Downton Abbey - The Story of Emma Barrow

The Barrow Family (November 1917)

"You didn't wait," Thomas hissed, angrily turning to face the child. Emma looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Thomas sighed, placed the suitcase next to him, and crouched down in front of his daughter. "You can't just disappear like that. I worry about you." He sighed and took Emma's little hand in his own, gently stroking her hand with his thumb. "When we're out and about, you must always stay with me. I don't want to lose you, do you understand?" He explained gently.

Emma nodded hesitantly. Thomas now rummaged in his jacket pocket for the woollen hat. "The last thing I need is a sick child," he said, placing the hat on her head and pulling it down over her eyes.

"I won't get sick," the defiant 5-year-old declared. Despite the frosty temperatures, she had forgotten both her scarf and hat on the train. She readjusted her hat so she could see her surroundings again. Thomas proceeded to wrap the scarf around her neck. Luckily, Anna had the brilliant idea of attaching the gloves to each other with a string, so they simply hung from the jacket sleeves.

"Daddy, why didn't the man have a leg?"

"I don't know. Maybe he fought in the war and got injured."

Emma looked pensive for a moment, then hopped on one leg.

"That's hard," she remarked when she lost her balance. Just in time, she clung onto Thomas's coat. Taking this as a cue, he reached out with his uninjured hand to hold Emma's, continuing their journey on foot. After traversing several streets and turning corners, they finally arrived at a small residential building with a shop on the ground floor: Barrow & Son. Curiosity filled the child as she looked up at her father, who simply ignored her and silently pulled her into the shop. In doing so, a small bell rang in the back room.

"Today is closed!" a male voice growled. Letting go of his daughter's hand, Thomas took a few steps towards the curtain, behind which the living space was hidden.

"What do you want here?" a gruff voice questioned.

"I came because of what happened," Thomas replied, placing the old brown leather suitcase beside him. "After all, she was my sister."

The old man snorted. "You're definitely not staying here."

"Don't worry, we'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon."

"We? You dare not bring your kind – abominable foul souls – into my house!"

"I won't make that mistake again," Thomas smirked now, amused. "However, it's a matter of interpretation as to what you consider 'your kind'," he said, drawing the curtain aside. Emma Grace Barrow stood in the middle of the shop, gazing at some watches in the display case. She pressed her fingers against the glass, leaving smudgy marks, which particularly pleased Thomas as the child managed to dirty the perfectly polished glass cases within minutes.

"My daughter, Emma Grace Barrow," Thomas proudly announced. He had waited for this moment for a long time. His father clutched his heart, collapsing backward into his chair.

"You didn't dare! You despicable scumbag... You can't possibly carry on your damned life!" the old man exclaimed.

"Now, Father... such words shouldn't be uttered in front of a young lady. Where are your manners?"

"You disappoint me more and more. You're a disgrace to this family. And I doubt your sister would have wanted your presence."

"I've come not only for the funeral but also to finally collect my share. Mother promised me her heirloom jewelry."

"For your wife, whom you'll never have, which is why you'll never receive the jewelry."

"Indeed, but Mother didn't know I would have a daughter, and I'm sure she would want her only granddaughter to have the jewelry," Thomas retorted, nodding in Emma's direction.