Emma wondered as a car stopped beside her. Inside was Lady Rose. Not only did she wonder what Lady Rose was doing so early in the morning, but also why that lady suddenly stopped beside her.
"Hello Emma!" greeted Lady Rose, waving wildly. "What are you up to?"
Emma looked at her bewildered before answering Lady Rose's question, "I'm going to school."
"Do you have to go?" Lady Rose asked, a little disappointed with the response.
"My dad would never allow me to skip," Emma replied.
"He doesn't have to know you weren't there," she shrugged, "My parents don't know a lot of things either."
"But my absence will be noticed by the teacher, and without an excuse note from Dad, I'll get in trouble."
"Emma, rules are meant to be broken," Lady Rose lectured.
"Breaking rules?" repeated Emma, her eyes widening in surprise. She had never thought about simply skipping school before.
"I won't tell Mr. Barrow anything, and you'll surely come up with something for the excuse note. Come on, I want to spend a nice day in Leeds today," Lady Rose winked.
"Lady Rose, I don't quite understand," Emma hesitated, still not entirely convinced.
"Oh, you must really like school then?" Lady Rose sadly observed.
Emma quickly shook her head, "Absolutely not," she replied, "I don't like school at the moment."
"Even more reason for us to have some fun," said Lady Rose, patting the seat beside her. Emma's heart raced. Shouldn't she just decline and walk to school instead?
"Come on, Emma," Lady Rose smiled, "I want to do a little shopping, and you'd be the best company."
After a brief hesitation, Emma agreed. She was nervous about skipping school, but the idea of spending a day with Lady Rose outweighed her concerns. She got into the car and smiled shyly.
As they drove through the bustling streets of Leeds, Lady Rose began telling Emma about her excursions to different cities. She spoke of the exciting shops where they found designer clothing and exotic delicacies, and of the interesting people they had met.
Emma listened eagerly, momentarily forgetting her fears. She enjoyed chatting with Lady Rose and being infected by her cheerful energy.
Eventually, they reached their first destination, a luxurious boutique. Lady Rose led Emma through the elegant aisles, and Emma could hardly decide where to look first. She admired the sparkling dresses and intricately adorned accessories and felt like she was in another world.
"What do you think of this dress?" Lady Rose asked, holding up an elegant evening gown.
Emma admired the dress. It was beautiful, but she knew it was far beyond her budget. "It's beautiful," she replied finally, letting Lady Rose continue to lead her through the boutique.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Hughes sat in her sitting room surrounded by sewing. Her peaceful retreat was suddenly interrupted by the voice of Thomas as he entered the room. "Mrs. Hughes," he spoke, his tone carrying a certain seriousness that caught the housekeeper's attention. She looked up at him, setting aside her sewing. "Mr. Barrow. What can I do for you?"
Thomas cleared his throat and began to explain, "It's about Emma. She wishes to have her own room, but Mr. Carson is only willing to provide her with one if she works here as a housemaid."
A slight furrow appeared on Mrs. Hughes' brow as she pondered the situation. "Ah, I see," she murmured finally, "So you're looking to secure a position for your daughter here in the house?"
Thomas vigorously shook his head. "No, Mrs. Hughes. I'm hoping for a different solution. Emma is bright, and I don't want her to drop out of school. She could achieve so much if she receives the right education."
A hint of understanding gleamed in the housekeeper's eyes as she listened to the young man's concerns. "So you're suggesting that I speak with Mr. Carson?" she concluded.
Thomas nodded, "Yes, exactly. I would be very grateful if you could do that. Mr. Carson listens to you, and perhaps you can convince him that Emma needs her own room."
A smile flickered across Mrs. Hughes' lips as she looked at Thomas. "I'll see what can be arranged."
Thomas sighed with relief and thanked the housekeeper before leaving the room.
In the evening, Emma sat in the servants' hall of Downton Abbey, pretending as if her excursion hadn't happened. The bustle of the servants' dinner had passed, and a quiet atmosphere settled in. The last remnants of food were cleared away, and for a moment, there was a small pause where the servants could enjoy some leisure time.
Emma let her gaze wander around the room until it landed on Mrs. O'Brien. The older woman sat at a table, diligently writing letters. Emma couldn't understand why Mrs. O'Brien was writing so many letters. Lately, she seemed to be receiving an unusually large amount, piquing Emma's curiosity.
