Why did the door squeak when opening? Why did the old floorboards creak? Quietly, she closed the bedroom door, and at the same moment, the night light illuminated the room. Emma closed her eyes for a brief moment, took a deep breath, before turning to her father. Just like before, he was sitting in bed, this time with the blanket covering him. He hadn't slept, staying awake until her return in the middle of the night.
Emma surveyed his injuries, marring his face. The thought of her father potentially leaving her overwhelmed her, and a wave of fear washed over her.
He tapped the bed beside him. Emma slipped off her boots and moved slowly towards him, sitting on the far edge at the foot of the bed. Nevertheless, Thomas reached for her cheek, gently wiping away the tears with his thumb.
"Would you like to talk?" he asked softly. Emma shook her head with a timid nod.
"Would you like me to hold you?" he continued, opening his arms to show his daughter that she could approach him.
Emma hesitated for a moment before slowly nestling into her father's arms. His strong embrace enveloped her, and she felt safe and secure in his presence. She rested her head against his chest, feeling the soothing rise and fall of his breath, while his heartbeat pulsed in rhythmic intervals.
In this embrace, Emma felt momentarily freed from sorrow. Here in her father's arms, there was only pure love and comfort for a moment. Thomas held her gently, soothingly stroking her back, letting her know that he would always be there for her, no matter what happened. In that moment, embraced by her father's love, Emma felt a little relieved, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders.
They remained silent for a while, only the faint sound of their breaths and the gentle beats of Thomas's heartbeat filling the room. It was a moment of peace and comfort.
A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. "Can you promise me something?" she whispered.
"What can I promise, my little dwarf?" he asked.
"Never leave me, Daddy You must never leave me!"
Thomas felt a lump in his throat as he heard Emma's desperate plea. His heart clenched as he recognised the pain in her voice. He held her tighter, whispering, "I promise you, little dwarf. I will never leave you."
Emma quietly sobbed into his side, clinging to him as if afraid to let go. At the same time, she tried to cling to the warmth of his body, as if she could hold on to it to keep from falling into the abyss of grief.
Thomas wished nothing more than to give her the security she needed. He wished he could take all her pain and fears upon himself and protect her, but he couldn't. Thomas stroked her back soothingly as he tried to suppress his own worries: "I will always be with you," he reassured, placing a kiss on her forehead.
Minutes passed as they lay there, embraced in the darkness – except for the small night light – of their bedroom. The silence was only interrupted by Emma's quiet sobbing, which gradually slowed and eventually ceased.
As the next morning unfolded, with the sun slowly creeping through the curtains and the first rays of light illuminating the room, Emma remained deeply asleep, enveloped in her father's warm embrace. Thomas lay awake beside her, his gaze resting gently on her peaceful face, tinged with a hint of sadness.
When he heard noises from the hallway, he turned his head towards the door and saw Mrs. Hughes bringing breakfast for him on a tray. Thomas placed his index finger to his lips, signalling Mrs. Hughes to be quiet. Emma had hardly slept during the night, and he didn't want to disturb her.
Mrs. Hughes nodded understandingly and carefully placed the tray on the dresser. She was aware of the delicate atmosphere in the room and spoke only in hushed tones as she addressed Thomas. "I must say, I'm relieved to see Emma back home."
"So am I, Mrs. Hughes," he agreed.
"I've brought juice and toast for Emma as well."
"Thank you."
Mrs. Hughes left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Thomas turned his attention back to his daughter, who was still fast asleep. It was impossible for him to have breakfast anyway, with the head of a 9-year-old girl resting on his chest. Instead, he picked up a book and began reading the novel.
Time passed slowly, and when Emma finally woke up, she found herself once again in her father's warm embrace - just as she had fallen asleep - a feeling of safety and comfort surrounding her, momentarily forgetting the pain that had plagued her during the night.
Thomas lowered the book and directed his concerned gaze towards her as Emma slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes.
"How are you feeling?" he asked empathetically.
Emma shrugged. She simply didn't know how she felt.
"There's breakfast," Thomas tried to start a conversation again, gesturing towards Mrs. Hughes' tray. Emma shook her head.
"You didn't have dinner; you should have something for breakfast."
Again, Emma shook her head. Thomas sighed softly. He knew it wasn't easy for her to cope with the loss of Mr. Matthew.He, too, felt sorry that Mr. Matthew had tragically passed away on what should have been a joyful day, but life went on.
"Do you fancy reading a few pages?" he offered, handing her the book he had been reading.
Emma took the book and flipped through the pages before handing it back to him. She felt overwhelmed by the heavy burden of grief and pain, and it seemed impossible for her to find joy or distraction in the present moment.
Unlike his daughter, Thomas had developed a great hunger. Despite the strong pain in his ribs, he got up to take the breakfast tray. He sat down beside Emma on the bed and picked up a cup of tea. "Let's have breakfast together," he said calmly, "but you don't have to eat anything."
Emma nodded slightly. She didn't feel able to speak. The words stuck in her throat. She watched as her dad reached for a piece of toast. The silence in the room was only interrupted by the faint clinking of cutlery as Thomas slowly ate his breakfast. Occasionally, he cast a worried glance at Emma. He wondered why Emma had such a strong reaction to Mr. Matthew's death, especially since she had been much closer to Lady Sybil. But then he suddenly remembered Anna's words, "She found him on her way home from school." Through four years of service in the army's medical corps, Thomas knew what it meant to be in shock or have trauma. Was his child experiencing shock?
"I heard you were the one who found him," he explained gently. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here for you. I'll listen... but you know that - I always listen to you, Emma."
