For what it's worth, I'd have very much liked to have had a friend like you, when I was at my lowest point. And at other times too (even though I probably wouldn't have helped you scheme against Mr Bates)
I'm a good cook, so I might have enjoyed life Downstairs. Being Upstairs is a little too stressful, if you ask me.
dear reader,
If it is worth anything, there are times where I could have done good having friends to support me as well as tell me not to do some things. I have done some questionable things in my time here at Downton.
For what it is worth though, if you still need a friend. I am always here to lend an ear or a shoulder. I'm sure Mrs. Patmore would even let you join her in the kitchen to cook for the family, should you need some time away from your family.
Summary: You are Tom’s wife. You’ve married him to help conceal his true sexual identity. After catching you asleep in the servant’s hall, Tom takes you home so you can rest. Unfortunately, your condition is much more severe than he realizes.
Warnings: Description of severe exhaustion, minor swearing (typical of time period), intense crying
“You’re not going to work today and that’s final.”
“Tom,” you began, your tone just as stubborn as his. “We do not have the money for me to be taking an entire day off from work.”
“No, I won’t have it. I brought you here to rest and today you look worse than you did before.” Leaning against the doorway to your cottage’s tiny kitchen, Tom gave you a nod. “Look at you, holding onto the table like it’s the only thing keeping you up.”
“It is not.” You snapped, straightening your posture so you weren’t touching the kitchen table at all. This caused a wave of dizziness to pound through your aching head, the sensation nearly causing you to double over. But you could not give in. You and Tom had to get to work.
“Fine then,” Tom pushed off the doorway. “If you’re so set on going out, then we’ll go out.” He turned and went for his jacket. “To the doctor.”
“Thomas! I’m fine!”
“Oh really?” Tom came back into the kitchen wearing his jacket and carrying yours. “Let’s see about that, shall we?” He tossed your jacket onto the table and stepped close, closer than he usually ever came.
Before you could resist Tom put his warm hand on your forehead and slid it down over your aching eyes, forcing you to close them. The darkness flooded over you, so soft and sweet and inviting. Your body craved darkness, it craved sleep.
Tom caught you as you fell heavily against him, removing his hand only to tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “Why won’t you sleep, darling? Seems to me that would be the answer to everything.”
“I can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t.” You tried to move away from him but he wouldn’t allow it, holding you against him.
The physical contact was unusual for both of you. You each had separate rooms in the cottage with separate beds. You had only kissed a couple times in public when you were married. The two of you had dutifully held hands on days off at markets and carnivals. There had been just enough physical contact between the two of you to keep Tom safe from gossip.
But this, him holding you now, it was unneeded. Why was Tom so worried? You thought you had concealed your inability to sleep well. All the times you had tiptoed past his room downstairs to make hot chocolate or go out for a midnight walk. But then, you had forgotten one very simple fact.
Thomas Barrow was the king of secrets. And he knew what it looked like when someone had one.
“Here, sit down,” Tom pulled out a kitchen chair for you and helped you to sit, pulling out the chair beside you and sitting as well. He leaned forward when you stared at your clasped hands, making eye contact with you. His voice was gentle. “Now you’re gonna tell me what all this is about, otherwise I’m going to pick you up and carry you to the hospital and force you to miss out on God knows how much work.”
“Great bedside manner you’ve got there, Tom.” You looked away as your eyes filled with tears, reaching up to hide them behind your hands.
“Come on, sweetheart. You’re scaring me.” Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to you. “You never cry.”
“You don’t have to call me that, Tom. We’re alone.” You managed a watery smile as you took it from him, the soft fabric pressing against your sore eyes. But the tears didn’t stop.
“Well, you’ve got the sweetest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, so I don’t see why not.”
“Cheeky bugger.” You laughed through the tears. “And you wonder why all the maids are after your eye.”
“If only that handsome new grocer in the market would see it your way. Seems like whenever we go he spends more time looking at you than me.”
“On your next day off I’ll send you to the market alone then.”
“I was about to say the same thing to you.” Tom leaned forward even further, his gaze imploring, desperate even. “Is that what’s making you so sick?”
“What?”
“I know... I know I’m not a good husband to you. Are you worried... Do you regret marrying me? I know the stress of my secret is terrible, enough to keep you from sleeping all these nights.”
“Tom, no,” you reached forward and took his warm hand in your cold ones. “Trust me, that is the last thing that bothers me. If I worry at all it’s that I fear you’ll never find someone who you can love truly.” You looked down at the handkerchief in your lap, the tears blurring your vision along with the pounding headache and dizzying need for sleep. “I...I have to apologize to you.”
Tom scoffed. “Whatever for?” He asked, wrapping your hands in his own to warm them.
