Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Charles Carson dies in his sleep.

Between one breath and another he finds himself standing in a world of light and nothingness; no sound, no smell, no physical sensation to ground and anchor him.

Elsie had gone a few weeks before and he is glad to be following.  He only wants to be with her…

He has a vague recollection of worrying about what was going to happen with the butler position with Andrew handing in his notice.  If only Barrow hadn’t left…

Thomas Barrow.

The one big regret of Charles’ life is Barrow, or more specifically, how Charles had let his distaste for Barrow’s proclivities influence his treatment of the boy from the outset.

Barrow had arrived from his previous employment trained well by the butler to the Earl of Warwickshire who had asked His Lordship to take him as a favour after some unpleasantness with his valet, a favour His Lordship was happy to grant as they’d needed help at the time. (It was clear reading between the lines that the valet had beaten Thomas for being different, and while that valet had been dismissed from service for the violence, that the Earl also wanted to minimise the scandal by removing the boy from the household).

Charles had taken one look at Barrow and felt that strange dichotomy of looking at society’s conception of the ideal handsome male specimen and yet simply knowing he was other, as though the Devil had conspired to set Thomas Barrow on the earth as a temptation for weak men.  He had assumed that Thomas had brought the beating on himself.

With the benefit of time and knowledge, Charles still thinks that Thomas probably did provoke the beating with his sharp tongue, but that Thomas also did not deserve such a beating for simply existing.  He wonders now where he didn’t at the time the exact circumstances for the beating.

Charles is still a man of faith.  He still believes that a man loving a man is not right or natural, but he has come to believe that those with the inclination to do so do not deserve harsh condemnation, but rather empathy for their situation.  Had Jesus himself not counselled them against casting stones?

And Charles has perhaps cast stones when he should not have done so.

He remembers Barrow’s desperate attempt to escape life altogether and the deep guilt he had felt for the part that he had played in the lead-up to that event.

It was no-one’s fault that Barrow had chosen to attempt suicide, Charles reminds himself, but he cannot deny that he and the others had contributed to making Barrow think such an option was preferable to his actual life, and Barrow had definitely contributed behaviour which had beget their behaviour…

Or had Thomas’ behaviour been a result of their own behaviour towards him, Charles wonders.  Where had the vicious cycle begun?

Charles knows he had been hard on the boy when he had arrived, and the staff had followed his lead, because they did not want to incur his own wrath.  Even his dear Elsie who had initially made a few encouragements to treat Barrow better in the privacy of Charles’ office had eventually stopped her comments when Barrow had inevitably acted out.  (It was only later that he learned she had a brother with the same inclination). 

Only the detestable Miss O’Brien, who had the advantage of her relationship with Her Ladyship to stand against Charles, had given Barrow any kind of friendship occasionally, and he understands better with hindsight that her friendship had been a poisoned chalice based on Barrow’s utility to her.  Once he’d stopped being useful…she’d turned on him just like she’d turned on anyone who crossed her.

Yet Thomas Barrow had turned into an exemplary butler, one who Charles recognises had done a good job.  Everything had been in order when Charles had taken over at the Royal Visit, and once more in the wake of Barrow’s departure. 

His thoughts drift to the Royal Visit.  He’d realised when the odious Mister Wilson had told Charles to read a book through the visit, when he had disparaged the house, just how awful it had actually been for Thomas to hear from His Lordship that Charles would take over as butler for the visit in his stead.  He’d just been so filled with pride to be asked back…

Charles wishes he could sigh, but there is no body to sigh with.

Hadn’t he set aside his principles and allowed the Downton staff to interfere with the Royal servants to ensure that they had the chance to fulfil their duties during their Majesties’ visit because his pride had been pricked by Wilson’s disdain and disapproval?

Had he made Barrow feel that way constantly?  Had that been the reason he’d acted out?

Charles wonders now whether if he hadn’t let his assumptions over Barrow’s departure from his previous employment, hadn’t let his distaste influence his treatment of that young junior footman who had arrived bright-eyed and eager for a new start, whether that might have made a difference. 

If he’d simply supported Thomas from the beginning in his employment at Downton, trained and mentored him without begrudging every moment, might that have given the young man a place to belong.  

Was that what he would want to do over?

The question drifts into his consciousness and he turns it over with customary caution. 

He rather fears it is.

Oh, he could certainly approach Elsie sooner, have more years of happiness with her as his wife rather than as simply a colleague in arms and a trusted friend, but in the end, if something changed there, he knows it wouldn’t really change anything in the end outside of himself and Elsie.

But giving Thomas Barrow somewhere to belong? That might change things substantially for the young man in question, and by ripple effect, many others.

So be it.

The words echo like a single crystal-clear bell tone, like the heavy single beat of a drum…

And Charles Carson comes abruptly awake in a snap.

o-O-o

June 1910

“What do you make of this, Carson?”

