It’s a complete draft, but I want to sit on it a few days before I actually put it up on Ao3, all official like. Maybe even wait until I have the DVD in hand and can, you know, reference things.
Sparked by the observations @alex51324 made to my earlier post on Guy. I suspect I’ll wind up making a ‘missing scenes’ file on Ao3, eventually, and that some of them will be canonically killed when we get the DVD and official missing scenes, but ooooh well! Nothing new there!
…seriously, if there’s one thing about that film I do not envy Julian Fellowes for it’s having to smash a month’s worth of plot into just over two hours. Stuff of nightmares right there. Oi.
-
-
Elsie rapped softly on the door to the butler’s pantry. When there was no answer, she frowned and knocked again. She’d seen Mr. Dexter leave, and what he’d been doing there was beyond her, but as far as she could tell Thomas should still be there. “Mr. Barrow? Do you have a minute?”
“Come in, Mrs. Hughes,” the familiar voice finally answered, although it wasn’t as distinct as usual.
Pushing the door open, Elsie stepped through and, on a hunch, pulled it closed behind her. It wasn’t that her errand was so secret, but conversations did occasionally arise on their own, and the way life had been going lately, it seemed better to be safe than sorry. She found Thomas sitting at his desk, jacket on, sipping on a glass of port and staring at the wall in a manner that reminded her of a shell shock patient. It would have been alarming if it weren’t for the slight quirk in his lips and his eyebrows, faintly raised in the middle but in a manner that noted confusion rather than worry. It was still a rather odd expression, all told, so she tilted her head to one side and asked, “Is everything alright? Only Daisy said Mr. Dexter was in to see you, but she wasn’t certain why. Do we need to adjust his accommodations?” She couldn’t imagine the actor wanting anything too demanding. So far he’d been the most genial and gracious of their guests, but one generally didn’t come down to the butler’s pantry in person if all they wanted was an extra glass of brandy at night.
“Yeah,” Thomas replied, his expression still distant. Making a visible effort to pull himself into the here and now, he looked at her and tried again. “Yes, he just wanted…” he trailed off again. His smiled broadened, accompanied by a short huff of laughter, and his eyebrows raised, as they always did when he was surprised. “I don’t know what he wanted, actually. It couldn’t have been what it sounded like, but…” He stopped, took a sip of his port, and didn’t start again, his eyes drifting back to the wall.
There was no denying it, whatever Mr. Dexter had wanted had left Downton’s butler as stunned as if he’d been clocked up alongside the head with the largest salmon ever to come out of the Dee. Without waiting for an invitation, Mrs. Hughes drew up the room’s spare chair and had a seat. “What did it sound like?”
For a long stretch, there was no answer, not even the blink of an eye. Finally Thomas shook his head. “I couldn’t. Not even to you,” he said, a fine thread of regret running through his voice. “It’s not just my secret.”
“Well, that sounds serious.” Elsie eyed him. It was clear he wanted to talk about it, whatever it was, just as it had been clear that he’d wanted to talk about Mr. Ellis’s marriage. At least this didn’t look like a broken heart, again, but it certainly didn’t look like anything else she’d experienced either. Wracking her brain for an answer, or at least a way to put Thomas at ease so he’d talk, she decided to take the route of indelicate humour. It wasn’t her favorite, but saying things that were at least a little shocking tended, or so she thought, to remind Thomas that they were on the same level and that she wasn’t here to police his behavior. Given that his shock was clearly happy, and what sort of man she knew him to be, she said glibly, “He didn’t proposition you, did he?”
He stared at her again, eyebrows still raised, his mouth working but failing to form any sound beyond a faint, disbelieving squeak. He was still smiling and shaking his head. Finally he managed, “I think he just proposed.”
If Elsie hadn’t been sitting, you could have knocked her over with a feather. “Proposed?”
