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The stage was set and it was time for revenge. Kane and Able had caused less ruckus in the home than these two - and Downton’s cook wasn’t sure which to blame.
Jimmy was silly, vain, and quick to boredom. He was always on the knife-edge of nasty but it was clear to see that the lad just wasn’t cut out for a life of servitude and standing to attention. He was youthful and thrumming with never ending restless energy. An energy now directed at, and funneled through, one Thomas Barrow.
Thomas, had of course, caused a myriad of problems during his own youth. Preferring to spend his days scheming and plotting rather than making friends with his colleagues. How could a young and impressionable Thomas ever have resisted the allure of such a crafty woman as Miss O'Brien. Thomas had arrived and it was like an oily moth to a tarred flame. Mrs Patmore had, back then, thought they were just cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same tarnished coin. The two had met at the right time for them, and the wrong time for everyone else.
But then came the arrival of the golden-haired wonder boy and the old Thomas went out the window. The cook had watched with a cocktail of amusement, alarm, and trepidation as the footman’s steely resolve melted in the presence of a pretty lad. Mr Subtle he was not.
Then Miss O’Brien had legged it and Thomas was finally cut adrift from his scheming partner. He was instead, overtly head over heels for James, and Mrs Patmore thought they had somehow managed to keep the baby when throwing out the bathwater.
Mrs Patmore was no fool, she didn’t think Thomas Barrow a completely changed man, but at the end of the day he was a man like any other. For a while, the absence of a scheming mother-figure and the addition of a cherubic face had done wonders for the Under Butler’s mood. The calm couldn’t last forever and the twitchy feet of a seasoned plotter and general rapscallion was inevitable.
Everything had been fun and games until the antics started.
They began as very small things. Tiny ‘mistakes’ that could be easily overlooked, items put away in the wrong places, sewing pins apparently dropped and left scattered on chairs, Molesley’s shoulder seam ripping over and over no matter how many times he fixed it. Then, the downstairs staff found themselves plagued by soot in strange places. This soot might be ready to fall on your head from the tops of doors, or clinging to the underside of banister railings so an unsuspecting passerby might scratch their face with blackend fingers. More than once this migratory coal dust miraculously showed up in the middle of Molesley’s book, so that when he closed it, he received a facefull of black dust. In fact, most inhabitants seemed to be experiencing unexplained disturbances…but inexplicably, there were two inhabitants who were getting off remarkably scott-free.
Inspiration struck Mrs Patmore one wintery early-December day, as she walked through the village. She’d stopped to read a painted A-frame set outside a shop’s stoop:
'Spooktacular Christmas Seance.
1 Penny per brave participant.
Golden Fleece, York.
20th December'
The chainlink fly-curtain in the butcher's doorway clinked in the breeze, and a plan started to brew.
The next day was an unremarkable, rainy afternoon, and Mrs Patmore wasted no time in starting the rumour mill grinding.
“Daisy, did I ever tell you about the footman who used to work here years ago?” Mrs Patmore grunted slightly as she collapsed into the chair by the kitchen desk, with a well-deserved cup of tea.
Daisy clanged a pot of stock onto the side “no, why would you ‘ave?”
“It were just a strange business that’s all” She took a calculated sip of hot, sweet, tea “and with Christmas being the time for ghost tales….”
Just as she had planned, Jimmy appeared in the doorway, spoon and cloth in hand, and learnt against the doorframe with the worst affected nonchalance she had ever seen. She almost snorted at how easy this was going to be.
“Go on then” Daisy huffed, curiosity getting the better of her “out with it”
“His name was Peter. He would’ve left just before Thomas arrived”
At Thomas’ name, Jimmy appeared to remember he needed to at least pretend to work, and swiped vaguely across his one spoon.
“Peter was a bit of a prankster, forever getting into scrapes, that one. Good lad but naughty as they come and a bit of an outsider”
A snort came from the doorway “Thought you said this was a ghost story, Mrs Patmore? What’s so spooky about a few larks?”
“Just you hold your horses, I’m getting there” She breathed an artificially annoyed hiss “All sorts started happening around the Abbey and grounds. Small things would go missing, the odd thumbprint appeared in my ices, labels on soaps got jumped”
“But that’s like what’s going on at the moment, Mrs Patmore” Daisy said, eyes wide.
