A/N : A quick detour from writing Across the Universe (yes, the last chapter has been started!) here. In the script book for Series 3, there was a fantastic scene in Christmas Special in Scotland between Bates and Anna that takes place after she finishes her reel. Bates in typical Bates fashion wonders how an "old-peg" like himself could be married to a "creature made of quicksilver and light." The scene also included Bates suggesting that he sneak into the maids' quarters (!) and Anna calling him "Mr. MacBates". I swear the whole thing reads like a fanfic. It's a great scene—check it out—it's floating around on-line. Anyway, in this drabble, Bates decides go ahead with his midnight tryst idea.
This is written in celebration of downtonreader's birthday—albeit a little late! Enjoy!
Quicksilver and Light
Creeeek!
John winced as the old floorboard groaned under his weight.
He closed his eyes in the dark and leaned back against the hallway wall. What in god's name had possessed him to leave his room? He really should head back and forget about this inane midnight tryst idea of his. Anna had told him as much earlier . . . earlier when she had just finished dancing a most fantastic reel . . . all for him. Marvelous, indeed.
No, he sought to reciprocate her action, her gift. Not that she expected him to, but he wanted to. And he always believed as Anna demonstrated earlier that it was important to keep the element of surprise alive within a marriage.
Well, she'd definitely be surprised . . . that's if he made it to her room without waking up the whole damn house.
He took another two steps down the hallway. He felt unbalanced and naked without his stick, but he didn't want to risk any extra sound. With one hand running along the side of the wall, he continued on.
The door to leading out of the men's corridor was just past the washroom. He was almost there. Only about twenty more feet. Then an unmistakable retching sound caused him to freeze.
John turned his head to the left and there sat Mr. Molesley. Poor Mr. Molesley.
A bright slice of moonlight illuminated the washroom. The inebriated valet's head hung low over the toilet. John briefly offered up a word of thanks for Lady Flintshire's recent indoor plumbing upgrades. Clean-up would be a whole hell of lot easier.
Before John could escape, Molesley lifted his head and attempted to focus.
"Is that yooou, Mr. Baaates?" He slurred at John.
He briefly scanned the hallway to see if anyone else was stirring. "Yes, Mr. Molesley. Are you all right?"
"Oooh," he groaned in pain. "I'm sicker than a bloody dog. I've think I've thrown up every bit I drunk and a barrel to boot."
John worked hard to suppress the chuckle that was quickly rising in his throat. He couldn't wait to describe the scene before him to Anna.
"Mr. Baaates, could yooooou help me? I-I-I don't think I can get up."
John sighed. This really wasn't how he anticipated his trek to Anna's room going, but he couldn't leave the pitiful man on the washroom tile.
He ambled over to Molesley. John put one hand on a nearby sink for leverage and with the other pulled his co-worker up by the back of his shirt much like a mama cat lifting her kitten by the its scruff. "Up you go, Mr. Molesley."
"Woooah!" Molesley flailed grabbing hold of him while his clumsy feet found their footing. John grimaced as the sick man's nauseating breath hit his nostrils. Jesus, how much whiskey did the man ingest?
Finally, he had Molesley on his feet though leaning heavily upon John. His knee really didn't need the extra pressure, but now that he had him up John felt compelled to usher him to his room.
"Come on, Mr. Molesley. Let's get you back to bed."
With a grunt of agreement from Molesley, the two men crossed the washroom and head back down the hall which was in the complete opposite direction of Anna's room. John shook his head at the truth of the old adage . . . one step forward, two steps back.
Once inside, Molesley let go of John and shuffled over to his bed where he promptly collapsed face first.
John turned to leave. "Thank you, Mr. Bates," Molesley called out. "I don't mean to be a bother. But it was worth it, you know. I had a brilliant time tonight."
"Well, you were a sight to see on the dance floor," John jabbed good-naturedly.
Molesley sleepily laughed in return. "But nothing like your Anna. She was splendid."
For a second a thin sliver of jealously ran through him, but pride quickly replaced it. "That she was. Good night, Mr. Molesley."
With that, John exited to the sound of Molesley already snoring.
Back to square one, John thought wearily.
He was able to exit the men's corridor without any problems and stood at the top of the landing for the stairs. The men and women's corridors both ended at the landing with an entry door. The men's was simply closed at night, the women's was locked. John reached into his robe pocket to retrieve a small nail file. If there was one positive thing about prison, he had picked up some useful skills.
