✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 24

THOMAS POV

The heavy scent of antiseptic filled the air in Leeds Military Hospital, mingling with the faint trace of cigarette smoke that clung to my uniform. The ward was quiet for now, with only the low hum of the night nurse making her rounds and the occasional groan from the other soldiers resting in their beds. I stood at the end of the long hallway, the cold linoleum floor creaking underfoot as I tried to focus on something-anything-other than the throbbing pain in my hand.

"Sergeant Barrow," a voice, soft but firm, cut through the muted noise behind me.

I turned, finding Private Somerset standing there, his silhouette framed by the dim, flickering light overhead. He looked almost out of place, his blond hair neatly combed, his uniform pressed and immaculate in contrast to the chaos and disarray around us. There was a certain energy about him, a presence that seemed to quiet the space as he approached, and for a brief moment, the hospital and its stifling atmosphere faded into the background.

"May I talk to you for a second?" he asked, stepping closer, his voice low, as though the walls themselves might listen in on our conversation.

I nodded, not entirely sure why my pulse had quickened at his proximity. "Be quick though. What do you need?"

He hesitated for a second, his blue eyes flickering over my face, before producing a neatly folded letter from his breast pocket. "I just received word from Dr. Clarkson. About your request."

I stilled, my mind immediately jumping to the thought of Downton, of home. Of Eden, Matthew, everyone. "Go on," I said, my tone more eager than I had intended.

Somerset unfolded the letter with precision, his fingers brushing the paper in a way that drew my attention more than it should have. "I'm glad to tell you that you can be transferred to Downton Abbey," he said quietly. "They've volunteered to serve as a convalescence home for wounded and recovering soldiers."

The words struck me, settling in like a balm to the constant ache that had been gnawing at me since I left. Downton. The place that had always been both my sanctuary and my prison. But now, the thought of going back felt... different. Lighter, somehow.

"And Dr. Clarkson?" I asked, trying to focus on the practicalities. "He can't travel back and forth from York?"

Somerset shook his head. "He's asked if you'd be willing to oversee things for him, Sergeant. If you feel up for it, of course."

I was silent for a moment, processing his words. The responsibility. The opportunity. And yet, all I could focus on was the way Somerset stood close to me, his presence grounding and unsettling all at once.

"I-uh-yes. Of course," I finally managed, swallowing the knot in my throat. "When will the train leave?"

A flicker of a smile passed over Somerset's lips, subtle but enough to light up the room in a way that caught me off guard. His gaze lingered on mine, and for a split second, I wondered if he could feel the same tension between us that had been building since the day we met.

"Well, tonight," he said, his voice softer now. He took a half-step closer, the air between us suddenly charged. "But there's something else," he added, his tone shifting slightly, as though he were trying to keep things casual. "I'll need to continue accompanying you. Official orders." He paused, his smile widening just a touch. "But I've never been to Downton, so maybe you could show me around?"

The way he said it-the easy confidence in his words, the gentle smile that didn't quite reach his eyes-it made my chest tighten. There was something there, just beneath the surface. Something unspoken but undeniable. His smile, though friendly, felt warmer than it should, his eyes holding mine for just a fraction too long.