Well, this chapter has no editing. But hopefully, it's not too bad.
A puff of smoke surrounding them, Thomas and O'Brien huddled outside in the courtyard before breakfast. Their little breaks, even the ones taken before the day had truly begun, were a sacred practice that very few had the privilege to join in. They knew Mr Bates smoked- a pipe and surely he could be enticed to smoke a cigarette?- but they hardly enjoyed his company. It was a filthy habit suited for wicked people and so they were content to share each other's company so long as it was accompanied with gossip.
"I can't see why she's so determined. It'd be far less work for me if Anna were to step in." O'Brien takes a drag of her cigarette, quickly and exhales sharply. Here's where she and Thomas differed in their hobby, he saw it as a means to pass time, she saw it as a sport. He took long drags, cherished the feel of the nicotine relieving his nerves. She could smoke four while he was still on his first.
"Why'd you speak in front of Carson then?"
"Because the weathered scarecrow might find it within her soul to replace me instead."
Thomas shrugged, tapping his cigarette against the wall, flicking away the ash growing at the end. "You mean like Carson did to me."
"Yes. I'm not going down without a fight, though I hardly think her ladyship would want to get rid of me."
"Sure of yourself, are you?"
"There's loyalty-"
"So you keep saying but I wonder if the time has come for us to take matters into our own hands rather than allow these polished antiques that rule over us dictate whether we get sacked or not."
O'Brien smirks, "Carson's done something to you this morning?"
"William needs to learn not to be coddled and Mr Bates' limp has lost my sympathy. Carson has gone far too soft. I saw the white rage if I couldn't set up a table properly in my early days, and William gets a gentle humbling."
"Mr Carson was always fairer than Mrs Wolfe."
"Perhaps she'd be useful in this circumstance." Thomas quietens for a moment, pensive.
If there's one thing he could never understand at the house, it would be the housekeeper. He'd arrived too late in the story, joining Downton as a footman in 1905, to know why she was so vicious towards the Carsons. She had very little composure to boast really from the moment he met her, but she appreciated the attention a job well done conjured from the butler. Back then he thought it was because she had little experience, now he believes it's simply her character. The disdain was contagious however, he recalls a hallboy being sacked for repeating something the woman said about Mrs Carson. What was it she had said? That her predecessor was a "black hole of need"? The poor boy had no clue what she meant when he said it to one of the scullery maids, in the end it cost him more than he could have ever imagined. Since then, Thomas, in his kinder moments, always took it upon himself to pull the new hires aside, little lads like he had been who were keen on making a pretty penny and only wanted a dry place to sleep, and warn them against this transgression for there were many ways that Mrs Wolfe insulted her enemies but with Mrs Carson, she always used her words to serve as lessons for her maids. Lessons on how to not to have an "infinite appetite with a limited soul" or a "ladder-climbing harlot".
Along the years he'd heard bits and pieces, particularly from the maids, about what happened. Those who had been there for years and even worked under the then Mrs Hughes had very little to say against her but he knew that there had been quite a flurry of activity when she hastily left in 1899. While Anna liked to spin what happened in a much happier and romantic light than according to what she had heard, he knew that much of what she claimed to know for certain was actually untrue since the only people who knew what transpired were Mrs Patmore, Mr and Mrs Carson and a handful of people in a village in Scotland, he supposes. His contribution of rumour to the mill is always embedded in simple mathematics; Alison Carson was born in July of 1900. So how then, did the Carsons celebrate their wedding anniversary very early on in the year?
Ms O'Brien moves to light another cigarette, having put out her last one. They usually stayed until she smoked three, so this one would be her last. "What plan do you have brewing?"
It wasn't often that she trusted Thomas to take the lead, viewing him as inexperienced and arrogant without justification. His ego ran too fast, and he tripped over himself to catch up, more times than not in front of Mr Carson, earning him a mighty scolding. Mrs Wolfe terribly enjoyed teasing him, pushing the boundaries was second nature to her but there was something terribly unnerving about the woman. Her lack of taking responsibility for her actions, purposefully making mistakes only for an underling to pay. O'Brien was most certainly not a stickler for following the rules but she enjoyed a good power hierarchy and the housekeeper was being too impetuous for her taste.
"Say we involved her in our scheming, just this once. I daresay we could get two birds in one stone."
O'Brien steals a match from him, hers being slightly too damp due to the weather. She would rather not deal with Mrs Wolfe for the foreseeable future but wasn't that what Thomas was hoping to guarantee? A short while of suffering for a large pay off.
