Downton Abbey - The Story of Emma Barrow

Unwelcome Visitor (July 1922)

Holidays were the best thing school ever invented. The last few weeks had shown Emma how much she loved the freedom that holidays offered. The days, spent from morning until night exploring, flew by. Most of the time, Emma spent at Harris Farm, which was just a short walk from the Abbey. It was a place full of life and adventure, where she and her best friend Ruby spent countless hours outdoors.

One sunny morning, Emma met Ruby in front of the farmhouse. Ruby grinned and proudly lifted the lid of a basket, revealing an assortment of homemade pastries, fresh berries, and lemonade. "Mum made these little tarts, and I picked some berries from the garden. And of course, there's lemonade."

Emma sniffed the enticing aroma of the pastries, hardly able to wait to take a bite. "This looks so delicious," she said.

"Just wait until you try the lemonade," Ruby replied proudly. "I helped make it!"

The two girls quickly packed up the picnic items and set off into the woods. The path was shady and cool, and the rustling of the leaves above them created a soothing background music. Ruby and Emma moved swiftly, sometimes climbing over fallen trees and crossing small streams. Their shoes got muddy, but they didn't mind in the slightest.

"Do you remember when we found the old oak tree last year?" asked Ruby as they hopped over a small brook.

"Of course!" replied Emma, laughing. "We declared it the throne of our forest kingdom!"

"And today, it will be our picnic spot," Ruby decided with a solemn nod.

After a while, they reached the clearing where the majestic old oak tree stood. Its broad branches provided perfect shade from the sun, and the grass beneath it was soft and inviting. The girls spread out a blanket and placed the picnic basket in the middle. They sat down, and Emma immediately reached for one of the tarts while Ruby poured the lemonade.

"Alright, let's talk about my dad and my mama," said Emma as she sat down expectantly opposite Mrs. Baxter. She had caught the maid in a quiet moment in the servants' hall.

"There isn't much to talk about. You already know everything I could have told you," replied Mrs. Baxter, slightly nervous. Emma scrutinised the maid intensely.

She hardly believed that Mrs. Baxter was telling the truth, "You know more than you're admitting," she pleaded, "Please, Mrs. Baxter! I want to know more about my mama, about her family, how she grew up and all that," and placed her mother's photograph on the table alongside the mysterious birthday card she had received on her 10th birthday.

"Do you know O.T.?" Emma asked hopefully.

Mrs. Baxter shook her head, "I'm sorry, Emma. I can't help you."

"Is O.T. related to my mama? What is my mama's last name?"

"Emma," said Mrs. Baxter, "I really like you, and you do remind me a lot of Martha, but what you're asking of me... I can't tell you. You should ask Thomas."

Emma sighed disappointedly, but another question crept into her mind, "Mrs. Baxter, did you know my mama as well as my dad did?"

Mrs. Baxter smiled, "I knew her very well, just as well as Thomas did."

"Do I have to call you Mrs. Baxter? You knew my parents; my mama better than I ever will, I don't want to call you Mrs. Baxter," Emma blurted out.

"Then call me Phyllis," Mrs. Baxter suggested with a smile.

Emma revealed a broad grin, "Phyllis, can you show me how this works?" she asked curiously, pointing at the electric sewing machine.