"Tell me, what actually happened to your mum?" Katherine asked. "Did the room get too small and you kicked her out?"
Emma tried to ignore her.
"Or did she find herself a new husband to start a better family with?" she concluded.
"Stop it, Katherine!" Ruby hissed angrily.
"No one knows Emma's stupid mother," Katherine stated the obvious, "Maybe she was a prostitute who got knocked up by her dad and he got stuck with the result."
"My mother passed away very early. She was ill," Emma revealed.
"Seems to run in the family then," Katherine smirked.
Ruby reached for Emma's arm to prevent the girl from making a huge mistake. "She's not worth it," Ruby said softly. Emma felt anger rising within her, but she forced herself to stay calm. If she confronted Katherine now, she would only invite unnecessary trouble with the headmaster, and she certainly didn't want that. Instead, she took a deep breath and turned to Ruby.
"Thank you," she whispered, while trying to suppress the tumultuous emotions. She wondered why someone could be so cruel, and why Katherine always felt the need to hurt others. And why her, of all people?
"I wish I could do more," Ruby said. "Don't let her get to you. Katherine is a stupid cow."
When the bell rang signaling the end of the break, Emma felt emotionally drained. She simply longed for the end of the school day.
"Emma, are you alright?" Anna asked, concerned, as she saw the tired and saddened expression on the child's face. Emma initially wanted to wave it off and claim everything was fine, but then tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, and she began to cry like a waterfall in front of the Bates' doorstep.
"Come inside," Anna said, pulling the girl into the living room. Bates sat at the dining table, looking puzzled as he glanced up from his newspaper. Anna and John had retreated to their cottage in the afternoon before returning to their evening duties at the Abbey.
"What happened?" he asked. Anna shrugged cluelessly as she guided Emma to the couch. Emma was so engulfed in her crying that she couldn't utter a word through her trembling lips.
"What has Thomas – oh, sorry – I mean Mister Barrow done?" Bates asked with an irritated voice, earning a stern glance from his wife.
Eventually, Emmas eyes became so moist that she could barely see anything. She reached out for Anna with her hand. The maid knelt before the couch, her hands resting on Emma's knees. When Emma finally found Anna's touch, she wrapped her arms around the maid. Anna immediately understood what Emma wanted and pulled the girl entirely into her embrace. Emma longed for a hug.
"I'm here, Emma," Anna spoke gently. "You can tell me anything."
Emma continued to sob as Anna held her tightly. Bates sat beside them, observing the scene with concern. He could hardly wait to find out what had happened.
After a while, Emma slowly calmed down and released herself from Anna's embrace. She wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled softly. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, unable to find the words to explain what happened at school.
Anna gently stroked her back. "It's okay, Emma. You don't have to say anything if you're not ready," she exchanged a brief glance with Mister Bates, "But we're here for you, no matter what happened."
Emma looked up at Anna, her eyes red and teary. "I just wish... I wish I had a mum," she whispered softly. Some days, she envied Ruby and her relationship with her mother. Mrs. Harris was a natural at hairstyling, and Ruby often wore beautiful braided hair or hairstyles where the accessories stood out. Thomas, on the other hand, only knew one braiding style, taught by Anna.
Anna felt Emma's longing for a mother figure in her life and gently hugged her. She understood how important it was for a young girl to have a loving female figure.
"You have me," Anna said softly. "I will always be here for you."
Mister Bates watched the scene silently. Anna felt the weight of the silence in the room as Emma slowly released herself from her hug. She wiped the last tears from her eyes and tried to regain her composure.
"Will you go on ahead?" Anna asked her husband. "I'll come with Emma later."
Bates nodded understandingly and got up from his seat. Anna and Emma were left alone.
"Did you know my mama?" Emma asked curiously
"No," Anna shook her head.
"But Dad has worked at Downton already. So you must know her," Emma pressed for an answer, but Anna once again just shook her head.
"Did my Dad never mention or bring Mama here? Did Mama never pick up Dad from work?"
"Mister Barrow – Thomas – strictly separates family and work, except for you. He never mentioned her, and I don't know her either."
