Suddenly, Carson rose to his feet. The staff followed suit. Lady Grantham was standing in the doorway.
"Oh, please, do stay seated," she smiled, "I was just wondering if I could borrow Emma? I'd like to decorate the christmas tree and could really use an extra pair of hands."
"Milady, I'm also here to assist you," O'Brien offered.
"Oh no, please don't trouble yourself. There's nothing quite like experiencing Christmas through the eyes of children," Emma saw her dad nod approvingly. She was indeed allowed to go upstairs with Lady Grantham, a rare occurrence. Lady Grantham reached for her hand, leading her up the stairs through the famous door that separated the downstairs and upstairs. It brought her immense joy to help her ladyship decorate the christmas tree.
"We brought this ornament back from our trip to France," Lady Grantham shared, "It's the Eiffel Tower in Paris." The miniature version came with a string for hanging. It brought forth old and beautiful memories, and so Lady Grantham began to tell the young girl about her travels. How she came from America to Britain. How she and Lord Grantham had traveled the countries of Europe over many years.
"You still have to decorate up here, the tree is quite bare," Matthew Crawley appeared behind her. Emma could only look at him with wide eyes. She couldn't reach up there! But in that moment, he lifted her up and settled her on his shoulders, asking, "Better?"
"Much better!" Emma grinned. Matthew handed her the ornaments one by one.
"It seems your little brat wants a new family - a wealthy one," O'Brien stated. Barrow observed the spectacle in silence. He should have been the one carrying his daughter on his shoulders to decorate the tree. He should have been in Matthew Crawley's place. Emma was his child. His daughter.
"You're getting quite jealous," O'Brien grinned. Yes. He was jealous. Matthew Crawley was stealing a special moment from him - Christmas with his daughter.
"Did I mention that the Crawleys have taken the child into their hearts in your absence? I wouldn't be surprised if someday she gets to live upstairs and we have to serve her."
"But she'll remember her daddy and take him with her on her way up," Thomas spoke optimistically. At least, he really hoped so. Thomas turned his gaze back to the tree. Emma was laughing with Matthew Crawley, Lady Mary, and Lady Grantham. They looked like a picture-perfect family. Father, mother, child, and grandmother.
"Be careful, Matthew," Lady Mary laughed.
Matthew was about to set Emma back on the ground, but instead of taking the direct route, he swung the child around, holding her in front of his chest, tickling her. The girl laughed with immense joy.
When Emma awoke on the morning of the 25th of December, she was disappointed to find that her father was already up and about. Her first gaze was towards the window. It still wasn't snowing. She had wished so much for a white Christmas.
"What's this? You're still in bed and not dressed!" Thomas appeared at the door. His arms crossed behind his back. "The Christmas gathering with the Crawleys is in half an hour, and I've heard your presence has been requested," he explained as he sat down at the foot of the bed. From behind his arms, he produced a little package. He gave his girl a warm smile. "Merry Christmas, my little dwarf."
Emma eagerly unwrapped her gift. Inside was a new floral dress and a small bracelet. Her eyes sparkled as she held up the bracelet. It was adorned with delicate charms – a heart, a star and a book.
"Do you like it?" Thomas asked, a bit unsure.
Emma nodded, "It's beautiful! Thank you, Daddy!" She planted a kiss on his cheek.
After a while, Emma's excitement settled, and she sat down next to her father on the bed. She gazed at him with curiosity. "Dad, can I give you my gift now?"
Thomas looked surprised. "My gift? You didn't have to get me anything."
Emma reached under the bed and pulled out a small, wrapped package. She handed it to Thomas, her eyes filled with anticipation. "Merry christmas, Daddy."
Thomas carefully unwrapped the gift. He hadn't expected to receive a gift from her, even if it was a simple offering from a child's hands. She had given him a drawing with the words 'best Daddy', and a bar of chocolate. He was quite sure that Emma had scraped together her meager pocket money to buy the chocolate.
"Thank you very much, Emma," he smiled.
Emma smiled, "Can you help me now put on the dress?"
"Of course, Miss Emma," Thomas replied with a warm smile, his manner transforming into that of a devoted valet. With gentle hands, he assisted Emma in removing her current nightgown, treating the task with a sense of decorum and propriety. Emma giggled at the playful seriousness in her father's expression.
"Arms up, if you please," he instructed, as he held the new dress open for her to step into. Emma complied, feeling a mixture of excitement as her father's skilled hands worked around her, ensuring every button was perfectly secured.
Thomas stepped back, his hands clasped behind his back as he admired his daughter. "You look absolutely stunning, Miss Emma. The dress suits you perfectly."
Emma twirled around to examine herself in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly, and the colors seemed to complement her eyes. She felt like a character – maybe like a princess – from one of the stories she and her father enjoyed reading together. Emma curtsied playfully, mimicking the actions of a lady in a grand manor. "Thank you, for your im-pec-cable assistance."
Thomas bowed slightly, still maintaining his valet-like demeanor. "It is my pleasure to be of service, Miss Emma."
