. It smelled delicious, that's for sure, all delicate dried flowers. He frowned as he took one between his fingers.
- It's not like Thomas'. One cup before going to bed, with some honey and a drop of lemon, it should help you sleep.
- I don't trust you – Jimmy put forth as he closed the tin.
- And I don't like you – she shrugged. Jimmy was taken mildly aback by her bluntness -, but I'll concede I do not know you. Though I would be willing to, if we happened to have a friend in common.
In an instant, Jimmy's expression went from rude to terrified. Oh, she knew. She knew, she knew!
His skin crawled and he struggled to swallow the smart retort he'd failed to come up with.
To her credit, Ms Elise softened to see him like that.
- I'm not trying to antagonize you, I promise. Are you taking it?
Jimmy pocketed the tin box and managed a stilted nod.
- Let's get back inside, then – she prompted -, before I catch some actual coughing.
The tea didn't help Jimmy calm down, but it certainly helped him sleep. Feeling miserable was far more bearable when he didn't so blatantly look it.
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He'd have to apologize. That scathing comment of his… Bates deserved it, no doubt, even if they had been more civil towards each other as of late; he knew what he was doing and he'd deserved it. But Anna wasn't at fault. Thomas' every thought may have been consumed by Jimmy day and night, but that was no excuse, he'd have to make the time to apologize to her.
He'd been chewing on his pride all day, waiting for the opportunity to present itself. At some point Anna came downstairs looking for fresh linens for the Lady Edith's room, and Thomas followed her, offering his help to carry them. She pursed her lips, but ultimately agreed.
Thomas waited in silence until they were on their way up the servants' staircase and he was sure nobody else was around to hear.
- Anna, about that comment at breakfast- - -
Don't mention it – she said, her eyes glassy once more.
- I'm sorry, I really am. You, of all people, didn't deserve that.
Anna stopped and turned to look at him, their faces at a height thanks to her standing two steps above him. Thomas had an excellent view of her dejected expression, and he couldn't help feeling guilty for his hand in it.
- Why would you say something like that? You know what John and I went through. You were there. Even if you've never liked him, you were there.
- I'm sorry – Thomas repeated, truly contrite.
- I believe you – Anna said with a sad smile as she wiped her eyes -. I do, really, it's just… I thought you'd left all that behind.
- Old habits die hard.
- I should guess.
They stood in silence for a while, until Anna cleared her throat and resumed her climb. She had barely taken a couple steps when she turned back again, stopping Thomas dead in his tracks.
- Can I ask you something? – she did not wait for Thomas to reply – I don't mean to pry, I just… I've noticed of late you looked quite… well, sad would be one way to put it. You know I know, about you and that whole wicked affair of O'Brien's back in the day. And Jimmy's been giving you trouble- - -
- That sounds a lot like prying – Thomas cut her off.
- You don't have to tell me – she clarified in a gentle voice -. I understand you may not want anyone to know… More than we do already… You have Ms Elise now to talk this sort of thing, surely. I just want you to know that if you ever need to, you can talk to me too, Thomas. You don't have to be so alone here in Downton.
Thomas frowned, studying Anna's expression carefully. He knew her to be kind to a fault, but even then he was somewhat surprised by her openness.
- Daisy said something similar… – he muttered.
- Well, she's right. You don't have to push us away- - -
- Why are you so kind, Anna? To me, specifically. I've done so much to mess with Bates for so long… even to you I've been cruel. And you know, you said it yourself, you know what I am. Who I am.
Anna sighed a long, compassionate sigh.
- We've all been through so much together, Thomas, and that means something, whether you want to believe it or not.
Still, Thomas wasn't convinced.
- So you want me to believe you're not bothered? By my…
- I'm only ever bothered by your being mean to John. If you wanna make things right, that could be a start.
- Wouldn't hold out much hope for that.
But Anna didn't take the bait of his harsh tone.
- Funny that. Neither would John. But you'd love to prove him wrong, won't you? – she added with a little smile.
Completely taken off-guard by Anna's little jest, Thomas couldn't help but laugh. She was honest, alright.
Anna continued to smile to him, placed her hand on his forearm and pressed slightly, in a gesture of forgiveness. Thomas nodded, and followed her upstairs with the linens.
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Whenever he had some free time, Jimmy would hide in the servants' stairs that led to the attics, both to escape Mr Carson's "If you have time to rest, then you have time to do this other task" and to get some time alone with his thoughts. Sometimes he lit up a cigarette, though he never smoked it whole because he'd get in trouble if Mr Carson ever found the place flooded in smoke. Besides, the particular pack of cigs he had in hand reminded him of Mr Barrow; he'd have to buy a different brand.