She strikes the match, lifting it to her cigarette and inhales deeply. "It never hurts to try now, does it."
—
They both close the back door gently behind them, about to continue their discussion before choosing to stay silent. They weren't alone downstairs.
"Anna?" Mr Bates stops her on the stairs. Her arms are full of linens to be taken upstairs, she can hardly see over the top of them but she recognises his voice and tries to hide a smile.
"Yes, Mr Bates?"
"I wanted to ask if perhaps you could spare a moment later-" He'd overheard a conversation between Mr Carson and Lady Mary earlier. He'd never seen the woman so stern with her favourite staff member, but he could understand why she was so. It was the repeated mention of Anna's name that made him stop and listen, only for him to discover that there'd been a theft. In which room he couldn't be sure, only that he had to tell her before she was confronted about it.
She interrupts him, carefully checking that there is no one paying them any mind, "Only if it's very urgent. I have to mend some dresses, and Mrs Wolfe wants me to clean some of the rooms in anticipation of the guests."
"But that's well over a week away, surely there's no hurry?" For a second, he wonders if he's asked a stupid question or if he perhaps doesn't understand the running of the house well enough to know their routines. What reassures him is that the management of the female staff always seemed excessive, a step too far at all times with little room to breathe. He is certain it will snap from the tension, that there will be an uproar soon.
Anna bites the inside of her cheek. She knows that the housekeeper is being unreasonable, unkind even at times but she stood in the way of the promotion she wanted. Mr Carson made that much clear after breakfast. She's awfully grateful he told her- she was almost going to have it out with the housekeeper. Now she knows it needs to be handled more tactfully, and that she has an ally who is already aware of what the situation was. He wasn't likely to intervene, no, but if it got out of hand, he would speak to her ladyship before Mrs Wolfe could spell the word 'sorry'.
"I'm a housemaid, Mr Bates and clean I must." There's a hint of resignation in her voice. He's about to speak again when Mr Barrow interrupts them and walks past him, keen to head upstairs. The footman isn't careful, rarely is, and knocks his cane over as he heads upstairs, almost sending Mr Bates to the floor. Anna catches him, linens falling around them but she doesn't mind. It's only a bit of folding, she thinks.
She shares a smile with Mr Bates, hers is to ease the annoyance, his is a thank you. She wonders if he'd like to go to the fair with them, debates it in her head whether or not to ask him later. He was much older than her, likely preferred a quiet night in to the loudness of a village event but she'd like to try. To include him in this little world of theirs and make him less of an outcast and more of the friend she saw him to be.
"I'd be careful Anna," Ms O'Brien says, stepping on one of the sheets as she follows Thomas. She digs her heel in, almost as one would on a carpet by the entrance door, leaving a clear mark on it. "If Mrs Wolfe sees this mess, she'll have you scrub all of them, one by one, by yourself."
"But Mrs Wolfe isn't here, Ms O'Brien." Anna manages a glare towards her, helping Mr Bates to stand before hastily picking up all the linens.
The lady's maid steps on another one, the very one that Anna was about to add to her pile. The maid is hovering below her, maintaining eye contact and waiting for her to move, but she doesn't. Anna thinks that O'Brien would revel in joy if she were to tug on the fabric, make her slip. Except she's not made of such venom, isn't capable of causing harm, not even to a fly. Instead O'Brien sneers, the moment stretching too far without any reaction, "It would be a shame for her to find out all the same."
O'Brien climbs the remainder of the steps, leaving Anna and Mr Bates at the bottom of the stairs. Anna moved to leave- to the laundry, upstairs, she simply wished to flee.
"Are you alright?" Mr Bates calls out behind her, clutching the railings. He'd only been at Downton for a few weeks and yet, he'd found a friend and confidante in Anna. A sweet soul who he wished would let him in, let him understand. Still, she kept many secrets from him and he wouldn't push her, not when he hid an important secret which should be easily given away with one look at his hand- his wife would drive her away, especially if Anna didn't know the whole story. Surely then, she would understand that this need to protect and see her smile was not the loathing he felt towards the woman who he had no want to ever see again.
"Much to do, Mr Bates, as always," She said, a bitter chuckle rising in her throat, her tone slightly flustered. She continued down the corridor, determined in her path.
"But-"
"Later?" She turns finally, meets his eyes. He nods, and guilt rushes briefly over him before he feels the exasperation that tended to bubble up inside him after an encounter with Ms O'Brien or Thomas. Later, he tells himself, later.
