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Footman in Training	By : imdirty Category: 1 through F > Downton Abbey Views: 2654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey and am not making money from this story. And I'm hoping I'm doing this disclaimer thing right :)

Chapter List
- 17
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- 19
Though Thomas had been left in charge numerous times in Mr. Carson’s absence, he was anxious to run the house for the express purpose of demonstrating that he could. He felt agitated after supper and walked the halls of Downton, as the air outside was too frigid for even a smoke break. He made some rounds, tidying objects here and there as he went. In the gallery, he stopped outside of Nora’s room, hearing muffled weeping through the closed door.

Thomas rapped his knuckle against the door, eliciting an obstinate, “Go away!” from inside the room.

“Nora, it’s Mr. Barrow. May I come in?”

After a moment, the knob turned, and as Thomas opened the door, Nora ran back to the bed and covered her head with the blankets.

“Why are you doing that?” Thomas asked, taking a seat in the wooden chair next to her bed.

“I look a fright,” Nora said, her voice muffled.

“I can’t see much with just one little lamp lit.”

Nora threw the blankets off and sat up. Her hair was tousled and wider than her shoulders, and her cheeks and nose were red and wet.

Thomas pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to Nora. When she didn’t take it, he dabbed her eyes and wiped her nose.

“Did you come here because you heard me wishing for you?”

Thomas tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket and said earnestly, “Of course, how else would I know to knock?”

Nora sighed.

“What’s got you all sniffly tonight?”

“I said ‘go away’ because I thought you were that awful Lady Grantham, though I don’t know how they can even call her Lady. No real lady would come from America.”

“That’s not very kind, Nora.”

“Well she’s not very kind!” Nora cried, punching her thighs with her fists. “She’s sending me away!”

“Sending you away where?” Thomas asked, handing Nora her David bear.

Nora hugged the bear and looked up at Thomas. “A school in France.”

“A school doesn't mean you’re going away forever. You will come back for holidays.”

Nora buried her face in her bear and sobbed, her whole small body shaking.

“Come here, little Lady,” Thomas said, guiding Nora gently by the arm from the bed and onto his lap. She pulled herself into a ball, her legs gathered under her nightgown. “A school will be better than things are here. You won’t have babies to play with, you’ll have other girls your own age. France is a lovely country full of all kinds things to see and learn and do. Why, I’m surprised I didn’t think about school for you. Here it will just be you and a governess all day, and you’re much too smart, you need more than that.”

Nora’s sobbing quieted and her breathing slowed. She tucked her arms into her body and nuzzled closer to Thomas.

“The other girls will hate me.”

“They’ll like you just fine.”

“Nobody likes me.”

“I like you.”

Nora played with the hem of her sleeve. “My papa tried a school for me three separate times, but every time the girls hated me and I had to come home.”

“Did he try a school in France?”

“No, but girls are the same in every country.”

Thomas patted Nora’s shoulder. “Making friends is hard. I can tell you one thing, though. If you come into that school like you came into this house, making friends will be as hard for you in France as it has been everywhere else.”

“I make friends easier with boys than girls, and easier with normal people than snobby people.”

“Is that why you’re friends with me? Because I’m a normal boy?”

Nora giggled. “No, you’re snobby.”

Thomas smiled. “True enough. You know, Nora, we’re just a few weeks from Christmas. If you go to a school now you’d only be there a little while before you came back to celebrate with all of us. This is probably perfect timing to give it a go.”

“Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Where else would I be?”

Nora shrugged. “I just want to make sure I see you for Christmas.”

Thomas lifted Nora and laid her on her bed, sat next to her, and then pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. “You will see me for Christmas.”

“You have to swear.”

Thomas put his hand over his heart. “I swear it.”

“Please stay, just until I fall asleep. I so hate falling asleep alone.”

Thomas sat back in the chair and looked at the nightstand between them. “Shall I read ‘The Velveteen Rabbit’ to you?”

Nora turned on her side and settled into her pillow. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Thomas began reading the book, his voice animated but hushed. Though Nora had read the last parts of it out loud to him, he had been distracted by the other children and paid no attention to the story. After a few pages, he felt he was reading it more to himself than Nora, and after a few more pages, her eyes were closed and her breathing regulated. He continued reading the story silently, his chest feeling tighter and tighter as he read. By the end, he wished his handkerchief wasn’t already soiled, and wiped his eyes with the heel of his gloved hand. He watched Nora sleep for a few minutes until he felt composed, then put the book back on her nightstand and saw himself out of her room.

