Chapter Text
"Should I leave these here, Mr Ellis?" Albert asked politely, holding a pair of newly shined boots and gesturing at an empty spot on the rack next to the door. Richard offered him a small smile and a quick nod of assent, then returned his focus to the shirt he was working on, vaguely aware of the hallboy leaving the room soon after.
Working at Buckingham Palace might have had its advantages, but he didn't regret leaving it for the relatively less grandiose Downton Abbey. Being part of the Royal Household had been a good challenge when he was younger, more inclined to ruthless endeavours; now that he was in his late thirties and more settled, moving back near York, also closer to his aging parents, had been the best choice.
After the infamous Royal Visit in 1927, he had kept in contact with the butler Thomas Barrow, who had rapidly become a trusted confidant and friend. In the wake of their regular interactions, Richard had likely been the first outsider to know Lord Grantham was in need of a new valet, after Mr Bates had to retire earlier than expected.
The rest was history, as the saying went.
Lost in thought as he was, he was completely startled when a mewling sound came from somewhere at his feet, accompanied by something loosely wrapping around his legs; he barely had the time to glance down before an agile dark shape jumped into his lap, almost making him drop his needle and thread on the floor. He carefully set them on the table, then directed his full attention to the little fluffy creature unexpectedly intruding in his personal space.
"Oh, hello..." Richard said quietly, delighted. He had always had a massive fondness for cats, often developing a mutual nurturing bond with many pets and strays encountered over the years.
Having been employed at Downton for several months by now, he knew and recognised all the cats lurking around the grounds of the estate, so he was quite sure he hadn't seen this particular one before. It was certainly a most gorgeous specimen, with glossy black fur and unusual light blue eyes.
"And who are you, darling?" He unashamedly cooed, offering a hand. The cat blinked up at him for a moment, then gently rubbed its head against his fingers, with the most adorable warbling noise he had ever heard a feline produce.
"Ah, you're a friendly fella, aren't you?" Richard chuckled, dutifully giving it a few scratches under the chin, which his new companion appeared to enjoy very much. It really was one of the most affectionate cats he had ever seen, he thought, not to mention remarkably clean for a stray - perhaps he was completely mistaken and it belonged to somebody living on the estate, instead?
His musings were abruptly interrupted as the sound of many raised voices echoed somewhere into the hallway, loud enough to reach his ears all the way there. Frowning in confusion, he started to get up to investigate, only for the cat to wind its claws into the fabric of his trousers and voice its own loud protest at being dislodged from its spot.
Richard gave up in a second and carefully lifted it in his arms as he stood.
"If you're here to stay, I'm never gonna be able to say no to you, am I?" He muttered with a resigned sigh. He exited the boot room with long, quick strides, curious to find out what was happening in the servants' hall.
To his surprise, it was Mrs Hughes, Miss Baxter and young Andy who were making such a ruckus. They stood close together and were discussing something in an uncharacteristically excited manner, almost talking over each other in their haste.
"Oh my, losing him like this is the last thing we needed..."
"I did try to keep him in my sight, but he got away so fast-"
"He could be anywhere by now, how are we going to find him-"
"He can't have gone that far, can he? Lord Grantham has people searching the entire mansion, it's only a matter of time.. "
As the women were facing away from the hallway, it was Andy who first spotted Richard crossing the threshold, and he gave an unexpected shout.
"There he is!" He exclaimed in obvious relief, seemingly pointing at his furry passenger.
Was it this cat they had been talking about the whole time?
Richard's eyebrows nearly climbed to his hairline at their vehemence; for all of them to be worried to this extent, he supposed the feline must indeed belong to somebody living there, possibly even a member of the Crawley family? Even so, the amount of concern felt somewhat excessive.
"What on earth is going on here? And where's Mr Barrow?" He asked in a firm tone, distractedly aware of the cat shifting and meowing in his arms.
His eyes narrowed in suspicion when all of his coworkers went quiet in a heartbeat after his question. As a rule, Thomas would have been the first to know about any issue regarding the household, no matter how trivial, therefore his absence was uncharacteristic as well.
"Will somebody answer me!" He demanded then, patience already fraying thin. It wasn't like him to be that harsh unless the occasion actually called for it, but he just couldn't help it; their strange behaviour was causing him to fear something might have happened to Thomas himself.
Please, no.
