Downton Abbey - The Story of Emma Barrow

Mister Matthew (September 1921)

"Lord Grantham!" she exclaimed excitedly as she saw the man disappear into his library. Carson, who opened the door of the library, shook his head vigorously. "Lord Grantham!" Emma called out again, "Lord Grantham!" as she finally caught sight of the Lord.

"Now, Emma, what is so urgent that you wish to share with me?" Lord Grantham asked with an annoyed look at the agitated girl. "As you surely know, dinner is about to be served, and I still have business to attend to and still need to change."

Emma tried to catch her breath, her heart pounding wildly as she struggled to form her words. "Mister Matthew..." she began, when suddenly the words of the man at the accident scene echoed in her head. Tears welled up in her eyes as she delivered the terrible news, "Car accident."

Lord Grantham froze, his eyes widening in horror. "What are you saying?" he asked, shaken.

"They say he's had an accident," Emma sobbed, her voice breaking with grief, "Mister Matthew's car veered off the road because of the transporter."

A heavy shock descended upon the estate as the words sank in. Lord Grantham turned to Carson with a decisive gesture. "Carson, please send one of the staff to check on the situation. And please take care of the child."

Carson nodded solemnly and turned to Alfred, "You heard. Go to the main road, Alfred," and gently placed his hand on Emma's shoulder, "I'll take you down to Mrs. Hughes."

Emma lingered in the comforting arms of Mrs. Hughes as the sad news was officially confirmed by the police. Mister Matthew had died in the accident. The words echoed in Emma's mind, and a sense of emptiness and despair engulfed her. She felt infinitely cold, though it was actually a warm late summer afternoon.

No one spoke. Not even Mrs. O'Brien uttered a word. Emma was the only person allowing her tears to flow freely, while the adults looked on in shock. Only Mrs. Hughes held Emma a little tighter as tears rolled down the child's cheeks.

Mister Matthew, who had always been so kind and helpful, was gone. She would never see his smile again or hear his encouraging words. Time seemed to stand still as Emma remained in Mrs. Hughes's embrace. But even the gentle touch couldn't ease the pain raging in her heart.

Trembling, the girl stood up and continued her way upstairs, as if in a trance. The bedroom door was open. Jimmy's voice was clearly audible. The blond-haired man sat on a chair near her father's bed, reading from the Yorkshire newspaper. He stopped when he noticed the distressed girl in the corner of his eye.

"Are you alright?" Jimmy asked hesitantly.

Thomas kept his breath close at the sight of his weeping daughter. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned, patting the bed next to him. "Come here, my little dwarf."

At nine years old, Emma understood what it meant to be 'dead'. Her Mama was dead. Edward was dead. William was dead. Lavinia Swire was dead. Lady Sybil was dead. Mister Matthew was dead. They would never come back. She would never see them again. Never laugh, play, or talk with them again.

"Emma?" Thomas asked again, but it was as if his daughter neither saw nor heard him.

"You look quite pale," Jimmy remarked, "And you're trembling."

Why was the world so unfair? Why were all these people torn from her life? Why did it hurt so unbelievably when someone was dead? Why those particular people whom Emma loved so much? Mama. William. Lady Sybil. And Mister Matthew.

Emma was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even notice Jimmy getting up.

"Is this normal?" he wondered aloud. Thomas shook his head in denial as he sat up straighter, emitting a slight groan of pain. "Jimmy, could you bring her to me?" Thomas asked.