As Emma continued to twirl and admire herself in the mirror, Thomas approached her with a small, ornate box in his hands. "There's one more thing, if you'd kindly indulge me."
Curious, Emma turned toward him, her eyes bright with anticipation. Thomas opened the box to reveal a beautiful silver/blue hairpin. Emma's eyes widened in surprise.
A soft smile gracing Thomas lips. "Miss Emma. Lady Sybil sent it as a Christmas gift for you, even though she is in Ireland. She thought you might appreciate its beauty."
"Wow," Emma whispered, her voice filled with admiration.
"With your permission, Miss Emma. Shall I assist you in arranging your hair and selecting a suitable accessory?"
Emma nodded, her excitement growing. Thomas gently slid the hairpin into her hair, securing a few loose strands that framed her face.
"Perfect," Thomas remarked softly, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. "Now, you are truly ready for your first christmas gathering with the Crawleys."
Emma turned to face him, her smile radiant. "Thank you, Daddy."
Thomas's composed demeanor cracked just a bit as a soft smile tugged at his lips. He cleared his throat, returning to his valet-like poise. "It's been an honor, Miss Emma. Now, shall we head downstairs?"
Arm in arm, they descended the staircase. As they reached the bottom of the staircase, Emma couldn't help but chuckle softly. "You know, Daddy, you're being a bit silly with all this valet talk."
Thomas raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "Silly, am I? I do believe I am the epitome of propriety and elegance!"
Emma laughed, "Oh, absolutely, the epitome of something, that's for sure."
Thomas feigned a mock gasp. "Ah, but Miss Emma, a valet's reputation is at stake! I must insist that I maintain my air of sophistication."
"Of course, Daddy," Emma replied with an exaggerated curtsy, playing along with their banter. "Wouldn't want your reputation to crumble because of a seven year old."
"There you are, Thomas. We have to go upstairs now," Carson said.
The gift-giving ceremony. She had never been allowed to participate; instead, she had to wait in the servants' hall. The family stood across from them. Mrs. Hughes, as well as the Crawleys, insisted on Emma's presence during the gift exchange, much to the dismay of Mr. Carson (and Sir Richard), who deemed it improper to allow an orphaned child like Emma to live at Downton, let alone be present at such grand occasions.
"I'd like to change the order a bit," Lady Grantham explained, "I think it would be only fair for Emma, being the youngest in the room, to receive her gift first."
"Come to us, Emma," Lady Mary beckoned.
Emma, standing beside her father at the end of the line, beamed.
"This is a gift from Lord Grantham and me," Lady Grantham smiled, handing her a gift. Lady Mary and Lady Edith also had a joint gift for her. Similarly, Mr. Matthew Crawley and his mother had prepared another gift for her.
She received a total of three gifts, two more than anyone else. From Lord and Lady Grantham, she received the book 'Nils Holgersson'. The daughters also gifted her a dress, and Mr. Matthew and his mother gave her a wooden horse-play set.
In the servants' hall, she immersed herself in her gift while the adults played a board game. Over a significant portion of the floor, she built her horse farm. With building blocks, she constructed a stable and fenced in a pasture where the four horse figures stood.
"What's that?" Daisy asked curiously.
"We're talking to the dead," Barrow answered eerily.
Emma paused in her play. The conversation of the adults took an interesting turn for her. Curiously, she listened to their discussions. She wished she could talk to her mother.
"But how? They can't answer us," Daisy said.
"But they can. That's exactly the point," O'Brien's annoyed voice echoed through the hall.
But when Mrs. Hughes arrived and expressed doubts about the game, they put it away. Emma sighed and turned back to her horse game. Suddenly, there was a loud crash. Mr. Carson was lying on the hard floor, obviously slipping on one of the round building blocks.
"Emma. Grace. Barrow!" Carson yelled angrily. "This is not a playroom!" His head was redder than a tomato could ever be. She heard every one of his heavy breaths. The adults gathered around them. Anna rushed to Carson's side, helping the butler back onto his feet. His finger pointed menacingly at the girl. "You!" he hissed, "You will clean up immediately! And then you will go to your room and not show your face down here for the rest of the day!"
Emma swallowed hard, unable to nod her head. Carson then turned to Thomas, "I was against that ill-mannered child from the beginning! She has no place here! She only brings trouble and problems! She disrupts our entire routine and tradition! Look at her! A servant can't raise a child - it's against the promise to dedicate their life to service!"
The butler hurriedly left the room, followed by concerned looks from those present. Emma stood there, hit by Carson's words, tears welling up in her eyes. She felt small and unloved, as if she were a foreign body in this world. Thomas couldn't believe that Carson would speak so heartlessly about his daughter.
"It's about time someone gave the troublemaker a piece of their mind," O'Brien sneered, disdainfully looking at Emma. "You know very well that you're not allowed to make a mess here, but dumb brats like you never listen."
Thomas felt his anger towards O'Brien rising, but he tried to keep his composure. "O'Brien, that's enough now," he said calmly.