As if sensing his mounting frustration and worry, the cat stretched up on his chest and gave a high mewl; without really thinking about it, Richard rearranged his hold so he could run a hand along its back.
It was the Lady's maid who spoke eventually, wringing her hands in a nervous fashion. "Ah... you're holding him right now."
Richard furrowed his brows at her nonsensical words. "Whatever do you mean, Miss Baxter?"
"T-Thomas, I mean," she stammered a bit. "The cat is Thomas."
"What?"
"The cat is Thomas."
Richard huffed a dry chuckle that was anything but amused, irritation starting to brew inside him. "What kind of joke is this?!"
She shook her head, regarding him with dark, sheepish eyes.
"I swear, I'm not joking."
"What..."
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, completely at a loss for words, struggling to even process what he had just heard. He glanced down at the cat, then over at Mrs Hughes and Andy. Considering the genuinely dismayed look on their faces, he once again doubted they were all pulling some sort of prank on him - but what he had just been told was nothing short of unbelievable.
"I swear it's the truth, Mr Ellis," Miss Baxter reiterated, low and earnest, and yet it sounded like a gunshot in the near dead silence. "I swear."
As he forced himself to regain a measure of calm, it finally dawned on Richard that nobody was making up any ridiculous lies. He dropped heavily into the nearest chair and just stared in utter shock for a long moment, while the cat batted lightly at his cheek with his paw.
The cat who was apparently Thomas. Their butler. Their friend. A cat.
"How... how did such a thing happen?" He eventually managed to get out.
Mrs Hughes cleared her throat.
"Well... from what've I understood so far, there was an... incident upstairs. Lord Croft, an old acquaintance of the family, brought Lord Grantham this ancient Egyptian artifact - a sort of little figurine?"
Richard had no idea how he kept his wits about him while listening to the downright fantastic tale being spun.
"This bloke somehow tripped in the hall, dropping it on the floor," Andy explained. "It went in pieces and Mr Barrow picked up the head, who had rolled at his feet, and then he just..." he flayed with his hands for a moment, as if unable to properly describe what he had witnessed. "... and then he was..." he trailed off and gestured some more, with a completely lost expression on his face.
Having pity on him, Miss Baxter took over.
"He disappeared into thin air! At least, that's what we thought, at first - there was just his livery, laying on the carpet. It happened so fast, we were all in shock... then the shirt started moving..."
"That's when most of us started screaming bloody murder, and it must have scared him," Andy interjected in an apologetic tone.
"Right, and he popped out from under the fabric," Miss Baxter continued, waving her hand towards the cat. "I called Thomas! by instinct and he turned towards me - I'm sure he recognised me, I think he was about to come to me. The amount of noise must have frightened him, though, like Andy said; he took off running and we immediately lost track of him. We've been searching around for him - well, until now," she finished her account, visibly relieved.
Privately, Richard thought having found Thomas would only help so much unless they knew how to turn him back to his human self.
"Anybody have any ideas on how... how we can fix this mess?" Richard wondered outloud, all the while brutally stomping on his hidden, treacherous fear that there was nothing to be done.
"Ah, yes! Lord Croft stated the... err... curses on this type of objects don't usually last more than a few days," Andy said in a rush.
Richard forcefully suppressed the urge to scowl - it's not like it was Andy's fault, he wasn't going to 'shoot the messenger', as they said. However, he absolutely did not like to hear any maybe in regards to Thomas and his wellbeing; judging from her unusually hard expression, he was sure Miss Baxter felt pretty much the same as him.
He could have strangled this Lord Croft with his bare hands.
"In conclusion... it sounds like Mr Barrow remembers who he is and who we are, but for the time being, his appearance and behaviour are distinctly... huh, feline," Mrs Hughes summed up awkwardly.
Richard looked down at the cat, who looked back at him, head tilted to the side.
"Goodness... are you really my- Thomas?" He whispered, biting his lip right after, hoping nobody had noticed his small slip of the tongue.
The cat appeared to deflate, somehow, eyes dilated, mewling plaintively. Richard sighed at that and shook his head in fond exasperation, petting him soothingly.
"Ah, my friend... you and your penchant for getting yourself into trouble strike again, hmm?"
In reaction to his gentle ministrations, Thomas started purring with the strength of a little motor, nestling contentedly against his waistcoat.