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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 :)

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After finishing winding the clocks for the morning, Price decided to walk slowly back to the servants hall. He took a tour through Downton’s main hall, his hands clasped behind his back. He stopped under massive paintings, and bent to look at works of art on tables that were themselves works of great craftsmanship. A small painting on a table caught his eye, and he bent down closer for a better look. He was so preoccupied with the brush strokes that he didn’t hear Lord Grantham come up behind him.

“That’s a favorite of mine,” Lord Grantham noted, bending down to look.

Price popped up and straightened his jacket.

Lord Grantham chuckled. “No shame in stopping to take in a beautiful painting. Are you fond of art?”

“Very, m’Lord. I studied a great deal in my younger days, when I had more free time. I’m still getting used to living around pieces I studied in books.” Price instantly regretted sharing such a personal detail, but it seemed to impress Lord Grantham.

“Interesting… Price, is it?”

“It is. David Price.”

“David. What is it that you like about this painting.”

Price’s shoulders relaxed and he looked down at the detailed canvas surrounded by gilded frame. “I don’t know this painter, and this style is different from many I’ve studied, but it’s more that I’m drawn to the imagery. I dislike paintings that glamorize the battlefield. I prefer ones that feel authentic.”

“And you’re able to measure the authenticity of a battlefield?”

Price continued examining the painting. “Yes, your Lordship. I served in the war.”

Lord Grantham’s eyebrows raised slightly. “I fear I’ve misjudged you. I wouldn’t think you were old enough.”

“I hear that a lot, your Lordship,” Price said with a smile.

“I served in the Boer War, myself, so I’m sympathetic to your experiences. And Downton was a convalescent home after the war, which is when I acquired this painting.”

Price pictured beds full of wounded soldiers spread throughout the rooms of Downton and it gave him a chill. He engaged in the conversation, but it was his least favorite topic. Too many scars still in his head and his heart. Lord Grantham, sensing the change in Price’s mood, sought to change the conversation.

“How are you enjoying Downton so far?”

“I’m enjoying it very much, thank you, m’Lord.”

Mr. Carson entered the room and stopped still when he saw Price speaking to Lord Grantham. “Is Price bothering you, my Lord?”

“Oh, Carson, not in the slightest. I’m the one who stopped him to chat. Better be on your way before I get you in trouble, David.”

“He seems like a good young man, Carson,” Lord Grantham reassured Carson once Price was out of hearing range.

“I agree, but I wonder if I haven’t done him a disservice by putting him under Barrow’s tutelage.”

“Well he seems to be doing fine. How is the other new footman?”

Carson sighed. “That one I’m not so sure about. Overconfident may be a generous way to describe him.”

Lord Grantham shook his head, “Honestly, I’m impressed to hear at least one of the new hires is up to your standards.”

“I didn’t say that, my Lord. But so far, he’s close.”

---

Lord Grantham wasn’t the only member of the family to grow fond of Price. Over the following weeks, both Tom Branson and Lady Edith noticed how good Price was to the children. Price became friendly with the children’s nanny and volunteered to come along with the food whenever they had picnics, and the children ran to him when he entered a room. Moore had wondered in a hushed voice to Price why Lady Edith was so very fond of her ward, and Price told him the topic of the children was not up for discussion if he wanted to remain friends.

Thomas added the family’s fondness of Price to the growing list of things that began to frustrate him about the footman. To distance himself, he focused on his exchanges with Eric. For each letter Thomas sent, three or four came back. and all were saucier than the last. In Eric’s first letter he said he would come again after a month, and a month had nearly passed. Thomas was beginning to wonder if there would be action behind all of Eric’s talk.

“I’m going into the village to post a letter, I’ll be back before the dressing gong,” Thomas announced one late May afternoon after the servants’ tea.

“I’ll go with you, I promised Mrs. Patmore I’d fetch butcher’s twine,” Price offered.

Thomas couldn’t think of an excuse not to let him come and nodded.

Price was relieved. He’d felt put off by Thomas over the past few weeks, and this was a chance to get back in Thomas’s good graces.