Over and over he went through the memory of his forbidden encounters, vexed and mortified. It had been him who made the move after the fair, and he didn't even have the privilege of blaming the booze because he'd been dry and sober when he, all on his own, had gone to Mr Barrow's room. It had been him who first spoke of confusion. It had been him who failed to push away. It had been him who kissed back.
He had to face it. Much as he tried to deny it, there were feelings there. Which ones he couldn't yet place, determined as he was to muddle the waters between what he felt and what he wanted to feel instead. There was shame whenever he'd kissed Thomas (Mr Barrow), oh, so much shame. And fear, lots and lots of it. But there had also been desire, curiosity, and an all-consuming warmth filling up his chest.
"This is wrong, this is wrong – he repeated to himself -. You shouldn't feel this! You shouldn't want it!" And while lost in thoughts of wanting something he shouldn't get, he was inevitably reminded of the time he'd gotten something he didn't truly want.
He'd mentioned some of it, hadn't he? In the parlour. He'd mentioned Mr Wells, and Mr Barrow hadn't remarked on it, because they were too focused discussing O'Brien and what she'd done to them.
They were similar, the both of them, pushing staff into uncomfortable situations to get what they wanted. Jimmy wondered whether he would have been as dismayed by Mr Barrow's flirting antics back in the day had Ms O'Brien not reminded him so much of the way Mr Wells had pushed him towards Lady Anstruther.
"You want to get on her good graces – Mr Wells had told him when he'd first started working service -. It's her who actually runs the house". He must have been seventeen then, all naive and eager to impress, still dealing with the pain of his father's death. The advice had been sound, as Jimmy's rapid ascend amongst the staff proved, but… but it came at a price that Jimmy had not until Downton understood he'd paid.
He groaned and reproached himself for his stupidity, taking a long swig at his smoke.
- So this is where you've been hiding.
Jimmy choked a bit on his cig.
- It's me, mate, calm down – said Alfred as he climbed up a couple more steps and sat across Jimmy.
- Don't tell me Mr Carson's looking for me already.
- No, it's just me. There was some issue with the deliveries or something, think he'll be busy for a while.
Relieved, Jimmy nodded, and offered Alfred a cigarette. The chap took it, but didn't light it up.
- Are you alright? – he ended up asking.
- I think by now all of Downton knows I'm not – Jimmy chuckled bitterly.
- Well, yes, but nobody knows why. Thought I'd ask.
Jimmy looked carefully into Alfred's eyes, trying to catch him in a lie. He was very transparent, Alfred, and if there was suspicion in his expression there wasn't enough disgust mixed in to convince Jimmy that he had the right of it in his theories. Surely if Alfred suspected anything with Mr Barrow he would have immediately said so; maybe even made a scandal out of it.
- You know, uhm… – Alfred stammered - If y'ever need to talk, I'm all ears.
Jimmy sneered.
- No doubt of that.
- I mean it, Jimmy.
The seriousness in Alfred's demeanour took Jimmy by surprise. He'd never had anyone offer him a shoulder before (besides his parents, that is). And truth be told, he was dying to have someone to talk to, to share his burdens with in hopes that carrying them would become easier.
- We're friends, right? Pals. You can trust me, Jimmy, I promise I won't tell.
"No, you wouldn't tell, but you might call the police". Jimmy had to make an active effort to shake those thoughts out of his head. After all, Alfred had apologized to Mr Barrow, he was contrite. And even if he did express disapproval or irritation at Jimmy sometimes, he'd been patient near to a fault in the last few months. Really, with his aunt out of the picture, Alfred wasn't half as bad.
- Didn't keep many friends before – Jimmy said bitterly -. Nobody liked me anymore back at Lady Anstruther's.
- You're taking the piss on me – Alfred accused -. Everybody likes you! Maybe not Mr Carson, but…
- I mean it. They, uh… something happened there. Had to quit – there was a pause as Jimmy gathered courage to talk -. Have you… You ever gotten something you wanted only to realize much later you were wrong about it?
Looking pensive for a moment, Alfred shook his head in negation.
- Have you… uhm… ever been with a woman? – Jimmy blurted.
Alfred turned red to his ears, to the point one couldn't tell where his face ended and his hair began.
- Have you?
Jimmy shrugged and stuttered. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
- Please don't tell Mr Carson – he pleaded, and to his surprise, that seemed to give Alfred all the clues he needed.
The red-head chap's eyes went round with shock.
- The Lady Anstruther?
