"Well, back on your adventures, are you?" Mrs. O'Brien taunted and glared at Emma with malice. Emma looked down anxiously, feeling a lump forming in her throat. She knew that Mrs. O'Brien didn't like her.
"No, Mrs. O'Brien, I'm on my way to the servants' hall," she replied quietly.
"Well, since you're here, you can be useful," O'Brien said, gesturing for Emma to follow her.
"Dad doesn't want me working or being on the other side of the green door," Emma explained.
"Thomas already has enough problems. You would be helping him by lightening the load for all of us. You must have noticed we're short-staffed. Mrs. Hughes needs a new housemaid, Mrs. Patmore needs a kitchen maid, and Mr. Carson needs a second footman."
Emma had a bad feeling about it, but O'Brien had already placed her hand on her shoulder and guided the girl in the desired direction. Emma felt uncomfortable as she followed Mrs. O'Brien, but she dared not object. She knew it was better not to cross the nasty maid.
She found herself reluctantly in a room she had never entered before - the splendid bedroom of Lord and Lady Grantham.
"I don't think I'm supposed to be here," Emma said, but Mrs. O'Brien piled some clothes on Emma's arms. "I doubt anyone will object if you help me. You can see there's still much to be done here," O'Brien explained, taking Ladyship's shoes in her hand.
Emma tried her best to carry the unwieldy load of laundry, but it was just too much for her small arms and hands. She felt pieces slipping from her grip and falling to the floor.
"You're losing half of it," O'Brien muttered. At that moment, O'Brien had a plan in mind and stepped on a piece of fabric dragging on the floor, causing Emma to lose her balance. With a loud crash, she landed against a sculpture in the hallway.
Suddenly, the hallway was filled with silence, and Emma felt her heart constrict in her chest. She had broken the sculpture, which was apparently of great value.
Mrs. O'Brien looked at her with a diabolical grin. "Well, you've done quite well, Emma Grace Barrow," she praised, "I bet Thomas will be delighted to hear what you've done. Not to mention Lord and Lady Grantham, when they see that you, in your careless play, have broken one of their treasures acquired during their honeymoon," and she winked at Emma with maliciously gleaming eyes, "You're nothing more than the biggest mistake Thomas ever made..." After a brief pause, the maid added, "He should never have adopted you."
Emma felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath her. Mrs. O'Brien's words had hit her like a slap in the face. She had destroyed the sculpture, and Mrs. O'Brien seemed determined to use this opportunity to continue tormenting her. Panic seized Emma, and her thoughts raced. Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt trapped and surrounded by the nasty witch, and she dared not defend herself, for she feared Mrs. O'Brien's retaliation.
At that moment, they heard footsteps in the hallway. Mrs. O'Brien cast a contemptuous glance at Emma before angrily scolding, "What have you done, you clumsy brat!"
"What's happened here?" Mrs. Hughes asked sternly.
"Oh, it was just a sculpture that broke," O'Brien said, "The brat ran into me and knocked over the sculpture. She apparently mistook the upstairs for a playground. Now, I have to wash and iron Lady Grantham's clean clothes again, including the evening gown she wished to wear tonight when she and Lord Grantham go to Lord Ellington's ball."
"What are you doing up here, Emma?" the housekeeper wondered. Her gaze fell on the broken sculpture and the girl who was still sitting on the floor.
"I, um... I..." Emma suddenly found herself in a difficult situation. What Mrs. O'Brien claimed wasn't true at all. The girl swallowed hard and fought back tears.
"Get up and help clean up this mess before anyone from the family sees the chaos here," Mrs. Hughes ordered.
It was all too much for the 8-year-old. Emma jumped up from the floor and ran up the stairs. She heard Mrs. Hughes angrily calling for her to stop, but Emma didn't even think about it. In the secret passage, she leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. Emma felt overwhelmed. The accusations from Mrs. O'Brien, the allegations, the adoption issue, the destruction of the sculpture, and Mrs. Hughes's harsh reaction had pushed her to her limits. She couldn't hold back the tears any longer and let her emotions flow freely. Her sobs filled the secret passage. At that moment, she simply wished she could escape from Downton Abbey.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Hughes appeared in the servants' hall. She scrutinized the present staff one by one. "Where is Emma?" Mrs. Hughes asked somewhat irritably.
"Has she done something?" Anna inquired, taken aback by the biting tone, as she lifted a teacup to her lips.
"Yes, indeed. Lord Grantham would like to know how the incident occurred."
"What incident?" Thomas wondered, lowering the cigarette in his hand. "Why would His Lordship want to talk to an 8-year-old, and why wasn't I informed?"
"Oh, it seems that your wonderful father-daughter relationship isn't as great as it appears," Mrs. O'Brien remarked with a sly smile.
"At least it seems that Emma didn't inform you," Mrs. Hughes corrected Mrs. O'Brien's comment. "Emma was playing upstairs and destroyed the sculpture in front of His Lordship's bedroom."
"What," Thomas stared at the housekeeper in horror.
"That can't be," slipped out of Anna's mouth, "Emma knows she's not allowed to play up there. I mean, I let Emma get away with it when she was 3 or 4 years old, but not at 8."