Carefully, Emma leaned towards her father, who sat beside her. She lowered her voice to a whisper, cupping her hand beside her mouth to prevent her words from being heard across the table. "Do you think she could have a lover?" Emma asked quietly, directly into her father's ear.
Thomas raised an eyebrow in surprise and looked at his daughter incredulously. "Never," he replied with a soft laugh. "No one would willingly be with a porcupine."
Emma chuckled softly as Thomas redirected his attention to her homework spread out on the table before them. "You haven't accomplished much," remarked Thomas as he observed the many unfinished tasks. What he didn't know was that these were mainly the assignments covered in today's class, which Ruby brought by since Emma skipped school without permission.
Emma tensed as she contemplated. It was the perfect moment to get her father's signature.
"Dad, can you write your name with your eyes closed?"
Thomas frowned, but he played along. "I suppose so, why not?"
"Show me," Emma demanded. Thomas reached for a piece of paper and a pen.
"Eyes closed," the girl urged. Thomas closed his eyes, and Emma quickly swapped out the paper.
"First and last name!" And so, a scribbly 'Thomas Barrow' emerged beneath her self-written sick note. All Emma had to do was write the name on the blank paper before her father became suspicious. But just as she was about to begin, Thomas opened his eyes and swiftly took the signed document from her.
"My daughter Emma Grace Barrow is sick," he read aloud. "Therefore, she couldn't attend classes on November 29, 1921, and will continue to miss school for another two weeks due to illness." An amused smile played on his face as he placed the note back on the table.
"My poor child," he said with exaggerated concern, placing his hand on Emma's forehead. "You don't have a fever," he noted, "I guess we need to see Doctor Clarkson." Then he pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around his seriously ill child.
"Dad," sighed Emma, trying to escape his arms, but she had no chance against him, "My little dwarf, this is a serious matter," he said, "If you're sick, we need to go to the doctor. Especially with such a stubborn illness, where you have to lie in bed for two weeks," Thomas emphasized. Emma managed to free her arms from the embrace and raised them in the air, "Miraculous recovery!" she declared, "I feel healthy."
"Was that wise?" doubted Thomas, "If you're healthy, why weren't you at school today?"
"How do you know I wasn't there today?" Emma inquired.
"Because it's in the note, you cheeky little dwarf."
Thomas looked at his daughter with an amused glance as Emma squirmed uncomfortably on his lap. It was obvious she had done something wrong, but Thomas couldn't help but smile.
"So, what do you have to say, Emma?" he finally asked, his voice tinged with amusement. However, the girl looked ashamedly at the ground, "So you skipped school, huh?"
Emma nodded. A slight blush rose to her cheeks. "It was Lady Rose's idea, Dad. She persuaded me."
"Lady Rose?" repeated Thomas, "And what did you do with Lady Rose that was more important than going to school?"
"We went shopping," Emma admitted meekly.
"Shopping?" repeated Thomas, examining the sick note. He couldn't suppress a smile. "Admittedly, I wouldn't have expected you to be so rebellious."
"Don't I get in trouble?" Emma hopeful asked.
"Oh yes, big trouble," Thomas agreed, "Your punishment," he said, pointing at the sick note, "is to practice spelling urgently. Obviously, you don't know the basics of grammar."
"Does that mean my punishment is practicing writing?" Emma asked incredulously.
"During the weekend, you'll help the housemaids with cleaning."
"But Dad, I want to sleep over at Ruby's on the weekend."
"Perfect, then I'll forbid that too."
"Daddy," pouted Emma, looking at him with sad eyes.
"You skipped school and tried to secretly snatch my signature," Thomas said.
"The punishment is pretty harsh. I can walk the dog," she suggested.
"Sorry, little dwarf, but it's supposed to be a punishment, not fun."
Jimmy was jealous. Jealous of the newfound good relationship between Alfred and Emma. It just wasn't fair that the girl forgave Alfred and continued to give him the cold shoulder.
"You know, Mister Barrow and I have become friends," Jimmy confided when he encountered Emma in the staircase, "There's no reason for you to stare at me so angrily anymore."
