AN: Thanks for the comments. I think Thomas is going to change to a better father within the next two or three chapters.
Suddenly, the servants' hall filled with every single member of the staff, welcoming Mr. Bates. Emma was delighted to see the valet again. Anna seemed incredibly happy in his presence. But her father was far from thrilled, so she suppressed her joy. Instead, she had the feeling that her father took himself far too seriously. He suddenly started giving orders, and Daisy had to bear the brunt of it. And Emma really liked Daisy.
Carson rang the gong, and Thomas rudely ordered a fresh cup of tea. "Thomas, I need to attend to prepare dinner..." But before Daisy could finish her sentence, Thomas interrupted, "A hot one this time, and for you, I am Sergeant Barrow."
Although Emma was only five and three-quarters years old - her sixth birthday was just a few weeks away - she was well aware of how the staff looked at her father. Whether it was Mrs. Hughes or Bates, both were not pleased with her father's command at the most inconvenient time. And now Daisy had to do double the work.
Emma remained silent, not daring to raise her voice and express her disapproval of her father's behavior. But when Thomas lit another cigarette, Emma took it as an opportunity to slam her book loudly on the table. Mrs. Hughes looked at her in shock, O'Brien and Bates interrupted their conversation, while her dad merely raised a curious eyebrow.
"You said you wouldn't smoke when I'm sitting next to you!"
"Just sit over there," Thomas suggested.
"Why should I move when you arrived last?"
"I don't like your snappy tone," Thomas puffed the smoke from his lungs.
Emma clutched her book under her arm, angrily pushed her chair back. "My tone? Don't you listen to yourself?" the little girl shouted, "You promised me!"
"You don't talk to me like that," Thomas remained calm, placing the cigarette back between his lips.
"You can't order me around because I'm still a child and don't even work here!" Emma triumphantly declared.
"I can certainly give you orders because you are my child, and as my child, you are under my command," Thomas emphasized with a smirk.
"Then I simply won't listen to you, Sergeant Barrow," she replied defiantly, crossing her arms and sticking her tongue out at her father. He remained seated, calm and composed, cigarette still glowing in his right hand.
"Go up to your room, Emma Grace, and don't show your face down here again." Emma stayed in her sulking position. "Now!" he commanded more forcefully. The self-satisfied smirk on his face had now transformed into a cold servant-like demeanor. Yet the child refused to obey. "No!" Emma stubbornly exclaimed. Thomas did not like it one bit. The cigarette in his hand long forgotten, he hissed, "You certainly don't want to find out what I'll do if you don't listen to me right now! So go now!"
After careful consideration - her expression clearly showing it - she grinned and said, "Why don't you go."
Thomas extinguished his cigarette as he leaped from his seat. The girl reacted too slowly, wanting to run away quickly, but he had already grabbed her upper arm. She let out a short squeal - Thomas's grip hurt, and none of the present servants seemed willing to help her - as the man hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her headfirst up the stairs. The young girl futilely struck his back with her hands a few times, but it was in vain.
It wasn't until they reached the room that Thomas let her down. Standing unsteadily on her own two feet, she waited for her punishment, hands protectively covering her face. After all, her father stood dangerously close, not even an arm's length away, pointing a threatening finger at her.
"You will never question my authority in public again! I am still your father, and you will show me respect!" Emma wanted to ask what authority even meant, but the timing seemed quite inappropriate. She had never seen him so angry before.
"You will not leave this room again until you admit your mistake to me! I don't want to see you downstairs until then," he concluded his lecture, placing his hands on his hips and scrutinizing her sternly.
"And now, take your hands off your face!" he ordered before taking a deep breath and looking at her tear-streaked face. He lightly bit his lower lip, unsure how to handle a crying child. "I have work to do," Thomas said and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
She curled up in bed like a hedgehog. The changes of the past few weeks, even months - which felt like years - did not please the young girl. She longed for the good old days. For her favorite servant, William, who would carry her on his back as they galloped through the hallways, for Lady Sybil's lessons in reading and writing, for baking together with Mrs. Patmore. She simply longed for normalcy, which had been fading away bit by bit since her father's return. She wondered: had her father always been this mean? Emma tried to remember the time when he was still a servant here, but nothing was stored in her memory.
With the creaking of the door, she squinted her eyes. She had no desire to talk to her father.
"I told you," she heard him say. "She's already asleep."
"It could have been possible that she's still playing," Emma held her breath. This was not just any voice, but that of her favorite servant. Immediately, she opened her eyes wide, jumped out of bed, and called out, "William!" as she rushed into his unprepared, unsuspecting arms, wrapping hers around his upper body.
"I missed you too," William laughed, his hand resting on Emma's head. "Are you crying?" he asked gently, crouching down to be at eye level with the 5-year-old. She nodded her head slightly, whispering softly into his ear, with one hand protectively beside her mouth. In response, the former servant looked up at Thomas. "Emma is asking if she could stay with me tonight."
"Certainly not, not until the child admits her mistake," Thomas retorted.
"Thomas..."
"Sergeant Barrow," he snapped.
"Sergeant Barrow, I don't know what happened between you two, but I'm only here for two days before I have to return to the front."
"What an unfortunate timing," Thomas smirked smugly. "Maybe next time."
