A/N: This story has been a long time in the making. I wanted to be true to as Anna as possible and really let this be about her. And as her relationship with John is such a big part of who she is, he does of course feature too. This is my interpretation of the missing 'cottage scenes' from S4, and how the cottage contributes to and is a vital part of Anna's healing. I used guidance from some really great online resources, and I just hope I've done it justice.
Trigger warning for S4 content, though nothing graphic.
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey, Anna or John Bates.
These Four Walls
Part 1
The rain continued to fall, much as it had on and off throughout the night, clattering softly upon the roof. It had been in the air for days, holding on for something, the right moment. They had to arrive. April showers. It had probably collected in the brim of her hat, soaked through to her skin from the sleeves of her coat. Perhaps it had just been a spritz, or had it been dry after all, the moon clear and giving off an impossible warmth as it had lit the paths?
She would have worried about the fail of her memory, if it had at all occurred to her. How she had wished for this, seemingly hopelessly, for so long. She should embrace it. Nothing, bar some small thudding noise that sounded too far away to affect her, had registered with Anna since she had found herself within these four walls.
Here, again.
Disbelief. She'd wake up at any moment, be pulled away, pulled back. She should press her palms to them, cling on until her knuckles were bright white.
Her eyes were open, blinking, then staring just left of the door, where the rest of the world had been shut out and left her alone for a little while.
Not alone.
You're home now.
His voice resonated, burrowed itself through the blankness she felt. The words wrapped themselves around her like a blanket. Neither had said much on the way. She didn't think she had uttered a single word. He seemed stiffer, straighter in his gait, afraid of stumbling. She had been striding with greater confidence, almost bolting ahead of his slower steps. She had got used to going at a pace remembered from years ago again. Her natural pace? She couldn't recall. Anticipation was taking over her, the sensation overpowering and burning in her brain. It was as almost as though she had never set down these paths before.
It would be easy enough to settle back. After all, for most of her life she had known no different. Each day had been a refashioning of the one before. She would sit at the corner of the table, head dipped down and hands working away until the lamp was burned down almost completely, and save for Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes be the last one left up, avoiding the eyes that would fall upon her at intervals through the evening. They never asked but she had her answers rehearsed and ready if they ever should. It was just until her Ladyship found a new maid, and then just until the new maid was properly settled within the role. It wouldn't be long, and Mr Bates understood. The words even seemed to convince her if she said them enough. Before he came down each night, readying himself to leave, she would get up and find some task to busy herself. If she couldn't find anything to do, she would simply stand, in the laundry room or sometimes one of the closets, confined and quiet. It was wearing enough to have to greet him each morning, as he insisted on waiting at the foot of the stairs for her to come down. To have to be there, avoiding his gaze that kept trying to seek her out as he made to depart, was too cruel, even for her who needed to become accustomed to such cruelty.
Eventually he would give up. He would have to. Her heart shattered from the splinters it was already in to think of it, but it had to happen. It was no way for someone who had done nothing wrong to live. It would be strange of course, to still be married in name, but living completely separate lives. Yet there was no other way. At least like this, she could still keep a part of him, a memory of when she was his alone, unsoiled, unspoiled. The flame of the lamp grew increasingly dim, wavered weakly and then flickered away to nothing.
Better a broken heart than a broken neck.
The room felt strange to her, the starched sheets made of ice and scorching her limbs. She would not be there long enough to feel it; mere seconds and she was out again, perching herself on the foot of the bed where she would stay until sunlight started to plea at the curtains, trying to clear her mind of all thoughts. Trying to get used to being alone again. The touch of her right foot against her left startled her so that she nearly leapt to the ceiling, and she couldn't stop shaking.
It was no way for someone who had done nothing wrong to live. She swallowed, repressing the bile that rose in her throat and the tears that were burning her eyes.
It had only been an hour, if that, when she had retired upstairs, John leaving her with a look that had been as comforting as his words. She took that comfort with her as she climbed underneath the covers, bringing them around her. Somehow she didn't feel suffocated, not here. Exhaustion had seen to it that she was asleep within moments of her head hitting the pillow. It was the first night that she had slept through, undisturbed. She had almost slept too long into the morning, until she made out the soft shuffles from below the floorboards. Tears once again formed at her eyes as she thought upon them but she wiped them away quickly, dressing at speed and not looking at the items that made the room not just hers, but theirs.
She should have stayed up longer, fought off the fatigue that was quick enough to claim her. She hadn't had long enough to appreciate everything again. The tree that hung its branches over into the yard from next door, the slightly chipped china that held the breakfast tea. The feelings that still remained familiar to her being here, just more distant now.
She had been aware of nothing but her feet firm upon the floor, her hands gripping the handles of her purse, and now her teeth clenching tight together in her mouth, making her jaw ache. The last time they had left here together, her arm slipping effortlessly into the crook of his before he shut the door behind them and smiled down at her, had been that morning. When neither of them had the slightest idea of how everything would become torn apart.
His half step was light upon the floor in the hallway, softer than the sound of the rapidly diminishing rain.
"Should wait until it goes off."
It took a while for her to hear him; everything seemed to take longer to arrive now, like a train with a failing engine pulling itself against its better will into the station. He smiled at her, not quite the same as before, and she offered a weak one in return, trying to build it up the longer she looked at him.
He moved, so slowly towards her and not even reaching out, and still she flinched, the violent motion shuddering her to the core. She hated herself instantly, her eyes dropping to the floor, desperate for him not to perceive how very broken she was, though she couldn't very well hide, not now she was back here.
