A gentle tap at the door lifted Thomas' attention away from his work.
"You're still working?" Richard said, entering and closing the office door behind him in a manner of calm and efficiency.
Thomas put down his pen. "Just a few things that had to be sorted before tomorrow: a few bills for orders from the kitchen that had to be signed off, a couple of letters for upstairs arrangements ... that sort of thing. Daniel will be around tomorrow to collect the payment for the order from the butcher tomorrow. I offered to send someone down to the shop, but he insisted."
"Naturally." Richard leaned back against the door, hands deep in his trouser pockets, a mirthful smile tugging at his lips. "If I were him, I'd do the same."
At first, Thomas didn't quite follow. "But you've not—Oh, Stephen." Thomas rolled his eyes. Of course, Daniel would take every opportunity to see Stephen, even if it meant taking unnecessary errands. Richard did the same ... all the time, because he loved him. Wasn't that just perfect? "You had no excuse of having errands to run, I take it?"
Richard shrugged, pushed himself off the door, and sauntered towards him. Everything he did seemed so easy, so tidy. "I could conjure one up if asked, but no, only the truth that I had to walk you home."
"Ain't I capable?" Thomas asked, filing away the papers and locking the draw. "I'm not so delicate."
"No, but the simple fact is, Mr Barrow," Richard began, leaning with both hands on the desk so their faces were a few inches apart, "it is dark outside and I relish the chances to hold your hand as we walk." He brushed a stray strand of Thomas's hair from his forehead that had become ruffled after a long working day, and traced down the side of his face eye contact never breaking, Thomas's heart never calming, until he reached his chin where he titled Thomas up with the lightest of touches.
"I'd like that," Thomas said, feeling Richard's finger move under his chin as he spoke.
"Only sensible to take the opportunity whilst we can. Summer evenings make that difficult."
"Don't they just?" Thomas agreed. Richard hummed in response and finally allowed their lips to meet. Unrushed and almost chaste was their kiss at first until Thomas pushed back his chair and stood. Fingers found a resting grip on Richard's arm as their kisses deepened – still slow, warm and inviting. It wasn't the most comfortable position, kissing over a table, and Thomas's other hand – the scarred one – ached with effort. Thomas didn't want to end the moment on account of his old war injury so persevered, though he must have winced for Richard, placed his hand over Thomas's. Richard's warmth, accompanied by the right amount of pressure, eased Thomas' discomfort before he adjusted their position, Richard taking most of the weight on himself.
Only a tentative knock on the door broke their moment.
"Mr Barrow?" Phyllis called out. Thomas knew it was her own way of making sure she wasn't about to interrupt something she shouldn't.
"Come in," Thomas answered, quickly skirting around the desk to stand on the same side as Richard, who was making a deliberate fuss about shaking out Thomas' coat.
"Phyllis, what can I do for—" Phyllis was not alone. From behind her emerged William, his nephew, he met at the funeral.
"I'm sorry, Mr Barrow, this isn't the right moment, but this young lad says you're his uncle and that you met at your father's funeral. I couldn't turn him away. It's late, and he seems very keen to see you."
For a moment, Thomas couldn't work out why Phyllis didn't know William until he remembered he'd only told Richard about him and that Phyllis, like him, hadn't been back home in a long while, either. If she'd ever seen William before, he would have been a lot younger. Thomas couldn't form the right words and judging by the look of concern Richard shot him, his emotions were awry, too.
"Thomas," Richard said, adding a polite cough.
"William? What are you doing? I thought we agreed—Did you come all this way alone, by yourself?"
"Alone. By myself – Don't they mean the same thing, uncle?"
Richard smirked.
"Well, did you?"
"Do you see anyone else?" William asked with a defiant shrug.
Phyllis gave Thomas a look at William's shoulder, seeming to ask him if he needed help.
"I'll sort this Miss Baxter. You can go. It's been a long day."
After Phyllis left the three of them, Thomas invited William inside, his mind a turmoil of questions. "I take it your mother doesn't know you're here?"
