During the late servants' dinner, Emma didn't let anything show. She pretended to be the happiest girl of all time. She joked around with Alfred and proudly showed Mrs. Hughes her needlework.

However the young under-butler noticed the unbelievably large amount of homework. It was no wonder if Emma had to do double the work. His daughter sat at her desk in the bedroom and seemed to never finish her homework. So, Thomas snatched the notebook from under her pen.

"I'm not finished yet!" complained Emma, trying to free the notebook from her father's hands. Thomas held the notebook high in the air, flipping to the very first page: Katherine Prudence Sheppard, Year 3, Downton Village School.

"Is there an explanation why you're doing Katherine Prudence Sheppard's homework?"

"Ruby..." Emma realized, "The stupid cow snitched!"

"Be careful with such remarks. Ruby Harris is a clever girl, and I wouldn't want to see you jeopardize your friendship with her," Thomas cautioned.

Throwing the notebook back onto the desk, he leaned against the dresser. He didn't care that he had creased the notebook. He would have liked a cigarette in his mouth right now, but Emma didn't approve of smoking in the bedroom. But then he could have stubbed the cigarette out in the notebook and left a proper burn mark.

"And I've always believed the same of you," Thomas added, earning an irritated look. "That you're smart, Emma. But what you're doing here is the complete opposite." It hadn't been his intention to insult his own child, so he looked worriedly at his little dwarf's face. Emma stood next to the wooden chair, her gaze shamefully fixed on the floor.

"You mustn't let yourself be pushed around," Thomas said.

"You have no idea. You don't know what it's like..." she whispered barely audibly.

But before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by Thomas, "I know what it feels like. I know what it's like to be shunned, to be kicked, to be the unpopular boy," Thomas listed, "When everyone picks on you as if you were just a puppet. And I can guarantee you one thing: my father would never have helped me."

The thought that her father had similar experiences surprised her. She had never really thought about what his life was like before his time at Downton Abbey.

"But you don't care what people say..." Emma tried again.

"I do care."

"But you always have a clever remark, and I..."

Again, Thomas interrupted his child, "Emma, I certainly don't want you to take after me. You must find your own way in life, but this certainly isn't it," he gestured at Katherine's notebooks, "You're not a victim. You mustn't let yourself become one. You must fight back."

Emma looked up at her father. She knew he was right, but it was so hard for her to stand up against Katherine's tyranny and her friends. She felt torn between the desire to defend herself and the fear of the possible consequences.

"I don't know how..." she began hesitantly, her gaze once again on the floor.

"What does Katherine have against you?"

"Sure, Ruby told you that too," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Ruby couldn't be trusted. She couldn't even keep a single secret for herself.

"Please remember my words about friendship. Don't make the same mistake I did. Good friends are hard to find."

Emma sighed as she plopped down on the bed. Her dad would never let up. Nevertheless, she turned her back to him. She didn't want to talk anymore.

"Let me know if you need my help," and with those words, he left the room.

As he stepped outside, he finally lit the long-awaited cigarette and took a deep inhale. The smoke calmed his nerves a bit as he thought about how best to help his daughter. He knew he couldn't just intervene and solve the situation. He didn't want to upset or embarrass his daughter.

"What actually happened between you and Emma?"

Thomas looked surprised at the back door, where Mr. Bates appeared. Obviously, the older man was about to go home.

"Why is that your concern?" Thomas snapped.

"It's my concern when my wife has to comfort your daughter because she's crying outside our door."

Thomas looked at Bates incredulously. Did Bates know more than he did? Why did his child run to the Bates and cry her heart out to them instead of talking to him? He could comfort just as well — probably even better than a Mr. Bates — so why did his child run to them? And why did Mr. Bates think he had something to do with Emma's emotional outburst?

"It seems you're lost for words, aren't you?" Bates remarked. "You can deceive the others and play the loving, caring father, but I know you're a damn hypocrite."

Thomas felt a stab deep inside him as Bates' words hit him like a slap in the face. "You have no idea what you're talking about," Thomas replied with dangerously calm voice.

Bates snorted contemptuously, "The facts speak for themselves, Mr. Barrow. Your daughter seeks comfort and support from other people, not from you. Maybe you should ask yourself why that is."

Before Thomas could respond, Bates turned away and left the estate. Thomas was left alone, with a whirlwind of emotions inside him. He knew he shouldn't let Bates' words influence him, but they had struck a nerve.

A few days later, Emma and Thomas strolled together through the vast estate of Downton Abbey. Despite it being February, light rays of sunshine seemed to grace their way along the paths.

"Emma, I know you don't want to talk about the school situation, but it won't get better if you stay silent," Thomas cautiously broached the subject.