William acknowledged this with a sad nod. After a brief conversation, he disappeared from the Barrow room. Only three words left the child's lips in response, "You're mean," and with her head lowered, she returned under her blanket. She missed dinner, breakfast the next morning, and even lunch because she was no longer allowed to leave the room.
One thing was certain: she would never admit her mistake, no matter how loudly her stomach growled. No one came to check on her. Thomas left the room in the morning, with her pretending to be asleep. Since then, he hadn't returned, and neither Mrs. Hughes nor Anna had come by yet. So Emma sat on the floor for a while, building a village with building blocks where her stuffed dog, Bello, could live.
Soon, the entire floor of the small room was scattered with her toys. Using a woolen blanket and jackets, she even built a cave between the chest of drawers (where a piece of the blanket was stored) and the armchair (with the end of the blanket stuck in a crack for stability). Inside, she spread out her bedsheet and arranged the two pillows. That's how she lay in her cozy little cave when the squeaky door opened.
Thomas groaned in annoyance. With his hands on his hips, he surveyed the chaos. There seemed to be no free inch of wooden floor left. Everything was built upon or covered with children's clothes—clothes that Emma was supposed to wear. His gaze wandered around the room before fixating on the cave construction.
"Can I come in?" Thomas asked hopefully, squatting in front of the entrance.
"No!" the child defiantly replied. "Sergeant Barrow is not welcome here!"
"And what if I promise you that I've come as your dad? Can I join you?" Major Clarkson had just admonished him a few minutes ago regarding his treatment of the staff. The old doctor even mentioned his behavior towards his daughter and how unacceptable it was. He had been fortunate enough to be allowed to stay with his daughter instead of fighting on the frontline. Many fathers would envy him.
"No, because I'm not allowed out either!"
"You know, you could easily leave the room if you apologize to me," Thomas chuckled.
"Why should I? You weren't nice to me!"
"Because you showed in public that you don't respect me," Thomas countered. "Besides, I'm always nice to you!"
"You hurt me!"
"What? I've never laid a hand on you!"
"Yesterday! You squeezed too tightly!" she cried.
"I didn't..." Thomas's voice faltered. Had he truly scared his little dwarf so much? And had he caused her such pain that she felt uncomfortable around him? He couldn't remember a moment when he struck his daughter. Did it happen when he threw her over his shoulder?
"If I did, then I'm deeply sorry, Emma," Thomas lifted the blanket, peering into the cozy cave nest. Emma sat pressed against the wall, clutching the stuffed dog to her chest. As long as she stayed far away from him, and she was still only dressed in her nightgown. In fact, he noticed a large bruise on her upper arm. "I won't hurt you—I won't cause you any pain. Never." The violence and fear he experienced in his own childhood were something he would never want to pass on to his child. "You have to believe me, please. I didn't mean to hurt you, my little dwarf."
She gently nodded her head up and down as she crawled directly into his arms. He felt a mixture of guilt and relief as he realized how much he had frightened his daughter. He held her tightly and whispered softly, "I'm so sorry, little dwarf. It was never my intention to harm you. Do you forgive me?"
Emma looked up at him, her eyes filled with understanding and affection. "I forgive you, Daddy," she replied softly. Her words were like balm to Thomas' soul. They meant so much more to him than he could put into words. Thomas sighed with relief as Emma was finally ready to talk to him and accept his apology.
Thomas held his child a little tighter. He felt a mixture of joy, gratitude, and deep affection. A warm sensation flowed through his body, and his heart filled with indescribable warmth. Thomas felt the urge to protect her, to provide her with security, and to be there for her no matter what happened. He wanted to be a role model for her, a loving father she could trust. The desire to make amends for his mistakes and to give her a happy life grew stronger within him.
After they had talked things out, Thomas stood up and walked over to the tray he had previously placed on the dresser. He smiled as he saw how hungry Emma looked at the food. He had made sure to prepare her favorite meal to comfort and spoil her.
"How about some apple juice, jam on toast, and apple crumble?" he asked as he brought the tray to Emma. "After all, you've missed three meals."
Emma beamed with joy and eagerly started eating. Thomas sat down beside her and watched contentedly as his daughter enjoyed the food. In that moment, he realized that he still had a lot to learn as a father, but he was determined to do everything to make Emma happy and safe.
"I'll allow you to spend the day with William and even stay overnight with him if you promise to tidy up the room. Do we have a deal?" he said.
"Deal," Emma grinned happily.
They raced through the corridors of Downton Abbey, with William carrying Emma on his back as she laughed with delight. Their joyful voices echoed through the hallways of downstairs.
As they passed by the piano in the servants' hall, Emma pointed to it. "Can you teach me how to play the piano, William?"
A warm smile appeared on William's face. "Of course, Emmi," he said, gently setting her down on the floor. He took a seat on the stool and patted the spot next to him. "Come, sit beside me."
Emma climbed onto the stool, and William began teaching her the basics of playing the piano. He explained the different keys and how to press them to produce different sounds. Emma watched his fingers attentively as he played a simple melody.
"Now it's your turn, Emmi," William encouraged her, helping her place her little hands on the keys. Together, they played the melody, with William guiding her fingers. Emma laughed with joy as she heard the sounds they created. They practiced more songs together, and with each attempt, Emma improved.
But their time together came to a swift end, and soon the next morning arrived, with William traveling back to the front with Mr. Matthew.