"Just a bit nippy," she uttered, voice hollow in her ears, as he simply nodded at her reply.
How long would it take for her to stop pretending? Perhaps the habit was too deeply ingrained now. She was cold, though. Part of her yearned to make him open his arms to her, but she was too afraid of falling apart within them.
"You don't have to go." He was the one to break the silence, again, standing back from her but not so far that she couldn't reach for him if she wished. "I can say that you're ill, that I need to stay back to make sure you're okay. It could be for a few days, Mrs Hughes would understand."
The thought was sorely tempting; God knows she certainly looked awful enough to be convincing. No need to hide anymore, you've done it for long enough.
"No, I must get on."
She sounded surer now, drawing her shoulders back. If making the decision to come back here was her first small step to becoming normal again and getting her life back, she had to not waver. It would be a show for now, of course, but she would learn in time. She hoped.
Her mouth remained open to say more but she could not formulate the words. It had never been this hard before, he was always able to read what she was thinking. The thought that she was consciously trying to lead him down another road made her suddenly alert.
"Everything's fine. I promise you. Being here," she took pause for a moment, grounding herself, "it's helped."
There were no questions. The silence was fine for now. John smiled at her with soft eyes, a smile she could tell he had been wanting to use for so long.
Before he led the way out, waiting patiently for her to follow whenever she wanted, his other words from hours before came back to her, as though she had only just heard them.
You're safe now.
As her foot hovered over the threshold, not quite ready to take the step when she had expected she would be, Anna couldn't help but wonder, though she wanted to believe.
In the light of day, everything was different. It was never entirely avoidable – especially not when she had to venture to certain places, walk into certain shadows – but there were ways to cope. Working had the biggest effect, providing her with a sanctuary and shelter. It had always been her retreat when life had taken an unexpected turn. She asked for more tasks to take on around the house, offering to help others with their loads and feeling anxiety crawl over her when she was told to have a break. When her body was occupied, her mind was quieted from having to scream. The clock would tick by and it would never be long enough; the aim was to work her bones to the ground, until they could take no more and gave out, at least until the next day. The habit was soothing, the aches in her joints rewards. Not every part of her old life had been lost, and the fact that her work ethic was stronger than ever gave her consolation that she was still present, still of this earth.
Yet in all the hours that she worked up at the Abbey, she found herself wanting to be back at the cottage. To simply sit in peace resting her tired feet after the long day, or perhaps mending some of John's socks that she had meant to see to months ago. In the next moment she bristled as she was brought back to reality. It was not proving as easy to pick up those habits, though she was trying, just to prove to herself that she could. The thought of returning carried her through the day. There was no need to disguise or hide the way she was feeling there.
I can be safe, truly.
She did still hide. Whether it was for John's sake or her own, she wasn't always sure. It had only been a little over a week since she had been back, and there was no need to rush. They had the rest of their lives. John put no pressure on her, was perfectly patient when she needed space to be on her own, which happened more frequently than it ever used to. She was quieter for longer and restless too, finding it hard to stay sitting for longer than a few minutes. Most nights she went up earlier, feeling guilty for leaving John to occupy the couch with his leg the way it was. She told him she would stay downstairs instead, but he would never let her. It was important that she got a good night's rest, he said. No matter how difficult she was being, he always understood. Sometimes she wished that he didn't, imagined that it might give her the jolt she needed out of her thoughts that were never still. Her skin didn't feel the right fit upon her body, and she was constantly frustrated at herself. John seemed to have shed the tension that had composed him for the past month while they had been apart. No matter how she was, he was simply happy that she was under the same roof as him.
When the darkness of night came, everything she had strived for seemed hopeless, disappeared before her unseeing gaze. The shadows didn't cloak her but instead consumed her. It became almost impossible to breathe as air rapidly escaped the room, her heart pounding in a sickening fashion against her chest, falling down past her feet. She dared not shut her eyes for the briefest moment, because she knew what she would be confronted with. She feared it so intensely with every fibre and sinew of her being. She had not remembered much, the numbness and the iron will she possessed blocking it from her mind. Now her senses were beginning to restart and the focus was becoming sharper. She raged against it with her whole body, kicking her legs and crying out hoarsely, much as she had done then. The silence hurt her ears, the sobs caught in her throat. The walls began to shrink, cornering her and closing her in, and for a few moments – though it seemed so long as to be the duration of years – there was no way to escape.
Having depleted her energy in the sudden frenzy, she laid barely breathing on the bed. It had been the worst waking nightmare she had encountered, and it had taken place within these four walls. Her safest place had been invaded, and at once everything seemed to shatter.
She pulled herself upwards, limbs still as heavy as lead, the pain in her stomach almost unbearable. Fighting the urge to retch, she placed one foot slowly in front of the other and pulled back the curtains to gaze out of the window. The moon was high tonight, bathing the landscape in a silvery glow. Outside everything seemed so peaceful, so unaware. Her throat was burning an intense fire, but she would do her utmost to ignore it. She promised herself that she wouldn't cry. Not here, not in their home. She couldn't offer much now, but she owed that much. Her tears would not cleanse but contaminate. Drops of poison flowing into a river, they would wash away everything they'd worked so hard to build, drown them both. She would hold them within herself; they could not cause much more damage to an already broken being. Yet little by little, day by day, what she was holding back would break him down too.