It came across as much more embarrassing when somebody else said it aloud. Jimmy cringed, the cigarette turning to ash in his hand.
- She, uh, she demanded far more than a footman's services from me.
- That why you got fired?
Jimmy was quick to reply.
- No, I left. She gave me a glowing reference.
- That's inappropriate – mumbled Alfred.
- Yeah… Everyone downstairs hated me, by the end of it. Called me a whore.
Alfred pursed his lips in such a way that it made it clear he probably would have too, but he ultimately didn't, and that's what counts.
- I wasn't- - -I didn't initiate it, y'know? 'Twas my first job and Mr Wells told me to make myself as pleasant as possible to her. And she did like me. Six months in I had a raise, and a promotion, and my own room. She was very splendid with her gifts, Lady Anstruther.
- Why're you telling me this? – Alfred was genuinely confused, as if this wasn't at all the conversation he'd thought they'd have - I'm all ears, I'm listening, but why this? You didn't want it?
- I did! I did, really. 'Twas a lot of privileges, everyone else was trying to get on me good side, hoping I'd rub some luck on them, or something. And Mr Wells was very lenient with me, I had it easy. 'Twas actually great. And when she, uhm, when she took me to her bedroom the first time I was surprised but I guess I didn't complain. It was fine, I think. I enjoyed it, surely. Lord Anstruther was away, and nobody knew then. Maybe Mr Wells, but he didn't say anything. He was butler by then. Not much changed after that. But two years later she kept calling for me every now and then, a couple times, and I went but… it became too obvious, I think. It soured. She gave me expensive gifts and made sure I was always around, and downstairs people were talking. Upstairs people too, for sure. The other footman, Harold, called me a prostitute and he got fired. I was such a brat when that happened. I gloated, felt untouchable. But it was all downhill from there.
He sucked on the cig every now and then, but overall he just couldn't stop talking. Part of him wanted to, aware that this would most likely make Alfred think less of him (not that he thought much already, but still), however he'd waited so long to unload himself of this story from his past that he'd be damned if he stopped now. Like a burst dam. He didn't even know how badly he'd wanted to talk about it, or that he felt so strongly about it, until then. For a moment, Jimmy wondered what Mr Barrow would think if he ever knew. Would he judge him? It wasn't that different from his own story with the Duke, was it?
All the while Alfred listened intently, his expression turning more pitying by the word.
- Then Lord Anstruther died and she decided t'go to Paris, so I sold the watches, the cufflinks and left.
- And when'd y'realize you didn't want any of that?
- Not that long ago, I think. I- - -I look back and it's like, towards the end… It's making me feel a damn fool. A mouse in the cat's paw. Or a horse, y'know? That she could saddle whene'er she liked. At least with Lord Anstruther around it didn't happen often enough for me t'notice, but, in Paris…
- It would've been different – Alfred understood. Jimmy gave him an exhausted nod.
- I think that's why I left. Just didn't know it back then. I was a brat.
- Still are. You're insufferable – Alfred tried for a light-hearted tone, and somehow he made Jimmy laugh a little. A self-hating laugh, but a laugh nonetheless -. Why're you thinkin' about it now? Somethin' happened?
- I feel so differently about so many things now… – Jimmy heaved a melancholic sigh.
- What kinda things? Is it, uh… Is it anything t'do with… uhm… What happened?
Plenty had happened, that was for sure. Except Jimmy wasn't going to talk about Mr Barrow. Ever. He simply looked down, overwhelmed and unaware that his silence was giving Alfred a lot more answers than anything else ever could.
Alfred didn't push the matter, he simply fished out a little something wrapped in brown paper from a pocket.
- You want one? – he offered, extending the packet of sweets to Jimmy, who frowned.
- What's that?
- They're good, try 'em – Alfred insisted. Jimmy put his cigarette to the side and grabbed a toffee -. Me aunt used t'give me boxes of these for christmas when I was a child. Good, huh?
Jimmy nodded.
- Where'd you get these?
- They sell 'em in Rippon. Mr Barrow agreed t'get some for me last time he went to town. I almost regret it, they're really expensive now, they are! Cost me near a- - -
Alfred's words trailed off when he realized Jimmy had gone awfully quiet and unbelievably red on the face. Was it something he said? He was merely talking about candy and…
- Jimmy? You can… you can tell me, if anything's- - -
- Your aunt reminds me of Mr Wells – Jimmy spat, desperate for Alfred not to finish that sentence -. The way she was always conspirin' in my ear and all.
Alfred looked so mortified by that declaration that he dropped the topic for good.
