✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 8

I stepped into the servants' hall, greeted by the familiar hum of morning activity. "Good morning," I said, my voice cutting through the din.

Thomas barely glanced up from his bowl of oats, a spoon halfway to his mouth. "Well, good morning, sunshine," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

I couldn't help but smirk. "Oh my, someone's in a good mood today."

Thomas rolled his eyes dramatically and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, don't worry about my mood today because I am about to destroy everyone else's." With that cryptic remark, he got up and started to walk away.

"Thomas, tell me what you know," I pleaded, my curiosity piqued.

He paused, turning slightly. "Mr. Pamuk is dead. Found him in bed this morning," he said, before disappearing into the main house, leaving a trail of tension behind him.

"Oh shit," I muttered under my breath, the weight of his words sinking in.

Mr. Bates, who had just taken a seat next to me, raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. "Want to tell me?" he asked gently.

I sighed, feeling the gravity of the situation pressing down on me. "Thomas made an awful discovery. Pamuk's dead," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, I stood and followed the path Thomas had taken, my mind racing with the implications of such a scandal.

I moved through the bustling kitchen, gathering a tray of food for the dining room. The usual clatter of pots and pans seemed muted, overshadowed by the grim news. Balancing the tray carefully, I made my way to the dining room where the Crawleys were already seated.

As I approached, I caught Thomas's eye. He gave me a brief, tense nod. The room fell silent as I entered, all eyes on the tray I carried.

I began placing the dishes on the table, trying to remain composed. Thomas cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"May I have your attention, please?" he began, his voice steady but with an edge of tension. "I have some distressing news. Mr. Pamuk was found dead in his bed this morning."

Gasps and murmurs erupted around the table. Lady Mary went pale, her fork clattering to her plate.

"Dead?" Lord Grantham repeated, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

Thomas nodded solemnly. "Yes, my lord. I discovered him this morning during my rounds. It appears he passed away in his sleep."

The room was thick with silence, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on everyone. Lady Grantham brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

I continued to serve the food, my hands trembling slightly. The usual aroma of roasted meats and fresh vegetables seemed out of place in the sombre atmosphere.

"Have you informed Dr. Clarkson?" Lord Grantham asked, regaining some composure.

"Yes, my lord," Thomas replied. "He is on his way."

As I placed the last dish on the table, I could feel the tension radiating from the Crawleys. Lady Mary seemed on the verge of tears, her gaze fixed on her plate.

I stepped back, my duty done, and moved to stand by the door. The conversation continued in hushed tones, the gravity of the situation hanging over the room like a dark cloud.

Thomas caught my eye again, a silent exchange of concern passing between us. The day had taken an unexpectedly dark turn, and we both knew it was far from over.

***

After the sombre announcement in the dining room, I was assigned the grim task of cleaning Mr. Pamuk's bedroom. I hesitated outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady myself. The hallway was eerily quiet, the usual bustling activity of Downton Abbey subdued by the morning's tragic news.