✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 10

THOMAS POV

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of Downton Abbey, casting a gentle glow over the grand dining room where breakfast was in full swing. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of lavender from the nearby vase. The clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of conversation created a serene yet distant backdrop to the growing tension in the hallway.

"Mr. Barrow, where is your sister?" Mr. Crawley's voice sliced through the calm, his tone as sharp as the freshly pressed linens of the breakfast table.

I paused, a hint of frustration bubbling beneath my calm exterior. "Unavailable, Mr. Crawley," I replied, forcing myself to remain polite as I attempted to sidestep him.

"That's what I thought. I wanted to check on her," Mr. Crawley insisted, his gaze unyielding.

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my irritation in check. "Why bother? Eden woke up earlier, had some breakfast, and is now back to resting. Dr. Clarkson has already been by to check on her, so there's no need for you to interfere."

Mr. Crawley's brow furrowed in confusion and irritation. "I'm just concerned about her well-being."

"Oh, really?" I said, a note of sarcasm slipping into my voice. "Is this the same concern you showed at the fair when you remarked that fairs are for those who don't have many other entertainments? Or the same concern you displayed during the fight when you told her she'd learn to show you the respect you deserve?"

The words hung in the air, heavy with the sting of remembered grievances. Mr. Crawley's face reddened slightly, his discomfort palpable as he struggled to find a retort. The sounds of distant laughter and the clatter of dishes in the dining room seemed to grow louder, amplifying the tension between us.

"I just want to make sure she's alright," Mr. Crawley said, though his voice lacked conviction.

I sighed, the smell of toast and coffee mixing with the acrid tension. "You want to be concerned now? After everything you've said? Eden needs peace, not a reminder of your shifting interests. Let her rest. She's already had more than enough to deal with, without your unwanted scrutiny."

With a curt nod, Mr. Crawley turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing faintly as he retreated down the corridor. The smell of breakfast seemed to fade as I watched him go, leaving behind a lingering sense of unresolved tension.

I took a deep breath, the scents of the morning filling my senses, and turned back towards Eden's room. The weight of the day's events pressed heavily on me, but for now, the tranquillity of Eden's rest was a small comfort amid the chaos.

I made my way back down the hallway, the soft creak of floorboards beneath my feet accompanying each step. The corridor was quiet now, save for the distant sounds of breakfast being served in the dining room. I paused outside Eden's room, noting the subtle hum of her steady breathing through the door.

Opening it gently, I slipped inside. Eden was nestled under the covers, her face pale against the white pillow. The faintest tinge of blood had dried on her forehead, a stark reminder of the chaos from last night. The room smelled of antiseptic, mingling with the faint hint of lavender from the small bouquet Mrs. Crawley had left by the bedside.

I approached her quietly, careful not to disturb her rest. Her breathing was steady, though she looked exhausted. Sitting down in the chair beside her bed, I watched her for a moment, the silence of the room both comforting and oppressive.

As I sat there, I couldn't help but think of everything Eden had been through. Her resolve to stay at the rally despite the danger, the pain she'd endured in the chaos, and the condescension from Mr. Crawley-it was all a heavy burden for her to bear.