AN: I've included a little flashback. I had the idea in my head for a few days. I find it somehow sweet to read about the 'relationship' between Mrs. O'Brien and toddler Emma. Maybe it also explains why Mrs. O'Brien hates the child more and more with each passing day. Otherwise, we're right in the middle of the 3rd season. You know what that means. The rollercoaster of emotions continues...
Thomas Barrow couldn't simply ignore O'Brien's intentions. So, he devised a plan for discreet retaliation without involving his daughter further. He was in the midst of polishing his lordship's shoes when the plan came to mind. In the landry room, there were various cleaning products, including the shoe polish preferred by Mrs. O'Brien for Lady Grantham's shoes. He mixed a bit of caustic liquid into the polish.
Later in the afternoon, Mrs. O'Brien unknowingly reached for the wrong shoe polish and began cleaning Lady Grantham's shoes. "Oh no, no," she exclaimed in shock as the leather began to dissolve. Mrs. O'Brien stared in horror at the result of her work, and Thomas could hardly conceal his smile.
Now he leaned against the house wall, exhaling his cigarette smoke. Thomas silently watched as Daisy filled a basket with firewood.
"Thomas," Daisy startled when she looked back. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, "Mrs. O'Brien has been having quite a few accidents lately."
"That happens when you're not careful," Thomas commented, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Or when you mess with Emma." Thomas looked surprised. Did Daisy know he was behind it? If so, he needed to be more cautious. But the kitchen maid continued, "Don't you remember when O'Brien had to look after Emma for an afternoon? I think she was three years old..."
Flashback 1915
"She should be occupied for a while with this," Mr. Carson remarked. He had placed a box of toys, books, and art supplies in the servants' hall, all while holding the little girl's hand.
"I don't think this is within my duties," O'Brien muttered, clearly not thrilled with the idea.
"Mrs. Hughes is bedridden with the flu. William has his half-day off. Anna is in London with Lady Mary. Mrs. Patmore is out shopping, and I, too, have to go to the village for a few hours," the butler explained.
"What about Daisy?"
Mr. Carson raised his eyebrows incredulously, "Daisy? She's just a child herself."
"If you believe my duties can wait..."
"Yes, indeed." He lifted the toddler and placed her on a chair. "Listen, Emma Grace," he now spoke to the girl with a gentler tone, "Mrs. O'Brien will take care of you for a few hours. Behave and show your very best side."
The 3-year-old Emma nodded, saying, "Uh-huh," while keeping her hand in her mouth and giving the butler a sweet smile because Emma was a real bundle of energy, brimming with joy for life. "Bye-bye, Mister Caw-son."
Barely had Mr. Carson left the servants' hall when she slammed the crayons and a coloring book onto the table. "Here you go, you little brat," O'Brien hissed, "I have better things to do than look after you. So, you'll sit here quietly and wait for Mr. Carson to return."
As O'Brien left the servants' hall, Emma discreetly slid off her chair and crawled over to the wall, where she started painting the wall with pink crayon.
"Stop it, you silly brat!" O'Brien burst out.
Emma now jumped up from her spot. "Catch me!" she squealed with joy. When she touched Mrs. O'Brien with the crayon still in her hand, she left a pink streak on the maid's clothing. The maid didn't even consider chasing after the child. Instead, she sat down and lit a cigarette. Emma quickly realized that the maid wasn't interested in playing with her. So, the child hopped in place. "I'm hungry!" Emma yelled, "Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!"
Mrs. O'Brien found Emma's meal in the kitchen. Mrs. Patmore always prepared a small afternoon plate for Emma.
"Here, now shut your mouth!" she hissed.
Emma looked hungrily at her food, but very little of it made its way into her mouth. Emma was in a phase where she preferred to play with her food. So, the servants' hall quickly began to resemble a battlefield. With a contented grin, she started squishing the mashed potatoes and tossing peas through the air. When she reached for her juice glass, the cup tipped over. Orange juice spread across the table, ruining Mrs. O'Brien's handiwork.
"Oh-oh," Emma observed, "sea," she laughed and now moved a carrot like a figurine over the orange puddle on the table.