The next door he knocked on was Price’s.

“Tell me your scheme.”

“I have so many,” Price said as he rubbed a towel on his freshly washed hair.

“You know which one I mean.”

“I was relaxing, can’t we talk tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to go to sleep without knowing.”

Price noticed Thomas’s eyes looked a tad red. He opened his door and motioned for Thomas to come in. Thomas sat in Price’s chair, and Price took two biscuits from a napkin on his dresser and handed one to Thomas.

“Where are these from?” Thomas asked, chewing.

“Daisy made them for me,” Price said, taking a seat on his bed, a half played game of solitaire spread out on the quilt in front of him.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t give up.”

“So what’s the urgency? Why do you need to know right now?”

Thomas finished his biscuit. “I want to know if you have some kind of legitimate idea, if there’s actually something I could hope for. It sounds absurd saying it out loud.”

“You don’t sound absurd. It’s the best thing I’ve heard you say.”

Thomas wiped the crumbs from his hands. “So, out with it then.”

Price chewed his biscuit, looking Thomas in the eye steadily. “The watches we’re fixing. Yes, they help my brother, but that’s not why we’re doing it.”

“Okay…”

“I’m training you.”

Thomas laughed.

“What I told you is true, my brother doesn’t know who’s fixing these watches. He’s been very happy with them, according to Marie. If I told him it was you fixing them, and you wanted the job he’s offered to me, he would take you for it in a heartbeat.” Price finished his biscuit, his eyes still on Thomas’s.

Thomas’s smile faded. “I’m not as good as you.”

“Right, but you’re getting there. Marie says Sam wants help very badly, but he’s too worried about bringing in a stranger to trust with things. You’re not a stranger, and you’re a natural at this. He’d be happy to teach you the rest, I’m sure of it.”

Thomas broke Price’s eye contact. “How would I even get settled in London? I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I thought Eric might have some ideas, but you could probably stay with Sam and Marie until you found something suitable.”

Thomas smiled again, but it was the smile that tended to overcome him when he wasn’t sure what to do with his emotions. “Wouldn’t you miss me?”

“I’d miss you terribly. It hurts to think of it, but not half as much as bearing witness to you be unhappy day in and day out.”

“Could we both work there?”

Price shook his head. “I don’t think he needs two people, and I’m still not keen on working for him, at least not now. It’s different for you, he’s not your little brother.”

Thomas stood and paced the room.

“You don’t have to decide right now or anything, but I am worried he’ll be forced to hire a stranger eventually. Our little project may keep it at bay a few months, but not forever.”

Thomas ran both hands through his hair. “Mr. Carson’s gonna let me run things tomorrow. I’ve run things just about a million times in his absence but he’s trying to help me. I suppose I wanted to make tomorrow easier on myself knowing if there’s something out there for me besides butler.”

“Being butler would be an honor if you decide it’s really what you want, but I have a hard time believing that’s the case. I hope you’ll consider my idea seriously.”

Thomas sat on the bed hip to hip with Price. He kissed Price’s head and inhaled the scent of his damp hair. “I will.”

“Do you swear?”

Thomas laughed. “Not half an hour ago Nora asked me to swear to something while I was sitting next to her on her bed.”

“What did you have to swear to?”

“That I would be here for Christmas. They want to send her to boarding school, and I promised to be here when she came back.”

Price wondered if his comment to Lady Mary about boarding school sparked the decision and felt a pang of guilt. “Poor dear, bounced from here to there. How was she when you left?”

“I tucked her in, read to her, and she was fast asleep. Do you want to be tucked in?”

Price laughed and smacked Thomas on the thigh with the back of his hand. “Don’t you dare tuck me in unless you’re getting under the covers with me.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You know you have an open invitation when it comes to my sheets.”

“Is that so?” Thomas ran a finger down Price’s spine, and Price shivered. “How open an invitation?”

“Don’t tease,” Price said, his eyelids heavy and voice low. “It’s been too long and I’ll about explode if you tease me.”

“Who’s teasing?” Thomas asked, kissing Price’s earlobe. “Maybe a quick little something?” he whispered.

Price grinned and closed his eyes, shivering again. “God, yes, I’ll take a quick anything.”

Thomas squeezed Price through his trousers and Price bucked his hips in response. He undid Price’s buttons and zipper quickly and Price shifted his weight so Thomas could pull him out. Price wrapped his hand around Thomas’s and help him pump, pumping faster as Thomas kissed his neck. The room was bright with the light of two lamps and Thomas leaned back enough to watch Price’s face as he became more and more excited.