His Lordship hands Charles the expected letter with much aplomb.  They are in the Earl’s drawing room and Charles has been summoned by the bell.

Charles takes the beautifully expensive missive and reads it.  The words are exactly what he is expecting. 

Dear Robert,

I know I owe you a proper letter and please forgive my writing to you with this sole purpose, but I find myself in need of some assistance and hope you can help an old school chum out.

I’m not sure if the rumours have reached you yet, but I know I can count on your discretion when I confide that we had some trouble in the household here. 

My former valet, Mister Kipper, has been dismissed after being found beating the Devil out of our new junior footman, a Thomas Barrow. He is recovering, but I feel Barrow’s presence here is causing the scandal to linger and his peers to view him in an unflattering light as Kipper managed to make some damningly loud insinuations on his way out of the door. 

Perhaps new environs will give him a fresh start? 

I would be grateful if you have need of a junior footman to pass him along to you.  I enclose an excellent recommendation from Sheffield, who notes that Barrow has been with us since he was a hall boy and has been trained to a high standard.

Yours,

Percy. W

“I see,” Charles murmurs as he collects his thoughts.

He’s had a month to acclimate back into his old life, to occupy once more his old familiar body, to walk his familiar routines. 

It has felt surreal.

He knows he has already lived this life and died once before.  He knows in the end his only regret had been his harsh treatment of Thomas Barrow.  He has wondered if this is his afterlife as his God and faith promise or whether he must make amends before he can go forward to his spiritual reward.   

If he is to make amends, this moment is the beginning of it.

He remembers the last time that he’d made some comment about not accepting cast-offs and someone appropriate would emerge from once he advertised for help.  His Lordship had insisted that they take Barrow since Charles had been complaining about needing help, that this would earn him a substantial favour with a fellow Earl, and Barrow did have an excellent reference.

“May I see the reference, m’lord?” asks Charles.

His Lordship hands it to him. 

Charles reads it over. 

It is an excellent reference, and it is even truthful.  Charles immediately understands the coded terms Sheffield uses to convey that Barrow has a problem with speaking before he thinks and occasionally needs a firm hand, but also the praise in how Barrow is a quick learner and exemplary in performing his duties.  He details the training Barrow has had since joining them as a hall boy at fifteen.  He’s been in that household for three years.

“Carson?” prompts the Earl.

“I am perturbed by the nature of how this young man’s current employment has come to an end,” Charles says, because if he doesn’t His Lordship will know something is amiss, “but perhaps,” he continues in a considering tone, “it is our Christian duty to help the young man recover in new environs.”

“And we need the help,” His Lordship adds dryly.

Charles harrumphs and inclines his head.  “He has had good basic training, and I am confident that I will be able to address any deficiencies I observe once we see him in the performance of his duties.”

“As am I,” His Lordship quips.  He regards Charles with a careful gaze.  “Shall I write back and tell Percy to send his man here then?”

Charles nods.  “If you are agreed, m’lord.”

“I am,” His Lordship says happily.  “Percy will certainly owe me a debt for this and that is always valuable amongst our set.”  He takes back the papers Charles hands to him and nods.  “That will be all, Carson.”

“M’lord,” Charles dips his head deferentially and exits.

He heads downstairs.   

While he and Elsie had drifted into a regular habit of meeting to discuss their concerns of an evening, it certainly had not been a habit at this particular time.  Still, Charles has sought to correct that during the past month.

He waits until they are sat together with a decent sherry nightcap before he informs her of Barrow’s anticipated hiring.

Her sharp gaze scours his face for a long moment.  “You seem burdened by something to do this with young man, if you don’t mind my saying so, Mister Carson.”

“I am,” Charles says.  “But I fear it is not a subject for a lady.” 

And then he lets her sway him into telling her about the suspicion that Barrow is likely an invert. 

“I admit,” he concludes, “before I read the letter, I may have been harsh with the young man if he is that way inclined, but the thought of violence to beat it out of him…” he shakes his head and stares into the sherry.  “I do not believe that is the Christian way and more, if he has had to face such a thing and to lose friends and a home in the wake of it…”

“He’ll likely be adrift and in need of guidance and security regardless, but certainly more so if he is,” Elsie says practically and with the compassion which is so innate to her character.

“I believe he has been badly let down by this butler, Sheffield, and his current situation,” Charles says, and wonders if he is speaking of his old self. “Even if they disapprove of his nature, to allow a violence against him in such manner…it is not right.”

“No, it is not,” Elsie says quietly.

He wonders if she is thinking of her own brother.

“What’s more, while I do not approve of any man acting unnaturally,” Charles says, lifting a hand from his chair briefly, “I feel such inclination may be a great boon to keeping a man in service for a significant duration.”