It wasn't too long before she had to lie down again, her head feeling light and her body feeling weak. The nausea had seen to it that she hadn't been able to eat that evening and now her mind had been utterly overwhelmed. Curling herself up tight and with the open curtains still streaming moonlight into the room, Anna lay, trying to remember how much she had forgotten herself of late. Sometimes it did feel as though she was outside, watching someone else live a life that she could only imagine was the hardest thing to bear, praying for them in their despair. It wasn't an unconscious decision she had made to keep herself distant and while she knew that John only wanted to help her, she thought that the best way to help him would be to keep herself isolated, to make sure these feelings didn't seep out and reach him. Being close by instinct, she grieved deeply for every second they spent apart, the division made by her own will.
Struck by sorrow, her hands fished beneath the pillow, grasping the garment weakly at first but then holding it tighter, her eyes roaming wildly over it before she clutched it to her chest. It was as close as she was able to get to him right now, and it brought back almost too many memories for her, especially here. She still required the tangible comfort of him, reminding her of the other period they had been separated for such a time, knowing that it was never possible for her to sever the ties completely. Her cheeks brushed against the fabric of her husband's pyjama top as she inhaled deeply, letting his scent overwhelm her, her arms unable to relinquish.
Anna wept without being aware at first, the knowledge only real when she felt the trail of tears streaming down her face, spilling onto the pillow and the pyjama top. She was unable to stop, her sobs sounding out and echoing in the room as they grew heavier. She had never expected that she would feel this distraught, not ever again, not in this life they had together. Was it because she had started to do what she swore she never would, unthinkingly – taking their happiness for granted? There had to be some reason for it, something she had or hadn't done. There was scarce space in her head to consider it, but it must have been true.
Her cries had travelled downstairs, and she didn't know how much time had gone by until he arrived in the room. She startled slightly at the bulk of his weight settling down gently on the edge of the bed, still trembling from the inside out at her actions. Like waves reeling over a wild sea, she began to calm the longer she felt his presence there. He hadn't run from her yet, and yet she still wanted to hide her face, feeling intense shame.
"I came up to say goodnight." His voice was so soft, reminding her of finer days and nights gone by. He always cared for her so much, considerate to her every need. "Is there anything that you want, a biscuit or some water?"
Anna's head barely made any movement as she shook it upon the pillow, her body apparently paralysed and worn out. After a few moments she realised that she had to say something in answer.
"No, thank you."
Silence reigned in the room, her weeping at the pitch of a whimper now, petering out slowly. It was so foreign for them to be like this, such a gulf between them. She had not the strength to reach out to him, waves knocking her down at every moment that she dared to try. She wished she could have said more, let him know what she had been through just now. Not before. She longed to be able to touch his arm or his face without being afraid that she would recall something and scream out, leaving him too scared to ever try again. He didn't touch her but his voice soothed her instead, until he said something that nearly broke her heart all over again.
"If this is too difficult for you, if it's too soon…" There was a waver in his tone, a small note of sorrow audible before he gathered himself, seeking to diminish it for her sake. "If you want to go back, if you feel that would be better, I would understand."
Somehow she found the strength to turn herself over on the bed, turning to face her husband, needing to see his face and break down one of the walls that was between them. He wore his anguish in his expression, eyes grey and heavy, worry lines set into his forehead. For such a fine figure of a man, he now resembled a shell, nothing but a ghost. The shock of it made her forget about her own drained complexion, contrasted with the raw red of her eyes. Maybe it would be for the best, if this is what she had done to him. Yet she suspected he would only deteriorate further if she were to go again, as unstable as her existence was.
She tried her utmost to get her voice past a whisper, to show him the honesty in what she said.
"No, I want to stay. I want to be here. I don't want to go. I can't…"
Tears threatened to overwhelm her anew and her ragged breath stopped her short. John began to hush her, showing her that it was okay, his hand placed in the vacant space between them, never asking for anything more. The fact was true, truer than anything. She wanted to be here. She needed to be here. Any more separation would destroy her, no question.
"It just needs time." I just need time. "Grant me that, and I promise you…"
"You don't need to promise anything." A small smile softened his eyes, brought some of the light back. "Of course. Everything in the world."
She shifted on the pillow to become more comfortable, slowly stretched her hand out to rest a little way away from his, aligning on the covers. She looked down at them both, feeling a little assured, hoping it wouldn't be too long before they could entwine them again. Her other hand was still clutching onto the shirt, holding it to her, a sleeve tangled around her arm. She noticed John's gaze upon the garment, a little smile lifting his lips.
"I should give this back, you'll be needing it," she started, growing a little embarrassed for the way she was hoarding it.
"I'll be fine. Keep it." He whispered against the night, lifting himself from the bed.
Anna followed his movements as he went to the door, her eyelids losing the fight to stay open. She made out his shadow, staying for a few moments as the guardian of the room.
"Sleep well, my darling. I'll see you in the morning."
She mumbled a reply before she was lost again, all the pain ebbing away for a few more fitful hours. As she drifted deeper into sleep, she kept a thought clear in her mind amongst so much of its haze.
Even though he was here, she missed him.
