As Mr. Molesley was telling her about his odd conversation with Thomas, Miss Baxter had a premonition that something terrible was about to occur. She raced back to the Abbey, her heart pounding in fear. She only hoped she would get there in time to stop it. Having looked about downstairs and found it deserted, she rushed up to the attic. The first person she encountered there was Andy coming out of his room. "Does Mrs. Hughes know you're on the men's side?" he asked her.

"Never mind that. Have you seen Mr. Barrow?"

"Uh—he was going in for a bath."

"Oh, my God." A bath in the middle of the afternoon? The lady's maid was sure now that something was horribly wrong. "Come with me," she implored, and hearing the urgency in her voice, Andy followed without question. She pounded on the bathroom door, calling out to Thomas inside, but there was no answer.

"Get back." Andy raised one long leg and kicked the door open, knocking the lock to the floor. They weren't prepared for the scene inside: Thomas Barrow lying clothed in the bathtub, soaking in an obscene mixture of blood and water. His eyes were closed, and his skin was the color of parchment. "Oh, my God," Andy echoed in horror as Miss Baxter hurried to Thomas' side. He was still alive; they weren't too late.

She turned to the footman. "Fetch Mrs. Hughes. Send Anna for the doctor, but tell no one else what you've seen." She lifted the hem of her dress and began tearing long strips of fabric from her petticoat. These she tied tightly about the man's wrists to stem the flow of blood before emptying the bathtub.

Andy soon returned with Mrs. Hughes. The three of them lifted the unconscious man from the tub and laid him on the floor. "Get him out of these wet clothes and dry him off," the housekeeper instructed them. Miss Baxter tugged at the red-stained vest while Andy slid the trousers down over his bare feet. Mrs. Hughes nipped into Thomas' room and found a clean pair of pajamas in a drawer. They dried him, and Andy removed his pants while the women looked discretely away. By the time Dr. Clarkson arrived with Anna, Thomas was in his pajamas and comfortably settled in his bed smothered in a thick pile of blankets.

Fortunately, the doctor was able to stitch and bandage Thomas' wrists there without having to remove him to the hospital. He agreed not to report the incident, not wishing to see the servant imprisoned for attempted suicide. "Keep him warm, and make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and eats frequent meals when he wakes up. It will take some time to replenish the blood he's lost, and he will be very weak for a while."

Mrs. Hughes left to show Dr. Clarkson out followed by a grim-faced Andy and Anna until only Miss Baxter remained. She was determined not to leave Thomas alone. He'd had enough of that. She pulled a chair up next to the bed and brushed back a lock of thick, dark hair that had fallen down on his forehead. He looked the way he had as a boy before the world turned its back on him. After nearly an hour, his eyelids flickered, and he awoke. He saw Phyllis Baxter smiling kindly down on him, and the realization hit him. "I'm still alive."

"Yes," she replied. He turned his face away from her and began to sob quietly. It didn't work. He couldn't even kill himself without making a mess of it. Miss Baxter was crying now too. "Why did you do it?"

There was no answer.

"I blame myself. I knew you were upset over losing your place here. I should have seen how unhappy you were."

"It's not your fault," Thomas reassured her tearfully, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hands.

Andy appeared in the doorway holding a tray. His face still wore a look of shock. "You should go down for your tea now," he told Miss Baxter.

"I don't want to leave him."

"I'll stay with him. Don't worry. He won't be alone," Andy assured her.

She nodded gratefully at the footman and rose, telling Thomas, "I'll be back later."

Andy set the tray on Thomas' lap, watching him struggle into a sitting position. Somehow the sight of Mr. Barrow's tears was almost as disconcerting as finding him in the bath earlier. Andy carefully poured out a cup of tea the way the underbutler had taught him. Thomas raised the cup to his lips with a shaking hand. He noticed that the young man seemed upset and unable to look him in the eye, focusing instead on his bandaged wrists. An awful thought occurred to him. "Were you the one that found me?"

"We both did—Miss Baxter and I."

Thomas had assumed the door would be opened by an angry Carson when he failed to appear downstairs to serve the family's dinner. "I'm really sorry you had to see that, Andy."

"It was because of me, wasn't it? It's because I was so unkind to you when you were only trying to be my friend."

"No, it wasn't that."

Andy remained unconvinced. "I'm sorry I treated you so bad." He poured Thomas another cup of tea and pushed a plate of toast toward him. "You should eat, Mr. Barrow."