"It's unbelievable how Thomas could voluntarily keep you," she grumbled.
Of course, Emma didn't understand the statement, but whenever her father's name was mentioned, the child always asked the same question, "When is Daddy coming home?"
"When the war is over," the maid replied, just as Daisy entered the servants' hall.
"Oh my goodness," Daisy exclaimed with shock, "What has happened here? Mr. Carson will go ballistic. And especially Mrs. Patmore when she sees the food on the floor."
"The silly brat happened," the maid hissed.
"You just have to keep Emma busy. When she's bored, she gets into mischief."
"You seem to know a lot about child-rearing, don't you?", she hissed.
"Just read Emma's favorite book. That's what Mrs. Hughes always does when she needs to go to sleep. I have to prepare the food now."
The maid heeded Daisy's advice, "Sit down now and listen," and began reading a few lines from the picture book. Emma had no patience to listen and started questioning every sentence with a loud "Why?" Mrs. Hughes always lets her look at the pictures, but O'Brien didn't show her the book pages.
Finally, after two hours of chaos and an indefatigable toddler, Mrs. O'Brien burst out, "Stop being such a nuisance, you stupid ungrateful brat! You should be punish for your misbehaving!"
"Mrs. O'Brien!" a shrill voice rang out. Mr. Carson returned. His expression revealed horror as he saw the devastated servants' hall. "What happened?" he shouted.
The girl immediately rushed to the stern butler and embraced him, "Miss you Mister Caw-son. She was very mean," pressing her face against the butler's trouser leg.
"Emma is an ill-behaved child."
"Are you doubting my or Mrs. Hughes's upbringing?"
"No, not at all," she apologized immediately, "However, Emma was completely overwrought. She lacks discipline and order."
"That's no excuse. Look at the servants' hall! You can't blame your failures on the child," Carson said, appalled. "Emma Grace has never created such a mess. Clean up this mess. Right away," and he took the child by the hand, "Come on, let's see if Mrs. Hughes is feeling better." Emma turned to the maid one last time and playfully stuck her tongue out.
End of Flashback
"Emma could already sense back then that Mrs. O'Brien didn't really like her," Daisy concluded.
Thomas gazed at Daisy with mixed feelings. On one hand, the story made him smile, and he always enjoyed hearing tales from Emma's life. On the other hand, it saddened him to know that he had missed most of Emma's early years.
"Oh," she suddenly realized, "You were in the war."
He nodded gently and sighed softly. "Yes, I was in the war, Daisy," he said softly. "I missed a lot of Emma's life." His gaze turned contemplative as he saw distant cannon fire and the harshness of the war before him.
"But you're here for Emma now. That's all that matters," Daisy said optimistically.
"Do you think he ran away from the police?" Daisy wondered later that evening as they all gathered in the servants' hall.
"Don't be so silly, Daisy," Anna said with a smile.
"Well, he probably didn't have the money for a taxi from the station," Thomas observed.
"Maybe he preferred to walk," Mrs. Hughes suggested.
"Yes, exactly. He enjoyed taking a nighttime stroll in the rain without a coat."
"Can I go with Daisy?" Emma asked curiously as she looked up from her homework. She saw her father shaking his head, "Not tonight."
"Which room is he in?" Daisy asked.
"I'll take it up," Carson's voice rang out. Immediately, the entire staff got up – except for Emma, who was once again pulled up by Thomas at the sleeve. She glared at him. She wasn't sitting there out of boredom but because she was doing her homework. And now the last sentence in her penmanship book was ruined.
"Thank you, Daisy," Carson said as he took the tray.
A few days later, Emma stood nervously at the door of Lady Sybil's room. She knocked, and a soft "come in" came from the other side. So she hesitantly opened the door. Lady Sybil was seated in a chair, a book resting on her lap. She beamed when she saw Emma. "Emma, it's lovely that you've come to visit me," Lady Sybil smiled.
The girl grinned and ran towards Lady Sybil to give her a hug. "I've missed you so much! You have to tell me everything about the le-pre-chauns!"