"That changes absolutely nothing... maybe Dad and you are friends, but you're not my friend," the girl replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Jimmy felt the coldness in Emma's gaze and sighed softly. He could understand why she was so angry with him. But since the incident with Thomas and the two men who had beaten him up, everything had changed. Emma had seen her father with bruises and bloody scratches, and the image had ingrained deeply in her memory. She couldn't see the blame in the two men who attacked Thomas, but instead saw it in Jimmy.
"Emma, I deeply regret what happened. I didn't want your father to stand up for me and get hurt," Jimmy said with a lopsided smile.
"It's your fault he got hurt! It's also your fault Dad almost lost his job!"
"Thomas sees it differently," Jimmy said.
"Because Dad...," Emma paused. She didn't know why he saw it differently, "It doesn't matter what Dad thinks. I don't like you."
"But why did you forgive Alfred?"
Emma shrugged, "Alfred was nice and helped me."
"I can help you with your homework too," Jimmy suggested.
"Can I go now?" Emma asked annoyed, "In case you haven't noticed, I have no interest in forgiving you! You pushed me against the wall right here and hurt me!"
"I'm sorry, okay?! That wasn't intentional."
"You said my Dad was despicable and that you didn't care if we became homeless."
"I said I'm sorry," Jimmy hissed.
"I won't accept an apology from you!"
Jimmy sighed and looked at the 9-year-old girl, "I find you truly admirable," he said, "That angry, fierce look is just melting. That gap-toothed grin and the puppy eyes."
"I'm warning you, James," Emma said, "You don't want me as your enemy."
The two remained silent for a moment, and Jimmy felt the tension in the air. But then Emma burst into an unexpected laughter.
"What's so funny?" Jimmy asked confused.
Emma winked mischievously at him. "You're the first adult I absolutely dislike, and that's kind of funny. Except for Mrs. O'Brien of course."
"We'll see how long you dislike me, Emma Grace Barrow," he replied with a wink. "Maybe you'll change your mind."
In the evening, long after the servants had retired to their rooms, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes sat across from each other, savoring the rich aroma of a fine wine.
"What is the real reason Emma isn't getting her own room?" Mrs. Hughes inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Has Mr. Barrow bothered you with such a trivial matter?" Mr. Carson retorted, his tone tinged with slight irritation.
"That's not a bother, Mr. Carson. Mr. Barrow and I like to exchange thoughts when it comes to Emma," Mrs. Hughes countered calmly.
"I'm sorry you've been dragged into this. I've already explained to Mr. Barrow that Emma Grace can only have her own room once she works here," Mr. Carson explained, his voice carrying a sense of finality.
"Are you really willing to risk the girl's future? Emma is a good student. She can go far if she receives the necessary support from us," Mrs. Hughes pressed, her concern evident.
"Mr. Barrow has been sharing a room with her for over 9 years now. Why does he suddenly feel the need to get rid of the child? Because he's become the under-butler and thinks he's entitled to his own room? Because sharing a room is beneath him?" Mr. Carson hissed, his frustration seeping through.
Mrs. Hughes sighed wearily and took a large sip of her wine, knowing it was going to be a long evening of discussion and debate.
"It's not about Mr. Barrow himself," she clarified, her voice gentle yet firm.
"Oh really? That's hard to believe," Mr. Carson remarked skeptically.
"Emma is turning 10, Mr. Carson. Do you know so little about the anatomy of the female body?" Mrs. Hughes questioned, a hint of exasperation in her tone.
Mr. Carson's face flushed crimson with embarrassment at the implication of his ignorance.
"Puberty is starting soon. From a little girl, she'll become a teenager - hopefully not experiencing as many tantrums as she did as a toddler - and before we know it, she'll be a young woman. Emma can't live in the men's quarters forever, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes explained patiently, hoping to shed light on the situation.
As the weight of Mrs. Hughes' words settled in the room, Mr. Carson realized the gravity of the situation. The transition from childhood to womanhood awaited Emma, and it was imperative to provide her with the appropriate environment and privacy. With a newfound understanding, Mr. Carson nodded in agreement, acknowledging the necessity of change for Emma's sake,
"But I still don't want to give her a room without a reason," snorted Carson. "We'll give it to her for her 10th birthday. She can wait a bit longer with puberty."
Mrs. Hughes raised an eyebrow at Carson's stubbornness but chose not to argue further. She knew that sometimes, change took time. With a resigned nod, she accepted Carson's decision, knowing that Emma's time would come eventually, even if it meant waiting until her birthday in march.