Anna helped pack the wooden blocks and figures into the box. Thomas carried the box to their shared bedroom. He helped Emma take off her dress and put on her nightgown. As he unbuttoned the dress, he noticed the uncertainty in Emma's eyes.
After a moment of silence, he broke it, "It's okay, my little dwarf," Thomas said gently, "Don't take all of this to heart so much."
Emma nodded slightly. Thomas helped her pull her nightgown over her head and gently slipped the sleeves over her arms. With his thumb, he wiped her tears from her cheek. "Don't listen to Mr. Carson or O'Brien. You're not a troublemaker. You're an imaginative, smart and loving girl."
"It's my fault he fell and that all the traditions are being disrupted," Emma whispered.
"It's not your fault. Mr. Carson should watch where he's stepping. He'll get over it."
She disappeared under the blanket. There she remained until her father returned later in the evening from supper, sitting on the edge of the bed and soothingly stroking her back.
"Mr. Carson can't stand me at all. I'm always the problem," sniffled Emma.
"Well, you're my child... and I completely disagree with what Carson said," he explained.
"It's not just him. O'Brien is also always mean to me. I am not a stupid brat, am I?" Emma's voice quivered, a mix of frustration and sadness in her words.
Thomas sighed deeply. He pulled the blanket down slightly and looked into her eyes, his expression tender and earnest. "Emma, listen to me," he began, his voice gentle but firm. "You are the most precious thing in my life, and I couldn't be prouder of the intelligent, brave, and kind-hearted girl you're growing into."
Emma looked up at her father, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
"Don't listen to Carson and O'Brien. They are behaving like brats... you know, when I was a little bit older then you now, I faced many challenges too," Thomas said, a nostalgic smile on his face. "People can be quick to judge, but what matters is how you see yourself. And I see an incredible young girl."
Emma blinked away her tears, absorbing her father's words. She took a shaky breath and nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She hugged her father tightly. He held her close, his arms a safe haven for her.
"Mrs. Patmore gave me a belated Christmas gift for you." Thomas said and unwrapped a jam sandwich. "But it's a total secret, understood?" and signaled silence with a finger over his lips. Emma nodded with a smile and started eating.
"You know, Daddy, despite my teasing, I actually really like the whole valet thing from earlier" Emma stated.
Thomas raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile on his lips. "Oh, you do, do you?"
Emma nodded with a playful grin. "Absolutely. I mean, it's not every day that I get my own valet to help me put on a dress."
Thomas chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, Miss Emma, I must admit, it's not every day that I have the privilege of assisting such a fine young lady with her attire."
Emma jumped up and playfully curtsied, causing both of them to laugh. "Well, Mr. Dad, I would be honored if you'd assist me again sometime."
Thomas feigned a thoughtful expression, as if considering her request seriously. "Hmm, I shall have to check my busy schedule of buttoning and bow-tying, but I believe we can arrange it."
They both burst into laughter, the joy of their shared moment filling the room. As the laughter subsided, Emma's expression turned more serious. She looked at her father with a contemplative look in her eyes. "Why aren't you Lord Grantham's new valet? You're so skilled at being a valet, and you love the elegance and tradition of it all."
"Unfortunately Lord Grantham doesn't want me as his valet." Thomas sighed, his gaze momentarily distant as he recalled the events of the past.
"Why not? You would be perfect!"
Thomas would like to be a valet. He has been aiming for this position for years with the exception of war. Thomas looked at Emma with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "It's not that simple. There are certain circumstances that prevent me from becoming Lord Grantham's valet."
Emma's brows furrowed in confusion. "But you're so good at it! And you've been working here for so long. It just doesn't make sense."
"One day I will be a valet. That's for sure." Thomas said purposefully.
Emma smiled warmly. "l hope so, you're the best valet in the world."
Snow white as far as she could see out the window. Trees and fields shimmered with frost. And the snow was more than enough for several snowmen. Emma loved the snow. She might not like the cold much, but the snow was fantastic. She glanced over at her father's empty bed, suspecting that he must served breakfast. She put on her thick clothes, along with her scarf, hat, gloves, and coat before running down the stairs.
"Where are you rushing to?" Mrs. Patmore wondered, "You haven't even had breakfast!"
"Snow! So much snow!" Emma emphasized, and she was already out the door and running outside.
Just a short smoke outside? It was just too cold for Thomas to take a quiet cigarette break in the backyard. However, it was Mrs. Hughes who pointed out to him that his daughter had been playing in the cold for over two hours now. Her clothes were surely completely wet, her nose and fingers frozen. Thomas put on his winter coat and hurried to his daughter.
Emma threw a snowball directly at her father, who was playfully approaching. He grabbed the child, swung her around, and then let her plop into the snow.
"You're cold," Thomas said. "Let's go inside, have a hot cocoa, and warm up by the fireplace."
"Please, Daddy! Let's just build one more snowman!" Thomas wasn't able to say no. He wanted to show his child that he was better than Mr. Matthew, that he loved his child.
AN: Your reminder. Don't forget to buy Christmas presents! In 119 days it's that time again ;)