"I will, but first, there's something very important I want to show you," Lady Sybil said, her smile growing even wider. She gently took Emma's hand and placed it on her slightly rounded belly. Emma looked at Lady Sybil's belly in surprise. "I'm having a baby," she revealed.
Emma's eyes widened with fascination. "A baby? Really? That's so exciting! Is it going to be a little girl? Please, please let it be a girl!"
"We won't know until the baby is born," Lady Sybil laughed. She nodded and guided Emma's hand to the other side of her belly, where the baby happened to give a little kick. "The baby kicked me!" Emma laughed with joy.
Lady Sybil smiled lovingly and stroked Emma's head. "I'm sure the two of you will be the best of friends."
"I'll be like a big sister," Emma beamed. The thought of having a little baby in the house filled her with joy and excitement. She could feel her heart racing with enthusiasm. She couldn't wait to see the child and play with it.
At that moment, Tom Branson entered the room, wearing a wide grin. "What's going on here?" he asked playfully, sensing the cheerful atmosphere. Lady Sybil and Emma burst into laughter, and Lady Sybil explained, "I just told Emma that we're expecting a baby."
Tom beamed with joy and approached Lady Sybil, gently kissing her. As promised, Tom and Lady Sybil told a magical leprechaun tale. Lady Sybil spun the most magical and imaginative tales she had ever heard. It was as if her words came to life, and the world of fairies unfolded before Emma's eyes. Tom had a talent for acting out the story Lady Sybil told.
"One day, they decided to have a huge adventure and climbed the highest mountain they could find," Lady Sybil continued. Tom took Emma's hand, and together, they leaped onto Lady Sybil's bed, which served as their mountain. They pretended to navigate treacherous peaks. Tom, still on the 'mountain,' suddenly paused and shouted, "Emma, watch out! The summit is getting more dangerous!" He balanced on the edge of the bed, pretending to traverse narrow mountain passes.
"On the very top of the mountain, the leprechauns discovered a magical portal," Lady Sybil continued, laughing. Emma had a great time as the pillows suddenly turned into snowballs.
Finally, they heard the dressing gong, and Emma, tired from her adventures, returned to the servants' hall.
"So, now you need to put away your homework," Mrs. Patmore said, placing the stew on the table. A few housemaids and hallboys had already set the table, and the first servants were gathering at their usual places. Only Emma's place was empty. "We'll continue after supper," Molesley said confidently. Emma nodded in agreement, as she was tired. That's why she had asked Mr. Molesley for help with her history assignment. Surprisingly, Mr. Molesley was quite good at it. She quickly packed her notebook, book, and pens into her school bag before standing up. That was the tradition. She observed each of the servants. The new one caught her eye immediately.
"Who is that?" she asked curiously.
Mrs. Hughes, standing next to her, answered her question, "That's James Kent, the new footman."
It didn't take long for Thomas, followed by Mr. Carson, to arrive. Emma hadn't seen her father for several days because he had to travel to London with Lord Grantham.
Finally, they were allowed to sit down. Emma looked at the food with slight disgust. Stew with bacon, mushrooms, beans, and carrots. Had she mentioned before that she didn't like mushrooms of any kind? When she was younger, she used to get a special meal, but Mr. Carson no longer deemed it necessary. "Emma Grace is old enough. She'll eat what's on the table," were his words to Mrs. Patmore not too long ago.
Mrs. Hughes ladled a substantial portion onto Emma's plate. The girl looked at it in dismay. There were so many squishy mushrooms in the stew. She listened to the usual conversations. The main topic seemed to be Lady Edith, who had written to a newspaper, something she shouldn't have done because it's not proper for a lady.
Emma yawned softly. The servants' meal was later than usual. Her eyes were slowly threatening to close, so Emma propped her head up with her hand. Her elbow rested on the table edge, providing the support needed to guide the spoon into her mouth, making sure to keep the mushrooms at the edge of the plate.
What exactly happened to her father when the new servant, Jimmy, or as Mr. Carson preferred, James, started his work in Downton, was a mystery to her. In any case, Thomas's eyes were relatively often fixed on the newcomer.