Emma lowered her gaze and kicked a small pebble in front of her without saying anything.

"I understand it's hard for you," Thomas continued, "But you can tell me everything. Katherine's blackmailing you, isn't she?"

Emma muttered something incomprehensible and continued to stubbornly stare at the ground.

Thomas sighed. "Talk to me, little dwarf. You know you can always talk to me about anything. I'm on your side," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Emma flinched briefly but allowed her father's hand and slowly turned her gaze to him.

"I know, Dad," she replied softly. Thomas felt the pain in his daughter's words and gently squeezed her shoulder.

They continued their walk without another word about the school problems. The fresh air and the peaceful atmosphere of the estate seemed to offer Emma some solace, and she enjoyed the time with her father. He rarely had a free half-day.

They wandered along the estate until they reached the highest point. There, they stopped and enjoyed the wide view over the countryside. In the distance, gentle hills and forests stretched to the horizon.

Thomas put an arm around Emma and pulled her gently towards him. "I'm sorry. I don't want to force you to talk to me," he said softly. "I'm just worried about you."

For a moment, they stood in silence. Eventually, they separated from each other and made their way back.

"Good afternoon," Thomas greeted as they met little Sybbie in the pram, "It's about time for you to come out and walk, little lady," and stroked the child's cheek. Emma watched the interaction closely. Her dad truly had a talent for dealing with children, even if many of the staff saw it differently. She wondered if her dad had been as gentle with her back then. Had he spoken to her so softly? She couldn't remember the time when she was so small.

Emma also peered into the pram. Miss Sybbie had grown quite big already. And it would only be a matter of time before she could play with her in the garden.

"Please don't touch the children. Not without my permission," Nanny West explained.

"What?" Thomas's grin vanished instantly.

"I am responsible for her, and one cannot be too careful."

Emma looked back and forth between the two adults. She didn't like Nanny West at all. She looked like the evil witch from Hansel and Gretel. At least that's how Emma imagined the witch. Harmless old lady at first glance, but with malicious intentions upon closer inspection.

"I would like to remind you that I knew the mother of this little girl. Whereas you probably didn't," Thomas retorted.

"Just because you knew her doesn't mean you were her friend."

"I have to correct you – I was," Thomas grinned.

"You may think you know about raising a child just because you have one yourself. But I can assure you, there's a big difference between conceiving a child and raising one with the right moral values and good manners of our society... well, unfortunately, there's not enough time to argue further. Would you please ask Mrs. Patmore to send up lunch for the children in half an hour?"

"You can do that, or what's stopping you?" Thomas smiled and placed his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I must teach my daughter the proper manners of society," and led his daughter to the back entrance.

"It's a miracle I managed to reach the age of 9 in your care," Emma remarked.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nanny West doesn't have much confidence in your child-rearing skills if she won't even allow you to touch a toddler. Plus, Nanny West says that servants shouldn't be allowed to raise their own children in his lordship's house. Look at what I've become."

"I'm an under-butler," Thomas emphasized.

"Not when I was Sybbie's age."

"Nanny West obviously has no idea who she's dealing with here," Thomas said defiantly. "Besides, I believe I've raised you pretty well," he added.

Emma didn't comment. Her dad had just declared war on Nanny West.

"What's being discussed here?" Thomas asked as he entered the servants' hall with Emma and settled into his favourite rocking chair.

"The job of being a nanny. Daisy was just saying it's a very lonely life," Ivy summed up the conversation.

"I can't judge that, but if you ask me, this Nanny West tends to overestimate herself," Thomas remarked.

"Why? She always seems very nice to me," said Alfred.

"She did try to give me orders, though," Thomas revealed. He consciously didn't mention that Emma and the children were suffering under Nanny West. For that, he would need solid evidence before informing Mr. Carson or his Lordship.

"You mean she mistook you for a servant?" Bates observed.

"But he is a servant," Alfred wondered.

"Don't tell him that. He'd never get over the shock," Bates grinned, causing the present servants to laugh while Thomas remained silent, looking around.

He wouldn't let himself be pushed around by Nanny West. A lesson that Emma urgently needed to learn. Emma. Thomas looked around the amused group once again. The 9-year-old didn't laugh. She hadn't laughed at all lately. Since the day Ruby came and he confronted Emma, she had distanced herself. Not even the quiet walk they had just taken on the estate seemed to help.

One week later, Thomas brought his daughter into the boot room, where the Barrows were alone.

"Alright, little dwarf," he said, "You need to show your very best side. I want you to take the tea up to Nanny West for the little children."

Emma shook her head. "Please, don't make me do it, Dad," she pleaded, "Nanny West hates me!"

"That's why you need to show yourself at your very best and sweetest," he winked, but Emma looked at him with a questioning look. So Thomas translated his request into simple words, "Make her life hell like you did with me when you were five. Remember? Your rebellious phase?"

