Downton Abbey - The Story of Emma Barrow

Convalescent Home (Summer 1917)

"I know you were looking forward to moving to the village with me, but I'm afraid we won't be able to find a new home - at least not for now," he paused, taking a deep breath and looking into his daughter's panicked face.

"You said you wouldn't leave me again," Emma recalled his words from a few weeks ago.

"I know, and that hasn't changed. I'm staying with you."

Emma let out a relieved sigh. Her dad would stay with her, so where was the bad news if she didn't have to leave Downton Abbey? She sat thoughtfully on a wooden crate, swinging her legs. They were in the backyard.

"I've decided to move into my old room here at the Abbey."

A radiant smile spread across Emma's face. She could hardly believe her luck. "Really, Daddy? That's wonderful!" She jumped up and hugged Thomas tightly.

Thomas was surprised by Emma's reaction, "I thought you would be excited about the idea of moving to the village," Thomas admitted cautiously. Emma looked down and nervously played with her fingers. "This is my home." Thomas felt a pang in his heart. Emma never wanted to move in with him, even though he was her father... had he done something wrong, or had his child been influenced by the staff?

"Yes, this is your home," he smiled sadly. Suddenly, he wasn't sure if Emma would take the next piece of news well. "Mr. Carson wants you to move into my room."

"Can't I stay with Anna?"

"Absolutely not!" he blurted out. He didn't like the fact that his daughter had an intimate relationship with everyone but him. That his child would rather live with Anna than with him.

"But..." she tried to protest, but Thomas placed his hand on her shoulder. "You are going to like it, my little dwarf. I promise." Thomas closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath. "In the past, I used to tuck you into bed every night. First, I'd give you a piggyback ride to the bathroom, where you brushed your teeth, and then I'd fly you back to bed. Most of the time, I would lie with you for a while and read you a story," Thomas reminisced.

"I don't remember."

A fact that Thomas had already realized with great regret. His child couldn't remember him anymore - the time they played together or when he put her to bed, "Then let's create new memories," he said optimistically.

Only a few days later, Emmas home was transformed into a convalescent home for officers. 

"But I urgently need to oversee the medical staff," Thomas exclaimed anxiously. Emma looked curiously between Mrs. Crawley and her father. Sitting at the table, she occupied herself with her toys when suddenly the servants' hall filled up.

"Under my supervision, Carson, I rely on you to handle it," Mrs. Crawley explained.

"What's going on here?" Lady Grantham wondered.

"I'm just assigning duties in the household where they overlap with the nursing staff's responsibilities."

"Shouldn't we discuss this upstairs?"

"Well, I've made a list and..." She paused for a moment. "Of course."

"Didn't you say you were the manager or his representative?" Ethel winked, much to Thomas' displeasure. Emma left her toys and crawled under the table directly to her dad, who apparently didn't notice her.

"This is what we're up against," O'Brien whispered.

"Don't worry. We'll find a solution," he said. Emma now jumped up in front of her dad, "Daddy!" and cheerfully raised her arms in the air. "Do you have time..." before Emma could finish her question, Thomas interrupted her, "I have to work," and with a simple, quick gesture, he pushed Emma out of the way. The girl formed a surprised "o" with her mouth. She hadn't expected her dad to just push her aside like that. Emma felt her shoulders sink down, and a pang of disappointment struck her little heart. She nodded slowly, trying to hide her disappointment. All she wanted was to ask what all these changes meant. Why were there suddenly so many officers living upstairs, where the new staff came from, and if he finally had time to play with her. A promise he made to her many days ago.