Chapter Text
Saturday
Thomas presses his lips together, and tries not to smile.
He folds the letter, and puts it back into its envelope, before anyone can suspect anything. But it is too late; she has already noticed.
“Good news?” Phyllis asks, as all the other servants stand from their chairs, and bustle from the room, ready to begin their work.
He glances around, and decides that since most everyone else is gone, it’s safe to answer. He nods. “Mr. Ellis is coming to visit. Next week.”
She raises her eyebrows, and smiles. “How nice,” she says softly.
He nods again; it is nice. He and Richard have written multiple times since they met three months ago, but thus far, neither of them has been able to get away for a visit. Until now.
Thomas had hoped to get up to London, more than he had wished for Richard to visit him here again. It seemed more likely they would have some privacy in the big city, but if Richard is able to come, he’s certainly not going to stop him.
He tucks Richard’s letter into the pocket of his jacket, and stands. “Best get on,” he says, though he is unable to stop himself from smiling.
Tuesday
“Mrs. Hughes?” Thomas asks, as he taps on the door to the housekeeper’s sitting room.
She looks up from her desk, and smiles as he enters. “Yes?” she asks.
Thomas comes fully into the room now, and stands before her, with his hands behind his back. He takes a breath before he begins, and makes himself look her in the eye.
“I’ve had a letter from Mr. Ellis,” he says. “The king’s valet—you remember him?” he asks, casually.
Mrs. Hughes’ eyes smile back at him, but she does not allow her smile to reach her mouth. “Yes, I remember him,” she affirms.
Thomas rolls his eyes just a little at his silly formality. Who does he think he’s kidding? “Well,” he continues. “He’s… he’s going to be in York again this week, and wondered if he could stop here. On Friday.”
Now she smiles fully. “That’s lovely,” she says. “Will he be here the entire day?”
Thomas hesitates. “Well… that’s the thing,” he answers, as he shifts from one foot to the other. “He’s not able to come until the evening. He might be here in time for the servants’ dinner, but he’s unsure… Anyway, he doesn’t have to be back to work until Saturday evening, so…” somehow he both hopes and fears that she will take his meaning, and finish the sentence for him.
She does. “So he would like a room in the men’s attic for the night? And he’ll be here with us for the better part of Saturday?”
Again, he makes himself look at her. “Yes,” he says, trying not to clench his jaw.
She only pauses for a second, before smiling again. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “We’ll make sure we’ve a room ready for him, Friday night.”
He wants to smile back at her, but he is far too relieved to show actual happiness. “Thank you, Mrs. Hughes,” he breathes, and wipes his sweating palms on his trousers. “I’ll leave you to your work now.”
“You’re welcome,” she says cheerily to her door, as it closes behind him.
Thursday
Thoughts of Richard always make Thomas’ heart race. And he’ll be here tomorrow. That must be why, despite the fact that he has already gotten through speaking about the logistics of his friend’s visit with Mrs. Hughes, and Mrs. Patmore, he can’t seem to calm the constant flutter in his chest. It must also be the reason he somehow feels both hot and cold all morning. It certainly explains why the porridge he eats at almost every other breakfast looks positively revolting today.
“Are you alright, Mr. Barrow?” Anna asks, from her place a few seats down.
There is a palpable—though miniscule—pause in all conversation. Thomas clears his throat, and looks at Anna. He knows they both hear the faint echo of a different time in her question, and he wants to give her the right answer just as much as she wants to hear it.
So he does his best to smile, and says softly, “I’m fine. Really.”
She nods, but he can see she can’t let it go quite yet. “That’s good,” she says. “Only it’s just… you look a little pale. That’s all.”
He can’t exactly tell her he’s a bit nervous about his beau coming for a visit, so he just smiles again. “I really am alright,” he says. Then after hesitating for just a moment, he adds, “Thank you for asking.”
She nods, despite the fact that she does not look entirely convinced, then looks suddenly at the bell to her right, summoning her to Lady Mary’s room. “That’s me,” she says brightly, before standing and leaving the servants’ hall.
***
All he has to do is carry the main dish up the stairs. But what was earlier a flurry in his chest is now a rushing thrum in his ears, and he constantly shudders with an ache that clenches his entire body. He stands at the foot of the stairs with the tray in his hands, willing his feet to move, but they simply will not obey.
“Mr. Barrow?” Andy asks, from the top of the stairs. He must have realized the butler was not right behind him, as he should have been. “Are you…?” he begins, then walks back down the stairs. “Are you alright?” he asks softly.
Before he can answer, Phyllis is standing beside them, and says, “No, Andy, he’s not alright.” Thomas lets out a shaky sigh, but does not answer. “Could you manage both the fish and the sauce?” Phyllis asks Andy.
He nods. “Definitely,” he says, then turns to the butler. “Don’t worry, Mr. Barrow. I can serve the luncheon myself; it’s just the four of them.” Then he places the sauce and ladle on Thomas' tray, takes the whole load in his own hands, and hurries up the stairs.
Thomas lets out another breath, and looks at Phyllis. After a pause, she reaches up tentatively and places her hand on his forehead. He briefly considers pulling away, but the coolness of her skin is unexpectedly soothing.
“You have a fever,” she says with a frown.
“I know,” he whispers, and swallows, though it hurts to do so. “I don’t feel well at all.”
She returns her hand to her side, and says, “Go upstairs and have a lie down. We’ll cover for you.”
“But…” he begins.
“Thomas, we’ll be fine,” she says.
He swallows again. “It’s not that,” he answers. He looks her in the eye, and bites his lip.
She shakes her head a little before answering. “Maybe… maybe all you need is a bit of a rest, and you’ll feel better tomorrow.” She tries to smile at him. “Not to worry.”
He marshals the energy required to roll his eyes, then turns and trudges up the stairs.