“Exactly - we paid no mind. Just the result of a bored lad, we thought. One day, the salt disappeared. I had had about enough because salt doesn't grow on trees - so I confronted Peter. He denied everything, of course. The next day we came downstairs to find salt lines everywhere. Round doorways, encircling the bottom of the stairs, all sorts of places. The one strangest thing? The servants table has been pushed to one side, with one sole remaining chair left right in the middle of the room…around it was a large, broken, salt ring. Someone had kicked right through it from the inside”
There was a tense silence as Daisy and Jimmy waited to see what ill-fates followed the broken salt circle. Far too late, Jimmy scoffed in disbelief.
Mrs Patmore took a slow sip of tea “We all suspected Peter and made him clear the whole lot up, but he denied it! Admitted to doing a few small pranks, but that this wasn’t him”
“Yeah right” Jimmy taunted, then muttered something under his breath which sounded a lot like “amateur”
“More strange things started to happen each day. The horseshoe that used to hang above my doorway” She gestured toward a hole in the brickwork above Jimmy’s head, large enough to have been left by a thick horseshoe nail “it had come loose and swung to face downwards. Later that same day…it fell completely”
Before she had finished her sentence, Jimmy was out from under the frame and craning to look at the offending hole “Load of codswallop” he coughed, but didn’t return to his original spot.
“It fell off? But that’s such bad luck! Why did you never replace it?” Daisy looked nervously at the doorway.
The older cook gave Daisy a meaningful look “We tried. It wouldn’t stay for more than a day”
“Shoes appeared on tables, a knocking started on the walls and doors, and our newspaper boy refused to come near the house. I remember one morning there were beads scattered all the way down the corridor” Mrs Patmore took another sip of tea and looked at her enraptured audience “What’s more, Peter started to look scared and tired. He wouldn’t talk to anyone” She let out a heavy sigh “But one night I found him crying in the kitchen. He admitted that a creature had been terrorising him nightly ever since the salt circles. He would wake to scraping at his walls and doors, He’d hear chains clinking outside somewhere in the grounds, and see a shadow under the crack in the doorway to the hall. I seem to remember he mentioned something about a spider? Though I can’t quite recall”
“What…what happened to him?” Jimmy abandoned both the spoon and his unconcerned bravado, instead he glared uncertainly up at the ceiling, clearly thinking of the men’s quarters high above them.
Mrs Patmore shrugged “He left. Said he couldn’t stand to be in that room anymore” She drained her tea and got to her feet with a resigned work-weary sigh “But Mr Barrow has never had any issues with his room so I daresay it was all in Peter’s head”
“Thom-Mr Barrow’s room?” Jimmy tracked the cook uncertainly with his eyes as she rounded the kitchen counter to start the next batch of cooking “I’m just going to -” and without another word he shot off, making the longer trip to leave through the alternative exit and leaving behind the smell of polish, one spoon, and a rag.
Daisy giggled “You are bad, Mrs Patmore”
Mrs Patmore let a small satisfied grin spread over her features and winked at Daisy “Now the real work begins. Go get Anna, Mr Bates, and Molsley”
_____
Thomas Barrow was a pragmatist. He’d listened to Jimmy’s patchy rehashing of Mrs Patmore’s tale with mild interest, but that was only because his lover seemed so caught up in it all.
Jimmy hissed “Peter was in this room, Thomas. This. Room. Our. Room” When that got him nothing more than an arched eyebrow, he continued “Peter was a prankster, and we’ve been having a jolly old time lately”
Thomas’ ‘mmmmed’ in reply, but kept his deft hands moving, unbuttoning Jimmy’s shirt for him
“What if the demon doesn’t like tricks?” Jimmy’s hands came up to clutch desperately at Thomas’ shoulders.
“Are you honestly saying you believe this tripe? Look love, Mrs Patmore was just having some fun at your expense” he slid Jimmy’s shirt off his shoulders, chucked it over the armchair, and smoothed his hands comfortingly firmly down his torso “I’ve never known you to be superstitious before” He pulled at Jimmy’s waist until the shorter man bumped against him “ What’s got you all wound up?”
Thomas caught a glimpse of the flush that crept its way across Jimmy’s tanned nose before the footman thudded his forehead onto Thomas’ shoulder “It’s your room, int it”
“It’s my?” Realisation dawned “Oh darling, that’s very sweet” He caught Jimmy’s face in his two ungloved hands and pulled him gently back so they could look into each other’s eyes “I have never once had an issue with this room and neither have you. That’s not about to change now” Thomas rocked forward and pressed a kiss to Jimmy’s pouting lips “Now get into bed you lovable idiot”
Hours later, Jimmy woke with a start. The light that filtered through the ratty curtains was heavy and dark - it was nowhere near morning “For god’s sake” He muttered, turning within the circle of Thomas’ warm arms, and squashed his face into his lover’s neck.