“I feel selfish, undo your trousers,” Price panted.

“No. I’m enjoying watching your enjoyment.”

Price leaned back on his headboard and took his hand from Thomas’s. He looked down and watched Thomas work, then met Thomas’s eyes. “I love you.”

“Of course you love me while I’m doing this. Here, let me make you love me more,” Thomas said, bending at the waist, taking Price into his mouth.

Price grabbed Thomas’s hair in one hand and the sheets in the other, pressing his lips together to stifle his moans as his climax came on more quickly than he anticipated. Thomas slowed and swallowed, licking Price clean before sitting back up.

Price smiled and let his head rock to the side until it fell on Thomas’s shoulder. “Ok, tuck me in. I can’t manage it myself.”

Before Thomas could speak, there was a knock on the door. Price fastened his trousers, sat up quickly and collected the cards that were now strewn across the bed. Thomas grabbed a watch from Price’s dresser and sat in the chair, leaning over his legs to hide that he was aroused.

“Yes?” Price said, his voice faltering slightly.

Mr. Molesley popped his head in. “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“Oh my goodness, Mr. Molesley, I’m so sorry. I forgot we were playing games tonight.”

“It’s alright,” Mr. Molesley said, though his hunched shoulders said otherwise.

“It’s not alright. I’ll meet you in your room in just a minute.”

“We can play tomorrow.”

Price put his cards in their box and tossed the box to Mr. Molesley. “No, tonight. Be right there.”

After the door was closed, Price rested against the headboard again. “That was close.”

Thomas shook his head. “I’d give anything for some real privacy with you.”

“Someday, right?”

“What is this watch?” Thomas asked, turning the face to Price.

“It has two timezones for someone who travels.”

Thomas turned the watch back to himself. “Never seen one like it,” he said, rising and placing it back on the dresser.

“They exist, but that one I made.”

“See, I’m not like you, able to make watches from scratch.”

Price stood as well and held Thomas’s hand. “But you could be someday, if you want it.”

Thomas lifted Price’s hand and kissed it. “You make me feel ‘Real’, you know that?”

Price rubbed his thumb over Thomas’s. “Like the rabbit in Nora’s book?”

“Mmm hmm, just like that,” Thomas said, kissing Price’s hand again before turning to leave.

“Wait, one thing about tomorrow,” Price said.

“Yes?”

“Do your best and don’t let yourself get overwhelmed, and if one of the staff members frustrates you, don’t lose your patience. Stop and think how you would respond if they were Master George or Nora, and then speak.”

Thomas looked at the ground as he considered Price’s advice. “Is that how you stay so patient with people?”

Price smiled. “Oh, no. I’m just generally nicer than you are.”

Thomas sighed. “You say that after I was just especially nice to you.”

“I wouldn’t recommend being that kind of nice with the staff tomorrow.”

“I’d certainly need that watchmaking job afterward, wouldn't I?”

The next morning, Mrs. Hughes announced over breakfast that Mr. Carson was feeling under the weather and Thomas would be in charge for the day. The looks on the faces around the table were as disappointed as Mrs. Hughes’s, but Thomas smiled.

“Don’t look so distraught, I won’t bite,” Thomas said, scanning the group before resuming his meal. He ate his food and drank his coffee quickly, feeling energized about the day ahead.

Miss Baxter sipped her tea and smiled at Thomas. “Mr. Barrow has been in charge before, I’m confident today will go as well as any other.”

“Thank you, Miss Baxter,” Thomas said, taking another piece of toast before offering the platter to Mr. Molesley.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, a bit surprised by the gesture.

“There’s a relatively small party for dinner,” Mrs. Hughes informed Thomas. “Lady Mary has two guests, Lady Edith announced one late yesterday, and Mrs. Crawley will also be joining. I worked out the menu with Lady Grantham but we seem to be out of something Mrs. Patmore needs, so I’ll need to revise it.”

“I can fetch whatever is needed, no need to disappoint Lady Grantham,” Price offered.

Thomas frowned. Price felt like a good luck charm and Thomas didn’t like the thought of him being away for any part of the day.

“I’d say with Mr. Carson unwell it’s best we have all hands on deck,” Mrs. Hughes said, “but thank you for offering.”

At the family’s breakfast, Thomas delivered the news to Lord Grantham that Mr. Carson would be in bed for the day and that he was on duty. Lord Grantham took his eyes from his paper for a moment to remark that he hoped Mr. Carson recovered quickly and thanked Thomas.