"No. I'm fed up with them. They've not answered a single one of my questions straight. They won't tell me anything about you."
"We agreed—"
"I asked nothing about what you told me about you, and they did not know we even spoke – just like I promised. I just wanted to know ordinary things, you know, like what your favourite meal was, how you did at school. They wouldn't even answer my boring questions, the sort you ask about anyone you've barely known."
Thomas felt guilty for assuming William had broken his word and sympathetic toward a boy trying to get to know a person erased from his life until now. "I want to know you too, William, but it's a difficult situation. A lot is at stake for me and ... others." He fought the urge to look round at Richard. "You need to get on the next train home, but I could write?"
"My parents would find the letters," William said, "and the last train of the day would have left by now," he added with a hint of smugness that made Thomas see their resemblance even more.
"Thomas, it would be wise for William to stay tonight, then we can figure out what to do in the morning," Richard said, touching his arm.
"Who are you?" William asked Richard.
"Richard Ellis," Richard said, extending his hand. "A friend of your uncle." Richard seemed to know exactly how William wished to be treated and Thomas knew by the way William returned the handshake that his nephew appreciated not being talked down to like a child.
"Are you the one who Thomas lives with?"
"I am. We share a flat above my bookshop in the village."
"And um ... do you know about"—William glanced nervously at Thomas and looked down at his boots—"that is ... you share a flat with him even though he's a ... likes ..."
"Richard is aware," Thomas said, saving William from having to say something he'd probably never had to say aloud in his life before.
"I wouldn't change anything about Thomas, nor hold it against him," Richard answered smoothly, though avoiding Thomas's gaze. One look would reveal the truth to almost anyone who was observant enough.
"I don't like the idea of you staying, William," Thomas said, changing the subject.
"I won't be trouble. You needn't know I'm even there," William said. "I only just got here. I don't want to go back yet."
"If it were up to me, I'd like you to stay—"
"It is up to you! I don't know why you've got to be so afraid of what my mother would do. She knows all about you anyway and has done nothing like call the police or anything!"
"I know, but it's what she'll think. Think about it: you would have disappeared, they'd have no clue where and then they find out that you're with me ... I wouldn't put it past her to accuse me of kidnapping you."
"She ain't a bloody dragon uncle!" William said, balling his fists.
"She ain't?" Richard asked, with a raise of an eyebrow.
"Richard, really?" Thomas said with a huff, though to their relief the joke seemed to do the trick and William's posture relaxed.
The shrill-ring of the office telephone interrupted the moment of calm.
"Who's calling at this hour?" Richard asked.
Thomas and William exchanged a worried look. "Oh, brilliant," Thomas said, throwing his hands into the air.
"Mum's going to be so mad at me."
"I'll answer Thomas," Richard said, putting his hand on top of Thomas's as Thomas reached to pick up the receiver. "Let me try reasoning with her before you speak."
"How the hell did she know you'd be here?" Thomas asked William.
"I never told no one. But I packed a bag, and she knows where you work and ... Oh no. I was asking about that ... asking about where you work and what you do. Sorry uncle, I didn't think. I'm in such trouble and mother will get father to—"
Thomas saw the genuine look of fear in the boy's eyes and guessed what he'd say next. He'd felt the hard end of his parent's anger before too many times, usually at the blunt end of his father's belt. A determined, instinctive desire to protect him eclipsed his frustration at William for disobeying their agreement to leave any visits until he was older. It brought an anger to the forefront, something he'd use to his advantage. "I'll sort it, William. I've had two decades of dealing with difficult and short-tempered people – it goes with the job."
Richard picked up the telephone. "Good evening, Richard Ellis Downton Abbey. How may I be of assistance?" he answered, putting on an eloquent voice. "Ah, Mrs Wilson."
Thomas threw Richard a confused look. He hadn't remembered telling Richard his sister's surname, but he told Richard so many things, so he supposed it must have slipped his mind.