Emma swallowed hard as tears glistened in her eyes. She wanted so much to talk to her father, to tell him everything that burdened her. But at the moment, her pain just felt too overwhelming.
"I don't wanna talk," she finally whispered.
"That's okay. You don't have to talk if you don't want to."
Thomas finished his breakfast and placed the tray back on the dresser. He took the book in his hands, leaned against the headboard of his bed, and began reading quietly, hoping it would offer Emma some distraction. After a while, Emma leaned against her father's shoulder and closed her eyes, listening to the soothing sound of his voice.
Emma wished she could hide in their bedroom forever, but daily life and reality returned as early as the next day when her father resumed dining with the staff and performing the first simple tasks. The servants noticed that the girl became taciturn and only responded when absolutely necessary, so without exception, all the staff left the child alone. And before the girl knew it, it was the day of Mister Matthew's funeral – on a weekend – when she could have gone to her first circus with Ruby, had she prevented the accident. She. It was her decision to buy those stupid cigarettes instead of getting into the car. She could have changed the course of events.
Mister Matthew's funeral was the fourth funeral she had ever attended. The English weather matched the mood of the staff and the Crawley family. It rained incessantly, as one would expect from English weather. Unlike William, Lavinia, and Lady Sybil, it had been quite a large funeral. Probably because he would have been the future Earl of Grantham.
After the funeral, the servants sat in the servant's hall of Downton Abbey, subdued and full of sorrow. The tea party was over, the guests had left. Now they too had had time to process the events of the day and take a little break with a warm drink.
"I could have prevented it," Emma suddenly murmured, her voice permeated with guilt that had weighed heavily on her since Mister Matthew's death.
"What?" Thomas asked, confused, his gaze fixed on his daughter.
"The accident," she replied softly.
"You couldn't have done anything, Emma," said Mrs. Hughes.
"I could have. I met him shortly before in the village. He asked me if he should give me a ride," she revealed, her voice full of regret.
The girl didn't notice the stares that suddenly fell on her. Whether it was Carson, Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, the Bateses, Alfred, Jimmy, or Thomas. The latter had his mouth half open. They all looked at her with shock.
"Emma Grace..." Carson began, but he was interrupted by the girl: "If I had gone with him, the accident would have turned out completely differently," she continued, revealing her thoughts.
"Oh yes, certainly," O'Brien muttered sarcastically. Her words reflected the silent fears and thoughts of the others: "You don't understand what you're revealing to us. There would have been two deaths then, you foolish girl!"
"You don't understand. The accident might not have happened at all if I hadn't had to buy those stupid cigarettes."
"Might," Thomas repeated, shaking his head, trying to process what his daughter was revealing. He could have almost attended his own child's funeral today if his daughter had gotten into the car.
"Do you even listen to yourself?" O'Brien wondered, "Those stupid cigarettes saved your life!"
Thomas reached for his jacket pocket. He felt through the fabric that cigarette packet, which prevented Emma from getting into the car. A wave of relief washed over him as he found the object in his pocket. It was a strange irony of fate that something as insignificant as a pack of cigarettes had saved his beloved child's life.
"You can't possibly know any more than I do whether the accident would have happened if I had gotten in. Maybe it wouldn't have come to that." Emma stated.
"That's highly unlikely, Emma Grace," Carson cleared his throat, trying to calm the situation, "I suppose we should be very grateful that you weren't in the car."
"But..." Emma began to explain again, but Thomas slammed his hand on the tabletop.
"Stop!" he demanded of his daughter, his voice laden with emotions. "You wouldn't have prevented anything! Mrs. O'Brien is right. If you had gone with him, you wouldn't be here now! You would have died!"
He couldn't deny that Emma's words deeply touched him. Part of him longed to comfort her and reassure her that it wasn't her fault. But another part of him was filled with anger and frustration that she even considered that her behavior could have prevented the accident. Another part of him was relieved that he had asked his child to buy new cigarettes. He could have asked Jimmy instead – the footman had even offered – but he didn't want to burden Jimmy with more work, as Jimmy and Alfred were already covering his duties as under-butler due to his absence.
The silence that followed Thomas's words hung heavily in the air. Emma lowered her gaze, unable to respond.
Mrs. Hughes gently placed her hand on Emma's shoulder. "It's not your fault my dear," she whispered comfortingly. "It was a tragic accident, and you're not responsible. You couldn't have known what would happen."
Emma swallowed hard and nodded slowly, although the words didn't really penetrate her. She was too shocked by her father's harsh reaction or the fact that the staff saw the situation very differently from her own perspective.
The atmosphere in the servant's hall of Downton Abbey remained subdued and sorrowful as Emma left the room with heavy steps. Her father's words still echoed in her head, and a renewed feeling of emptiness enveloped her. Her thoughts swirled, and her heart was heavy with the burden of guilt. She couldn't forget her father's harsh words and felt torn between the relief that she hadn't been in the car and the torment that she might have been able to do something to prevent the accident.
"That means Emma was the last person he spoke to. She was the last one who saw him alive," Mister Bates shared his thoughts.
Anna nodded sadly, "That must be hard for her. Bearing the burden of that knowledge..."
Thomas was deeply affected by Anna's words. He realized that his daughter was burdened with a heavy load of guilt that he hadn't initially recognized. He felt deeply ashamed that it took Mister Bates to speak it out...
"All the more reason for us to be there for her," Mrs. Hughes said quietly, noticing Thomas's gaze. She didn't address him directly. Thomas didn't stay seated for long, he got up and left the servant's hall.