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On the morning of her birthday, Thomas, Mister Carson, and Mrs. Hughes escorted her to the ladies' quarters, where they stopped in front of a door.
"Happy Birthday, Emma!" Mrs. Hughes smiled.
Mister Carson, always a bit formal, smiled too, "I wish you the same," and gestured towards the nameplate on the door.
"Emma Grace Barrow," she read aloud, hardly able to believe her luck. She pushed down the door handle and slowly entered the room.
"Wow!" she exclaimed as she entered the room. Although it resembled her old room, the fact that it was now hers made everything different. She immediately went to her bed, covered with a colourful patchwork quilt gifted by Anna. "This is so beautiful!" she said, flopping onto the bed.
On the wall hung a framed picture of an idyllic landscape. She couldn't wait to explore the small desk on the opposite wall and decorate the bookshelf with her books, which now finally had a permanent place and no longer had to languish in a box under the bed.
"It's perfect!" Emma declared, turning to the three adults. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she thanked them with a big grin on her face. She hugged Mrs. Hughes first, then Mister Carson, who reluctantly returned her embrace, and finally her Dad.
Carson cleared his throat and stepped a little closer. "Although it's your room from now on, Emma Grace, if you misbehave, I reserve the right to move you back to your father's room at any time," he said with a hint of authority.
"I always behave, Mister Carson," Emma winked.
Mister Carson raised an eyebrow slightly but couldn't help a slight smirk, "I hope so, Emma Grace," he replied with a touch of irony.
Emma winked back and glanced at her father standing beside her, "Right, Dad? I'm always a good girl," she said with an innocent smile.
"Always," Thomas confirmed with a mischievous grin.
"Well, we're all sure you'll settle into your new room wonderfully, Emma. And if you have any questions or problems, you know where to find us," Mrs. Hughes said.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes and Mister Carson," said Emma, hugging them again before turning back to her room as the two older adults left the room.
Emma still couldn't quite believe it. Her own room! Thomas glanced at his pocket watch, "Breakfast is coming soon, then you have to go to school," he reminded her. Emma sighed. She would rather stay away from school and spend the whole day in her new room.
As was customary every morning after breakfast, Mister Carson came into the servants' hall with a stack of mail and handed Emma a small, beautifully wrapped package, "A package for you, Emma Grace."
"Who's it from?" Thomas asked curiously, sipping his tea.
However, a glance at the package revealed no sender. Emma took it in her hand, feeling a mixture of curiosity and excitement. Without saying a word, she made her way to her new room. She wanted to unwrap the gift alone, without her father's curious looks.
When she reached the room, she sat on her bed and began to open the package. Inside, she found a bound edition of 'Little Women' by Louisa May Alcott and a birthday card. On the card, beautifully written, it said:
Happy 10th Birthday, Emma Grace Barrow!
From O.T.
Emma frowned. Who was O.T.? And how did he know about her birthday? She wondered if she should know this O.T., but the name meant nothing to her.
She opened the book and flipped through the pages when something fell out of the book. It was a photo of a young woman. The woman had long hair tied in a braid, and she smiled happily into the camera. Emma looked at the picture and felt a strange mix of joy and sadness as she whispered a word, "Mama."
Why were there only black and white photographs? She wanted to see the young woman in colour, especially because she felt like it was a photo of her mama. But then why had she never seen this picture before? Why didn't her father have a single picture of her mama?
Tears filled her eyes as she realized how little she knew about her mama and how much she missed a woman she had never seen. Emma pressed the picture tightly to her chest and let the tears flow freely down her cheeks. Whoever was behind the initials O.T. had given her a precious gift - the memory of her mum and the possibility of one day learning more about her.
"Emma," Mrs. Hughes's voice sounded. The housekeeper knocked on the room door again, "You have to go to school."
Thomas picked up his daughter after school. It was his half day off, after all. As they strolled back to the Abbey, Thomas savoured his cigarette, letting the smoke slowly escape his lungs.
"So, are you going to fill me in on who sent you that package? Perhaps a secret admirer?" Thomas asked with a teasing tone, barely hiding his curiosity.
Emma grimaced, "No, definitely not," she replied. The topic of boys was off-limits for now. She wondered if her dad might know who was behind the initials.
"Do you know anyone with the initials O.T.?" she finally asked after a moment of silence.
Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Thomas blew the smoke into the air. "Not that I know of," he answered, sounding slightly nervous. "What did he send you?" he asked, giving his daughter a scrutinizing look, but he decided not to delve further into O.T. Internally, though, he was bursting with curiosity. He knew exactly who O.T. was, but he couldn't reveal it, not now.
Emma sensed her father was hiding something, but she decided not to press further. "Just a book," she replied shortly. She felt strangely as if her father knew more than he was letting on. A thousand questions whirled in her mind. Whoever O.T. was, they seemed to know her, but she had no idea who it could be. Was it a distant relative? How did this person get a picture of her mother?
"What is the title of the book?" Thomas asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.
"Little Women by Louisa May Alcott," Emma answered.