Moments of silence followed, Thomas listening with intent, William holding his breath, his finger gripping the cuff of his sleeve. "You are quite right. He is here," Richard said. Thomas could just make out the raised voice on the other end and once again admired Richard's ability to keep his emotions calm and restrained, even with the most trying of people. "No, he hasn't been kidnapped," Richard said.
William exchanged a fearful look at Thomas, who then pinched his eyes closed. Of course, that is what she'd assume, not that her son had the brains to make his own choice to leave.
"I assure you Mrs Wilson, William is quite safe and is here of his own free will."
More jabbering from the other end, louder that time. Thomas knew he couldn't let Richard conduct the entire conversation on his behalf. His sister would demand to speak to him.
"No, we can't. We—No, it's too late for that. The last train was earlier this evening." Richard ran a hand through his hair and gave Thomas a sympathetic look of warning. "Mr Barrow has been occupied with the running of the house, Mrs Wilson, but yes, he is here now. Hold on." Richard covered the receiver and spoke in a hushed voice to Thomas, "She is pretty insistent that she'd speak to you, Thomas, sorry."
"Expected nothing less," Thomas grumbled, taking over from Richard. "Richard, how did you know her name? Did I tell you?"
Richard's lips twitched into a smile. "No, you never did, but William has a label on his suitcase. It says 'William Wilson'."
Thomas returned a smile. Richard Ellis: ever observant. His smile was replaced by an expression similar to his servant's blank as spoke to Margaret. "Had no trouble guessing it was you calling."
"You are unsurprising Thomas—"
"Oh, come on, I've faced far worse insults than that. Surely you can come up with something more creative, Margaret?" Thomas taunted.
"Don't start! Mr Ellis told me William is here with you, of his own accord—"
"That is true."
"Really? He's a boy, Thomas, easily influenced."
"And how would I have influenced him, my dear sister, if I'd been nothing other than a ghost to him? We've never spoken, never met," he lied, far too easily. "He's growing up. He's not an idiot, and he has questions. If you keep the truth about me from him, keep pushing his only natural curiosity away, then, of course, he will take matters into his own hands."
"You don't even try, do you? You're not one bit sorry for the trouble you've caused our family!"
"The trouble I caused?" Thomas repeated in disbelief. "I never left out of choice, you know that. I did your bidding with the funeral, came and played my part. Wasn't that enough?"
"You were there, yes, but you disappeared after the service, but not before insulting two of our mother's friends."
"Oh, so you heard about that? Of course you did," Thomas said with a sneer. "I was merely defending myself and your old friend Phyllis. I bet those hypocritical old crones never told you the details of what we spoke of? Doesn't matter. I didn't see the reason to stay after that."
A moment of silence followed. "Wait ... William disappeared for a time at the wake too. Was he with you, Thomas? Is that how he suddenly came to ask so many silly questions about you?"
"I doubt his questions were silly. That is something one would say if they didn't want to answer, but no, he wasn't. I went for a smoke, saw him in the churchyard."
"So he was with you?"
"No, I saw him, never spoke to him. William was alone, aside from being with his dead grandfather, that is. When he passed me on his way back to the hall, he gave me a curious look, but said nothing. Apparently, we share similar looks – he told me he's been compared to me before and you hate that. He would have known I – his lost uncle – would have been at the funeral since you invited him and it wouldn't have taken too much asking around to figure out who I was." Again the lies came effortlessly, but Thomas knew he needed to get to the reason for Margaret's call or he'd risk losing track of the story. "In the end, though, William is here. He had questions, and I answered them. Every single one. He knows everything, Margaret ... everything."
Margaret said nothing for a while. Thomas only heard a slow breath out. "How dare you? He's my son. You are nothing to him."
"I think he's decided otherwise."
"It isn't his right to decide. The total disrespect of going behind our backs, running away without a word ..."
"If he had asked or told you where he was going, would you have let him? Thought not. I'll admit I wasn't pleased to see him turn up here, but I won't turn him away. He only wants to know me, Margaret. It's only natural."