"Nothing at all? You absolutely know nothing?" Emma realized, "Not even that Mama's name was Martha?"
"If you want to know something about her, you'll have to ask Thomas. I can't give you any answers."
Emma sighed, "Dad only tells me what I already know," she lowered her gaze and nervously played with her fingers, "I want to know who she was and what she looked like. I want to learn more about her than just her name or that she liked baking cakes."
Flashback 1915
"What you write?" asked 3-year-old Emma with her sweet, melodic voice. She sat on a chair next to the housekeeper, her legs swinging happily back and forth.
Mrs. Hughes smiled gently and explained, "I wrote that you miss him very much and that we pray every day for his safe return home."
Emma nodded solemnly, as if she could understand every single letter on the paper. "My picture?" she then asked, proudly holding up the self-drawn picture of Downton Abbey to Mrs. Hughes. The green sun shone on the picture, a large pink tree stood tall, and next to it sat a blue dog. Next to them stood a little yellow girl, representing Emma.
"I'll put your picture in the letter," assured the housekeeper, carefully folding Emma's artwork to include it in the letter.
"Ask Daddy coming home?" Emma inquired, her big eyes shining with excitement.
"Yes, I did," replied Mrs. Hughes lovingly, stroking Emma's hair.
"I baked a cake with Mrs. Patmore. Daddy sending cake?" Emma continued, her thoughts bubbling out.
"I mentioned it, but the cake won't survive the journey to France. You can bake him a cake when he comes home," explained Mrs. Hughes patiently.
"I can do a somer-sault," Emma suddenly exclaimed excitedly. She jumped up from her seat and performed a somersault. Then she urged the housekeeper, "Write too!"
Mrs. Hughes sighed slightly amused and added the somersault to the letter.
"Anna, you wanted to go to the village," Mrs. Hughes addressed the maid, "Could you please drop the letter in." But before she could hand over the letter, Emma snatched it from her hands and declared determinedly, "My letter!"
"I can take Emma with me if you allow," offered Anna, and Mrs. Hughes nodded in agreement.
The three of them set off for the village. Emma skipped ahead with the letter in her hands, while Anna and John Bates strolled slowly behind.
When they reached the post office, Emma was too small to place the letter on the counter for the correct stamp for France. John Bates simply lifted the girl up.
"A stamp!" demanded Emma, adding a polite "please."
The postal clerk smiled kindly and handed Emma a stamp, while she chatted with the adults: "Oh, your daughter is very adorable," she remarked.
John set Emma back on the ground and sought eye contact with Anna, unsure how they would react to this statement.
"Oh, we..." Anna began, but Emma impatiently tugged at her hand and urged her, "Come on!"
"Your mum is talking to me," the postal clerk said. Emma let go of Anna's hand and looked at the three adults confusedly. She had heard many stories, but she had never before questioned who or where her mom was.
Later in the evening, the staff gathered for dinner. Emma's childish voice broke the silence of the room. "Mister Caaaar-sooooon," Emma called out impatiently across the table.
Carson looked up from his plate and replied, "Emma Grace."
"Who is my mama?" the girl asked directly and innocently.
Mr. Carson nearly choked on his food and coughed several times as he searched for the right words. "Well, Emma Grace, that is a question you must ask your father," he deflected, hoping that would settle the matter.
"Daddy isn't here... like Mama," Emma pointed out. "Where is my mama?"
Mrs. Hughes, who had been observing the conversation, intervened empathetically. "Your mama passed away very early," she explained gently, recalling the cover story they had agreed upon, "She was very ill. She's in heaven, watching over you, even though you can't see or hear her."
Mrs. Hughes' answer didn't seem to satisfy Emma's curiosity; instead, it seemed to raise new questions within her. Her gaze shifted from Carson to Mrs. Hughes and then to the other servants at the table.
"But why don't I have a mama?" she continued to inquire, her forehead slightly creased as she tried to process the information.
"Sometimes, Emma," Mrs. Hughes began softly, "things happen that we can't control. Your mama didn't choose to leave you."
The other servants at the table respectfully lowered their gazes and avoided joining the conversation. Even O'Brien remained silent.
