AN: Thank you very much for all your comments. They motivate me to keep writing.

Thomas may seem angry and bitter towards the downstairs staff, but he really is trying his best to be a good father to Emma. Sometimes he can lose control and become loud even with Emma (like the scene where Emma didn't understand why it was better for her not to be in the car). Thomas is trying to be a good father. Many of the servants have a too negative image of Thomas and only see his good deeds much later. If you were to ask Mr. Bates, he would find 100 good reasons why Thomas is NOT a good father. It's also important to remember that Thomas is a young father.

I hope you enjoy reading. We have now reached November 1921. Emma has overcome the loss of Mr. Matthew. A new routine has settled in at Downton Abbey.


Emma lowered her gaze to the ground in the hope that she wouldn't be recognized as she walked through the village. But luck was not on her side. Katherine, accompanied by her followers Beatrice and Harriet, approached her. Arthur was with them too.

"Well, Emma, still in your old rags?" mocked Katherine. "I wonder if you and your father even have enough money to afford a single meal, considering you live off the Crawleys' leftovers."

"Not only that, Emma also shares a bedroom with her father," Arthur revealed.

"Ew," Katherine said disgustedly.

Emma felt anger building up inside her as Katherine and her followers mocked her once again. But when Arthur disclosed the information about her sharing a room with her father, she felt even more humiliated.

"What's so bad about that?" Emma asked.

"Well, it's a bit strange, isn't it?" Katherine interjected, turning to Emma with a smug smile. "A girl your age should have her own room, shouldn't she? But I forgot, you're poor."

The words hit Emma like a slap in the face. She had never thought there was anything strange or embarrassing about her living arrangement. But the way Katherine presented it suddenly made her feel terribly uncomfortable.

"You're just jealous because I have a better relationship with my father than you do," Emma retorted, her voice trembling.

"What should I be jealous of? Having a servant as a father?"

"Stop it, Katherine, or Emma will cry," grinned Harriet, while Beatrice snatched the book from Emma's hands.

"Oh, you haven't heard the best part yet," Arthur said, "Emma's father calls her 'little dwarf'," he revealed with a malicious grin.

"How sweet," commented Katherine as simultaneously a voice behind them spoke up, "Is there a problem?"

Emma looked behind her and recognized Alfred. The giant servant had positioned himself in front of the children by now. Alfred's appearance brought a moment of silence. His imposing figure and stern expression made even Katherine and her followers pause. Emma felt a hint of relief as she saw Alfred.

"I asked if there's a problem," Alfred said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Katherine tried to maintain her composure, though Emma noticed a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. "Nothing," she replied with forced casualness. "We were just chatting."

Alfred scrutinised the group skeptically before his gaze fell on Emma, who stood next to Arthur, with a hurt expression on her face. "Doesn't seem like it was a pleasant conversation," he observed, then turned his gaze to Beatrice, "I think you should return the book."

Beatrice glared angrily at Alfred but seemed unwilling to challenge him. "It just fell," she hissed, handing the book back to Emma. Katherine and her followers finally turned and walked away, casting disdainful glances over their shoulders.


Alfred turned to Emma. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

Emma nodded, though she still felt hurt. "Yes, thank you, Alfred," she replied quietly.

Arthur placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Let's go back together," he suggested. Emma nodded again.

"Does this happen often?" Alfred asked curiously. When Emma didn't respond to his question, he had his answer. "Does Mr. Barrow know about this?"

"No!" Emma looked at him with widened eyes. "You must never tell Dad!"

"Why not? Mr. Barrow cares about you. He can help you."

"That's why," Emma said, "Dad is already worried enough. I don't want him to worry even more."


As she entered the servants' hall, she found her father there, engrossed in his work. He looked up when he heard her come in, and his face lit up when he saw her.

"There you are," he said with a warm smile. "How was school today?"

Emma forced herself to smile, though she felt like crying. "Fine," she replied curtly.

Thomas Barrow looked at her with concern. "Is everything alright, little dwarf? You seem a bit down."

