"No," Emma said quietly, as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Stay away from me," she pleaded. Her eyes remained tightly shut. Emma wondered whether she should start screaming, kicking, and hitting. They were alone in the stairwell; the servants were in the servants' hall. From up here, they wouldn't hear her at all.
"Keep your hands off, you disgusting bastard!" growled a familiar voice. Emma blinked through her tears, barely able to see clearly, but she could make out Mr. Bates grabbing Mr. Green by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the opposite wall.
"You're despicable," he snarled, promptly driving his fist into the face of Lord Gillingham's footman. "You don't lay a hand on a child!" he hissed, pressing the man further against the wall, a threatening finger pointed at him. "Let me tell you this: if you come anywhere near my wife or Emma again, smile at them, or look at them the wrong way, I'll make mincemeat out of you! You'll wish you had never set foot in Downton."
Reluctantly, Mr. Bates released the man. Mr. Green straightened his shirt, cast one last glance at Emma, then at Mr. Bates, before silently going down the stairs. Emma stood there like a statue, unable to grasp what had just happened. Fear and confusion were reflected in her tear-streaked eyes.
"Emma," Bates said gently, approaching her cautiously. "Are you alright?" He placed his hand gently on her shoulder. Emma flinched and looked up at Mr. Bates for the first time. Overwhelmed, she shrugged her shoulders, unable to put her feelings into words. Mr. Green had come so close to hurting her.
Bates glanced at his pocket watch. It was late in the evening, a time when the girl would normally already be in bed. "I'll take you to your room," he said, trying to sound reassuring. Emma nodded silently and let Bates guide her.
Emma entered her room quietly, while Bates remained in the doorway. He felt distinctly uncomfortable standing in the ladies' quarters at such a late hour. He looked at the girl for a moment. Emma didn't know what to do and looked around her room in distress. She didn't want to be alone tonight. Suddenly, tears sprang to her eyes once more. How she longed to hug her dad. What if Mr. Green came after her again?
"Mister Bates," the girl said softly. It was as if the man understood what she was trying to say, as he cleared his throat, "Pack your things. You can stay with us in the cottage."
"Are you sure? Why would you do that for me?" Emma asked, puzzled. "You and Dad aren't friends."
"We can't choose our parents," Bates replied. "Just because I'm not friends with Thomas doesn't mean we can't be friends," he added, taking a deep breath. "I couldn't leave you here with a clear conscience. Not while Mr. Green is visiting."
"He wanted to hurt me," Emma said. Bates only nodded silently as Emma continued, "And he would have if you hadn't come." Emma paused briefly, then said, "Thank you, Mister Bates!" and wrapped her arms around the footman. Surprised by the child's gesture, he accepted the embrace gratefully.
Emma quickly packed a few of her belongings and followed Mr. Bates out of the house and to the cottage. The night was quiet, and the moonlight cast long shadows on the path. Emma felt safer with Mr. Bates nearby, though the fear still gnawed at her.
Upon arriving at the cottage, Anna was in the living room, waiting for her husband. She looked up in surprise as Emma entered.
"Emma will be staying with us for a while," Bates said briefly.
"Why? Did something happen?" Anna asked, visibly trying to understand why Emma had decided to stay with them and why she had specifically asked her husband. Emma had developed a certain aversion to John Bates, influenced by Thomas.
"I just wanted to sleep somewhere else," Emma said with a shrug. "It's summer, and Dad's not here."
Anna immediately understood. She grasped the reason Emma had fled from the Abbey, from her home. The girl didn't want to be near the man who threatened her life, and Anna could completely empathise.
Anna prepared the guest room. As they put on fresh sheets and fluffed the pillows together, there was a comfortable silence. Anna didn't want to press Emma but knew the girl might want to talk.
"Have you told anyone about what happened?" Anna asked hesitantly.
Emma shook her head. "No, no one."
"Really no one? Not even Thomas? I know you tell Thomas a lot..." Anna started nervously, but Emma cut her off with another shake of her head. "Dad doesn't know. I haven't told anyone."
"Good," Anna nodded. "I know it must be difficult, but it's important that no one finds out what happened. Not even Mr. Bates."
Emma swallowed hard but nodded reluctantly. She hoped Mr. Bates wouldn't connect the incident with Anna's recent behaviour and actions during Mr. Green's last visit.
Once the bed was made, Anna took Emma's hand and led her back to the living room, where Mister Bates was waiting. They spent a while there together, drinking hot chocolate and talking about the summer holidays, the reading competition, and all the things Anna had missed from Emma's life over the past few weeks, as she had been so focused on herself due to the incident with Mr. Green.
"So, tell me, Emma," Anna began with a smile, "how have your summer holidays been so far?"
Emma took a small sip of her hot chocolate and settled back comfortably. Here at the Bates cottage, she felt safe and secure. "The holidays have been the best thing the school has ever invented," she said, unable to hide a satisfied smile. "I spend so much time outside. Mostly, I'm at Ruby's on the Harris Farm or in the woods with her and Simon."
Anna nodded and Mister Bates said: "That sounds like a lot of fun. What have you been up to?"
"Oh, all sorts of things!" Emma replied enthusiastically. "We've had picnics in the woods, built hideouts, and walked for hours through the fields. Ruby and Simon are just the best friends anyone could have."
Anna smiled at the thought of the carefree joy Emma described. "That sounds like a wonderful holiday. And what about the reading competition? Are you excited?"
Emma made a face and stirred her cup. "A bit," she admitted. "I'm looking forward to it, but I'm also nervous. It's the first time I'll be reading in front of so many people. What if I make a mistake?"