Carson cleared his throat, then a bit louder until a slap on the table followed. But the desired effect didn't happen with Emma; it didn't startle her but rather Mr. Molesley. "Emma Grace," the butler now huffed, "these are not proper table manners." Emma didn't give Mr. Carson a single glance, instead, she continued to poke at her stew.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you," demanded the butler. Emma sighed, set her spoon aside, and gazed at the butler.
"Your table manners aren't properly either," she complained, pointing at her spot. "See, I've spilled because of you."
"I won't tolerate such cheekiness here."
"I'm not cheeky!"
Mr. Carson fixed Emma with stern eyes. "That's enough, Emma Grace. I expect respect and good manners here. Sit properly and eat neatly."
"It's not fair, Mr. Carson. I'm eating what I don't like and trying to be polite, even though I can barely keep my eyes open from tiredness, and you have nothing better to do than dictate how I should sit."
Thomas, who sat beside his daughter, let out a sigh and closed his eyes for a tiny moment. It was as if he were being catapulted into the past, where Emma discovered her defiant phase and created a ruckus for days.
"Don't say anything now, Mr. Carson," admonished Mrs. Hughes, who had no more desire for a defiant phase than probably all the staff who had gone through one before.
The housekeeper now turned her attention to Emma. "Please, Emma. I know it's very late, but could you endure a little longer?" The 8-year-old girl sat next to the housekeeper. Emma rolled her eyes in annoyance but sat up straight in her chair and started to spoon her stew more or less. She continued to steadfastly ignore the squishy mushrooms and pushed them to the edge of the plate.
James Kent sat silently at the table, observing the scene quietly. It was evident that the little girl enjoyed a certain freedom in her behavior that was not allowed for the other servants. Nonetheless, he wondered why a child was dining with the staff in the first place.
Suddenly, without warning, Emma's head dropped forward and landed with a dull thud on her plate. The dishes clinked, and the spoon fell to the floor. Some of the servants suppressed a laugh, while others stared at the girl with disbelief.
"Emma Grace!" Carson's angry voice rang out through the room.
"I've always said... the child is nothing but trouble," O'Brien stated, glaring maliciously, "And it seems Thomas is not up to the task," she added with a smirk.
Thomas set aside his spoon and pushed Emma's chair back. Emma rubbed her sleepy eyes. She had never seen such an angry expression before. "This is going too far, Emma," he admonished her with a voice that brooked no argument. "Your behavior tonight is unacceptable. Go to bed and think about your misbehavior," Thomas.
Emma looked at her dad in dismay. She had barely eaten. Her stomach was as hungry as her body longed for restful sleep. Besides, she didn't need to go to bed to realize that her behavior had indeed left much to be desired.
"I apologize, Mr. Carson," Emma said softly. "I didn't mean to act this way."
Mr. Carson nodded curtly. "I forgive you, Emma Grace."
Mrs. Hughes looked at the butler with an appreciative smile. Carson's gaze fell on Emma's full plate. He sighed. "Sit down," he instructed the girl. Emma, who had originally intended to go to her room, hesitated. "Mrs. Patmore, could we have a toast, please?" he inquired. Mrs. Patmore nodded in response.
Meanwhile, Thomas took a napkin and wiped the child's face. Emma couldn't recall exactly how she ended up on Thomas's lap, but she was now sitting tired in her father's arms. Thomas leaned down to her and whispered softly, "I know you had a long day, little dwarf. But sometimes you act like you're three."
Emma looked at her dad in surprise. "You don't even know how I acted at three," she retorted. It could have been a slap in the face. Emma was right.
Thomas sighed softly and gently stroked Emma's hair. "That's true. But you're older and wiser now, aren't you?" He smiled weakly. "I know it's not always easy for you down here with the staff. But you have to understand that certain rules apply to you too."
Emma nodded, her eyelids getting heavier, and she yawned again. Mrs. Patmore returned with a sandwich and placed it in front of Emma.
"Thank you, Mrs. Patmore," she said in her sweet voice. She settled back into her own chair and began to devour the new plate with appetite. Strawberry jam on toast tasted much better.