The embers of the fire were glowing in the grate and Anna felt herself hypnotised by the way they danced, her cheeks flushed and warm, the ball of wool and blanket in her lap. She had found the concentration to resume the task of late, and the softness felt good beneath her hands. What had started out as a shawl was growing more expansive as she returned to it most evenings, and she decided that it would make a good blanket. She could give it to Lady Mary for Master George, or if she had no use for it, the child certainly not being short of possessions, then she was sure that the missionary could find the benefit. She tried not to think of all the ideas she had originally dreamt, feeling nothing but a sharp sense of relief that there had been no sign of a baby. How many women had not been as lucky as she had been, and yet she felt no better for thinking on that, considering that luck played no factor in everything she still experienced.
Rising up from his seat, John went over to the grate, picking up the iron at the side and gently encouraging a few more flames to spark up. Content with his efforts, Anna smiled at him as he turned back towards her, settling back down into the chair opposite. She found that she could smile more naturally at particular moments now, especially here on evenings such as the one that was currently wearing on to its end. They had begun, tentatively at first, to rediscover such evenings and though they might not have seemed particularly enthralling, to Anna they gave great comfort and considerable hope for the future. After having a little supper, John eating a larger portion than her but bearing no judgement for the fairly small amount of food that was on her plate, they would go into the sitting room and take up their respective places. John would read to himself and she would take up her knitting or some other mending from around the cottage. They talked at intervals about how things were with the family or their fellow servants, even about news or events that were happening in the village. When the conversation proved distracting enough, they were happy to embrace the comfortable silence, finding it quite different to the kind they had been confronted with recently and remembering it as previously familiar.
Anna was rather surprised but certainly pleased by how peaceful she felt on these evenings. It was in no small part thanks to John's deliberate attentions to her wellbeing. Nothing was rushed, the pace of their life being set to her standards. Gradually he was getting past his own hesitancy, doing little things around the house to reach out to her which she was appreciative of, never coming as a sign that he wished to hurry things along but instead just of a desire to show her pure comfort. In the light of it, her own confidence grew. She could spend much longer now being still, feeling no need to dart about. She was able to take hold of small moments in the day – a bird outside the window or a freshly washed nightgown – and find beauty and consolation. She could maintain his company for greater amounts of time, holding his gaze more assuredly. In bolder moments, she even had the courage to reach out and stroke his fingers with her own, a least for a few seconds before she pulled away. His hand was warm, softer than she had remembered. He never minded when she drew back very briefly afterwards. She knew she wasn't drawn fully out of herself but her words were less broken when she said them, her being less worn and wearied. With slow steps edging a little way ever forward, she was starting to feel at home again.
They were talking about Alfred and how plucky he was for continuing to pursue his dreams of leaving Downton when she felt strange suddenly. Perhaps it was because she was sitting a little too close to the fire that she felt too warm, but it wasn't the only symptom that she was encountering. Her limbs began to feel like they were being pricked by pins and an increasing dull ache was edging its way steadily across her temples. A wave of fear lurched within her stomach, and she stood rapidly, the blanket and bundle of wool falling to her feet.
She knew that John's eyes were upon her instantly, concern written upon his face, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him at that moment while she was in the thick of it. Instead, she told him that she wouldn't be long, picking up the wool and placing it on the little table before going into the back, heading to open the door that led out into the yard.
Outside, she gulped in lungfuls of air, focused on the feeling of stone beneath her soles, solid and uncompromising. She waited for the crippling pain in her head to subside, prayed for the suffocating feeling to fade soon enough. Taking in slow and deep breaths, she reminded herself of where she was. Here, not there. Now, not then. The pain started to slide, surfacing elsewhere, and she steadied herself with her hands against the wall, looking up to the sky as it begun to turn to dusk. Two birds flew overhead, one trailing behind the other.
She went back inside – it hadn't taken too long for this bout to disperse - taking in a couple more long breaths before returning to the sitting room. John remained in his chair, pose seemingly frozen, his eyes still wide with wondering. Anna settled herself again and managed to smile towards him, telling him and herself too that everything was alright. Sinking down into the chair, she felt a greater calm cross her the longer she kept her gaze locked with his.
Minutes faded, they resumed their previous quiet. There were other echoes in Anna's mind that were growing louder. She found herself glancing to the clock on the hearth, watching the tick of the hands carefully.
She let out a sigh before speaking, causing John to lift his head from the pages he was studying.
"I should have stayed." Her cheeks were flaming hot with shame, illuminated by the kindling flames. "It wasn't that bad of a headache, I could have put up with it."
God knows she had replayed the thought in her mind over a million times. If only I would have stayed. If only I would have waited for the concert to be over. She could have returned downstairs with John, holding his hand and only letting go when he went to search for a powder for her, sitting down in the same room. Would there have been another moment when she was alone, would it have happened regardless?
He was shaking his head, agony turning his green irises several shades darker.
"You had every right." His hand wavered in the air, splaying flat, the action an attempt to calm his tumultuous emotions. "I should have gone with you, saw that you were alright." His gaze lifted upwards, trying to stop the tears that were creeping into his voice. "I curse myself every second of the day that I did not follow you the moment that you left."
Anna tipped her chin down, feeling his guilt pile upon hers. It was thankful she spoke through pursed lips, otherwise he would have heard her say "Maybe I shouldn't have…". Somehow, she didn't know how, she forgot that he did not know. They had been so used in their newly found freedom to sharing every small as well as every significant aspect of their lives. Now the door had slammed firmly shut again. The risks were far too high. It would drive him mad, and leave her truly alone in the world, for certain.
