"Downton is not a hostel," she heard Carson's voice. The butler's office door was wide open. From her position on the kitchen counter, she could eavesdrop on the conversation perfectly without really wanting to listen. Not that she enjoys eavesdropping.
"No, Mister Carson," Thomas whispered.
"And you were so insistent on no longer being a servant, that still rings in our ears."
"The problem is..." Thomas glanced over to the kitchen, "...I'm a bit short on cash at the moment."
"I can't say that it particularly touched me when you dabbled in the black market."
"I just need a little more time, Mister Carson," Thomas pleaded.
"How long has it been since the last patient left here, Sergeant? You are pushing the limits of our generosity," now Carson looked over to the kitchen, "I think we're even."
"I'll try to be useful," Thomas begged desperately.
"Find somewhere else to go," Carson ended the conversation.
Emma knocked gently on Lady Sybil's door. "Come in," a gentle voice called from inside. Emma cautiously opened the door and entered the elegant room. It was adorned with fine furniture and pretty vases of flowers. A delicate smile crossed Emma's face as she looked around. The room was incredibly large and beautiful.
Lady Sybil sat by the window, gazing out at the pouring rain. When she noticed Emma, she turned to her with a smile. "Hello, Emma. What brings you to me?"
Emma approached hesitantly. She had never been in Lady Sybil's room before.
"Take a seat," Lady Sybil smiled. Emma nodded shyly and sat down on one of the cozy chairs.
"Would you like some?" Sybil asked, offering Emma the plate with a pastry filled with jam.
Emma nodded enthusiastically, "Thank you, Lady Sybil. Do you want to play with me?"
"What would you like to play?"
Emma shrugged. There were no dollhouses or other toys in Lady Sybil's room. And she highly doubted that Lady Sybil would want to roam around the servants' attic when she had such a splendid room.
"How about playing with your dollhouse?" she suggested. The 7-year-old often raved about her dollhouse, not least because it was not a conventional dollhouse but an idea of Thomas to create a space-saving version in the dresser. Lady Sybil had frequently asked her father to give Thomas and Emma a bigger room or two separate rooms. She even suggested that Emma could have the old playroom of the Crawley sisters, but her suggestions fell on deaf ears with Lord Grantham. They were already generous enough to let a child live with the servants.
"I can bring everything here if you like," Emma agreed.
Lady Sybil shook her head, "How about you show me your room, and on the way there, I'll show you a secret passage."
Emma was curious and excited at the same time. A secret passage? That sounded thrilling! She nodded eagerly and stood up, ready to follow Lady Sybil. Together, they left the elegant room and walked along the long corridor. Lady Sybil led Emma to a hidden door, concealed behind a painting. With a soft click, the door opened, and they entered a narrow passage.
"Wow! It's like being in an adventure book!" Emma whispered in awe.
"Yes, that's exactly how it feels," Lady Sybil confirmed with a mischievous smile. "This secret passage is our little secret, alright?"
Emma nodded enthusiastically. She followed Lady Sybil along the narrow corridor. They continued until they reached a small staircase that led them up until they stood in front of a wall.
"That's it?" asked Emma disappointed.
Lady Sybil smiled and crouched down in front of the wall, revealing a small crawl-through door. They entered and found themselves inside a linen closet, filled with bed sheets, pillows, and blankets.
"Do you know where we are?" Lady Sybil asked.
Emma nodded eagerly, "We're in the laundry room, near the servants' bedrooms."
"That used to be a servant's passage, but I guess it has been forgotten," she revealed.
Emma showed Lady Sybil her modest room. It was small and simply furnished, but Emma loved it nonetheless because it was her own little realm – at least during the daytime when Thomas was downstairs. Her self-painted and crafted pictures adorned the walls, making the drab room much more cheerful. Proudly, she showed her self-built dollhouse inside the dresser.
"This is really clever, Emma!" praised Lady Sybil.
Emma beamed with joy. "Thank you, Lady Sybil! It was Dad's idea."
"You are lucky to have Thomas as a father. He is great, isn't he?" Lady Sybil said appreciatively. Emma rarely heard this phrase, and sometimes she overheard conversations between Mr. Bates and Anna, where Mr. Bates spoke poorly of her dad. Yet, her Dad made great efforts to always be there for her. But it seemed that only a few among the servants shared this view.
Emma nodded in agreement, "He is the best Daddy."
The two of them spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the dolls in Emma's dollhouse and creating stories together. Lady Sybil told fascinating tales that left Emma in awe.
As evening approached, Lady Sybil returned to her room, as she had to be punctual for dressing up. Emma, eager to share her eventful day with her father, ran down the stairs, only to come to an abrupt stop in front of the door to the servants' hall.
"You can't expect to live here for free forever," O'Brien said.
"I didn't expect to get a kick," Thomas mumbled, a glowing cigarette between his lips.
"You need to find some work," O'Brien urged.
"It's not that simple. Everyone is looking for work these days. Not everyone has a hand that looks like a Jules Verne experiment..." Thomas took a drag from his cigarette. "And then there's the problem with Emma," he exhaled the smoke slowly. "No one willingly employs a single parent."