Anna placed a comforting hand on Emma's shoulder. "That happens to everyone, and it's perfectly alright. It just shows that you're putting in the effort and that the competition means a lot to you. But you know what? You've read and practiced so much, I'm sure you'll do great. And remember: it's not about being perfect, but about having fun and sharing your love of reading with others."
Emma looked at Anna gratefully. "I hope you're right. Ruby and Simon have also helped me prepare. We've practiced together, and they've given me tips on how to emphasise better," Emma sighed softly, "It's just a shame Dad probably won't be able to make it. I would have loved to practice with him. He's the best reader ever."
Anna, who had been sipping her own hot chocolate, raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Thomas? A good reader?" Mister Bates asked, almost incredulous. Meanwhile Anna tried to imagine the enigmatic and distant Thomas Barrow reading to an attentive Emma with a gentle voice. It was hard to reconcile that image with the man she knew from years of service.
Emma, however, nodded eagerly, her eyes lighting up as she spoke about her father. "Oh yes, he's the best!" she said emphatically. "He gives the characters different voices, even makes noises when it fits, and sometimes he tells the story in such a way that I can hardly stop laughing."
Anna couldn't suppress a small smile, even though she still found it hard to imagine. "That's lovely, Emma," she said softly. "I never thought Thomas could be such a good reader."
Emma, all animated with excitement, continued, "William and Lady Sybil were also great readers. Lady Sybil made the stories come alive. Tom read, and Lady Sybil and I would romp around the room according to the story! But Dad is unbeatable at reading. Once, I was sick and..."
Flashback October1917
It was a cold autumn day, and thick raindrops pattered against the window. Five-year-old Emma lay under a heavy blanket in her bed, her face pale and her forehead hot with fever. She felt exhausted and miserable, each breath a struggle, and the world around her seemed to dissolve into a fog of fatigue and discomfort.
Emma had been ill for days, too tired to run around and play. Each day, Mrs. Hughes and Anna visited the little girl, while her father, though he came to say goodnight, avoided spending time with her during the day. But today was different. As the door opened that afternoon and her father entered the room, it felt as if they were still strangers despite having been together again for half a year. Thomas wanted to be there for his daughter, but bridging the gap created by years of absence proved challenging.
"How are you feeling, little dwarf?" Thomas asked as he approached the bed. His voice sounded uncertain, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if his presence was even welcome. Emma blinked up at him wearily and said nothing. She felt too weak to respond.
Thomas waved a book in his hand, one he had taken from the Abbey's library. "The last time you were this sick, I read you stories, and I thought you might like to hear one now," he said gently, sitting on the edge her bed. Emma looked at him silently, her eyes large and feverish. She nodded faintly, more out of curiosity than genuine interest. Her father had kept her at a distance in recent days, if not weeks, and their time together had been sporadic.
Thomas opened the book and began reading. His voice was initially calm and monotone, as if he were simply reading the text. Emma rolled her eyes. The story was dull. She was pretty sure Tom or William would have picked a better book.
But as Thomas delved deeper into the story, he began to immerse himself in the characters. Unknowingly, he started giving the characters different voices—the brave knight spoke with a deep, resolute tone, while the frightened princess spoke in a high, trembling voice. The evil dragon holding the princess captive had a smoky, menacing voice, which Thomas mimicked so convincingly that Emma held her breath involuntarily.
Emma, who had initially listened with boredom and indifference, began to sit up slowly. Her father's ability to bring the story to life captivated her. She hadn't expected him to be so good at animating the different characters. Especially the part where the dragon tried to breathe fire made her pay attention. Thomas made a strange puffing noise with his lips that sounded so funny that Emma had to giggle, even though she still felt quite unwell.
Thomas noticed her laughter and felt a warm sensation in his chest. "You find that funny, huh?" he said with amusement, continuing to read with even more enthusiasm. Emma listened attentively, her large eyes fixed on her father.
When the story ended and the knight had rescued the princess, Emma leaned back and snuggled deeper into her blanket. Her eyes were heavy, but for the first time in days, she felt a bit better. "One more," she murmured, and Thomas couldn't suppress a smile.
"Later," he said softly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. "I have to get back to work."
"You're always working," she complained.
"I know," Thomas swallowed hard and began to rise, when Emma suddenly reached out her small hand and gently grabbed his sleeve. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the longing and need to be close to him were palpable. "Daddy?"
Thomas stopped and turned slowly. His heart raced at the gentle tone of his daughter's voice. "Yes, Emma?"
"Please stay?" she asked shyly. "Maybe just a little while, until I fall asleep?"
He nodded gently and sat back on the edge of the bed. "Of course."
Without much thought, she stretched out her little arms and pulled him into a warm hug before closing her eyes. The warmth and security she felt in that moment helped her forget the pain and discomfort a little. Thomas stroked her hair soothingly and listened to the steady rhythm of his daughter's breathing, which gradually became deeper and more peaceful. With one last look at the peacefully sleeping child, Thomas stood up, quietly withdrew, and left the door ajar.
End of flashback
The Bates listened intently as Emma spoke about the storytelling sessions with Thomas, William, and Lady Sybil. It was clear how much these moments meant to Emma and how deeply she admired her father. For the Bates, it was a surprising image of Thomas—not the cynical and often cold under-butler they knew, but a loving father who supported and nurtured his daughter.
"I'm sure he will be very proud of you, whether you win the reading competition or not," Anna said reassuringly.
Emma nodded, but her eyes grew a little sad. "I hope he can make it. It would mean so much to me if he were there."
Anna gently squeezed Emma's hand and gave her an encouraging smile. They sat together for a while longer, sharing stories and enjoying the cozy atmosphere.