As she walked, she could feel the cool rain thump on her thick felt hat, yet neither the rain nor the cold seemed to chill her. It was black. There was no moon in the sky and only the darkened shape of the Abbey was visible to her. The darkness of her surroundings only seemed to add to the stillness in the air. All she could hear was the splash of the rain hitting the ground—a steady trilling thump.

It had been one week exactly since it happened. She had noted the time as the perverse anniversary passed. While the initial shock had set into something more like a steady numbness, she waited. She wasn't sure what for, but she waited for it to happen: Mr. Bates to guess, or Mrs. Hughes to inform the police behind closed doors, or perhaps even for Lady Mary to catch on. She was exposed in a way that she had never been before. She felt that the whole world knew what had happened, as if it were written in the new creases lining her face. Her shame was known, she was sure of it.

It was for this reason that she didn't want to see anybody, or go too near her fellow servants. She couldn't think about going near Mr. Bates. It was as if she might infect them with her soiled nature. She was unclean, and not even this pure Yorkshire rain could wash her shame, guilt and worry away.

She walked on, mulling over the present state of her life. Was it worth it? To keep it up, keep on living. She wouldn't want to cause Mr. Bates any more pain, yet if she was with child there could be no alternative. She would have to . . . .She didn't want to think about that. Didn't know if she had the strength to.

The cold began to creep into her skin as she rested against one of the cedar trees that guarded the main drive of Downton. She marveled at how easily it had been to slip out of her room in the middle of this god-forsaken night. As she had pulled her coat over her shoulders and slipped her shoes over her stocking-less feet she thought how easy it would be to slip away forever. The floorboards creaked as she drifted past Mrs. Hughes's room but she noted the steady hum of snoring coming from within and moved on. This is how she filled her nights now. It was easier than lying awake in an oppressively empty room where a foreign stillness seemed to creep into her. This is how she would spend her nights. Alone in this vast wilderness she was beginning to know as reality.

Anna couldn't be sure if the faint glow of morning was in her mind as she glanced up at the sky, but she began to walk back to the abbey all the same. She couldn't bear the thought of another day, a tired repetition of the previous one. She must wait, though. Wait and see what's to happen next. The pretense of her perfection with Mr. Bates must be kept up until she knew what would happen next. She did so want to protect him and the thought of his unhappiness, and her being the cause of it, contorted her face until a small burst of tears streamed down. It was the first time she had allowed herself the luxury. Yet, as soon as it started her face returned to its usual visage—a blank space.

As she gently turned the handle of the back door and let herself in she had the strange sensation that she was being watched. She closed the door and removed her heavy hat, now black with rain, and her muddy boots. Her smooth, damp feet hitting the cool floorboards sent goose bumps up her flesh and for the first time she felt cold. She began to make her way past the Servants' Hall with the intention of climbing the stairs when a voice softly called out to her.

"Anna."

Mrs. Hughes had said the name almost as a question, but it was clear that she already knew the answer. Anna slowly turned around to face the housekeeper, cringing at the thought of facing another person. Mrs. Hughes was in her rose colored dressing gown with her hair pulled back into a neat braid. Her face was one of pity, concern and sadness and it filled Anna with dread.

"I was just going out for some air, Mrs. Hughes," Anna stuttered in forced confidence, "I couldn't seem to sleep. I hope I didn't wake you."

Mrs. Hughes stood from her chair at the table and reached her arms out and clasped Anna's shoulders. "Well! Heavens you'll catch your death." She cocked her head slightly and the furrow of her brow deepened. "Are you alright?"

Anna shrugged slightly, wanting to be away from the attention "Yes, I'm quite alright Mrs. Hughes. I'm just a little tired so I'll go to bed now."

Mrs. Hughes let her hands slip from Anna's shoulders and regretfully stepped away. "If your sure your alright, Anna?" She questioned, giving the girl one last look-over.

A hint of relief flickered over Anna's face. "Yes quite sure, goodnight Mrs. Hughes," she said before turning and promptly climbing the stairs.

As Mrs. Hughes watched Anna retreat, she couldn't help but feel the pain of the whole situation. What was she to do? How could she be of help to this girl? She couldn't tell the police, Anna had made her swear to secrecy, and she most certainly couldn't tell Mr. Bates. She was caught between keeping her distance with Anna and trying to show the girl her support. She wasn't sure if she was really helping at all or just making the situation worse. She had never had to deal with something quite this sinister before and the worry of it kept her from the warmth of her bed.

She hadn't grasped the full extent of Mr. Green's damage until Anna had asked her if she could stay at the Abbey in one of the servant's recently vacated rooms. Mrs. Hughes hadn't known why on earth Anna would want to be away from her husband at a time like this, when love and support was what she needed most. Her isolation and shame deeply troubled the housekeeper and she let the fleeting thought of a drastic decision creep into her worry. What if Anna did something foolish? But how was Mrs. Hughes to prevent it, except by keeping a watchful eye on the young woman. Perhaps Anna's return to the Abbey would insure that.

Mrs. Hughes had inadvertently sunk back into her chair. Now, she shook her head at the disturbing thoughts, as if she could shoo them away. She rose from her seat and cleared away her glass of milk that had begun to warm outside of the icebox. With heavy steps she made her way towards the stairs, careful to put out the lights and glance around the room one last time before returning to her quarters.