"Natural? What would you know about what's natural? I won't have you anywhere near him, influencing him, telling him things that a boy shouldn't know. He should know he owes his father and myself some respect, as a child is duty-bound to do, and he will know the consequences of failing in that. Disobedience will be punished. You can tell him that. He has to stay the night, there's naught to be done about that, but we will fetch him home in the morning and made sure he remembers who he answers to until he's an adult—"
"I will tell him no such thing and he will not leave with you or your husband! I know what punishment is like when people in our family fear 'degrading behaviour' as our late father once put it right before he struck me! It left scars, Margaret. Did you know that? Physically and in my mind. They're still there, but I'm not powerless anymore, so if either of you shows up here in the morning, then I will prevent you from getting anywhere near your son!"
"You can't do that. You have no right over him."
"No, but I do over this house. I am the butler here, the staff answer to me. If I tell any of them to refuse you admittance, then they will. If I repeat what you just threatened, then I can guarantee there will be valets, footmen, and a housekeeper who is not to be messed with, who will stand by me against you. Not everyone here came from good homes, sister."
"You're being overdramatic, Thomas. William does not come from a bad home. We care for him as parents should. That is why he must learn from his mistakes," Margaret said, her voice calm but firm.
"I agree, but there are other ways to install discipline than beating it into a child." Beside Richard, Thomas saw William flinch. "I learned a long time ago that just because you are someone's blood doesn't mean they give you unquestionable love or loyalty. I found a new definition of family, here, at Downton Abbey. William is my family, too."
"He is our son."
"He is my nephew." Thomas took a deep breath. "Margaret, know this: I protect those I care about with fierce determination. I bring down those who threaten those I love with equal efficiency. That won't ever change. It's who I am – I value loyalty. William must return home ... at some point. But here's my suggestion: let him stay with me for three days, give him the chance to ask his questions and fill the missing gap he's clearly feeling. I will then personally put him on the train in time so he makes it back before dark." Thomas saw a small glimmer of a hopeful smile on William, and a poorly suppressed look of pride from Richard that spurred him onward. "After that, William can write to me, and I him. His letters will remain private unless, unless he chooses to share them. Who knows, you might learn something from them."
"You're very fond of the word 'choice', aren't you?"
"I am. He's not a small child anymore. He can make decisions, and if they are the wrong ones, he will learn from them. That brings me to my last requirement: if I hear of any ill treatment of William or his sister, I will take matters to the police. I will not have him fear as I did."
"You're threatening us now?"
"No, just reminding you of where we both stand. William can visit after this time, with your knowledge as much as he wishes. I wouldn't presume you'd be happy for me to visit him, so I think this is the best arrangement."
Margaret huffed. "Seems you have this all planned out, Thomas."
The defeat in her voice made Thomas realise he'd won. "I usually do, sister. It is for the best. The last thing we both want is for William to repeat my history – to be cast out or run away and become a ghost to you like I was."
Thomas expected another rebuke, but none came. "Fine. William can stay with you, but you make sure he stays out of trouble or you'll find yourself dealing with more than you bargained for, brother. I know enough about you to make sure—"
"No need for that. It will be my pleasure."
"And make sure he attends church on Sunday. We won't have him fall into ungodly ways around you."
Thomas felt the urge to retaliate about her insinuation, but bit his lip instead. "Very well, Sunday service, no problem."
"Good."
"Good," Thomas repeated straight after. "I'll send a telegram with the train time the day before, in case you want to meet him at the station."
"Very well, although I'm sure he could make his own way home after such a trip on his own to Downton."
Thomas couldn't tell if Margaret intended that remark as a dig at him and William or if she was being genuine. "Goodnight, Margaret."
"Bye Thomas."
After the call ended, Thomas let out a long sigh, smoothed a hand through his hair, and looked at both Richard and William. "There, that wasn't too hard."
"You were marvellous, Thomas," Richard said, crossing the small room and stopping short of him with a jolt, as though he'd forgotten they weren't alone. The intensity in his eyes, combined with a slight tilt of his head, made Thomas certain he was about to be kissed.