- I'm so sorry – he muttered. The ambience had turned dense and awkward. Jimmy's cigarette had burnt out on the step -. D'you want another one?
Jimmy shook his head energetically, and the way he bit his lip when doing so made it clear he was trying his best to choke back some intense emotion.
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It was an awkward couple of days that followed. Jimmy kept avoiding Mr Barrow, but his standards as to what "avoid" constituted had clearly relaxed. It did help to have Alfred around more, trying his best to lift his spirits and being very helpful as a distraction whenever others tried to ask too many questions. Jimmy also made sure to stick by Alfred's side whenever Mr Barrow was in the room. It was the only way he dared be close to him for now, afraid as he was that any interaction between them might end up in Ms Elise's ears. And if she knew, who else might come to find out? Suspicions had to be running high, and Jimmy wasn't that lucky to keep them as merely that.
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Thomas found it really discouraging to see Jimmy pulling away from him once more. At least he seemed a bit more composed, the dark circles under his eyes gone and his usual mood surging up every now and then while talking with the kitchen staff.
But he was keeping Alfred close like a crutch of sorts, and Thomas had been unable to steal a single second to speak with him alone.
That night, just as everyone was getting ready to head to bed, Alfred got distracted in the kitchen fetching one last cup of tea before Daisy put everything away. Jimmy was already tired, so he went ahead on his own. Thomas overheard the whole thing from the hallway.
It would be half a minute, but it was the first half a minute that Jimmy would be truly alone in a while. Thomas hurried up the stairs after him; managed to grab his arm and turn him around to face him.
- You're avoiding me – he said, confused - I thought we'd come to an agreement after…
He didn't finish his sentence. He let go of Jimmy's arm and tried to look casual as another servant walked past them towards the bedrooms, yawning and paying them no mind.
For a moment he feared Jimmy would seize the chance to follow in a rush, but he stood, upset, right where Thomas had caught him.
- You've been telling everything to Ms Elise. No one should've known 'bout any of this, Mr Barrow. No one. Ever.
Jimmy's voice was a furious whisper. Thomas recoiled a little.
- I didn't- - -Half of it she already knew before I ever told her anything. You don't have to worry about her. I trust her, she'll never tell.
- But you did, Thomas! – Jimmy gritted, his jaw tight - And that's what matters!
- It's not what you think… – he took a moment to calm himself down, looking at Jimmy with gentle adoration. Emphasis on gentle - But I won't insist. You need time, I'll give you time. Just remember… remember what I told you. About my feelings.
Jimmy's anger deflated in the blink of an eye. A rosy hue colouring his cheeks. He looked soft and vulnerable as he stared back, and it took Thomas all of his self-control to not grab him then and there and kiss all his doubt and anger away. He would be patient, and kind, and understanding. Even if he had to remind himself to just as much as Jimmy.
He would be anything Jimmy needed him to.
- Can't wait to lay me head on me pillow! – exclaimed Alfred as he caught up to Jimmy, his expression turning baffled when he spotted Thomas there.
Thomas, in turn, looked at Alfred with very poorly disguised rage, aggravated by the interruption. His glare was so evident that Alfred actually shied away. Jimmy quickly looked the other way, clearing his throat.
- Good night, Mr Barrow – he said, with Alfred awkwardly echoing his words.
Thomas gave him a stilted, acknowledging nod and let them go upstairs.
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I swear and promise that I am absolutely not projecting an exaggerated version of my own trauma by going the route of "Jimmy was definitely implied to have been somehow abused by lady anstruther and then his tragic backstory was absolutely dropped and retconned and I will never forgive the show about it because I connected so hard with the subtle clues of his potentially having experienced an authority figure twice his age take advantage of him while he was probably late teens/early twenties". I am absolutely not doing that! Why would I ever interpret Jimmy's inconsistent "yeah, my former employer treated me super well in a very obviously preferential way but I still mysteriously quit that job before going to Paris even though I literally say that my dream is to travel the world with beautiful women".
Listen, listen. I'm just saying that season 3 implied a lot of things that were later YEETED away in the most frustrating and shitty of ways, and I took that personally.
And I am going to (or try to) explore those implications. And it is absolutely not connected with any realization that might have personally hit me ten years after the fact. No sir.
The only thing I could have possibly found relatable about Jimmy is that we're both young and beautiful, of course (lmao).
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Seriously. Why would you as a writer IMPLY and then DROP such… It's ok, I'm fine. It's fine. It's FINE. I'm fine. I'm not dying bitter about any of this, I SWEAR.
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So. Uhm. Friday, or something.
It's drawing season, anyways.