Downton Abbey - The Story of Emma Barrow

Thomas Grows Suspicious (Jan/Feb 1924)

AN: I'm back. Sorry it took so long. The cold hadn't completely gone away and came back, knocking me out for a full two weeks. It seems like colds are especially fond of me this winter. Anyway, I've now found the time to continue writing. We're now in season five. And we're kicking off with a bit of drama.

"I wish you'd finally tell me what you know about those two," he whispered, casually positioning himself beside Mrs. Baxter. His gaze wandered discreetly, yet purposefully, to Mr. and Mrs. Bates, who were speaking to each other on the far side of the room. What Thomas completely overlooked, however, was Emma. At eleven years old, she sat directly in front of her father on a chair, pretending to be engrossed in a book. In truth, she had caught every word.

"I know nothing about them," Mrs. Baxter replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Well, then tell me what you suspect," Thomas said quietly, his tone insistent. "And don't bother denying it. I've been watching you. You can barely take your eyes off them."

Mrs. Baxter opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say a word, Mr. Molesley suddenly appeared beside Thomas. "May I join in?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and unease in his tone.

Thomas turned to him slowly, his eyes flashing briefly with irritation. "Is that really necessary?" he asked, his voice almost condescending.

Emma lifted her head and pretended to look at them curiously, but her father noticed.

"Have you finished your homework?" Thomas asked, now focusing on her.

"Yes," she replied curtly, biting her lip. In front of her lay her most recent maths test, still needing his signature. She had hoped to catch him in a better mood, as the test result was unlikely to brighten his moods. Emma wasn't a top student but consistently performed well, usually achieving solid marks. She had never scored lower than a C. But there it was: a failing grade. And it wasn't the first time.

Thomas scrutinised his daughter for a moment, as if trying to read her thoughts. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the paper partially tucked under her book.

Emma felt her stomach knot. She had hoped to bring it up later, perhaps when things felt a bit less tense. Her fingers tightened around the sheet. "It's... nothing important," she said, though her voice betrayed her.

"Emma," Thomas said, narrowing his eyes. "Show me."

Emma sighed heavily. "Please don't be angry," she murmured. "It's... my maths test," and reluctantly slid it towards him.

Thomas took the paper, his gaze scanning the page. It took only a moment for him to spot the red "E" in the top corner. His brows knitted together as he looked at Emma, his expression unreadable.

"An E?" he asked, his voice calm but with a sharp undertone.

Emma nodded, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her dress. "It was really hard, Dad. Everyone in my class did worse than usual..."

"Emma," he interrupted, his voice now firmer. "You're a smart girl, so tell me—what happened?"

"I... I don't know," she stammered, feeling her throat tighten.

Thomas was about to press her further, insisting she must know what went wrong, but at that moment, Mr. Carson entered the servants' hall.

Before long, everyone gathered around the table, waiting for Mr. Carson to take his seat and formally begin the evening meal.

"I think it's fantastic. When was the last time we had a Prime Minister who understood the working class? Never. That's why," Jimmy declared with a confident nod, referring to Britain's new political direction.