Chapter 1

He is reasonably settled in his lodgings in Ripon, looking around his room it is no different to the sparse room at Downton - a single bed, a bedside table with a reading lamp, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers - what more could a man need. He has several jobs to keep him busy, working in different jobs breaks the monotony and the hours are not as long, and he knows he should be thankful of employment at all, especially with his past or so he tries to cheer himself up after losing the valet post.

It is during the long nights when sleep allude him or when work is slow, he cannot shake the thoughts of her - her smile, her kindness, her unwavering support, her thoughtfulness. He missed sitting next to her at meal times and the familiar quiet when he reads while she mends - it feels so natural and so right.

He keeps replaying all the shared moments - he remembers all of them in the few months he was there, from the first day she introduced herself when he faced the sour-faced lady's maid to the dinner tray she brought up to him on his last night. Snatches of conversations when mending, reading, writing, and longer slightly veiled conversations walking to church. All he knows is he's never felt so alive in her presence, he cannot remember the last time he felt happy and at peace as when she is around.

Stop it, you cannot drag her into your troubles. You are insane to even consider this.

But her last words were imprinted in his brain, "Tell us when you're fixed...just drop us a line...else I'll worry"

Of course she was just being kind, he tells himself, but why did she cry as she walked away, he heard her, does she care for me?

He had written several letters over the last few months and subsequently burnt them. As with the countless letters before this doubts crept in. He reads the latest one he penned;

Dear Anna,

I hope you are well and not working too hard.

I am dropping you a note to let you know I have found some work in Ripon. The most enjoyable is at a small bookshop, Ink-blot, near the post office. The owners, an elderly couple, are quite generous in allowing me to read the books and I take full advantage of this - as you know, reading is something I enjoy. I am there on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. If my memory serves me well you have Wednesday afternoon off, should you find yourself in Ripon in need of a good book, it would be my great pleasure to recommend you one.

I also want to take this opportunity to thank you for bringing up my dinner tray that night, it was very much appreciated and it was rather rude of me for not saying so at that time. I apologise.

Sincerely,

J. Bates

It had been almost three months since he left, he should have written sooner. How much harm could come with this short note; he reasoned that he is allaying her worries. Surely she is not going to turn up at the bookshop, he laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

He shoved the letter in an envelope, sealed and posted it before another thought stopped him.

Daisy can't be waking us up already, we just got to bed, thought Anna. Lately she finds it difficult to find any motivation in her work. She still performs her duties impeccably, Mrs Hughes relies on her and there have been no complaints from the girls or her Ladyship, but something doesn't feel quite right.

She took slightly longer to get herself ready this morning. By the time she was down for breakfast, there was only time to eat a piece of toast and gulp down a cup of tea before Lady Edith rang for her. Lady Sybil was next, she was cheerful at least, making the task of dressing her a lot easier and pleasant. Unlike Lady Sybil, Lady Mary was moody and upset at the expectation of her to marry the new heir, whom she feels is below her status and had kept Anna a bit longer getting ready being indecisive about her outfit for today.

After all her morning tasks are completed, she made her way down to the servants' hall for a bit of reprieve before the change for luncheon. Normally she looks forward to this short break for a hot cup of tea. Yet the atmosphere in the servants' hall feels odd - it feels as though she doesn't belong there.

What an peculiar thought - of course I belong here.

The talk at the table centred around the new heir and his mother's arrival, led by O'Brien. She made it known that she has a very low opinion of 'a doctor's son from Manchester' being the next Earl of Grantham. A new valet was hired, much to Thomas' annoyance that he was over looked by Lord Grantham once again. The new valet is pleasant enough and very sure of himself which tends to antagonise Thomas and O'Brien. Although truth be told, it doesn't take much to antagonise those two.

Perhaps I am just tired of Thomas and O'Brien with their spiteful and bullying tactics, thought Anna.

The welcome dinner for Cousin Crawley and his mother is putting on the pressure on everyone; Mr Carson snapping at poor William for not mending a small tear in his jacket, Mrs Patmore more sharp-tongued than usual with young Daisy bearing the brunt, Mrs Hughes is the only one who manages to keep calm. The tension created by this event do not explain why she feels uneasy in the servants' hall - something is missing.

No, someone is missing. She has been denying it for months now, but now, she's finally admitted it to herself, she misses Mr Bates.

Next morning, her thoughts kept leading her to Mr Bates. Although he was only there for a few months, she felt an affection for him, and there were occasions when she thought he felt the same. He was usually at the table by the time she finished with the girls in the morning, he would have a cup of tea and biscuits ready for her. She smiled softly at the memory.

"What are you up to? Why are you smirking?" ask O'Brien, noticing Anna's smile.

"I'm not smirking," retorted Anna, "I'm smiling - you won't know the difference."

Mr Carson walks in just in time to prevent O'Brien responding, "The morning post's arrived," and proceeds to distribute the mail. He handed two letters to Anna - one was her sister's familiar writing, the other was unknown to her with no return address. Just as she was about to open her mail, the bell rang. It will have to wait.