Downton Abbey Fanfiction

¤Nineteen¤

Upstairs, Downton Abbey

She caught him again. Thomas stiffened when Lady Mary appeared at the end of the corridor. He tried to turn away, but she had spotted him. "Mr Barrow! Thomas, Thomas come here." She called. She was fairly drunk, but not as much as on the night of the wedding. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. "I've missed you." She whispered softly. Thomas squirmed uncomfortably. "I must go M'lady." She stroked his face. "I could make you butler if you want. Now that Carson is married and probably leaving. And call me Mary.... Well, you can call me whatever you want."

She leaned in to kiss him, but he turned and pushed her away slightly. "This isn't proper, M'Lady." Mary sighed. "I don't care. If Sybil ran away with a chauffeur, then why can I not run away with you? Answer me that, my dear under butler." Thomas tried to back away. "They were in love. This, this is not love." Mary pulled him back, closer than ever. She entangled her hands in his collar and kissed his neck. "Do you not love me Thomas? Because I love you." Thomas swallowed, "you are mistaken M'lady." Mary ran her hand down his chest and pressed him against the wall. "Don't call me that. I want to strip away all the titles and classes. Come to think of it, those aren't the only things I want to strip away.... Just Mary and Thomas, nothing more to it. Nothing separating us."

Thomas had never wanted to get caught in his life. Now he would pay for someone to see them, and tear Mary away. He now understood how Jimmy had felt with Lady Anstruther. At least Mary wasn't twice his age. There was a part of him that wanted this to continue. Maybe it was the hope that his encounters with Lady Mary, would change him. Make him like other men. Lady Mary was very pretty and quite nice beneath it all, maybe he could learn to love her. Was that possible? And of course he didn't want her to find out about him. He didn't have an expensive car to destroy, so he was afraid that she would attack him directly. For some reason, he didn't enjoy the prospect of getting his head smashed in by a cricket bat.

Giving in to her seemed the easiest and safest option. He could ignore his emence discomfort and awkwardness of being pawed by a drunk aristocrat. He could focus on the good things, like.... well he couldn't think of any particularly positive outcomes of the whole affair off of the top of his head. But he would, eventually. He wasn't enough of a hypocrit to feel used, since he was hoping Mary would 'straighten him out', but he did wonder what had caused Mary to drink so much, and thus turn to him. He had a mind to ask her, but he was too nervous. Who knew how she might react? Despite asking him to undress her, she could still have some reservations as to what was proper to be discussed. They were after all, still servant and mistress. Thomas didn't want to ruin everything by getting above himself.

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The Next day. ...
Crawley House (Isobel's house)

Mrs Isobel Crawley sat at her desk and sighed. Between her fingers were two photographs. One of her dear deceased husband Reginald, the other of her dear deceased son Matthew. She had been taking them out more often as of late, and reminiscing about the times when she and Reginald were young, and baby Matthew - so strikingly similar to George. Back to the days when she was simply the wife of a Manchester physician, mother of a young boy who she hoped would train to be a lawyer or something. Before they came to Downton. Before being middle class was degraded to a criminal offence by Violet. When life was simple and happy.

Days long before the letter that changed their lives. Before Matthew became the heir to an Earldom. Before titles and social conversation dictated her life. Before aging widower Lords asked for her hand in marriage. Before she fell in love with the family Doctor. Who was she to grumble? That was Violet's role! No, Isobel was a strong independent woman of the future, she didn't need a man. She didn't need a title. She didn't need all this. She stood up. The evening sunshine shone in the window. It lit up the photographs.