"I was always good."

"Call it what you want. For my plan, I need a defiant child."

Emma looked at her father with wide eyes. "So, I'm supposed to pretend to be cheeky?" she asked hesitantly.

"Pretend?" Thomas raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "You do know you can be quite cheeky, right? It'll be a piece of cake for you," and glanced briefly at his pocket watch. "Alright," he said, putting the watch back in his pocket, "It's time. Take the tray up."

"Why am I supposed to bring the tea? A housemaid or Ivy usually does that. You said I shouldn't work," Emma began to argue.

"You're doing it well. Very well," Thomas waved off with a smile and handed Emma the tray, "And now go to Nanny West."

Emma followed Thomas's request and carried the tray with the afternoon snack for the children into the nursery. Upon arriving, she was met with Nanny West's steely gaze.

"I specifically said that Miss Sybbie shouldn't have an egg for tea!" she snapped.

She swallowed nervously, trying to maintain the defiant expression on her face that her father had demanded of her. Emma shrugged her shoulders, "That's not my problem," she said challengingly, "I just brought the tray."

"And who told you to bring the tray?"

"My father."

Nanny West skeptically raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly did Thomas tell you?" she asked suspiciously.

"Mister Barrow," Emma corrected. She knew very well that her dad insisted the staff address him as Mister Barrow. "He said I should bring the tray to you. He didn't say I should change anything on it," she said, setting the tray on a table.

Nanny West snorted in frustration. "That doesn't change the fact that Miss Sybbie shouldn't eat an egg."

"But why?" Emma asked curiously, knowing that it would further anger Nanny West.

"That's none of your business, you ill-mannered bastard," Nanny West retorted sharply, "Your only concern is to follow my orders."

"My dad was married," Emma corrected again, shrugging, "And besides, I'm neither a member of the staff nor the Crawley family, nor am I one of the nannies. Which means I don't have to follow your orders at all."

Nanny West snorted in frustration. Her eyes sparkled with anger as she tried to maintain her authority.

"You're a cheeky child," Nanny West continued, "This will have consequences."

Emma felt a surge of adrenaline as she decided to continue. "You can't impose consequences on me," she countered boldly, "Remember? I don't have to follow any orders. I'm just the daughter of the under-butler," and reached for the peeled egg on the tray, "But I can help you solve the problem." She split the egg in half and took a bite.

"It's delicious," Emma grinned with her mouth open, so Nanny West could see every single crumb being chewed.

With the other half of the egg, Emma leaned down to Miss Sybbie. The little girl was sitting locked away in her crib in the middle of the day. Emma doubted that Miss Sybbie was allowed to play outside the crib.

"Would you like an egg, Miss Sybbie?" Emma asked, holding out the second half.

Miss Sybbie beamed with joy as she held the egg in her hands. She giggled with pleasure as she ate the egg. Nanny West glared angrily, but Emma paid no attention to the woman, instead smiling encouragingly at Miss Sybbie. "Enjoy your egg, Miss Sybbie," she encouraged the little girl.

"No, you wicked little cross-breed, that's not allowed," Nanny West tried to intervene, but before she could, Miss Sybbie had already eaten the egg and was happily smacking her lips.

"Great job, Miss Sybbie!" Emma praised, "Did you enjoy it? Should I bring you more tomorrow?"

"That's enough!" Nanny West snapped at her, her voice shrill with anger, "Get out of the nursery!"

"I'm sorry, Nanny West," Emma said with a cheeky grin, "But I couldn't resist bringing a little joy to Miss Sybbie."

Nanny West's face flushed with anger as she heard Emma's challenging words. Her hands clenched into fists, and her eyes sparkled with rage. "How dare you contradict me?"

However, Emma remained calm and composed. She ignored Nanny West's outburst of anger and smiled lovingly at Sybbie. Sybbie smiled back at Emma gratefully and reached out her little arms as if to hug her. Nanny West's anger turned into sheer horror as she saw Miss Sybbie's reaction to Emma.

"Doesn't your nanny let you out? I'll help you, Miss Sybbie," Emma said. She took the toddler in her arms and with all the strength she possessed, lifted Sybbie out of the crib and gently set her down on the floor. Sybbie clung to Emma as if she were the only hope the toddler had.

"Don't be afraid, Miss Sybbie. Some nannies just don't know what children need. She's stupid, she can't help it."

Nanny West couldn't believe that Emma, the daughter of the under-butler, had dared to defy her authority.

"This is outrageous!" Nanny West shouted, her voice hoarse with anger, "You insolent brat! How dare you challenge my authority like this?" She glared at Emma with a mixture of anger and disbelief, unable to believe that the young girl was behaving so defiantly towards her.