Emma furrowed her brow, trying to understand what Mrs. Hughes was explaining. "I wanna meet her," she said softly, as if sorting out her thoughts aloud.
Mrs. Hughes felt a pang in her heart at the innocence and longing in Emma's voice. "I know, dear," she replied empathetically, placing her hand on Emma's, "You may never get to meet her, but I'm sure Thomas will tell you stories about her."
Emma nodded slowly, as if she understood Mrs. Hughes' words. "Why did the Post lady think Anna was my mama?"
Suddenly, there was a loud clatter as Carson accidentally dropped his fork onto his plate. He cleared his throat hastily, diverting attention to himself. "Well, I think it's time for you to go to bed, Emma Grace."
Emma paused for a moment. She wasn't even tired yet. "I wanna choose my mama" she asked curiously. "I want Anna to be my mama."
"That's not how parents work," Mrs. Hughes said. "You can't choose them."
"Why not? I like Anna."
Mrs. Hughes exchanged a glance with Carson, silently acknowledging the delicate nature of Emma's questions. "It's not quite that simple, Emma," Mrs. Hughes explained gently. "Parents are chosen by nature, not by preference. Your mama and daddy were chosen for you."
"I want Anna" Emma persisted, her eyes wide with sincerity.
Carson interjected, trying to steer the conversation to a less complex topic. "Emma Grace, it's late. Let's save these questions for another time, shall we?" he suggested kindly.
Emma, however, was undeterred. "I like Anna," she repeated earnestly.
Anna, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke up. "Thank you, Emma," she said with a warm smile. "But I'm not your mama. I'm your friend, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
Emma's expression softened as she processed Anna's words. "Okay," she said reluctantly, realizing that perhaps choosing a mama wasn't something she could do after all.
Mrs. Hughes stood up from the table, signaling that it was time for Emma to go to bed. "Come along, dear," she said gently, taking Emma's hand. "We'll tuck you in and read you a story."
"Not you. I want William." She loved being piggybacked to bed by William. The footman also imitated the voices from the book much better than Mrs. Hughes.
Thomas sat in a quiet corner of the trench, engrossed in the letter from Emma that he had just received. His fingers gently traced over the paper as he read each line attentively. The words of his little daughter, lovingly penned by Mrs. Hughes, touched his heart in a way that he could scarcely put into words. It was a feeling of longing and comfort intertwined, coursing through him.
Suddenly, another soldier approached, his helmet slightly askew on his head and his rifle loosely in hand. A curious expression played on his face as he caught a glimpse of the letter. "What are you reading there, Corporal?" he asked with a slight smirk, "Got some mail from home? Wife or girlfriend?"
Thomas raised his gaze and looked at the soldier, his face tinged with a hint of melancholy. "My daughter," he replied calmly.
The soldier raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Your daughter?" he repeated as he sat down beside Thomas, removing his helmet. "How old is she?"
"She's three years old," Thomas explained with a touch of pride in his voice. "A lively little whirlwind." He smiled gently as he remembered Emma's radiant laughter.
The soldier nodded thoughtfully. "It must be hard to be so far away from your child, especially from such a young one," he remarked empathetically.
Thomas nodded silently. Emma was so young when he went off to war that he wondered inwardly if his child would even recognize him if he returned home.
End of Flashback
Meanwhile, Thomas encountered the new nanny for the first time. With another nanny, she placed the toddler and the baby in separate prams, evidently preparing for a stroll in the fresh air.
"Ah, Barrow," Lord Grantham's voice sounded as he noticed Thomas. "Please inform Carson that we do not expect any further guests for dinner this evening."
"Yes, My Lord," Thomas replied, making a brief bow. He observed the nanny and the other nanny for a moment.
"Apologies for the interruption, Nanny West," Thomas began politely, stepping closer to introduce himself. The nanny turned her cool gaze towards him. It was evident that she had little interest in conversing with him.
"I'm Thomas Barrow, the under-butler," he continued, striving for a friendly yet assertive demeanor. "I've heard there have been some discrepancies regarding Emma's visits to the nursery."
Nanny West raised an eyebrow, and a hint of disapproval crept into her gaze. "I don't know what the girl has told you, but I simply told her she cannot come during naptime. She wakes the children up every time."