"Why did you keep it then?" O'Brien wondered.
"What else could I have done? I owed it to the child," Thomas replied annoyed, taking another big drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out.
"You don't owe that brat anything," O'Brien smirked, "Orphanages aren't that bad. You can take her there anytime. Don't let your life be ruined by a child."
"I can't believe I didn't think of that myself... I would have taken Emma to an orphanage long ago," Thomas responded with an eye roll. "I really have no idea why I decided to keep her," and he put the cigarette to his lips again, "But I suppose I can still take her there. A bit of hard work and slavery won't hurt her."
Unaware that Emma overheard the conversation and put two and two together, she was the problem that prevented her Dad from finding employment. When Carson spoke of the generosity, he meant her. She was also the reason why her Dad couldn't find a new job, because no one wants to take in a child. And apparently, her Dad didn't even want to have children, as he kept her out of pity. One thing was for sure: she would never want to live in an orphanage.
Emma ran through the corridors, her little feet carrying her as fast as possible away from the servants' quarters and the hurtful words she had heard. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.
A few hours later, the servants were sitting down for dinner. Carson surveyed the entire table, place by place. "Now, Mister Barrow," he cleared his throat, "if I may ask, where is your daughter?"
"She's probably still playing in her room. I'll go get her," Thomas nodded in agreement.
"You know the rule..." Thomas stopped his speech. The stuffed animal was missing from the child's bed. The drawer of the dresser was half-open, revealing the absence of some clothing items. Schoolbooks and notebooks were scattered on the floor, as if the child had shaken them out of her backpack, yet the backpack was not there. The little coat was not hanging on the hook, and the small box where her pocket money was kept was also nowhere to be found, just like the child herself.
"Emma?" Thomas called out in horror. He searched the room, looking under the bed and inside the closet. The child was not there. Thomas stepped into the hallway, "Emma?" he called out once again for his child. But the bathroom was also empty.
Shaken by the realization, he flopped down on his bed, running his hand through his face in despair. The child was gone. She had taken away what little they had left. Robbed by his own daughter. Though he couldn't even blame the child, as he was living off his child's savings, having miscalculated his own money.
Thomas picked up a picture frame. As he turned it around, it revealed a picture of a little two-year-old girl in her father's arms. He looked at the picture in his hand desperately. He felt like a failed father and had the sense that he had done everything wrong.
He thought back to the time when Emma first entered his life. She was a tiny baby wrapped in a blanket, resting in his arms. It was a moment filled with love, fear, and responsibility, and he promised himself that he would always be there for her, no matter what happened. The picture felt light and fragile in Thomas' hand as he looked at it. A wave of frustration and despair washed over him, and without thinking, he angrily hurled the picture frame against the wall. A loud crash filled the room as the glass shattered into several pieces.
"Damn it!" Thomas cursed softly, looking at the debris. Everything just seemed to be going wrong.
Thomas returned to the servants' hall. Clearly, Carson was eagerly waiting for him. "Took you long enough. Where is Emma Grace?" he asked, sounding sharp. Carson held his utensils - knife and fork - already in his hands, the meat in front of him on the plate.
"Run away... clothes, stuffed animal, money - all gone," Thomas revealed, his gaze fixed on the floor. What impression were his colleagues getting of him now? That he was incapable of taking care of a seven-year-old?
"Hallelujah," Bates commented quietly.
"I've always said it. Children are ungrateful money-eaters," O'Brien muttered, as Mrs. Hughes got up and asked with a serious expression, "Who saw Emma last, and when?"
No one from the staff spoke up. It was as if nobody had seen the girl in the last few hours.
"I saw Emma with Lady Sybil in the hallway," Daisy hesitated to speak, "that was before the dressing bell."
"Nobody else?" Mrs. Hughes wondered, deliberately looking at the maids and footmen, but they only shook their heads.
"Excuse me, Mister Carson, but I'd like to search for my daughter," Thomas said.
"I'll accompany you," said Mrs. Hughes, and Anna also stood up.
They split up. Mrs. Hughes and Thomas searched in the village, while Anna and Bates looked for the child in fields and meadows, even heading to the train station. Without success, they met hours later in the servants' hall.
"At the ticket counter, they assured us that no unaccompanied child bought a ticket or was seen at the platform or boarding a train," Bates explained.
"Which is good because it means Emma is still in Downton," Anna added softly.
"Her classmates from the village haven't seen her today either," Mrs. Hughes sighed. She had envisioned her Sunday evening differently. After all, she had some sewing work to do.
"Do you really have no idea where Emma could have gone?" Anna asked, but Thomas shook his head, "We searched all the places." Thomas slumped onto one of the chairs, his head heavy in his hands, "She can't just be gone," he said, bewildered.
The servants sat in the dimly lit room, their worry evident on their faces. Mrs. Patmore brought a cup of tea for Thomas, hoping it would offer some comfort. Anna tried to reassure him, "We'll keep searching, Thomas. We won't give up until we find her."
AN: Now it's your turn. What do you think will happen next? Where could Emma be?
I will try to upload a new chapter every week, but it might be possible that I can only upload again on August 22nd, as I'm going to a music festival and then will be away on a business trip.