"It has happened, and the child slipped away quietly," Mrs. Hughes said, "I want Emma to be sent to me immediately if she shows up here."
"Mrs. Hughes," Thomas extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray as he rose from his chair, "Emma is my daughter. Nothing happens here without my knowledge and consent."
"May I remind you, Mr. Barrow, that Emma can only live here if she adheres to our rules? She lacks discipline and upbringing, which is no wonder if one has you as a father."
Thomas stared at Mrs. Hughes; her words had deeply affected him. The thought that he had failed as a father pained him. But he couldn't allow Emma to become a pawn of the staff now.
"I can only repeat myself, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas spoke, "Without my presence, my daughter will not speak to anyone. Nor will you reprimand my child."
"Who knows if Emma even wants to be your child anymore," O'Brien grinned slyly. Thomas gave the maid a dark look. He couldn't shake the feeling that the maid must be involved in the incident.
Emma fled from the Abbey and soon found herself at the Harris Farm. Her best friend, Ruby, had a broad smile on her face as she played in the barn with a few piglets squealing around her.
When Ruby saw Emma, she jumped up and warmly embraced her. "Hi Emma," Ruby greeted her joyfully. She quickly realized that Emma had tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
Emma told her friend everything that had happened, how she had been lured into a trap and how she felt helpless and unfairly treated. Ruby listened attentively and hugged Emma tightly in a friendly embrace. "You're not alone, Emma. You can always come to me. If you'd like, I'll ask my mom if you can stay overnight with us. But first, let's play with the piglets. Look how cute they are," and she pointed to the little piglets. The two girls spent the rest of the day in the barn, playing with the piglets and laughing together.
Thomas exhaled a long plume of smoke, then brought the cigarette back to his lips. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes. It was rather unusual for his daughter to get into trouble and then disappear. Although he was quite sure Emma hadn't run away, but was likely still at the Harris Farm. Nevertheless, he occasionally impatiently glanced at his pocket watch. The child had 30 more minutes before they would have dinner. He made a mental note to give her a wristwatch at the next opportunity.
"Blimey, what happened to you?" He almost dropped the cigarette from his mouth.
"We were playing with the piglets," the girl shrugged, "Actually, I just wanted to ask if I could stay overnight at the Harris Farm. Mrs. Harris has no objections."
"Certainly not today, Emma."
The girl swallowed hard as she heard the anger in his voice. Thomas glanced at his pocket watch again. They had 25 minutes left. He extinguished the cigarette on the wall, then dragged the child into the bathroom, where he soaked a washcloth in water and handed it to the child. "Clean up. I'll get new clothes."
After the door closed, she looked at herself in the mirror. The dried mud clung to her cheek, in her hair, and on her hands. Not to mention the dirty clothes. That's how you looked when you played with piglets and other baby animals in the barn. It didn't take two minutes for Thomas to return. He grabbed the cloth and scrubbed a little too roughly over the dried mud spots. "Ow," Emma complained, but her Dad was focused on one thing: "What happened between you and O'Brien earlier?" he asked with interest.
"What do you want to hear? My story or Mrs. O'Brien's?" Emma asked cheekly.
"Seriously?" Thomas looked at his daughter with wide eyes. "I want to know the truth."
"The truth is, Mrs. O'Brien is just a bugger of fucking cow," the girl declared angrily.
"Those are new words coming out of your mouth," Thomas observed. "Since when do you know swear words?"
"I'm eight, and I'm not stupid."
"You seem pretty irritable," he noted and now reached for a hairbrush to comb the dirt out of her hair. "I want to hear my daughter's story," Thomas paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "It's quite simple, Emma. Tell me the truth, so I can lie for you."
Emma looked at her Dad through the mirror. He stood behind her. He combed through her hair with the hairbrush while eagerly waiting for her version of the events. He no longer seemed angry or upset.
"She set a trap for me. She pretended like I should help her - I couldn't resist - and then I suddenly fell."
"Against the sculpture, I assume?" Thomas summarized the story.
Emma nodded, "Mrs. Hughes believes O'Brien because O'Brien claimed I was playing up there and causing chaos."
"Does Mrs. Hughes know your side of the story?"
Emma shook her head as Thomas glanced down at the dirty boots. He sighed. They had only 12 minutes left to transform Emma into a well-groomed child.
"So you fell because O'Brien pushed you?" Thomas asked.
Emma nodded, "You have to believe me, Dad. I didn't want to get you in trouble. I don't know why she hates me so much. I've never done anything to her."
"I know," Thomas nodded sympathetically. "She wanted to hurt me, not you," he revealed before quickly changing the subject. "That should be enough," he said, so Emma looked at herself in the mirror. Her Dad had cleaned all the visible mud spots. She hadn't even realized that after combing her hair, he had braided it into a neat ponytail, which he was quite good at by now.
"I'll clean the boots, and you change your clothes."
"Dad," Emma stopped him in the doorway, "Am I in trouble?"
"I'll come up with something. Don't worry," Thomas replied curtly, about to close the door.
"Dad." She stopped him again. Thomas looked at her expectantly. Time was pressing, and he didn't want to be late for dinner.
"Was I..." Emma paused. This fact simply couldn't be true. "Was I... adopted?"