"So I can stay?" William asked.
"Absolutely, and you needn't fear any consequences. I can't promise you'll get away with this completely, but you shouldn't worry. I meant what I said."
"He does," Richard added. "Ask anyone here. Thomas isn't to be messed with in protecting those he cares for." Richard's arm almost reached for Thomas's waist, but fell to the desk at the last moment instead.
"Do I really have to go to church, though?" William moaned.
Richard chuckled. "Thomas? I suppose you give the orders here."
"No, just don't tell your mother."
William's cheeky smile beamed. "Promise."
"It's late and we should get going but ... we need to sort out where you'll stay." Thomas looked at William's suitcase, now in his hand. "Do you have enough for three days, or will we need to do some shopping?"
"I'm fine, uncle. Came prepared. I wasn't planning on leaving ," William said, with a surprising determination for a thirteen-year-old.
"Thomas, he really is just like you," Richard said, giving Thomas a friendly nudge.
"You have two choices: stay here at Downton – there's spare room in the servants' quarters in the attics, even my old room for example – or come back with me ... us."
"The toffs upstairs won't mind?"
"They won't as long as you keep below stairs and don't go wandering and get yourself seen," Thomas said.
"Like a stowaway?" William asked.
"I suppose, probably best not to call them 'toffs' though ... not to their faces anyway," Thomas said with a wink.
William sniggered, eyes shining – a welcome change to the wide-eyed fear he'd portrayed before. Thomas supposed he must have done something right, despite beginning to realise he'd be out of his depth over the next few days. He'd never been in the position of looking after someone else's child for so long.
"Someone has hidden up there before," Richard said.
"A couple of months ago I hid a very wealthy and very drunk businessman up there in my old room"
"Why? Is this what happens in most big houses?" William asked. "If it is, I'd like a job here. Sounds fun."
"Um ... no. We were helping out a friend. It's a long story, but anyway you could come back with us now, whatever you like," Thomas said.
"What do you want me to do?" William asked. "You keep asking what I want, and that's fine, but what would you like?"
"Well ... I'd like you to come back with us. It would be less complicated having to explain things to the other staff here and will give me time to introduce you properly. It will be a bit of a squeeze. Richard's flat has two bedrooms, but one of us could sleep on the sofa or top to toe." It was tempting to just tell William the one detail he'd left out ... Richard. Habit held him back, caution built up over years to protect the man he loved more than anything.
Richard followed suit. "Not too much of a sacrifice. We slept in more cramped positions in the trenches. Our cat, Wilde, takes up a lot of room, anyway. Are you okay with cats?"
Thomas couldn't tell if William noticed Richard's slip up. They had a well-told story to explain to people why they lived together, but the spare bed had only been slept in once, when they'd fallen out last winter when Richard had gone through a troubled time over old war memories and the literal ghost of his first love Jack Firth.
"Yeah, we have a few. They live in the shed, keep the mice at bay," William explained. "Never allowed inside, never on the bed."
"Well, I think this would work out very well," Richard said. "We'll get back, I'll freshen the room up a bit, and then tomorrow we can start anew."
"I'll have to be here at Downton most of the time, but they're a friendly bunch ... Bates, his Lordship's valet, is a pain in my backside, but he's alright, really. You can come with Richard to visit during the day or evening."
"I sometimes stay for dinner," Richard explained, as they left the office, Thomas locking up. "Once they learn you're Thomas' family, they'd be most pleased to see you. During the day, you could help me and my business partner, Chris, in the shop." Richard smirked down at William. "Then I can let you in on all of Thomas' secrets."
"Hmm ... and I'll tell you all of Richard's, so we're even. You'd best get to know us both."
"Do you snore, uncle? Mum does." William asked, as they stepped out into the night.
"He does," Richard answered, buttoning up his coat against the cold.
"Not as much as you," Thomas rebuked. "He's like a bloody steam train," he added to William.
William walked between them with a confident stride. "Suppose I'll not sleep much then."