Was it just him or could he hear clinking outside? That’s odd. Had one of the horses escaped? He strained his ears, listening for further disturbances. Nothing. He relaxed again.
He was nearly asleep when the sound of clashing metal chains came again, louder. This time, it was followed by a scraping and light knocking at the far wall. The wall which lead to the empty room next door. Jimmy stiffened and scrunched his eyes shut as he tried to ignore the scratching and tapping which started at Thomas’ own door.
He absolutely did not squeak when a loud knock tapped right by the bed.
_______
“I said I’m fine, Thomas” Humiliated and exhausted Jimmy shoved one arm, then the other, into his waistcoat “Just say you don’t believe me then we can leave it”
Thomas sighed and tried again “Jimmy I’m sorry, you literally woke me up with a shriek, I was startled”
Jimmy whipped around “I do NOT shriek. It was a gruff yell”
“Yes sorry that’s what I meant to say. Silly Barrow” Thomas pulled Jimmy into a hug “I’ve said I was sorry for getting angry, I just couldn’t hear anything, then when I opened the door there was nothing there. Are you certain it wasn’t a dream?”
The footman pulled out of the hug and finished getting ready “YES. I have to go, got to leave before bloody Carson gets up. Bloody Carson with his bloody waking up” Jimmy wrenched open Thomas’ door and let out an immediate yelp of surprise “Thomas!”
Thomas paused mid-step, half way through hushing Jimmy, his mouth falling open. Set on the floor in a semi circle around his door was a broken line of salt. Inside that ring, sat a large, dead seller spider, and an old horseshoe, its prongs facing toward the two men.
_____
There had been a strange undercurrent of oddities running throughout the servant’s days. Small salt circles appeared in odd places and at odd times, including around the piano and even encircling Thomas and Jimmy’s usual smoking spot in the yard. Shoes that had been put away, reappeared elsewhere on tabletops. A few more dead spiders materialised seemingly from nowhere, their hairy rigor-mortis legs curled concave.
Strangest of all was the knocking. That same tapping and scraping seemed to follow Jimmy everywhere he went downstairs and he found himself volunteering for extra upstairs duties just to get away from it. Every time he thought the noise had died down, it would start up again at random. There was no way to predict it and it was driving Jimmy to distraction. Toward the end of the day even Thomas had to admit something strange was going on.
“Though I’m not admitting to anything uncanny” He said over a faint scraping and tapping noise, as he put away yet another pair of shoes in the bootroom “Though it seems to be leaving the upstairs lot alone” He nudged a worried looking Jimmy with his elbow “Even demons have it out for the working class”
The servant’s dinner was unusually lively that evening, as everyone discussed in hushed tones the revelation of Peter, the ex-footman and the demon which once again stalked the Downton halls.
The talk was mainly focused around the maids and hallboys, who excitedly chattered amongst themselves, careful lest they get too rowdy and risk Carson’s wrath. The man had been on edge all day, running around trying to catch whoever was ‘menacing the dignity of Downton and spreading unfounded lies’.
As they had sat down for dinner, Carson had gravely reminded them all that he would be accompanying His Lordship on some important business that evening, which would be taking him away from the Abbey “and I expect all of today’s nonsense to be sorted by my return” His eyes had settled sternly on Thomas who looked cooly back, challenging the man to call him out.
The only person who did not look like they were having fun, was Jimmy. He kept glancing at Thomas, who for his part, looked unphased.
“Is something the matter Jimmy?” Mr Bates asked with his usual edge of smugness “You look a little rattled”
“No, Mr Bates, no problems here. I’m dandy” Jimmy glanced once again toward Thomas, but this time the man wasn’t looking at him, or his food. His narrowed eyes were instead cast toward Bates, calculatingly.
Jimmy had originally suggested they made Mr Bates the butt of at least a few pranks, but Thomas wouldn’t hear of it. Some rubbish about being indebted. Jimmy had been enjoying the practical jokes. They were a way to break up the drudgery of a servant’s life in a stately home. But what he most enjoyed was seeing that mischievous light in Thomas’ eye. Since they had settled into their own routine and he had finished trying to blackmail Baxter, it was all sweetness and love. Don’t get him wrong, Jimmy loved the soppy bones of the older man, but that sinister glint really got him going. Thomas had a proper brain on him, and when put to slightly nefarious uses, he came alive in a devilish way…and if he sometimes brought that same energy with them to bed, that was a very, very, good silver lining. So what if Molesley got a bit of chimney up the nose, if he got to take the stoked up and wicked Mr Barrow to bed.