However, Emma remained undaunted. "What authority?" she replied coolly, "You certainly don't have any!"

Nanny West stared at Emma in disbelief, unable to respond appropriately to this open challenge. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

Meanwhile, Miss Sybbie had clung tightly to Emma, as if sensing that she had found an ally. Emma smiled reassuringly and gently stroked the little girl's back.

"How dare you speak to me like that?" Nanny West muttered, her voice trembling with anger, "You disrespectful child!"

Emma remained calm and retained her composure. She knew she couldn't ignore Nanny West forever, but at that moment, she relished standing up to the tyrannical woman.

"Come with me," she said to the little girl, "I'll show you the secret biscuit jar in the kitchen."

Emma held Miss Sybbie's hand tightly as they left the nursery. At the door, she turned to Nanny West once again, sticking her tongue out at the woman. She felt a little sorry for Master George. On the other hand, Nanny West treated little George like a prince - he lacked nothing right now.

Emma helped little Sybbie navigate the staircase. This was not easy at all, as Sybbie had never had to walk up stairs before, and Emma had no idea how to assist the toddler. Sybbie couldn't manage the stairs alone at all. So Emma stood a few steps below the toddler, whose tiny legs were spread over two steps. Sybbie was in danger of falling down the stairs. Although Sybbie held Emma's hand tightly, her little legs were unsteady, and she struggled to maintain her balance.

"Well, how did it go?" Thomas asked amusedly when he encountered Emma in the staircase.

"Dad, help me!"

Thomas hurried up the stairs and peered around the corner, where he found Sybbie stuck on the next landing. He quickly ascended the steps and Emma breathed a sigh of relief as her father safely lifted Sybbie into his arms. She had really overextended herself trying to help Miss Sybbie down the stairs.

"That was more challenging than expected," she admitted.

"You were only supposed to carry a tray up, not kidnapping Miss Sybbie from the nursery," Thomas said.

"I was so cheeky that I was afraid to leave Miss Sybbie there."

"So cheeky?" Thomas inquired with amusement, "I can't wait to hear the details," he said before turning his attention to the little girl in his arms. Miss Sybbie whimpered softly.

"It's all right, Miss Sybbie," he spoke gently, stroking the girl's back soothingly, "You're safe with us." Sybbie smiled back and nestled her head against Thomas' shoulder. She did indeed feel safe in his embrace.

"Okay, girls, where were you headed?"

"I want to show Miss Sybbie the secret biscuit jar in the kitchen!"

Emma and Thomas made their way to the kitchen together. Thomas gently holding Sybbie in his arms. The little girl seemed to calm down in his presence, occasionally smiling to herself.

Upon reaching the kitchen, Emma climbed onto the kitchen counter to reach the high cupboard where the secret biscuit jar was hidden. Thomas watched her with fascination. He knew nothing about the hiding spot in the kitchen.

"What's this about?" Mrs. Patmore asked. "You know you're not supposed to climb on the counters!"

"Dad and I are showing Miss Sybbie the secret biscuits, Mrs. Patmore. She doesn't know about the jar yet!"

"Oh, how sweet," Daisy remarked with a smile.

A broad grin spread across Emma's face as she retrieved the jar and proudly presented it. "Look, Miss Sybbie, this is the secret biscuit jar!" Emma exclaimed enthusiastically.

Sybbie seemed fascinated by the jar and reached out her tiny hands towards it, as if to grab a biscuit.

Emma jumped down from the kitchen counter and smiled. "May Miss Sybbie have a biscuit?" she asked the adults. Both Mrs. Patmore and Thomas nodded. And so, Sybbie eagerly took the biscuit and began nibbling on it. A contented smile spread across her face as she enjoyed the treat.

"Does it taste good, Miss Sybbie?" Ivy asked curiously. "Daisy and I baked the biscuits."

The toddler smiled happily.

"Lady Grantham," Thomas addressed, capturing the woman's attention, "Could I have a moment of your time, please?" They stood in the grand hall. In a few minutes, the Crawleys' dinner would be served, and Thomas could no longer keep the information about Nanny West to himself. Emma had given him a detailed account of her visit to the nursery.

"What is it, Barrow?"

"Something that's been troubling me, My Lady, and I can't keep it to myself any longer."

"Why? What happened?" she asked, concerned.

"It's about Nanny West. I have a suspicion that she may not be properly caring for the children."

"What? You mean she's neglecting them?"

"I wouldn't have mentioned it if it weren't for the fact that a toddler and a baby might be at risk."

Lady Grantham approached the underbutler. "At risk?"

"It's just a feeling, My Lady. But I wouldn't entrust Nanny West with my own child."