He was just turning towards the women's door when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Bloody Hell! He thought everyone had already retired for the evening. He had just enough time to stash the file back in his robe before Mr. McCree, Duneagle's butler, made it to the top of the stairs.
"Mr. Bates, what are you doing still awake?"
Good question and the truth was not an option.
"Well, sir, my leg was bothering me and sometimes it helps if I go for a walk. Allows the muscles a chance to stretch."
McCree raised his eyebrows as he zeroed in on his injured limb. John wasn't sure if he was investigating his leg or his story. John held his breath like a school boy awaiting punishment from the headmaster.
With a nod, the butler accepted his words. "I shut down all the lights after I finished my game of chess with our gamekeeper. If you turn any on make sure they are turned off before coming back upstairs. The price of electricity is astounding."
"Yes, sir," John replied with what he hoped was not too much relief. "Goodnight, Mr. McCree."
"Umm, yes . . . goodnight," McCree murmured with disinterest, already opening the door to the men's corridor.
John leaned back against the wall in the shadows and waited. He distinctly heard the old man's footsteps stop at a door, open it and then softly close it. The coast was clear again.
He pulled out the file and stuck it in the lock. Miraculously, with a few jangles and jiggles, the door lurched open. John huffed self-satisfiedly to himself. Who knew breaking and entering could be so easy.
After quietly closing the door behind him, he began down the hall. He knew from waiting for Anna each morning on the landing that her room was on the right side of the hall. The door was open as maids came and went. She had definitely came from a room on the right side, but which room? He didn't think it was too far from the corridor door. Maybe the second room . . . yes, it was the second one.
John moved with as much stealth as possible given his cane-less state. He paused in front of the door and debated whether or not to knock. There was no light streaming from under the door. She was already in bed. No, best not to make too much noise. He'd just slip in the room . . . and into bed.
Silently, he twisted the door knob. The room was pitch black. All the guest servants had been placed in interior room which meant no windows. Ever so slowly, John made his way across the small space. The first thing his eyes adjusted to in the dark was a large splotch of white at the head of the bed. He initially thought it was just Anna's pillow, but as he took another step forward he realized exactly what the whiteness was—Miss O'Brien's sleeping hat.
Blimey!
How had one simple night walk between rooms turn into this nightmare?
John ever so slowly tip-toed backwards. He didn't dare risk the sound and effort of turning around. Plus he wanted to keep an eye on the old hag to make sure she didn't wake up. He knew she'd scream bloody murder if she found him in her room. John didn't even want to think about how much of a headache that would be.
Even though his knee ached from the odd position his backwards prancing put it in, John kept moving until he finally reached the door again. He scooted out and with a soft click pulled the door shut.
John let out a long, exhausted breath. He really should turn back. But in for a penny, in for a pound. He couldn't stop now. Besides he knew Anna's room was right by Miss O'Brien's. She had complained earlier in the week that she always got stuck by her. The next room had to be hers.
Once again he paused in front of the closed door. A dim light shone from beneath it. This was more like it. Anna was a night owl. While they often both read in bed at night, he usually turned out his light before her. Maybe it was his age, but she managed with a lot less sleep than John. Then again, she was a bear to get up in the morning.
He looked both ways to make sure the no one was stirring. Ever so gently he turned the brass knob. The door issued a miniscule creak. He took a step inside and . . .
THUD!
A large and very hard item connected with John's forehead.
"Ooow! "
"John! What in heaven's name?"
He blinked hard to regain focus. It was Anna's room. She was standing in front of him with a heavy book in her hand; one that she had just wielded at his head.
"Ssshhh . . ." He held up a finger to his lips as he groped to close the door.
John brought a hand up to his forehead to inspect the damage. A knot was already forming. God, it hurt like the devil.
"Are you all right?" Anna leaned in to inspect the damage.
He was about to reassure her that he was indeed fine when there was a sharp knock at the door. Anna eyes met his and motioned him to stand behind the door she was about to open. She deliberately took a deep, calming breath and ran her hands down her nightgown before answering.
John held his breath as he heard the stern voice of the Duneagle Housekeeper.
"What were all those noises? I could have sworn I heard voices?"
"Oh, it was nothing, Mrs. McGlocklin. You see, I dropped my water pitcher which made me jump and call out. Silly, really . . . but I was caught off guard.
"Did the pitcher break? If it did, we'd have to charge you the cost of it."
"Not to worry. It took a lucky bounce on the floor. Still all in one piece," Anna assured her.