Jimmy jumped slightly as a foot nudged his ankle, then slid reassuringly up his calf. He looked up in time to catch Thomas’ conspiratorial wink.
______
It had taken some convincing and a few roundabout conversations, but eventually Thomas and Jimmy ended up in Thomas’ bed as usual.
Jimmy was tempted to ask for the light to be left on, but gave in before the idea had left his lips. Thomas had rolled on top of him, skilfully distracting Jimmy with neck kisses while he switched off the lamp. He hadn’t thought he’d be in the canoodling mood, but Thomas and his mouth soon changed his mind on that one too.
With a muffled moan Jimmy came, his face pressed into his lover’s broad shoulder as the man above him rocked his weight down, pushing the blonde into the mattress. Jimmy never meant to leave branding but with his skin so fair, and Jimmy not permitted to make any noise, there had to be a compromise somewhere. He ran his fingertips along the visible marks on Thomas’ shoulders and arms, and grinned into Thomas’ smug face.
Once they had both caught their breath, Thomas rolled sideways, manhandling Jimmy onto his side and into position, so he could curve their naked bodies together.
“What were you glaring at Bates for earlier?” Jimmy muttered into the darkness, lacing his fingers through Thomas’ scared left hand which was settled on his chest. Thomas tightened that arm, pulling Jimmy minutely closer against his own body.
“Do I need a reason? I don’t feel the day is through unless I’ve got at least one good Bates glare in” Thomas huffed in Jimmy’s ear, then laughed when the lad’s heel connected with his shin “Ouch okay! I wondered if he was anything to do with today’s ghostly happenings. Wouldn’t out it past ‘his holiness’ to try teach us mortals a lesson”
Jimmy thought about it “I don’t think so, that’s a lot of-” Then he stopped abruptly as the scraping and knocking started up “See I told you!”
Thomas pulled Jimmy yet tighter against him, muscles tensing “that’s….odd” the two of them lay in silence as the noises seemed to shift round them. First one wall, then the other. There was a slight pause before a long scrape of many fingers came from the door. Thomas was about to say something comforting when the sound of clanking and scraping drifted up from the gardens.
Jimmy squeaked and backed into Thomas, flattening the other man against the wall. Behind Thomas’ head, the scraping and knocking grew a little more insistent.
A little more, and more, until the whole room was filled with the scratching from the walls as though fifty large rats were slowly wearing away the brickwork. Outside, Marley’s ghost dragged and clinked his chains.
“I don’t understand?” Thomas’ confused whisper cut through the noises “Ghosts aren’t real. They’re not bloody real!” He tightened his grip on Jimmy “I literally used a ouija board to tell Mrs Patmore she’s fat. This. isn’t. Bloody. Happening”
“Under the door” Jimmy hissed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he gazed half blind around the dark room, where the shadows seemed to be moving, edging toward them. As did the shadow under the door “Bugger, bugger, bugger”
Jimmy twisted around messily, dragging the duvet half off the bed in his effort to bury himself into Thomas’ embrace. He planted his face in Thomas’ chest, screwing up his eyes for extra protection. Can’t see it, it can’t get you.
“Screw this for a game of soldiers” Thomas rolled forward, over Jimmy, and out of bed, chucking the cover back over the footman without looking “No one scares my Jimmy” he muttered, dragging on his discarded pajama trousers, he strode to the door and yanked it open.
All noise stopped at once.
There was no one there. Thomas stuck his head out into the empty corridor and growled in frustration. Behind him, a duvet-wrapped Jimmy stumbled from the bed and cautiously toward the door.
Striding out his room, Thomas pulled open the bedroom door to the left of his room. He slapped his palm over the electric light switch, nerves coursing through his veins. Daisy and Molesley stood in the middle of the room, each holding a long twiggy branch.
Thomas gaped open mouthed “...what?”
From the corridor, Jimmy's shocked voice sounded “Mrs Patmore?”
Thomas jerked his head back out of the room to see Downton Abbey’s respectable cook, frozen, mid-escape to the women’s corridor. She grinned, somewhere between sheepish and downright pleased with herself. Thomas just gawped. His mind raced, putting all the pieces together from the last few days.
He stalked over to the few immediate doors on the men’s side and swung them open. Finding them empty he spun on his heel, sighed dramatically, and said “night shifts?”
“Hu?” Said Jimmy, obviously at sea.
“How did you guess that?” Daisy gawped, speaking over Jimmy as she exited the spare room, still carrying her branch.
“Bates and Anna?” Thomas turned to Mrs Patmore, whose grin spread further “and your master plan?”