Having gotten the words out, the dam broke. Thomas started laughing, a light, giddy sound, so unlike his normal laugh that it might have been another person. “Here,” he poured a second glass of port and handed it to her, still shaking his head. “I know, it sounds ridiculous, and I have to have misunderstood something but…” He trailed off again, watching as she took a sip of the drink.
Fortified, she backed up a few steps. Clearly, whatever was going on called for a steady head and that was not something Thomas Barrow had right now. Of course, if it even sounded like Mr. Dexter had made such an offer, she could completely understand the butler’s shock. She was shocked herself. Pleased for him, if it were true. He’d had enough bad luck for nine lifetimes. But how could it be true? Taking a deep breath, she asked, “What, exactly, did he say?”
Thomas blinked, clearly gathering his fragmented thoughts. “He said he wants me to move to California with him. To live in his house. To travel with him while he works. He said I’d be…basically his valet, but it was the way he said it. Like he was just making something up, so I would have a reason to be there.” His brows knit together again. “He told me his real name, when I asked.”
“What is his real name?” Elsie asked, as much to buy herself time to think as out of curiosity.
Thomas actually snickered at that. “Well, his Christian name is Quintin. His family name is…rather unfortunate and we’ll just stick to Dexter.”
“That’s probably for the best, yes.”
Another sip of port and Thomas continued. “He did mention that things could go south, with his career. That was an acknowledged concern. But he seemed to think we’d get by somehow.” He met her eyes, holding the gaze with a sort of desperation. “It really didn’t sound like just a job proposal.”
“Indeed,” she admitted. “You’ll want to be certain, of course, before you say yes, but I can’t think of a single reason a world famous actor would give his real name to someone, simply to convince them to be his valet. Especially if his family name is as unfortunate as all that.”
Thomas winced. “It really is.”
“Then I would say yes. He really did propose.” It seemed too fantastic for words, but what other explanation was there? Turning the past weeks over in her mind, she tried to think of anything she’d seen or heard that could add clarity to the situation. All she could come up with was the fact that, despite Mrs. Patmore’s warnings, Mr. Dexter had been perfectly civil to the maids. Then again, under the circumstances, perhaps that was more telling than it seemed. “Well, if it is real, then I shall miss you.”
Thomas stared at her a moment, blinked, then shook his head again. “But it can’t work,” he insisted, laughing again. This time the laugh was more familiar, sharper at the edges. “The entire idea is ludicrous.”
“Why shouldn’t it work?” she countered. Some small part of her mind, the part that was aware of the rules, insisted she shouldn’t be encouraging him, but she ignored it. She couldn’t bear to watch him go from deliriously happy back to the heartbreak of weeks earlier, or worse. “He may be concerned about his career, but he’s doing quite well so far, with this…talking picture. He does have a rather nice voice.”
“But you said it yourself, Mrs. Hughes,” he reminded her. “Men like me, if we aren’t willing to play along and pretend, we’re doomed to be lonely.”
“Unless you’re lucky.” Having reminded him of the other option, Elsie set her largely untouched port aside and sat back primly in her chair. She was certain that if she left it, Thomas would finish it off himself after she’d gone. All seriousness, she said, “I know your life has been hard, Thomas. Harder than you’ve ever let on, I think. But there’s no reason you shouldn’t be lucky now.”
“I make my own luck, and it’s never that good. No matter how I try it…it just isn’t.” The shock had clearly worn off, and with it the giddy euphoria. It was clear reality was setting back in, bringing with it a lifetime’s worth of fear.
Once bitten, the saying went, twice shy. How many times had Thomas Barrow been bitten? Far more than twice, that much went without saying. “And were you making your own luck when Mr. Carson’s hands went shaky and His Lordship offered you his job?” Elsie soldiered on. He needed to be realistic, but only enough to be sure of things, not so much that it cowed him into inaction. “Or back when you were made under butler?” She pursed her lips and debated for a moment. She hated to bring up old days, back when he was in league with O’Brien, but at the same time, the point was there. “Surely you’re not going to say that you failed to make your own, very good luck back when the Spanish flu hit and you worked your way back into the house.” He winced and looked away, but a bashful sort of smile ghosted across his lips, telling her that she’d struck a cord. “You’ve had good luck. Maybe not as much as other people, or as much as you’d deserved, but it’s not been all bad. And with you and Mr. Dexter together, it seems like you could make some very good luck at this.”