She only knew that she had been utterly foolish. Her life had been far from the easiest, but she had been charmed in the connections she had forged with people. In every way she had been cared for exceptionally well, taken under wing and nurtured as a young girl becoming a woman. When she had fallen in love, perhaps later in life than others, she had chosen the most gentle and honourable man that there was living. She had been naïve to think everyone she encountered would be so kind. How could her judgement have been so poor?
If only I hadn't chosen that moment to go.
If only solved nothing.
"Neither of us could know." She stated it dully, the strange matter of fact that it was. "I'm being silly." She looked up again, finding his eyes and the regret starting to fade. "I can't do anything to go back."
The simple and impossible fact reverberated around them both.
"You're not being silly," he replied. In that moment and so many before, Anna knew that if he could have found a way, he would have done anything to change the course of time. "Just please know, that you are a remarkable person and you are not in any way to blame. Ever."
She remembered a night a couple of weeks ago when she had become hysterical for apparently no reason, crying herself into a fit. It hurt him enough to see her in such a state, but she couldn't stop the question from escaping her.
"How can you still love me?" she sobbed, tears blurring the vision of him before her. It made him seem like he was almost kneeling in front of her. She was not worthy of him, not good enough for him now.
She heard his voice, as sure as it had ever been.
"How can I not love you?" He held his hands out, not expecting her to take them but smiling when she did. "You are my wife, you are my life, and I will love you until the day I die. Nothing will ever change that. Ever."
Anna nodded her head, returning gradually to her peace, trying hard not to blame herself for disturbing it. In that moment and others, she remembered amongst all the shadows and the demons that were telling her otherwise. He was so good to her, and he was helping her to realise again that she was good too. Good enough. More than that.
As the night came, kinder in its guises now, she promised herself that she would remember that above all else. As she looked at her husband sitting opposite her, she knew that he would always help her to remember.
The slivers of early light always emerged in the same spot, every morning. They had a certain quality, one that it was hard to avoid completely. She had come out of the bathroom a minute or so earlier than the day before, conscious that she needed to rid herself of the compulsion to bathe until her skin was wrinkled and peeling from her. It was getting better. Sliding up the sleeves of her robe, she noticed that her forearms were only slightly burnished pink, a significant improvement from when they glowed an angry red. A few weeks ago she would check when she was at the house, cautiously roll back the sleeves of her uniform in a quiet corner and wince when she saw the scalded patches. With a new kind of shame, she pushed down the pride she also felt to see the marks the boiling water had left.
She stood for a few moments, holding her breath to prepare herself, before the robe was gone in a swift, deliberate motion. Her shoulders instinctively hunched, not just at the sudden coolness of the air upon her. The door was firmly shut, the curtains tightly drawn. Save for those inescapable slivers of sunlight, landing squarely upon her collarbones which jutted out more prominently now. She fought the urge to scoop the garment from the floor – so flimsy, an impossible kind of armour – and to keep her eyes pinned down. Quickly, just as quickly as she had discarded the item, she raised her head. God only knows what she had expected to see, afraid for the briefest and most implausible of seconds. Her body, her own home. And it was hers. Examining the reflection carefully, she took the time to notice things she hadn't known were there as well as those she had always been aware of. She willed herself to stop trembling when she pressed her palms against flesh, never taking her eyes from the mirror, vision giving her a sense of control. She was determined to get through the agony of it, and in some aspects she succeeded.
When she padded downstairs, John was already there, pottering around in and out of the sitting room and hall. She knew that he was merely pretending to be distracted by some task, and she smiled that he would afford her that. He met her eyes with a level of self-consciousness, returning her own glance with the similar bashfulness that she betrayed but adding a deal of warmth. He picked up his cane from where it rested against the wall at the same moment as she stepped down from the last stair, and once again they headed out.
With each walk to the house, she grew stronger in herself and more confident. Little sparks of her old self were returning, glimpsed briefly in the shine of her eyes. Her thoughts were becoming bolder, even if it took her actions a bit longer to catch up. She started to emerge from her cocoon, felt brave enough to think about unfurling her wings. Sitting at the table that day, she found that she didn't think about it too much. It was natural to ask her husband out on a date. Indeed, he was the one who appeared more cautious as he listened to her suggestion, but the soft smile that graced his face was enough to reassure her. It was a kind that she hadn't seen in a while from him, and she could not help but feel a flurry of excitement inside each time she thought of it. Another step closer, a tighter hold, a light that grew larger in the distance.
Anna sat in relative darkness in the sitting room, hands folded in her lap. She was in her uniform again, and it was as though everything about the evening had disappeared, including any ounce of courage that she had possessed. Had it ever occurred? It was like an illusion in her mind, not real enough to grasp. Someone else had taken her place. Once more she felt incredibly small. Back to the start, though she supposed she had never really begun.
It had been her own fault. She had rushed it all along, tried to get ahead of herself. She had known before they had stepped inside that it had all been a mistake, tension making her bunch up and feel more aware of everything. It had been so humiliating, the way they had to be pardoned by her Ladyship. The sneering face of the maître-d' burned into her, made her recall things that she had wanted to keep buried. Throughout she had kept repeating the words she uttered to herself: I am not a victim. I won't become one, not now. Yet she could not bargain on the power of her thoughts, overwhelming as they were. Swarming her in this very moment. John had seemed different. Affronted by their treatment, but not just that. If she had a point to prove by being there, it was as though he had several running all at once. He poured wine into her glass, smiled towards her, and she wanted to run as far away as possible. The fear that she would bring the table and its contents crashing to the ground in her fever, causing the whole establishment to regard only her, was the only thing that kept her sitting.