“I’ve been selfish. Incredibly, childishly selfish. Do you remember, when you left for the war, how I wrote to you?”
“Yes.” He gave a small smile. “Only got a few of them.”
“And when you came back to Downton, I asked you to marry me?”
“For the widows’ benefits, I’m sure.” Tom’s teasing smile vanished as your shoulders shook in a fresh wave of tears. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?”
“I didn’t marry you just to help keep your secret, Tom. I married you because I was terrified of losing you.” Your voice grew louder as the pain you had hidden for so long came rushing forth. “When you were in the war I had these awful nightmares of you being shot and dying with no one around. I would wake at night screaming. Then after we were married I thought that the nightmares would stop, but they didn’t! They’ve come back, Tom! They’ve come back because I am a selfish, awful person who deserves to be punished for trying to keep you close when...when...When you don’t even love me back!”
And with that you broke, your whole body heaving with sobs as you doubled over in pain and utter exhaustion. There it was. The secret you had held inside you for so, so long. The true, selfish reason you wanted to be with Tom. All the times you panicked when he left Downton for a day, all the times you stood outside his doorway at night just to hear his breathing and know that he was safe.
The weight alone had been crippling, but the nightmares. The nightmares. They had broken you. And now here you were, unable to be strong for him. Crying. Ashamed, you tried to pull your hands away from Tom. But he wouldn’t let you.
“Come here, my darling.” Tom stood and put his arms around you. You didn’t resist as he picked you up and cradled you close, pressing your wet face against his shoulder. He was whispering something in your ear. You were crying too hard to make it out. Were they...apologies?
Tom carried you up to your room and sat you on your bed. He helped you to take off your shoes and unpin your hair, running his fingers through the loose ringlets a few times before easing your head down onto the pillow. You squirmed on your side as he sat on the bed beside you, struggling to breathe through your sobs.
“Shh, it’s all right. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Tom rubbed gentle circles on your back. He was always so gentle, especially with you.
You reached out and gripped his knee, trying desperately to ground yourself in his presence. Darkness swept over you, cool, sweet darkness. You whimpered, trying to fight it. You needed to stay there, in that moment. You didn’t want Tom to leave. His touch and his words felt so good. The first time he or any other man had touched you so intimately. If you fell asleep, the feeling would be replaced by the image of Tom dying on the battlefield. You couldn’t live through that again.
But as darkness closed in and your sobs grew faint, you discovered that you didn’t have a choice. Exhaustion had taken over.
Summary: You are Tom’s wife. You’ve married him to help conceal his sexual identity. Little do you know, Tom is beginning to realize that he may have feelings for you. He catches you asleep at the table and does everything he can to take care of you.
Warning: None
You woke to Tom calling your name and the sensation of his hand on your shoulder. Only you did not remember ever falling asleep.
“Yes?” You asked, shoulders giving a painful crack as you eased yourself up from the table that had served as an impromptu pillow.
“How long have you been like this?” Tom’s expression was furrowed with concern. He was standing beside you, his touch a comfort that brought you back to reality.
“I must’ve just closed my eyes for a moment.”
“It’s been much longer than that.” Mr. Bates looked up from his newspaper. He was seated by the cold fireplace and appeared to have been there for a while. However, you had no memory of hearing him or Tom enter. “It’s been close to an hour.”
“Oh, goodness, I didn’t know,” you pushed back your chair and got to your feet.
Tom’s grip on your shoulder tightened. “Easy, now. Take a minute to get your bearings.” He pushed you back into the chair. “Look, I’ve finished for the evening. Get Anna to do the rest of your work and come home to the cottage with me.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” you shook your head. “She’s got too much to do as it is, I could never,”
“She would be happy to do it.” Mr.Bates was still regarding you. “You truly don’t look well, Mrs. Barrow. Perhaps some rest would do you good.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bates.” Tom’s voice was soft, his gaze on the floor and not on him. Tom wasn’t much for thanking people, however considering the circumstances he seemed to be making an exception. You really must look tired, you thought, reaching up to smooth your loose hair back into your bun.
Mr. Bates gave a bit of a smile at this. “Take care of her, Tom.” He said softly.
“Always.” Tom turned his attention to you, reaching down to slip his arm about your waist. “Up you go, then.”
Before you could resist, Tom had pulled you to your feet and arranged himself so that you could lean on him as much as you liked. You wanted to scold him for thinking you so delicate, however at the feel of his warm body against yours you found yourself weakening.
“Come on, now.” Tom moved to brush a strand of hair from your eyes as you looked up at him gratefully. “I’ve got you.” He muttered, soft enough that only you could here.
You gave a tired smile and allowed him to escort you out into the hallway.
