Thomas was making his rounds in the upstairs halls, as, (unecessarily) reminded by Mr. Carson, part of his role as under-butler was to be on hand in case his lordship, the Earl of Mowbray or any of his retinue were in need of anything the house could provide, prior to dinner, which was to be served in two hours.

It wasn't a difficult assignment, not at all, but it was nothing like when Count Lethbridge had come for a visit last fall: now there was a man that Thomas, not to mention the females of the house, upstairs and downstairs, probably wouldn't have minded waiting on, hand and foot. Easy on the eyes, obviously elegant and not a demanding prig.

Not so this lot. The only pleasure, if any, that Thomas would derive from the current group of house guests was that his duties would require him to spend a great deal of his day upstairs, and possibly away from the house during the luncheon picnic, away from the servants' hall, and the more time away from that asinine group the better, if you asked him.

As he made his sweep down the 2nd corridor, he heard a muffled cry. He paused, trying to determine the source and cause of the sound. It sounded female, and distressed. There was a thump to his left and he walked briskly towards it. Distinctly, he heard a "Please.." It came from the room immediately before him.

Without thinking, he rapped on the door, twice, followed with, "Hello, is everything alright?"

The door snapped open, and before him was... Thomas quickly reviewed the guestlist. Ah, yes, the second-or-something cousin of Mowbray, visiting from America. Brawny and muscular, this one...Christoph Jensen, yes, that was it, had a pinched look about him Thomas had thought made him seem a pain to wait upon. Thank god the Earl's own man would be dressing Mr. Jensen, as Thomas would probably have been called upon to act as valet. He looked irritated, though neat enough, save for a red mark on his cheek and one cuff that had yet to be buttoned.

"What is it?" Mr. Jensen barked out.

Thomas snapped upright and replied, "I thought I heard a fall and was just checking to see if..."

To Thomas' astonishment, he saw Anna step out from behind the guest. Well, well, well, what was this?

Without meeting Thomas' eyes, she blurted, rather hastily, "I was just making up the room when Mr. Jensen returned from the grounds tour."

Bobbing quickly to their guest, she added, "Your pardon. I thought you'd all be returning later." And she quickly stepped out and headed down the hall.

Thomas stated, "If all is in order, please excuse me, Mr. Jensen. Let us know if you need anything" and stepped back. Thankfully, Jensen curtly nodded and shut the door in Thomas' face.

Thomas turned and fairly shot after Anna. There was no way he would let this go. He caught up to her right away, even with her brisk steps, and from behind her, sneered,

"In the bedroom of a male houseguest. So, the good Mrs. Bates is not as..."

For the second time today, Anna surprised him when he heard a fierce, "Shut up, Thomas," and then a noise that sounded awfully like a sob cut short.

Momentarily alarmed, he stepped forward until he could see her face, and was caught off guard to see the normally composed Anna pale as a sheet, looking completely wretched, hand pressed against her chest.

He wasn't completely an ass, no matter what anyone thought - not that he cared what anyone thought - and he had to admit that if anyone in this household deserved even an ounce of his sympathy, if he had any, it was Anna, who despite her atrocious husband, had sometimes shown him extraordinary kindness. To this day, he remembered her touch and words of sympathy for him when the news of Sybil's death had broken. And she had never, not once, judged him or expressed...disgust in him, when that incident with Jimmy had occurred last year. For that, she deserved his...what? His disinterested...interest. Yes, his interest.

He heard footsteps around the corner, and not wanting to be caught making a scene, he quickly grasped Anna's arm and pulled her, letting go once they were in the adjacent room.

He realized as soon as he had touched her that she was shaking. There were tear tracks on her face, and she had an arm wrapped tightly around her waist and he noticed that the wrist wrapped there was mottled, as if it had been recently gripped tight. As if, by a strong hand. A male hand.

His mouth tightened. Jensen, had he been accosting Anna? What a bastard.

Thomas wasn't protective or concerned about anyone but himself (except Jimmy, though he would never admit that to anyone, save Jimmy), but hell, no guest should come into this house and...attack anyone, even the servants.

"Anna... Mrs. Bates...are you alright?" His tone was gentler than he had expected, and Anna at least, at last, snapped out of her little fit, and took in a deep breath.

"Thomas, I'm alright. Thank you for that..." and she stopped, breathing deeply again.

"Did that man," Thomas began, but was cut short when Anna interrupted.

"Nothing happened. I will handle it...I just need a minute," and she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

For one second, Thomas felt a bit helpless, the feeling he had gotten sometimes when he had been a medic. He wasn't sure and didn't really want to know if anything had happened in Mr. Jensen's room, but his gut tightened at the idea of anyone being forced, in that way... he immediately cut his thoughts, his memories, short.

Remembering his training about treating shock, he kept his voice even, smooth, and asked, "Would you like me to send for Mr. Bates?"

Anna opened her eyes and looked directly at him then. "No, absolutely not, Thomas. No, don't say anything to him. Promise me."

He started, resisting being told what to do, even now, and felt his inclination towards calculating how he could use this moment to his personal advantage; she was obviously in a position to owe him, now. And then he looked at her face.

She had kind eyes. He hated that he had always thought so. Maybe that's why he's been so appalled and rather disgusted that her sympathies had been so deeply wrapped up in Bates and all his sad, pathetic drama.

He sighed, thinking that it was idiotic to let this moment go, but that he'd probably do what she asked.

He said, instead, "I think you should tell Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson. So that the others can avoid him." His fists curled at the thought of Jensen, of that bastard, getting away with what he obviously had tried.

Anna nodded then, "Yes, yes, of course. That would be wise." She wiped the trace of tears off her cheeks, and pulled herself tall, straightening her apron and moved to let herself out.

As she reached the door, she turned and glanced back at him.

"Who would have thought I'd be indebted to you, of all people."

Thomas stiffened, any sympathy he'd felt for her instantly wiped from him at her words, and opened his mouth for a cutting reply, when she continued, her mouth turned up a little, hardly a smile by Anna's standards, but a slight one nonetheless.

"It was practically sweet. Thank you, Thomas," and then she was gone.

Thomas paused for a moment, unused to feeling so unsettled, and then stepped out of room to resume his rounds.