How could she have possibly thought that it would be normal, or even enjoyable? She had said it herself; everything they had was shadowed, and the shadows would not lift. What remained in front of them loomed even larger than what was behind, and seemed harder to be traversed.
She went from feeling sorrow and pity to inching hot with anger in the blink of an eye, less than a beat of the heart. The swing of her mood usually left her exhausted, but now she felt alive, perhaps truly for the first time since. How dare it happen like this, how dare it poison, how dare it make a fool of them both. Her punishment came now, slow and misleading in its visage. She had not wanted to feel like this, but she had no choice. No control. It had bubbled within her for too long, content to be restrained. Her hands twisted, pulled at her skirt; her expression was tightly composed, a faint twitch in her left eyebrow unable to come to a halt the only movable aspect.
Try as he might to silence it, the gentle tap upon the floor bounced up to the walls. John's eyes were upon her as he blindly rested his cane near to the fireplace. They dropped as he moved tentatively closer to the couch, his broad frame vastly reduced, cowering in the dim light. He made a small sigh, hesitating for a moment before he slowly sat down, inches apart from her. Anna could see from the corner of her eye that his hand was shaking as it was planted upon his good knee. He attempted to ball it up, but his fingers would not cooperate. He looked at her again, at a loss at what to say or do. She had never been angry with him, not in this way. It was utterly unexplainable, and yet the understanding of it was too keen and made her heart break further.
He made some small talk that she half heard and gave no response to, remaining staring ahead. John stood up again, helpless and quite confused. In the worst of it at least she would look at him, even if it was with a disdain he hadn't been able to fathom, foolishly at the time. She sat, hands clasped together, and all at once he was left adrift and knew too well of what was rapidly rising to the surface. He made no attempt to shield himself from it, and Anna didn't know if that was worse.
"What was it all for?"
Her voice came out smaller than she had imagined it would, with more emotion than she had intended. At once she recalled vividly the long nights that she had done her best to remain hopeful, not to give in to the real prospect that their life might be over. The days that she had worn herself out, travelling back and forth, continuing to work after she had done her duty. All for him, to be able to have him with her again, forever. All for them.
The blankness began to fade from John's face, the recognition he was coming to almost too painful to bear. His expression started to crumple as he observed the tremble of her lower lip, feeling utter shame flood through him.
"If you meant what you said this evening, if you truly meant it, then it was all for nothing."
Her words burned through them both, Anna lifting her head and taking no satisfaction from the way John retracted, closing his eyes and grimacing. She regretted what she had said as soon as she said it. Of course it had not been for nothing. It had been for everything. For where they both were now. The thought that it would be wrenched from her – could still prove to be the case – filled her mind, set her aflame. He looked utterly wretched, but she needed to know. That what he said hadn't been true, couldn't possibly be.
"Did you mean it?"
He didn't say anything, wouldn't look at her. The sensation flared up wildly, but she fought to remain calm.
"John, answer me." She had not lost her insistence. "Did you mean it? Would you do it?"
His eyes were still averted from hers, and her blood ran cold as his lips parted.
"Wanting to do something and doing it are two very different things."
She stared hard at her husband where he stood, head bowed, though she wasn't certain it was remorse he was showing. She wouldn't believe it. After so many battles, he would never throw away the life they had. Weeks ago he reaffirmed the vow he had made years before. That he would do anything for her, and she had never doubted it. She felt sick, her stomach turning at the thought. She could see her world turning to stone, crumbling before her.
He must have heard her silent plea to him, his gaze meeting hers at last. Those eyes, always so full of love and concern when they were turned upon her. Those emotions remained, mixed with a fierce almost-adolescent will, and a deep regret for it. He breathed out, and the whole world balanced on a pin.
"I don't honestly know, is the truth."
The cry caught tight in her throat before she could let it out. He was being honest. He was an awful liar, at least to her. The lengths she had gone to suddenly seemed pointless, her greatest fear stepping uncloaked from the shadows. She would die before they'd take him from her again. A horrible thought crossed her mind for the briefest time; that she wished she had.
"We don't know who it was. We never will." She started to chatter madly, making excuses to fill the silence, trying to justify it. Would he kill an innocent man at random, just for some form of release? She wouldn't let herself think like that, not about him.
"I know that," he said lowly, barely able to contain his anger at the fact. It disappeared from him when he looked at her again. "Even then, it wouldn't be enough. When I think of what you were put through…"
He stopped, holding a hand over his jaw. Anna swayed a little where she was now standing. The last thing she wanted was for it to be everything between them, and she knew it wasn't, but there was no place it hadn't invaded.
John's eyes were hidden from her as he closed them momentarily, inhaling and exhaling steadily.
"Nothing would be enough. It would do far more harm than good, I know that. But it doesn't mean that, in the middle of the night, I don't think about it for a few moments."
She looked at him with eyes that were rapidly filling. He was being honest. Wasn't that what she wanted, what she needed? John winced as she swept by him, exiting into the kitchen for a few moments, him watching her as she went.
From nowhere, her mind presented her with pictures. The days and the weeks after he had been released, those wonderful times. The happiest of her life. When all that had seemed lost had returned once more, more perfect than she ever could have imagined. She heard their laughter, remembered for a few moments the joy that had been unburdened. They would get those times back, a voice from somewhere told her. Just not in nights like this, where they were trying too hard to replace what couldn't be replaced.
