Archive of Our Own ^beta

As customs dictated, the function of a footman was the most elementary - yet vital - of all servants’ in a Great House, if appearance was of any concern.  

Poised on the fringe of drawing rooms, garden parties and ballrooms alike, footmen existed to serve in more ways than one - to wait upon ladies and gentlemen, and to be paraded as trophies of professionalism and opulence.

For this reason, after a certain enigma by the name of Thomas Barrow surfaced in a round of interviews, there was naught but a quick discussion before he was promptly offered the position of second footman at Downton Abbey. 

One might mistake Thomas’s first day at Downton Abbey for the advent of Eros, with the way the maids lit up upon his introduction. Coy smiles and subtle glances were the extent most maids seemed to have courage for, although on occasion there would be one, feeling particularly bold in the moment, who would strike up a conversation or two. They would find their efforts in vain, when their newly-acquired confidence was abruptly eradicated at Thomas’s thinly-veiled apathy at worst, and strained politeness at best.

Social construct also proved to be an insufficient barrier to exquisite looks, if the giggles and stolen glances from the Crawley sisters and noble visitors were any indication. Regardless, his relative stature mandated that he indulged the ladies with a courtesy that his female colleagues sorely missed.

It was rather obvious then, that Thomas existed beyond the base instincts that compelled most men. With this observation the conundrum around this boy grew stronger by the day; it seemed that it would remain indefinitely, for Thomas betrayed no sign that he intended share anything beyond things of no consequence.

Curiously, the cracks on the mask which Thomas bore would reveal themselves timidly in the presence of fairer men. The signs were clear to any keen observant: the ice in his eyes would thaw by a few degrees, the firm line of his lips would soften a touch, and the stoicism that laced his every move would be buoyed by subdued enthusiasm.

Tales would be passed around with colourful rumours of Thomas’s true interests - oh, the blasphemy - though there seemed to be a silent rule that his inclination was never to be spoken aloud. So long as Thomas did not transgress the boundary of what was proper , then he could remain in service of the Family. And so began an implicit truce that toed the precipice of scandal.

If one were to mark the start of Thomas’s fall from grace, they might point to the first time Thomas made a cruel remark - but they would be wrong.

It all started much earlier, when one Sarah O’Brien began to take an interest in the footman. It seemed to happen - slowly - then all at once: a cheeky comment made over breakfast that resonated with the other, then a shared smoke break where gossip was traded with derisive remarks, and lastly - a scheme to further their own causes with O’Brien’s brand of cunning.

Now that was the thing that cultivated the corruption of Thomas Barrow. 

Under any other circumstances it would be impressive how easily the woman imposed her misery on him, only in this case it was almost alarming at how willing Thomas accepted her way of life. It was like observing a train speeding down the tracks that you knew led off a cliff, yet you kept watching - in morbid anticipation - for the moment the train would fall.

It was hard to say whether Thomas chose O’Brien’s mentorship out of respect for the woman, or simply because no one else had stepped up to that role. It would be a great shame if it was the latter, because out of anyone in the world - no, even just the servants of the House - one would require terrible luck to have Sarah O’Brien as a mentor.

It was to no one’s surprise when Thomas was promoted to first footman. The boy - no, he was a man now, it’d been a time since he first started as a young lad - was excellent at his job - perhaps even better than the one his advancement replaced. When the latter resigned and skipped off to the other side of England for seemingly better prospects, there was little doubt that Thomas would soon take his role.

Soon there came along Thomas’s replacement for second footman, a mild-natured William Mason that was doted upon by friends and family alike. His kindness and cordiality came with an ease that Thomas could only dream to achieve. Perhaps this antipodean would prove there was hope for Thomas yet; if there was anyone who could offer a hand to pull him back into people’s good graces, it would be William. 

Alas, that hope was swiftly erased when Thomas took a liking to putting William down. The poor lad would grit his teeth through it every time that one suspected if he had simply stood his ground - maybe that would be a lesson to Thomas in itself.

“Surely you didn’t fool yourself into thinking you could beat me,” Thomas sneered. “Not looking like that .” He looked at William from head to toe with a wicked glint in his eyes. 

Elsie had walked into the midst of yet another spat downstairs, and she sighed to herself. “Thomas, watch yourself.” She gave him a disapproving frown, to which the footman returned with a blank stare. “William, don’t mind him.”

“S’all right, Mrs Hughes. I won’t let him get me down so easily,” William said, smiling that sweet smile that Elsie was fond of.

“Daisy, can you please fetch me a spare glove from Mr Carson’s drawer when you’ve a moment?” Thomas asked with a winning smile. “Mine’s gotten a bit soiled.”

The kitchen maid dropped her mixing spoon and spun around to face Thomas. “Yes, of course! I’d do anythin’ for you, Thomas.”

“Daisy, you’re my kitchen maid, not Thomas’s slave - don’t stop mixing that or it’ll dry up before ya know it!” Mrs Patmore’s chastise made Daisy yelp in surprise and she scurried back to her station.

Elsie couldn’t help but sigh again, casting another stern look at Thomas before she left the kitchen. Thomas had become - in every definition of the sentiment - a negative influence to the Downton staff. Though he was blessed with a natural aptitude and penchant for elusion that kept him a spot at the House, Elsie prayed to God that he would turn over a new leaf before his luck exhausted itself.

It would be a shame; such a fine young man to have fallen to the vices of more unsavoury matters. If Elsie had stepped in at the first sign of worse things to come, perhaps it would have turned out differently. 

Of course, in hindsight there was always going to be a better thing one could’ve done.