The housekeeper huffed to herself. "Well, all right, but try to be a little more careful in the future. We don't need the whole house wakin' up, now do we?"
"Of course not," Anna offered a little too cheerfully.
When would this dreadful lady leave? His head was still swimming and his knee burned. He really needed to sit down.
"I suggest you get some sleep. You're supposed to be leavin' first thing in the morning," the housekeeper chastised as if Anna was a lowly housemaid.
"Of course, ma'am. Goodnight."
The older lady replied with another huff before turning and heading back across the hall to her room.
"Phew . . ." John collapsed into the small chair next to the door. "That was close."
"Yes, it was." Anna agreed as she poured water from the pitcher into a small basin. "Are you hurt?"
John shook his head as she dipped a washcloth into the water and applied it to his forehead. "But you pack a punch; that was quite a tome you whacked at my head."
He looked over at the book she had laid next to the pitcher. "Ivanhoe?"
"I thought it fit well with our surroundings."
"I suppose. Never was a fan myself, always thought Ivanhoe should have chosen Rebecca over Rowena."
Anna rolled her eyes. "I'll thank you very much, I hadn't finished it yet."
"Oh . . . sorry," John sheepishly looked down, holding the washcloth to his head.
Anna stood up straight. "Now that we're done with our book talk. . . John Bates, would you please tell me what you are doing sneaking around at this hour?"
He slumped back in the chair and sighed. This escapade hadn't gone at all how he expected. He had hoped to stealthily maneuver the hallway, surprise Anna and make delicious love to her. He hadn't expected to be nursing a large knot on his head while she glowered down at him.
"I wanted to surprise you, my dear."
Anna shook her head. "But I told you earlier that I'm leaving in the morning with Lady Mary. I have to get up extra early to make sure everything is packed and in order."
"I know, I know." John held up a hand before softly continuing. "It's just that . . ."
"Just . . . what?"
Sensing there was more to the situation than John was letting on, Anna kneeled before him taking both of his large hands in hers.
"You gave me such a gift tonight," John paused gathering his words. "Your grace and beauty was astonishing . . . effortless. You are truly infused with quicksilver and light."
Anna smiled up at him. "Trust me, it wasn't effortless. It took many hours of practice."
"You see," John explained sitting up in his chair. "It's just that. You took the time, when you already have so many other duties on your plate, to make this trip special for me."
A hand escaped to trace the curve of her neck and rest upon her cheek. "I just wanted to do the same for you. To show my appreciation . . . my love . . . especially after all that we've been through in the last year. I meant what I said; I still do marvel how an old peg-leg ended up with such a beautiful creature."
'Oh, John. Don't you think I wonder the same? How a woman headed towards spinsterhood became blessed with the love and affection of such an intelligent, caring, honorable man who just happened to be devilishly handsome? It sometimes seems my life, the one I was meant to lead, began with your arrival at Downton."
Anna stood up and framed John's face with both hands. "I love you, John."
His lips sought hers as she lowered her head. "And god knows I love you," he murmured before they met in a familiar, lingering kiss.
She pulled away slowly. But instead of getting up, Anna sat down on his good leg. She was always cognizant of his injury though it didn't stop her for taking liberties with his body for which John was extremely grateful.
"I'm sorry if I seemed less than thrilled by your arrival earlier. In truth, it was rather gallant of you to go slinking around in the dark just to be with me."
John let out a laugh deep in his belly. "Oh, you don't know that half of it."
He went on to describe his run-ins with Molesley and Mr. McCree and his accidental visit to Miss O'Brien's room.
Anna giggled with glee. "I don't know if you would've made it home alive if Miss O'Brien had caught you. She would have woke up the whole castle screaming. You might have found yourself back in prison, love."
"Ssshhh," John put a finger to her lips as he cradled her to his body. "We don't want another visit from Mrs. McGlocklin."
He gazed lovingly down at her. "I'd do it all again, even the detour into Miss O'Brien's room, if it meant I could spend time with you."
Anna snuggled even more firmly against him. "Aww, gallant and sweet. You're my Ivanhoe."
"I don't know about that," John chuckled. "But I am sorry I ruined the ending."
"That's all right. The hero always gets the blonde princess in the end. Predictable if you ask me."
John leaned in and nuzzled her neck. "Predictable or not, it happened to me. You will be always be my princess."
Anna grinned into his hair and whispered, "Come to bed, Mr. MacBates."