He was sitting down when she returned, the pained look on his face telling her that his knee mustn't have been able to stand the weight. It seemed easier for her to think that was the reason for his anguish. She walked towards him, stopping a few inches away from the couch, her head bent and hands clasped. She desperately wanted to be able to take his face into her palms, to soothe him and place kisses upon his head as she held it close to her. Too many other emotions were swirling in her head, making her feel like she was on the edge of falling from some precipice. If she did not let them out now, she risked disappearing forever.
"You took it away from me," she uttered, promising herself she wouldn't break. The statement caused him to lift his eyes to hers immediately. "You didn't let me speak for myself, wait until I was ready to."
It had felt like such a betrayal, at a time when her trust had already been shattered. From the two people she trusted above everyone else. They wouldn't let her wait. Did they possibly believe she wanted to stay silent forever, keep such a terrible secret? Yet it seemed like the only way she could have kept some semblance of sanity. She felt wrong for holding onto a grudge, especially when she knew of all the hurt that had been caused. And yet it mattered. Something else had been taken out of her hands, and she didn't know what she had left to keep for herself.
She still had him.
John's eyes searched her own, the remembered agony etched again on his face as awful as it had been when he had said those two words. I know.
"I'm sorry, my darling. I truly am. I didn't want it to happen that way." She believed him, the look deep in his eyes, the raw emotion in his voice as he spoke. In all their time together, she didn't think he had been so open. Still, the wound hadn't closed for her. "I wanted you to come to me like nothing else. I begged it of you. I thought something had gone wrong, irreparably, and I became a desperate man. I suppose I lost my reasoning. Without you, I am lost."
She turned her head away for a moment, her fingers toying with the band on her finger, thinking of how stranded she felt. How alone. How she had resigned herself to it, for the rest of time.
"I didn't know what else to do. You wouldn't look at me, wouldn't talk to me, and every second ripped my soul. I know I can hide myself and I try hard not to now, but ever since I've known you, you have never hidden from me. I knew it was for a reason." He rose from his seat, the action taking some effort as he sighed heavily. "If I had known…I should have known. I should have known you better, my love. And I never would have done it. But my heart couldn't bear to see you suffering that way. And when I could do nothing…"
She thought of being in the courtroom, the last time she had felt so helpless. She would have bore any pain for him to be saved, she swore it to herself in those awful moments before the sentence came. She would sacrifice everything she had. She had always been willing to do so.
John's eyes remained upon her, seeking some kind of forgiveness. Anna gave a small nod of her head, not knowing that it made anything better really. He returned the gesture, and there was a little quiet between them, as it all sunk in.
"Tell me, Anna." The sound of his voice sent shivers running on the back of her neck. "Would you have come to me, in time?"
He wanted her to be honest. He needed her to be honest. She was only ever doing it to protect him, couldn't he see that? Save him from the shame that would befall him if anybody ever knew.
Both the hesitation and the sharpness of her reply did her words a disservice.
"Of course I would have."
He lowered his head, brought his hand up to his mouth. Anna's eyes watched him helplessly as he wandered in aimless circles upon the floor, wishing she had never said anything. She did not know how much strength she had left to see this through, and this night had been so strange. Demons exposed to the air. Half of her wanted to desperately retreat upstairs, but she wouldn't leave him like this, not when she had been the one to open it up. Who knows what state he would work himself into.
He stopped still again, a thousand words hung in the air before he moved to speak some. Anna felt frozen in place. It couldn't always be like this.
"I told Mrs Hughes that day…" he paused, closing his eyes tightly shut before he continued. "I told her that if she didn't tell me about what happened, that I would leave." His voice was ragged, catching in his throat. "If that's what you wanted, I would have gone."
The revelation was a dagger in her chest, her face draining white. She didn't know why she should have been so shocked, when she was doing the very same thing. She pushed him away to the extent that he had no choice in the matter. But the fact that he had kept it from her, would have left without a word or her knowing why, came as another betrayal, one that cut deeper than any other.
His confession was a catalyst. The outlet that she had been seeking unknown for a long time. Spurred on by unbearable pain, she flew forward, a whirlwind within the walls. As she pummelled her small fists against the solidity of his chest, feeling herself ricochet, she began to wail, her voice snatched from her in gasps.
"How dare you! After everything…how dare you, how dare you…"
Her arms flailed out, aiming further blows at him; her expression indignant as he refused to do anything to stop her. As her energy became less, her screams petered out and she began to cry instead, wrenching sobs that came from her gut. John stood rigid all the while, his arms straight at his sides. His lips tightly pursed to stop his own tears from emerging. Anna held herself back for a few moments, her head in her hands muffling her sorrow. Through blurred eyes she looked up at him, saw how he was suffering the same. She took a few tentative steps forward, and then didn't stop herself from slumping forward, her head hitting his chest. John let her rest and adjust for long moments, before he slowly raised his arms up, his hands very softly bracing her shaking shoulders. The longer he held her, the less he held back too, and the only sound that could be heard in the room was both of their sobs sounding out together.
Anna felt her breath shudder against John's torso, the wetness of her tears pressing from where they had fallen on his jacket back to her cheek. His own tears had soaked into her hair. There was silence as she registered his arms circled around her, unafraid. Though there was much work to do, she felt a weight ease from her aching shoulders. She felt almost weightless. Her hands clung onto his back, fistfuls of his jacket in her palms. While one of his hands soothed slowly down her back, she raised her head to look at him. Seeing the tears that still stained her face, John brought his other hand up, his thumb soft in its strokes as he very gently wiped them away.