Emma hesitated for a moment before answering. She wasn't sure if she should tell her father about the cruel comments from her classmate. How could she explain to him that she felt humiliated because of her modest circumstances and his affectionate nickname?

"I'm just tired," Emma lied, "School was quite exhausting."

Thomas watched her skeptically for a moment but then seemed to decide not to press further. Instead, he produced a new cigarette from his pack and lit it up, "Okay," he said gently after exhaling the smoke and opened the newspaper.


Emma inwardly sighed and sat down at the table to do her homework. Leaning her head on one hand, she scribbled in her notebook with the other hand. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Katherine and her friends' meanness.

"In a bad mood?" O'Brien asked amusedly as she joined them at the table. Normally, Emma would pay no attention to the maid, but today her irritability was exceptionally high.

"Oh, shut up, old witch" Emma snapped back. She was irritated, angry, upset, sad, and humiliated all at once. Thomas peeked out from behind the newspaper. He quietly observed the scene from across the table. They were not alone at the table. Alfred and Jimmy were making use of the quiet afternoon by playing cards, Mrs. Hughes and Anna were doing some sewing, while Mr. Bates sat in the corner reading a book.

O'Brien raised her eyebrows in surprise at Emma's unusually sharp response, but she wasn't deterred. "Looks like someone's having a rough day," she remarked with a mocking smile. "Got a bad grade?"

"Aunt Sarah," Alfred interjected, "Leave her alone." This, in turn, caught Thomas's attention.

Emma pressed her lips together to refrain from becoming more offensive. She knew O'Brien liked to stir up trouble and enjoyed provoking others.

"One can still inquire politely about the source of the bad mood," O'Brien defended herself.

"That can be done more politely," Alfred remarked.


Emma had no desire to linger in the servants' hall any longer and began to pack up her things, trying to stuff the books into her backpack, but it suddenly seemed too small for all her belongings. Suddenly, she saw larger hands – Alfred's – taking the books that no longer fit into the backpack and silently following her lead upstairs.

"What's going on there?" Jimmy asked the question aloud, echoing the thoughts of O'Brien and Thomas.

"They both came from the village together," Ivy revealed as she collected the dishes.

"Interesting," Thomas muttered and set the newspaper aside altogether. A faint sense of concern crept over Thomas. The idea that his own child confided in Alfred made him pensive.


Alfred returned to the servants' hall quickly.

"What's going on between you and Emma?" Jimmy asked curiously.

"Nothing," Alfred replied, "She has forgiven me and offered her friendship."

"Why not me?" Jimmy pressed. Since making amends with Mr. Barrow, he had been desperately trying to ingratiate himself with the child. Emma still regarded him with skeptical looks, as if she didn't trust him or even blamed him for her father's injuries. But children love Jimmy. That's just how it is. All children love him, don't they? Especially the ladies and girls, yet Emma continued to give him the cold shoulder.

"You'll have to ask her that," shrugged Alfred.

"That's not fair," Jimmy hissed softly, so only Alfred could hear him, "You were the one who called the police. She should be more angry with you than with me."

"But Mr. Barrow wasn't hurt because of me," countered Alfred.

"That was completely different," Jimmy retorted, feeling offended.


Meanwhile, Thomas stood at the threshold of their bedroom. "May I come in?" he asked.

"It's your room. I can't stop you anyway," Emma replied.

"Our room," he corrected her, watching as Emma gathered her things.

"You're not planning to run away, are you?" he chuckled amusedly.

"I'm moving in with Anna."

"You're not moving in with Mr. Bates! Absolutely not," Thomas exclaimed indignantly. "Why do you want to move out anyway?"

Emma stopped and pondered. It was all Arthur's fault. Why did he have to tell those details about her life to that stupid girl?

"Boys are stupid," Emma concluded.

"That's certainly a problem," Thomas remarked. "If you don't want to stay here and can't go to the Bates', where exactly do you plan to sleep tonight?"

"Daisy's."

"Daisy and Ivy will surely be happy to share their small room with a third person," Thomas speculated.

"You wonder why I hate boys? You're proof that boys are not exactly helpful," Emma retorted irritably.