Thomas regretted causing Phyllis and Andy guilt. This wasn't their doing. It was his and his alone. He'd never considered how his suicide would affect the others. "I think I need to sleep now. You can go, Andy. I'll be alright."

"Sleep if you want to, Mr. Barrow, but I'm not leaving," the footman replied stubbornly, removing the tray.

"Please yourself," Thomas mumbled drowsily while lowering himself down in the bed. Moments later, he was fast asleep. Andy pulled the blankets up over him. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to die, but then in his short life, he'd never been that unhappy.

In due course, Anna relieved him, as he was needed downstairs. Thomas was still sleeping but awoke soon after. Seeing the lady's maid, he said, "You don't have to stay with me."

"What if I want to stay with you?"

Thomas shook his head in disbelief. "Why would you want to come anywhere near me after the way I've behaved toward you?"

"It's true you haven't always been kind to me," she admitted, "and you've been perfectly horrid to Mr. Bates."

He felt tears in his eyes threatening to spill over again. "He has everything, and I have nothing."

Anna was taken aback. She hadn't expected to find him so fragile. His suicide attempt had left him emotionally raw and vulnerable. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.

"Nothing. Never mind."

The lady's maid insisted. "No, tell me."

Thomas choked back a sob. He took a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke. "He has a home with someone he loves, and everyone here respects him. I don't have any of those things." His voice broke slightly. "Someday he might even have children."

Anna appeared startled at that last part.

Thomas noted her reaction. "Are you—"

"Yes, but we don't want to tell people yet, not until we're certain it's going to happen." She lowered her eyes. "You see, this isn't the first time."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Everyone has their troubles, Mr. Barrow, and Mr. Bates and I have had more than our share as you well know."

"I'd like it if we could be friends—if it's not too late, that is."

"Mr. Bates too?"

Thomas managed a feeble smile. "We'll see."

The lady's maid laughed at that.

Mrs. Hughes stepped into the room carrying a tray. "You can go down now, Anna. I'll take over for a while." Thomas pulled himself up as she set the tray on his lap. "You're to eat every bite," she told him.

He smiled weekly. "That sounds like an order."

"It is indeed." She watched as he lifted the food to his mouth, pursing her lips sternly. "How could you do it? How could you throw away your life like that?"

Thomas looked down in shame.

She became more sympathetic. "I know you've been lonely here. It must be difficult to see everyone paired up and happy while you're alone, but that's no reason to kill yourself."

Thomas tried to explain. "It is difficult, Mrs. Hughes, and now I'm losing my job and my home too."

"I'm sure you'll find another place. You're very capable."

"But even if I do, I'll still be alone."

"Maybe in another house, you'll meet a man like you, and you can build a life together."

"What kind of life would that be?" Thomas asked bitterly.

She understood his anger. "It wouldn't be the same as everyone else's, of course, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be happy. I know there's someone out there for you, Mr. Barrow. You just have to find him." She paused to study the broken man. "Are you glad you were saved in time?"

"I don't know how I feel yet," he answered truthfully.

"Do we have to worry about you hurting yourself again?"

"No, Mrs. Hughes. I won't do it again."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. I know you don't believe this, but there are a lot of people here who care about you, or they would if you gave them a chance."

"I think I see that now."

The evening progressed with Phyllis and Anna taking turns sitting with the underbutler. Andy insisted on watching over him that night despite Thomas' protests.

The following afternoon, Mr. Carson entered, closing the door behind him. He noted how pale and weak the younger man appeared propped up in his narrow bed. "How are you feeling, Mr. Barrow?"

"I'm better, Mr. Carson, but I don't think I'll be able to work quite yet."

"No. No, of course not." He dismissed the suggestion with a wave of his hand.

"I'm sorry. I know I've disgraced this house." Thomas asked meekly, "Are you going to sack me?"

"Is that why you think I'm here?"

"Isn't it?"

"No, Mr. Barrow, it is not. I'm here to apologize to you."

Thomas' mouth dropped open in amazement.

"I have not been fair to you. I've pushed you too hard to find another job, not realizing how frightened you were. I've spoken to His Lordship, and he's agreed that you are to be given more time to find a place that is in keeping with your present position. You will not be thrown out on your ear."

Thomas felt as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. "Thank you, Mr. Carson."

Carson nodded an acknowledgment. "I've told the servants who don't know what's happened that you have been taken ill with influenza. It will be your decision whether to tell them the truth later or not." He moved toward the door. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, thank you. Everyone has been very kind, kinder than I deserve."

"Then perhaps we've both learned something from this experience, Mr. Barrow." Without waiting for a reply, the butler turned and left the room.