"I didn't mean it, what I said," she stuttered, breath hitching. "I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry."
He shook his head as he brought hers back to his chest, cradling her.
"Please, don't ever be sorry, my love." She felt him press a light kiss to her crown and closed her eyes, not quite able to bring her hands up to rest on his chest. His voice was slightly covered by her hair. "It needed to be said."
"I made you think," her voice began to falter, and she leaned on him a little more, "that I didn't love you anymore."
That caused her to let out another sob, and he hugged her, whispering faint words of comfort. She couldn't stand the pain that she must have put him through, his belief that everything that always existed had so quickly disappeared, without any reason.
"I never stopped, I would never." She had to let him know, for certain. "I love you so much."
Both of his hands were on her face, gently tipping her head so that he could meet her eyes.
"And I love you," he replied, smiling through tears that remained. "However, whatever, whenever."
Anna's eyes fluttered shut, nodding as she rested back against him, needing to feel him close. She lamented that all this made her so scared, so sure that he would start to doubt. In this moment she was no longer afraid out of her wits, but neither was she completely reassured.
"Promise me." She whimpered, doing her utmost to raise her voice. "Say that you won't leave me. Not ever." Without realising it, her palms had landed firm against him. His warmth, so much missed, made its way to her. "I couldn't bear it."
He didn't hesitate for a second, much to Anna's relief.
"I promise, my darling. I am not going anywhere."
His breath was warm and comforting against her hair and then fluttering against her cheek. His hands placed themselves on her shoulders, held her up straight.
"I could never leave you, whatever came." His voice was steady as steel, held a deeper level of emotion. "I would never do anything that would make me leave you."
His eyes locked with hers, she knew that his promise was true. She would have fallen to the floor with relief if he hadn't had his arms around her. If only she had known this sooner.
She couldn't bear to be apart from him that night. She wasn't quite ready to let him lie next to her, knowing that she needed to feel more stable before that could happen, so instead he occupied the chair next to the bed that they had bought just a few months ago. Though his presence in the room gave her peace, she found herself lying awake most of the night, her mind racing. She wondered whether John would get much sleep either or whether he was doing the very same, conscious not to let her know. The evening had been far from perfect, but the night had brought a change and for that she was grateful. It was a comfort for her to hear the words from him, for her keenest fear to be dispelled. Somewhere in the back of her mind it still lingered. He had every right to leave her, if he ever woke up one day and changed his mind. Any other man would not have hesitated. If people ever found out – and she prayed to God that they didn't – they certainly would not blame him.
But he was not any man. He was a remarkable man, he was John Bates. He was her John Bates still, and she thanked God for it and for him every second of the day and for every long hour of the night. She moved her head on the pillow, took in the sight of him and his limbs stretched out in front of him in the tiny chair. His hands clasped upon his abdomen, chin tipped down to his chest as he slept lightly. Anna was filled with a sudden burst of love regarding her husband, suddenly yearning to be closer to him. Instead she continued to watch him, growing more thankful than ever before that he was here with her and not anywhere else.
Anna regarded herself closely in the mirror, turning her face more fully into the light. The bruises and cuts had faded to nothing now, but she still had the dark circles resting underneath her eyes, which only seemed to grow deeper every day. Her cheeks had yet to fill out completely, and her complexion, which had always been fair, was an almost ghostly pallor. She sighed, knowing that visible changes would only come with time, but still feeling appalled with the image of herself that greeted her.
John was not in the hallway as she had expected, the time being very close to that when they needed to leave to be able to get to the Abbey. She felt a vague sense of panic, it dropping to her heels when she padded in to find him in the sitting room, stretching to arrange the frill of the curtains. Silly beggar, she thought fondly, he'll do himself no favours. He turned seconds after her arrival, his eyes upon her for longer than she expected. She felt herself shrink a little underneath his gaze, she didn't feel particularly worthy of it that morning.
"May I say something to you?" he said after a few moments, hands toying with one another before falling to his sides.
"Of course you may," Anna answered, more than a touch bemusedly.
His lips curved upwards on the permission she had given, his eyes kind and teeming with adoration.
"You look beautiful."
Her breath caught, fighting the urge to deny him. The smile on his face grew, and gradually, she let her own come to light.
She had let him near her, let him hold her, though she was sure that he could feel her trembling. She willed herself to stop, but everything in her body was disconnected. She wanted to inch away at least until it ceased, to make sure that he knew it had nothing to do with him. She was so far out of control. It was the first time he had held her again, here. She felt awkward about it. She didn't want to disappoint him.
His hands moved from her back, came to cup her face tenderly. She was stuck still, too rigid to be able to follow the path, eyes pinned to his chin rather than looking up into his own. She concentrated hard on knowing his touch.
"You are beautiful, Anna," he breathed, "you are so very beautiful."
She couldn't stop herself from shaking her head as it was in his palms. She heard a whimper come from the back of his throat.
"You are, you are."
She wanted to believe his words, but she couldn't. He'd told her so many times before, but that was different. That was before. She was no longer. She couldn't possibly be.
Anna moved forward into the room, met by her husband as he started to come forward. Placing her hands lightly on his forearms, she moved them apart, let herself fold against him. She felt John's smile against her neatly styled hair and his hands as he held her delicately.
"You are beautiful," he told her, his hands resting just so that he wouldn't crumple her pressed uniform.
This time, she had started to believe.