“You always have been a smart one, Thomas. Shame you aren’t always as kind as you are conniving” She arched an eyebrow and fiddled somewhat triumphantly with her own branch. Thomas didn’t know what to say to that incredibly backhanded complement. Was it a compliment? Or just -
“What the bloody hell is happening?” Jimmy burst.
Molesley laughed nervously “PRANK!” He waved his branch for emphasis, nearly hitting Daisy in the face.
Thomas pinched his nose “And the chains?”
“The Bates’ hung them in some trees on the way to their cottage” Daisy said, looking slightly guiltily at the frazzled Jimmy, who stood in the middle of the corridor, still cocooned in Thomas’ duvet, his usually perfect hair a messy cloud. “It’s windy” Daisy shrugged.
Jimmy glowered, pushing his words through clenched teeth “You mean to bloody say - this” one hand appeared from the mass of duvet and he gestured haltingly at the branch wielders “is all payback for some sooty pranks?! Oh come on!”
“Keep your voice down” Hissed Mrs Patmore.
“Keep my voice-” Jimmy began angrily, but Thomas, foreseeing how the rest of his night was shaping up, held up a hand to his lover.
“Shhhh” He stored back toward his room, practically scooping Jimmy up as he went “We’re going to bed” He shoved a spluttering Jimmy through the frame, then turned on the spot and glared at the two women and bloody Molesley “I suggest you do the same” and shut the door firmly.
“Come on” Thomas said much more softly. He got into bed and held out his arms “I want my Jimmy and my duvet, please” He closed his eyes and waited.
Moments later heavy weight fell directly on his chest, knocking the breath from his lung. The lump straddled him, and the bed creaked with familiarity. Jimmy collapsed forwards, cheek to collarbone with Thomas, bringing the duvet with him like a cape, and engulfed them both in a waft of covers “You just stood half naked in the corridor and took me to bed in front of three of our colleagues” Jimmy bit Thomas’ neck gently “I’ve never been more attracted to you in my life”
______
When they arose the next day, Jimmy and Thomas mutually decided things were better left in the previous night. Who knows how many people the dastardly cook might recruit next time.
“I’m actually quite impressed, Mrs Patmore” Thomas said respectfully, from his position leaning against the kitchen table “Have you ever considered doing more plotting?”
“No Mr Barrow” She wagged a wooden spoon covered in sausage meat “I'm done for now, but let that be a lesson to you both. I’m sure you can keep each other entertained” She shot him a stern look.
“Whatever are you suggesting, Mrs Patmore? I’m shocked” Thomas kept his tone level, the amusement just seeping in at the edges.
“Oh I doubt that very much” Mrs Patmore raised a light-coloured eyebrow “You were a bit reckless last night - at the end, when you took him into your room. That’s not like you…be careful”
Thomas’ own eyebrows shot up “After last night you want to call me reckless?” He pushed himself off the table and walked a little closer to her “Were you just aiming to haunt me, or did you intentionally lead four people to my room, knowing full well that we would both be in there?” He appraised her with curiously stern eyes.
“I suppose” Mrs Patmore started, gaping a little “…I suppose I hadn’t thought of it quite like that”
But Thomas could see the truth of the matter so cut across the older woman, speaking softly and confidently “You didn’t lead the soldiers to our garden. Everyone involved is trustworthy. Maybe even Molesley” He looked her dead in the eye “and we probably deserved a little backlash. I certainly do. All the things I’ve done over the years…”
“...but where did you even find chains that size?” Jimmy's voice cut through the room as he and Daisy strode in, followed by Molesley, who trotted a few paces behind.
Thomas straightened up and pulled back from Mrs Patmore, and turned to face the interlopers.
“Oh Thomas, I meant to ask” Molesley piped up “Are you alright? Looked rather like a real monster got you” He tittered goodnaturedly “With all those scratches on your back”
Thomas closed his eyes, praying for deliverance and wondered if it were too soon to tun the leaf back over again. The clunk clunk of Mr Bates’ cane stopped in the doorway and Anna’s stifled giggle told him they’d arrived just in time to hear the clueless question fall from Molesley’s mouth.
“Do you need me to call Doctor Clarkson, Mr Barrow?” Mr Bates asked, amusement in every syllable.
Thomas opened his eyes just in time to catch a fiery-faced Jimmy around the waist, stopping him from lunging for the older footman “Bloody Molesley!” Jimmy groaned.
“I think that’s quite enough of that!” Mrs Patmore sounded flustered even as a soft ‘ohhhh’ of comprehension came from a now red-faced Daisy.
Molesley continued, of course, to be oblivious.