“Who is your guest this evening?” Mr. Branson asked Lady Edith.

“My production manager,” Lady Edith replied, cutting into her slice of ham.

“You’re certainly becoming quite friendly with your staff,” Lord Grantham commented over his paper.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Lady Edith rebutted. “They’re all such interesting people.”

“I’ve enjoyed every guest you’ve brought to the table,” Mr. Branson told Lady Edith.

“Of course you would,” Lord Grantham said. Lady Edith and Mr. Branson smiled at one another and began eating.

While cleaning after breakfast, there was a crash in the kitchen and Thomas rushed in to find soapy pieces of a dish strewn on the floor by the sink.

“I lost my grip and the plate slipped,” a hallboy stammered. “I tried to catch myself and I smacked the plate into the side of the sink, and now look at what a mess I made.”

Thomas took a breath in through his nose and recalled Price’s advice the night before. “Did you cut yourself?”

Mrs. Patmore put her spoon down and turned her attention to Thomas.

“No,” the hallboy said. “It’s the plate that’s hurt, not me.”

“Alright, well, let’s clean up and dry the floor so we make sure it’s only the plate that’s in pieces,” Thomas said, squatting down, carefully gathering shards of porcelain into his hand.

“Are you sure that’s Thomas?” Mrs. Patmore whispered to Daisy.

“No, I’m Mr. Barrow,” Thomas said, looking up from the ground.

Mrs. Patmore shook her shoulders and resumed her work.

Slow footmen, clumsy hallboys, giggling housemaids - Thomas spent the day breathing and thinking before speaking with each of them. The control he felt over his mood was more empowering than the control he felt over the staff.

Mrs. Hughes sat back and watched Thomas help a footman with a pair of boots that the man had been just about to destroy with the wrong kind of shoeshine. “I’m not sure what’s come over you, but I dare say it’s impressive to watch,” she told Thomas during the servants’ tea.

“You’ve known me many years, Mrs. Hughes. I hope you’ve seen me grow a bit in all that time.”

“Yes, I should say I have, Mr. Barrow.”

After ringing the dressing gong, Thomas passed Anna in the hall on her way up and his way down. “Mr. Barrow, there seemed in a bit of a panic over something in the dining room. You may want to check it out before you go down.”

Thomas found Mr. Molesley and Price in the dining room, both staring at the table. Thomas stepped up to it and saw what they saw, a hole burned into the tablecloth by a candle that had fallen.

“Why are we staring at it instead of pulling everything from the table, replacing the tablecloth, and putting it all back?”

“That will take forever,” Mr. Molesley said.

“What’s the alternative? Put a flower on it and hope no one asks questions? David, go fetch every hand that can free itself to come help, male or female. Mr. Molesley and I will stay here and start stripping the table.”

Within minutes the dining room was full of staff members. Thomas directed each one in a great shuffling of dishes, utensils, vases, candlesticks, and chairs. When the table was finally clear, Thomas and Mrs. Hughes spread a new tablecloth and the staff descended upon it in another impressive flurry of activity. Five men then measured all the place settings, including Thomas and David. They all stood back and admired their work.

“Thank you, everyone. Now quick, back to whatever you were doing before someone set fire to the table. I don’t care who it was, but someone better stay back and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“I will,” Price volunteered.

“No, there’s too much for you to do. You do it,” Thomas said, nodding to the hallboy who broke the plate earlier.

The young man straightened his shoulders and nodded. “Yes, sir, Mr. Barrow.”

The group dispersed, and Thomas let out a contented sigh.

Drinks and dinner were uneventful, and when it came time for the servants’ supper, Thomas was a bit disappointed that the day was nearly over.

“I knew you’d do well,” Miss Baxter said across the table.

“Aye, we should’ve all had faith in Mr. Barrow,” Mrs. Hughes agreed.

“You sure should have,” Thomas said, smiling over his water glass.

Mrs. Hughes tskd. “There, I knew we’d have cheek from you before the day was through.”

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.”

Daisy set down a fresh platter of bread and stopped next to Mrs. Hughes. “If we clean up early tonight, do you mind if I take my supper with the outside staff? It’s Lee’s birthday and I were hoping to join in the celebration.”

“You should ask Mr. Barrow.”

Thomas shrugged. “I don’t mind if you don’t mind, Mrs. Hughes.”

“Thank you both,” Daisy said, running off.

“You’re a little more lenient than Mr. Carson,” Mrs. Hughes said.