Elsie nods slowly.  “I can see that.  He may not want to marry certainly.”  She finishes her sherry with a quick glance at the clock.  “I must away, but you’ll have my support in making the young man feel welcome here, Mister Carson.”

Charles inclines his head towards her.  “You have my gratitude, Mrs Hughes.  I may need your counsel to assist me in tempering my own demeanour.  I know I can come across as overly stern to the staff at times.”

She gives him a warm smile as she leaves, and Charles knows he’s on the right path.

o-O-o

April 1912

Charles cannot sleep the night before the Titanic sinks.

He had talked himself in and out of an anonymous warning to be sent to the liner’s offices before concluding that enough people had already raised concerns about the liner’s journey and his voice would go just as ignored as theirs.  It wasn’t the first time he had been challenged to change things beyond his own mission.  Each time he had recommitted himself to focus on the mission that God intended for him to complete, changing the life of Thomas Barrow.

On that mission, Charles feels that he has made good progress. Even if he says so himself, Thomas has blossomed under the care of himself and Mrs Hughes.    

Thomas had arrived to them, his body still a patchwork of yellow and green bruising and his soul tattered and held together with brazen determination. How Charles had missed that the last time…

He’d almost missed it again except Elsie had pointed out that the letter had indicated Thomas had taken a serious beating and was recovering from injuries. It proved that Charles’ instincts in confiding in her were absolutely correct.

They’d arranged for Doctor Clarkson to visit on Barrow’s first day. He had proclaimed him well enough to work after a day of rest from the journey, but light duties were probably not out of order for a few days.

It wasn’t ideal, but Charles wanted to ensure Thomas felt cared for from the off.

He had called him into the Butler’s pantry for a discussion.  It was imperative to his mission that he had changed some of the way he handled Thomas’ introduction.  The last time had undoubtedly led Thomas to believe that he could expect nothing but derision and disapproval.

This time…Charles’ memory slips back…

“Please take a seat, Thomas,” Charles waves at the chair by his desk that Mrs Hughes usually occupies.  He takes his own seat. 

“Mister Carson,” Thomas says carefully as he sits down.  His single valise is set by his feet, his cap is off his head and on his lap.

“We’ll take you up to your room in just a moment,” Charles says.  “I have this talk with each member of staff when they arrive.”

Thomas dips his head in acknowledgement that this is not an untypical practice.  “Mister Sheffield did something similar, sir.”

Charles considers his words carefully.  “I have been in service here since I was a hall boy.  Upholding the honour of Downton has been my life’s work and it is important to me that the staff take seriously the reputation of this estate and the Crawley family.”

If he didn’t know him already, Thomas’s flinch is small enough that he may never have caught it.

“You have been badly treated, Thomas,” Charles continues.  “A staff in an estate like this is not unlike a family of sorts.  We have a responsibility to each other.  We are never violent with each other.”

Thomas’ grey eyes are wide.

“No matter the reason, nobody will ever mistreat you here in that way and should they do so, you must come immediately to me, and I will deal with the matter,” Charles says firmly. “You will not lose your place here because of someone else’s violence towards you. Do you understand, Thomas?”

Thomas gives a slow nod.  “Yes, Mister Carson, and I am grateful for the assurance.”

“As to the insinuations made by the man,” Charles begins the next part bluntly.

Thomas’ gaze flies up to meet his in a panic.

“Only myself, Mrs Hughes the Housekeeper, and His Lordship know the tone of those insinuations,” Charles says as gently as he can.  “We do not need to speak of them.  I am a man of faith, however, a man’s personal business is his own.”

Relief flickers across Thomas’ face.

Charles goes on crisply. “Whatever the truth of the matter, I would say the same thing to you as I say to every member of staff: do not do anything to bring Downton into disrepute.  I have very little tolerance for drama in the servants’ hall.”

Thomas’ lips twitch, but his eyes gleam with sincerity.  “I promise I won’t let you or his Lordship down, Mister Carson.  I am appreciative to be given this opportunity.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” Charles says gruffly.  “Now, we will see you up to your room and I will call for the doctor to review how you are recovering from your injuries.”

“There’s no need,” Thomas protests.  “I can work.”

“I applaud your keenness, but I would rather a doctor confirm it,” Charles states firmly, getting to his feet.  “We intend to take care of you, Thomas.”

“Thank you,” Thomas says, rising from his chair, clearly uncertain at the kind treatment.

Charles nods at him.  “No need to thank me, Thomas.  Your reference indicated that you have a great deal of promise which I intend to fully exploit.”

It had been so much of a better beginning. 

Charles heads down after the breakfast to find Mister Bates newly arrived.  Once again, the man has come in on the milk train and found his way into the house.  Elsie stands beside Bates.  Gwen, Anna and Miss O’Brien stand awkwardly to the side, Thomas is just behind him.  He knows if he glanced at him, he’d find Thomas’ eyes alive with curiosity for the new arrival, tempered by a hint of caution.