"Ah, I see," said Thomas, exhaling another puff of cigarette smoke.
Emma nervously bit her lower lip. Her desire to learn more about her origins, and therefore more about her mother, was steadily growing.
"Dad, something occurred to me," Emma began hesitantly. "You never told me what Mama's name was."
"Martha," he replied. "Her name was Martha."
"And her last name?"
"Barrow," Thomas ended the conversation with another lie. Martha Turner would have been the correct answer, but that would lead Emma to eventually connect O.T. with Martha Turner. And Thomas wanted to prevent that.
Emma nodded slowly as she processed the information. She had hoped for more, but her dad didn't like to talk about Martha or the extended family she supposedly had somewhere. He didn't even talk about her grandfather. Occasionally, Thomas wrote a letter to the old Barrow, but they hadn't visited the old man since the war.
Emma hadn't quite understood what had happened, only that Simon had been kicked out of home and now needed a place to sleep. So, she brought him to Downton Abbey after school that Friday. After all, there were plenty of unused beds in the attic.
"Daisy, have you seen my Dad?"
"No," Daisy replied hastily as she bounced around the kitchen like a pinball, preparing dinner for the Crawley family.
"Anna? Have you seen my Dad?" Emma asked hopefully, but Anna shook her head before returning to her sewing.
"Has anyone seen my Dad?"
"I might have seen him," Thomas emerged from the dressing room. Emma turned around. Her Dad eyed the blond lad next to her sternly.
"Simon Stewart, Sir," the lad introduced himself, extending his hand politely. "Thomas Barrow," he replied, shaking hands. "I hope you don't mind my presence, Sir. Emma assured me that you would help us."
"She did? What matter could you possibly need my help with?"
"You see, Sir, I need a place to sleep for tonight. My father currently doesn't tolerate my presence."
Thomas was almost speechless. "I see," he said shortly, considering his next move. "Emma, can I have a word with you?" He put on a fake grin and pulled his daughter into the dressing room, closing the door behind them.
"Am I understanding correctly that you've brought some friend here who got kicked out of home for some reason?"
"Not just any friend, but Simon. And he didn't get kicked out for just any reason," Emma corrected, "Simon was caught wearing his sister's dress, and his Dad caught him and then kicked him out."
Thomas ran his hand through his face. What kind of kids was his daughter hanging out with?
"You can't just bring friends here and say they can stay overnight!" Thomas hissed, adding with an angry tone, "No matter what reason they got kicked out for!"
"If you were to kick me out, would it be because I was wearing trousers?"
"No, but that's beside the point..." Thomas said, but Emma disagreed and cheekily interrupted her father, "You would still accept me, right?"
"Yes, of course," Thomas said without a second's hesitation, "You're my child. I accept you as you are, and you accept me as I am."
"I've learned that not many parents do," Emma confessed.
"I know," Thomas swallowed heavily. After all, it wasn't any different for him. His own father didn't accept him either. "But not many children do either," Thomas added softly.
They stood facing each other in silence for a while. Emma knew she had hit a nerve.
"Just one night, Dad," she pleaded.
"I think I'm the wrong person to ask for permission. Mister Carson is the butler. He makes the decisions."
"He wouldn't understand the reason why," Emma sadly noted. Thomas nodded in agreement.
"What should I do now?" she asked.
"You don't have to tell the whole truth," Thomas said, winking. "It was your birthday a few days ago, and who knows, maybe Simon won't be the only guest."
After their conversation in the dressing room, Emma returned to the servants' hall where Simon still stood with an uncertain look.
"Don't worry, it'll work out," she said, and headed towards the door to Carson's office. She took a few deep breaths before knocking on the door and entering slowly.
"Excuse me for interrupting, Mister Carson, Mrs. Hughes," Emma began politely. "I have a question."
Mister Carson looked at her skeptically, while Mrs. Hughes smiled kindly. "What's the matter?" she asked.
"I wanted to ask if my best friends Ruby and Simon could stay over tonight: I just had my birthday two days ago," Emma explained, giving the two elders a pleading look.
Mister Carson opened his mouth. He was about to say no when Mrs. Hughes, after a brief consideration, spoke up, "That should be fine, as long as there's no disturbance and they also abide by our rules."
Emma beamed with joy. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Hughes! I promise we'll be very well-behaved."
Mister Carson cast a skeptical glance at Emma and then at Mrs. Hughes as Emma left his office. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Mrs. Hughes? This isn't a playground."
Mrs. Hughes sighed lightly. "Mister Carson, Emma is a child, and children also want to have fun."
Mister Carson nodded reluctantly. "If you say so, Mrs. Hughes. You're taking responsibility."
Emma could hardly believe her luck when she got Mrs. Hughes's permission. Now she sat with her best friends in her own room. They built a small fort out of pillows and blankets. "I brought all sorts of sweets," Ruby revealed, pulling out a large bag from her pocket. Candy, chocolate, licorice – the 10-year-old had prepared well for the sleepover. Emma and Simon's eyes lit up with joy at the sight of the treats.
They spent the evening playing games, telling jokes, and sharing stories with each other.