Downton Abbey - The Story of Emma Barrow

Tea Time, Nanny West & O'Brien (Jan/Feb 1922)

"Oh, hello Emma," Mrs. Crawley smiled weakly as she saw the girl stroll past her house.

"Hello Mrs. Crawley," Emma greeted politely.

"Are you on your way home? How was school?" the older lady attempted to initiate a conversation.

Emma nodded, "It was alright. I'm getting better at needlework."

"That's good to hear," she tried to smile cheerfully, but Emma knew full well that Mrs. Crawley still mourned her son.

Emma had overheard a conversation between her father and Jimmy—after admitting she could have been in Mister Matthew's car—and during that conversation, Thomas admitted he would never cope with the loss of his only child in his lifetime.

Thomas stood with Jimmy in the backyard. The cigarettes glowed in their mouths.

"Chin up, Mr. Barrow," Jimmy said, "Emma didn't get in."

"But she almost did," Thomas replied, letting the smoke slowly escape from his mouth, "I nearly lost my daughter that day."

"Life still goes on," Jimmy shrugged, "Lord Grantham seems to have gotten over the loss of Lady Sybil quite well. So, you would get over it too – everyone does."

Thomas shook his head, "It's not the same. If my child were to die before me, then I'm no longer a father," Thomas came to the sad realization. There would be no little dwarf calling him 'Daddy.'

"I'd just be nothing," he sadly concluded.

"You're still the under-butler," Jimmy said encouragingly.

But for Thomas, that didn't matter. The thoughts of potentially losing his child filled him with indescribable pain. He couldn't even imagine the suffering Lady and Lord Grantham or Mrs. Crawley must have endured through the loss of their children.

"You don't understand. You don't have a child. The loss of your own and only child is the worst thing that can happen."

"Wouldn't you like to come in? I have cake, and I can make us some tea," Mrs. Crawley offered, completely pulling Emma out of her thoughts. If Emma learned one thing, it was that one should not refuse such invitations. Especially not when the person extending them was so full of grief. "Very gladly," she agreed.

Mrs. Crawley came in with a tray, upon which the teapot gently steamed. She set it down carefully and smiled kindly at Emma, yet there was a shadow of sorrow in her eyes. "Please, have a seat," she said gently, gesturing to the chair opposite. Emma followed her invitation and sat down as Mrs. Crawley poured the tea. The warm steam rose, filling the room with a soothing herbal scent.

Mrs. Crawley handed Emma a cup and sat across from her. "I hope the tea suits your taste," she said with a slight smile. Emma took a sip and tasted the comforting blend of Earl Grey and lavender. "It's delicious, thank you very much," she replied politely, trying to lighten the somber mood.

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea before Mrs. Crawley broke the silence. "The servants tends to gossip," she began, taking another sip of her tea before continuing, "They say it was you," pausing briefly, "I certainly don't want to reopen wounds, but I need to know," she took a deep breath, "What were his last words? How was he..." she trailed off.

Emma set her cup back on the table. "I... um," Emma stuttered, feeling overwhelmed by the question, "Mister Matthew spoke very proudly of his son – George – he was very happy and talked about introducing his son to everyone personally."