Charles cannot quite remember how things had gone the last time nor can he recall the exact words said.  He requests politely that Thomas ensures the usual morning duties are being seen to and ushers Mister Bates into his pantry. 

He regards John Bates carefully.  If things had remained unchanged, there would be a plethora of personal dramas ahead in the man’s life and a truly wonderful love story between him and Anna.   There still might, Charles reflects.

“Mister Bates,” Charles begins, “you were hired sight unseen because His Lordship favoured your application.  That leads me to believe that he is familiar with you in some manner…”

Bates nods.  “We served together.”

“Is he aware of your injury and affliction?” asks Charles bluntly, knowing the Earl is very much unaware.

“He is aware that I was injured, but he has no knowledge of my current condition,” Bates accepts.  “I assure you; I am capable of handling the duties of a valet.”

“But not the full duties of a valet expected at Downton,” Charles rejoins.  They had adjusted the duties across the staff to accommodate Bates eventually, but it was usually not done.  “You must see, Mister Bates, that every member of staff must carry their full weight in ensuring that the duties are done.  If you cannot, it will breed resentment and frustration amongst the others.”

It had in the past.

He can see that his words are not unexpected as Bates absorbs them.  He also sees the flicker of expectation that he is about to be fired.

Bates retains his composure, nonetheless.  “I can only assure you that I will pull my weight in every way I can, Mister Carson.”

Charles purses his lips.  “I propose a trial run, Mister Bates.  We will give you four weeks to prove your capability and observe any undue impact on the staff and duties from your employment.  I will discuss the matter with His Lordship.”  He already knows how he can redistribute the work, and the part of him which has always chafed at having a crippled valet work for His Lordship is still irritated.

Bates has excellent composure because none of the relief that darts through his eyes is expressed in his face.  “Thank you, Mister Carson.”

Charles nods.  He continues with his ‘do not bring disrepute’ speech to which Bates nods slowly and they finish.

Charles escorts him out of the pantry. He pauses and beckons Thomas forward. “I need to speak with you, Thomas.” He motions to Bates. “Please wait here momentarily. Thomas will join you shortly to show you to your room and where everything is for your work as His Lordship’s valet.”

Bates nods, but his eyes are filled with concern. No doubt Bates is anxious about what Charles will share with Thomas.

Charles ignores him and leads Thomas back into the pantry. He breathes in and tugs on his waistcoat. “Well.” Suddenly faced with telling Thomas something, he can’t think what to say.

“I assume Mister Bates’ injury will prevent him from fully taking on the task of valet for His Lordship?” provides Thomas helpfully.

Charles knows Thomas isn’t seeking the position himself. They’d had a long conversation about the position when Thomas had to step in to cover temporarily. Thomas is comfortable staying as First Footman with the reputation of being the butler’s right-hand man since the plan is for Thomas to succeed him at the right time.

“I suspect mostly in the manner of serving at the table and supporting in the wider household tasks,” Charles recites the worst of the impact from his time before. “However, he served with Lord Crawley and was injured in service to his country. His Lordship will no doubt require us to make accommodation. I have proposed a trial run so we can see if we can make it work.”

“It may cause some unhappiness with the rest of the staff,” Thomas notes, “especially herself.”

O’Brien remained a thorn in everyone’s side. Carson had been relieved when Thomas had gravitated to Elsie for advice and comfort rather than the petty Lady’s maid.

“It may,” Charles says evenly, “but I hope I can count on you to make Mister Bates welcome.”

“I’ll do my best, Mister Carson,” Thomas says.

“You always do, Thomas,” Charles says with more warmth than he had intended. It has been a trying day and it has barely started.

The pleased blush that rises in Thomas’ pale cheeks though is worth it. He nods to dismiss Thomas and seeks his chair.

Thomas turns back by the door. “Mister Carson, do you think we should ask the doctor to call on Mister Bates?”

Charles’ bushy eyebrows rise at the suggestion.

“It’s just,” Thomas rushes on, “if he has an injury, we should make sure he has care like I had my first day, shouldn’t we?”

Charles nods. “An excellent suggestion, Thomas.”

Thomas smiles. “As you say, Mister Carson, the staff is like family here. We’ll take care of Mister Bates now.”

He’s out of the door before Charles can do more than blink. Thomas as Bates’ ally will certainly change a great many things about the days ahead. He huffs. He reaches for the telephone only to remember they have not yet had it installed. He sighs heavily, unsure whether to be horrified that he’d gotten so used to the contraption or regretful that he does not already have the convenience of it.

He gets to his feet.

He’ll have to send a hall boy out to the village with a message for Doctor Clarkson.

In the meantime, he has a family in mourning to look after, and a continuing mission to see completed even if it is going rather well in his own very humble opinion.

fin.