Thomas put a cigarette between his lips and flicked his lighter open. “If the worst thing I do today is let Daisy spend her supper with the gardener, I don’t think Mr. Carson will complain much.”

“That depends on Daisy’s intentions.”

“Mr. Carson won’t want to ponder her intentions, now will he?”

Mrs. Hughes chuckled. “You’re right, he most certainly will not. You know, I think that’s the first cigarette I’ve seen you light all day.”

Thomas held the cigarette at arm’s length and looked at it, then put it back in his mouth. “Wow, you’re right. Here I thought I couldn’t survive more than a couple hours without one.”

“A busy body is probably the best thing for you, Mr. Barrow.”

“I keep telling him he’s like me, but he doesn’t listen,” Price interjected. “There’s a reason I’m always running around this place, and it’s not just because I like to help. I think I’d go crazy if I weren’t always occupied.”

Thomas tapped his cigarette on the edge of the ash tray. “Like when you were ill, and the only reason you didn’t throw yourself out your window was because it was locked shut?”

“The cigarette isn't in your mouth thirty seconds and you’re already cracking wise. Maybe they’re your problem,” Mrs. Hughes said, sipping her wine.

“Not hardly. They’re the solution to my problems.”

“I wonder if Mr. Carson will be well enough tomorrow to return to work,” Mr. Molesley commented.

Mrs. Hughes finished her wine and put her hand up when Thomas offered more. “I stopped by before supper and he seems much better. I’m sure he’ll be back on duty tomorrow. But if he isn’t, we know Mr. Barrow will manage things just fine.”

After supper, Thomas sat in the servants’ hall with a pile of magazines next to him. Price pulled a stool up to Thomas, looking over his shoulder as he read. “What are you reading?”

“Lady Edith’s magazine.”

“Anything in there by Eric?” Price whispered.

Thomas flipped back three pages and pulled the magazine taught between his hands. “I was saving it to read for last, but we can read it now.”

“Read it out loud.”

“What are you, Nora?”

“Fine, I’ll read it out loud,” Price said, grabbing the magazine from Thomas. He read as Thomas rested his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes as Price settled into a pleasant cadence. The piece was about a recent trip Eric had taken to Italy, and told the story of a village struggling to recover after a drought claimed its olive orchards. Eric captured the emotion of the villagers and the beauty of the land vividly. Towards the end of the piece, Thomas opened his eyes, realizing how odd it was to hear Eric’s words through Price’s voice. He sat up and watched Price read the final sentences, and accepted the magazine from Price when he was done.

“He’s a wonderful writer,” Price observed. “Makes me want to go draw the village he described.”

“Go for it,” Thomas said, folding the magazine. “Draw it and I’ll give it to him when he’s back.”

“Are you looking forward to seeing him?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Of course you should. I’m just making conversation.”

Thomas tossed the magazine onto a pile of others. “I know, I’m just tired. I wish tomorrow was my half day instead of Tuesday, I could use the rest.”

“You did a good job today. How do you feel, besides tired?”

Thomas poked through the magazine pile, and finding nothing interesting, lit a cigarette. “It’s just so strange how differently I felt than other times.”

“It’s because people were happy to work with and for you.”

“Maybe I’m supposed to be a butler afterall.”

Price stood. “I still disagree. I think you’re meant to have meaningful work that busies your hands and makes you feel challenged. Being a butler won’t do that, after some time. Anyway, I better be off to bed. You should probably head up, too.”

“Oh,” Thomas whispered, tugging Price by the cuff of his shirtsleeve, “who burned the hole in the tablecloth?”

Price leaned down to Thomas’s ear and whispered, “it was me.”

Thomas held the cigarette inches from Price’s sleeve. “Should I return the favor?”

“A hole in the livery may be a worse offense than once in a tablecloth.”

“True. I’ll get you back on a day I’m not in charge.”

The next morning, Mr. Carson called Thomas into his office and said he was pleased with the feedback he received from Mrs. Hughes and asked for Thomas’s thoughts on the day.

Thomas squeezed the back of the chair he stood behind. “It made me pause and realize whatever I do, I need to feel I have a purpose.”

Mr. Carson wasn’t prepared for such a reflective response. “You got that from an average day running Downton?”

“No, things have been coming to a head for me. I needed Downton for the day to see that. You’re right, I spend too much time fraternizing. I’ll be happier if I’m focused.”

“Someone should pinch me, I might be dreaming.”

Thomas smiled. “I’m not a man reborn, just ask Mrs. Hughes. She was rolling her eyes at me over supper.”