"Funny, Emma's account differs greatly from yours," remarked Thomas calmly, though his expression remained resolute.
The nanny snorted lightly and averted her gaze, evidently unimpressed by his words. "You know how children are. They lie as soon as they open their mouths."
Thomas felt his anger stirring slowly, but he forced himself to remain calm, suppressing the urge to contradict her. Accusing the nanny without solid evidence would only negatively impact Emma.
Later the day Thomas stood in the backyard, smoking.
"Mister Barrow?"
Thomas glanced towards the back entrance. Ruby Harris approached slowly.
"I suppose your mother has no idea you're wandering about in the dark," he remarked.
"No, she doesn't. And I hope it stays that way," Ruby replied.
He nodded silently as he took another long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he explained, "Emma is in her room. Doing her homework."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you," she confessed nervously.
His prompting gaze sufficed, and Ruby continued, "Katherine Sheppard and her friends, Harriet Clayton and Beatrice Douglas, are always mean to Emma, you know?"
"What do you mean by 'mean'?" Thomas inquired.
Ruby bit her lip. She had promised Emma not to tell anyone, but she felt so powerless witnessing Katherine bully her best friend every day. And it had gotten worse in recent weeks.
"They push Emma around with nasty remarks because she lives here with the servants, and the Sheppard family themselves also have servants. Katherine and her friends find it amusing to throw Emma's books into puddles or shove her into them," she explained.
"What," Thomas exclaimed in shock. "And she just puts up with all of this?"
Ruby shook her head. "No, but Katherine blackmails Emma – I don't the details – but Emma ends up doing Katherine's homework."
"Because I've dedicated my life to service?" Thomas remarked with disbelief.
Again, Ruby shook her head, lightly biting her lower lip. She glanced anxiously at her watch. Her mother wouldn't be pleased if she came home so late, and the increasing darkness added to the girl's worries and fears.
"I'll take you home, and on the way, you tell me everything you know, alright?" Thomas offered. Ruby nodded gratefully.
"It's been going on for a while. Katherine and her silly friends just need someone to pick on. They just started without any real reason. They make fun of Emma. Like when she wore an arm sling after Mr. Matthews' death, or that she shares a room with you or the fact that she has no mother," Ruby continued.
"What," Thomas exclaimed again. Emma had been pushing for her own room for months. Thomas only knew that Mrs. Hughes wanted to take care of it. The housekeeper had indicated that Emma would get her own room, but not when it would happen. And Mr. Matthews' death was almost six months ago.
"How long has this been going on?" Thomas asked with a sinking feeling.
"Since the beginning of the school year," Ruby replied.
"You mean to tell me that Emma has been bullied for over half a year? That she just takes it?" Thomas seethed internally, much like the long-forgotten cigarette between his fingers.
Ruby nodded slightly and bit her lower lip again. "She just swallows it down. She says if she ignores it, Katherine might stop, but it's only getting worse, Mr. Barrow! We have a new teacher for math and spelling – Mrs. Bunting – and she's fueling all of this even more..." She paused, biting her lip once more as she cautiously studied the deeply concentrated under-butler. "Please don't be angry with Emma, because I promised not to tell you, but I believe you can help. You have to help Emma!"
"I'm not angry. Perhaps disappointed that she didn't trust me," Thomas swallowed hard. His child had been bullied at school for months, and he hadn't noticed any of it. But now it all made sense. Her once self-written apology wasn't just about the secret trip with Lady Rose, but because she felt uncomfortable going to school and facing her tormentors every day. And he hadn't noticed.
"She's ashamed. It's probably embarrassing for her or she's afraid to bring up the subject," Ruby speculated aloud.
Thomas stopped in front of the Harris Farm gate. "Thank you for being honest with me. I'll take care of it, I promise."
On the way back, Thomas pondered the day's new revelation. It made him feel queasy. After all, he couldn't keep his promise to the little dwarf. Why hadn't he noticed anything? That was the question of the day. But he also realized how many promises he had made lately and how few he had fulfilled so far. He did want to take care of Nanny West. But for now, the school situation took precedence.