Thomas sighed and stepped closer into the room as Emma continued to pack her things. "Not all boys are the same. I mean, I'm one too, but you don't really hate me, do you?"

Emma paused, her eyes drifting thoughtfully to her father. "Of course I don't hate you, Dad," she finally replied softly. "But you're not a typical boy. You're my dad."

Thomas smiled weakly. "Thank you, I suppose." A brief silence followed before he continued, "Which boy are we talking about?" he asked curiously.


Emma flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "The most popular boy in the class," she sighed. Arthur Sinclair – the son of a future Viscount. He had green eyes, light brown hair, and a charming smile.

"Then Simon is out of the question," speculated Thomas, and Emma looked at him puzzled. Although Simon was one of her closest friends, he certainly didn't possess the confident aura like Arthur.

"Dad, don't be mad, but you're the last person I want to talk to about boys," Emma said.

"Does that mean you're in love with someone?" Thomas chuckled teasingly.

"Dad! I'm nine years old!" Emma exclaimed indignantly. "Boys are childish, gross, and stupid!"

Thomas raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Okay, okay, I get it. No boys," he grinned amusedly. "Can you at least tell me if I know the boy? Is he cute?"

"Daaaad!" Emma cried out in embarrassment and threw her pillow in his direction. Thomas laughed as the pillow hit him and picked it up to playfully toss it back.

"Am I really that embarrassing?" Thomas jokingly asked. "You know, as a responsible father, I have to meet every boyfried first. Otherwise you are not allowed to meet him."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Then I'll never find a boyfriend if he has to survive you."

"Admittedly, it will be very difficult for you," Thomas agreed.

Emma sighed again and fell back onto the mattress, burying her face in her hands. "Why is it so hard to understand boys?" she muttered more to herself than to Thomas.

"Boys are just as confusing as girls, believe me."

"I'm not confusing."

"Are you sure?" Thomas doubted and sat down on Emma's bed.

Emma groaned, feeling frustrated with the conversation. "I doubt you should be talking to me about boys as a father when I'm only nine years old."

"I apologize for that. Let's talk about something more suitable for your age… so whats going on between you and Alfred?" he asked curious.

"Why can't you be a normal dad?"

"Well, where's the fun in that?" Thomas chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Emma couldn't help but smile at her father's response.

"Dad?" she asked, lightly biting her lip, "You'd grant me any wish, wouldn't you?"

Thomas nodded hesitantly, "Yeah."

"I wish for my own room," she voiced her desire. Thomas was on the verge of giving a playful response when he realized the seriousness in Emma's tone.

"Don't get me wrong, Dad. I like our room, but I'm not a toddler anymore."

"I know," Thomas replied, "Give me a bit of time, and I'll try to grant your wish, alright?"

Emma smiled and hugged her Dad.


Thomas knew it wouldn't be easy to convince Mr. Carson of the idea. He waited for the perfect moment, a day when Mr. Carson didn't dislike him too much and was in a good mood, knowing that he would do anything to fulfil his daughter's wish.

"Mr. Carson, do you have a moment?" Thomas asked as he entered Carson's office. Carson nodded.

"I'd like to talk to you about Emma Grace," Thomas said. He deliberately used Emma's middle name, knowing that Carson placed a lot of value on it. "You see, she is turning ten soon, and she needs space – her own space – if you catch my drift."

"No, I don't," Carson replied gruffly.

"The times have changed at Downton, and there's an empty room in the ladies' quarters since Anna moved out, so I was wondering if it would be possible to give Emma Grace her own room?"

"Then I assume Emma Grace will start working as a housemaid from now on? Isn't she a bit too young for that? Most housemaids start at 12 years old or older," Carson remarked.

"Emma won't be working," Thomas emphasised. "She's supposed to stay in school for as long as possible."

"Then she'll never get her own room, Mr. Barrow. You know the rules. Working is required for one's own room," the butler replied strictly.

"We're talking about Emma, Mr. Carson."

"I don't make exceptions. Rules are rules."


AN: One thing I can assure you of: Thomas won't give up easily and will do everything in his power to make Emma's wish come true.