“It just so happens I actually wasn’t feeling too well yesterday. It’s quite a comfort knowing I can really trust you these days.”

“Really? Well, then. It’s probably better I didn’t know you were actually ill or I might have mucked things up being nervous.”

“I don’t think you would have,” Mr. Carson said. “Have some confidence in yourself, Mr. Barrow.”

“I do, a bit. Thank you, Mr. Carson.”

Thomas was still in good spirits when his half day came, which he needed in order to face his first visit in years with his brother in law. He set out straight after luncheon service, receiving encouragement from Price on his way out the door.

An hour after Thomas left, the bell for the back door rung. Price volunteered to get it for Mr. Carson, and got half his greeting out before stopping short. The tanned, smiling face under the hat brim was familiar. He stepped out into the cold, shutting the door behind him.

“Hello, I’m looking for Thomas Barrow.”

Price glared up at Eric. “What on earth do you think you’re doing coming here for him?”

“Are you David?” Eric asked, unsure why he was being met with irritation.

“Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you could cause him coming here?” Price was so heated that the cold barely touched him.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Eric said, still confused.

“What if someone recognized you from your last visit, or god, if Lady Edith decided to make a trip downstairs at this very moment?”

“I came back early and wanted to surprise him. Can you at least get him so that he can do the berating?”

“He’s out, thankfully. You wouldn’t want to see that kind of surprise on his face. Just tell me where you’re staying and I’ll pass it on when he’s back.”

The door opened behind Price and Mr. Carson appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on? Who’s this?”

Price spoke before Eric could respond. “This is Mr. Weatherbee, a friend of Lady Edith’s. He’s at the back door because he wasn’t sure which door was appropriate when coming by as a surprise.”

“Welcome, Mr. Weatherbee. David, stop keeping him out in the cold. Bring him up to the library and then send for Lady Edith.”

“I was just about to, Mr. Carson,” Price said. He stepped in the house and Eric followed. He led Eric quickly through downstairs, Eric’s eyes darting around absorbing the busy scenes in the halls and rooms. Once they were in the servant’s stairwell, Eric stopped him.

“What are you doing?”

“You left me no choice. You will visit with Lady Edith and tell her you were passing through and were so excited about your trip and what you plan to write that you wanted to tell her in person.”

“What do I do if she asks me to stay for dinner?”

“What do you do? You stay! Don’t look so forlorn, this is your fault. I swear, I better be able to get to Thomas before he sees you.”

Eric put out his hand. “Meet me properly, it won’t help if you’re mad at me.”

Price shook Eric’s outstretched hand. “Only I have met you, I was here when you visited last.”

“You looked familiar, I just assumed it was from hearing about you through Thomas.”

Price climbed the stairs again and Eric followed. “Whatever you do, do not let on for a split second that you know Thomas, no matter how trusting or reasonable you think someone in this house may be, least of all Lady Edith.”

“I know a different Edith than you do.”

Price huffed. “Well you’re not in London, you’re at Downton. Here she’s Lady Edith and he’s Mr. Barrow, and you’ll leave it at that.”

Price practically pushed Eric through the door of the library and told him to wait for Lady Edith.

“I’ll do whatever I can do get out of an offer to stay.”

Price put his hands out. “You’re not listening. It would be very odd that you stopped by for a visit in the afternoon and then turned down an offer for dinner. Whatever she asks of you, you do it.”

“I’m so sorry, David. I really don’t know how these things work.”

“A more obvious statement has never been uttered, but it’s not me you’ll owe an apology.”

“Do you think he’ll be mad?”

Price checked the door to make sure no one was coming. “If he comes back early, he’ll be part of dinner service. He will be humiliated to have to play servant to you like this, but it’s worse if you behave oddly and make someone think you’re here for any reason other than a visit with Lady Edith. Sit down, wait for her, and do as I told you.”

Eric removed his hat and fixed his hair. “I will, I have no intention of making things worse.”

Price took Eric’s hat and put out his hand for Eric’s coat. “He’s been trying very hard around here, anything you could do to not make things worse would be much appreciated.” Price left with Eric’s articles and without another word.

Eric stood alone in the library and spun around, gazing at the vast volumes of books on the shelves, and then sat on the sofa before thinking better of it and taking a chair. He stood again and put his hands in his pockets, then crossed his arms, then sighed and let his arms fall by his sides. He stood facing the door, wondering how he would survive the rest of the day, let alone rectify the situation.
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Footman in Training