“And if we can’t? If my luck fails?” The ‘again’ went unspoken.
Smiling, Elsie reached out and laid her hand on his. “If that happens, then you will always have friends here, ready to help in any way you can. I’ve often questioned if Lady Mary has a heart to beat, but I’m sure even she wouldn’t turn you away if you needed it. As long as Downton Abbey stands, you will have a home.”
Closing his eyes, Thomas took a steady breath. He twisted his hand around to squeeze hers, gently, and, with a far more grounded smile than his earlier ones, met her gaze. “Thank you, Mrs. Hughes.”
With an answering squeeze, Elsie released his hand and sat back, smiling. “Tell me, Mr. Barrow. Is this truly something you want.”
It took a couple of tries, but finally he managed, just loud enough to be heard, “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“Then I would say it’s well worth the risk. Do whatever it takes to be certain, and then, if you are right, hand in your notice before you have a chance to get cold feet!” she nodded firmly, earning herself a broader, more genuine smile. “I do have one caveat, though, if you’re going to run off to California.”
His eyebrows quirked in a silent question.
“I will miss you, you know. So I want at least one postcard.”
His laugh was warm and steady, just as it should be. “I think I can manage more than one.”
Summary: Roselyn Sinclaire reflects in her actions toward her ex-husband.
Characters: Ernest Sinclaire; Roselyn Sinclaire. The mentioned characters belong to Pixelberry. No copyright infringement intended.
Word Count: +/- 1550
Rating:Teen +, maybe M
Warnings: Mention of childbirth; Mention of rape; Mention of prostitution; Mention of adultery; Desire and Decorum book spoilers; Reader’s discretion is advised. ⚠️
Notes:
⚜English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors.
Several times a day I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. I’m back at my London townhouse! It feels so good to be wrapped in a soft silky dress, be sprawled in a comfortable armchair, feel the warmth of the fireplace in my bones!
A few weeks after I knocked at Ledford Park’s door, Ernest decided that it would be more convenient to come here because of the approach childbirth due date. He hasn’t told me yet, but I heard the staff comment the master had hired the best midwife in London to help me.
My heart aches thinking about the days I spent at the women’s shelter. I fell into that situation as a result of my bad choices. It was a fair punishment for my vanity and lust. However, that was not the case for most of my housemates. Some of the women I met there were just girls who had been raped by strangers; others had become prostitutes so as not to starve and took refuge there to not have their babies in the middle of the dirty streets.
The thought of childbirth moment sent a shiver down my spine. I remember waking up at dawn with my mother’s screams while she was having my younger brother. Despite the nanny’s efforts to try to stop me, I managed to peek through the crack in the door. It was a frightening sight. I asked my nanny why mum was in so much pain. “God said to the woman ‘I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain, you shall bring forth children.’ The pain is the price to pay for the sin,” the nanny replied. If the pain is proportionate to the sin, then I will have a great tribulation ahead. However, the memory of my mother nursing my little brother the next day, make the memories of the night before seemed to have been just a bad dream. I remember thinking how a God’s punishment could be so cute?
This was really an interesting read! I actually felt for Roselyn here, her regret over everything is clear. But sadly, some things can’t be undone and she has to live with the mistake she made poor Ernest.
@park-nazario Thank you so much for reading and rebloging! I’m happy you enjoyed it!
Missing scene; in which I take a rough stab at the segment Asami should have gotten in Remembrances.
Tenzin eventually left, and it was just the two of them again.
Korra sipped on her tea, staring out across the sea and to the setting sun. She was acutely aware of Asami’s presence beside her, and thought back to their conversation at the restaurant. With a pang of regret, she realized she needed to say something.