About an hour later, Price left his jacket in his room, donned his hat, and stopped by Thomas’s room for their walk. “It’s lovely outside, I hear. Or do you already know that from sneaking a smoke?”

Thomas shut his door and walked ahead of Price. “Come on, we need to make it before the post office closes.”

Price had gotten to know the walk to the village well. Someone always seemed to need something - butcher’s twine, different color thread, boot polish, replacement for an ingredient that suddenly went missing - and Price, both quick and trustworthy, was often asked to run the errand. He usually walked alone and enjoyed the solitude. It was a nice break from the bustling servants hall.

“Who will be the lucky recipient of your letter?” Price inquired as the two men passed a farm. A line of geese crossed their path.

“I don’t see how that’s your concern.”

“I’m not trying to pry, I’m just making conversation.”

Thomas puffed out his lips before answering. “It’s to my cousin.”

“I don’t believe anything you say when you do that thing with your lips first.”

“When I do what?”

Price mimicked Thomas’s face. “Like this. This thing with your lips. You do it when you seem upset or annoyed or maybe inventing a story to put off a curious footman.”

Thomas laughed despite himself. “I don’t do that.”

“You always do this,” Price said, still making a face at Thomas. Thomas shoved him lightly.

“So tell me. I won’t tell anyone. It’s not a cousin. Who is it?”

“A friend.”

“A friend who writes to you often.”

Thomas put his hands in his pockets.

“You receive all sorts of colorful little envelopes. If you didn’t want someone to notice you shouldn’t read them out in the open.”

“Why are you so cheeky today?”

Price was quiet for a moment, then answered honestly. “I want to be your friend.”

“You have plenty of friends. Everyone is your friend. The entire Crawley family loves you, every generation.”

“I’m glad to have friends in the staff, and it means a lot that you think the family likes me. But you’re wrong. I’m most interested in your friendship.”

Thomas lit a cigarette and ignored Price.

“Truly, I mean it. I know it was that silly night that I snuck out that put you off of me. I haven’t done it since.”

The men reached the post office. Price opened the door for Thomas. There was a line and the two had to wait their turn. Thomas retrieved an envelope from his pocket and held it by his side. Price plucked the envelope from Thomas’s fingers and read the name.

“Erin. Just Erin? No last name?”

Thomas ripped the letter back from Price. “You mind your business,” he hissed.

The clerk called for the next person in line and Thomas handed over the letter and payment, then left the post office without waiting for Price.

Price jogged after him. “Wait for me, please. I still have to run my errand.” Thomas kept walking. “Don’t show up back there without me, Mr. Carson will wonder what happened,” Price called.

Thomas huffed and lit another cigarette while he waited by the dirt road that would lead them back to Downton.

Price caught up with Thomas after his errand. They walked in silence until they reached an empty field, and Thomas exhaled his cigarette while saying, “You have that loathsome farmhand for a friend. Spend your energy on him.”

Price tried to tease again. “If I’m to have you as a friend, must I have no others? Clearly you have at least one.”

Thomas stopped and faced Price. “I’d never entertain a friendship with someone who doesn’t respect my privacy.”

Price put his hands up. “You’re right. Erin is your business. I won’t ask again.”

Thomas stared at Price for a moment, then continued walking in silence.

At supper, Mr. Carson announced to the staff that the entire family would be traveling in a week’s time and everyone would need to prepare and plan accordingly. Thomas’s first thought was Eric, who had included a way to reach him by telephone in one of his letters that week. Thomas waited for late evening and slipped into Mr. Carson’s office. Eric wasn’t in, but Thomas left a message regarding the best night to stay in the village and hoped Eric would understand.

A letter arrived four days later that confirmed the night Eric would be in town, and where he would stay. Thomas smiled and ran his tongue over his teeth as he read. He could feel Price watching him from across the room. Moore hit Price on the arm to call his attention back to their card game.

“Your turn, let’s go.”

“Mr. Barrow, did you want to join us in a game?” Price asked. Moore didn’t attempt to hide his displeasure at Price’s invitation.

“Oh no, you enjoy your yourselves. I have a letter to write,” Thomas said, smiling, and headed to his room.
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Footman in Training