Author's Note: This is what happens when you have the germ of an idea, then stay up late trolling around Tumblr. I have to give credit for two ideas in this story that came out of Tumblr conversations to which I was only an observer. I can't recall who first proposed each idea (though I did go back and try to find the conversations, but several days later, that's hard), but if either was you, you'll know it when you see it. I will happily give credit by name if someone will point those names out to me.
This is not truly CS speculation, though I wouldn't mind seeing something along these lines. Of course, we never will, because Lord Fellowes just does not love Anna and Bates as much as we do. He tortures them, and that may just make him the enemy.
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Downton or any of the characters contained therein. If I did, every last Banna fanfic would be canon, even the ones that contradict each other, which would still make more sense than the last two series.
"Welcome back, Mrs. Bates!" Mr. Carson's voice burst through the doorway of the servants' hall before Anna had even removed her hat and coat.
"Thank you, Mr. Carson," she said as the others gathered around her. "It's a great relief to be back." Anna glanced over her shoulder to see her husband shrugging out of his own overcoat. He paused in the act of placing his hat on its peg; she wondered if he was pausing intentionally, giving himself time to work through his own thoughts and emotions of the day—the month—they had just survived. But survived it they had, hopefully stronger than ever. Anna had no wish to dwell on her recent experiences any more than the nightmare that had led to them, but she knew her husband well, and John would brood until all the chicks were dead and gone. She smiled at him, a true smile, for she was truly happy to be back at Downton, and held her hand toward him. He met her smile with the self-deprecatory smirk that had first won her over and yet never ceased to frustrate her. And yet, with a determined tap of his cane, he joined her as she moved to take a seat at the table.
Daisy had been in the midst of laying the tea before their arrival, and she bustled to and from the kitchen with a heaping tray of scones that she placed directly in front of Anna's place. "You take all you want, Mrs. Bates," she insisted, her eyes nevertheless darting to Mr. Carson's for silent approval. "I'm sure you haven't eaten very well."
"I'm really quite all right, Daisy," Anna said quietly. "I'm sure it could have been a great deal worse." She looked askance at John beside her, who pointedly looked away. She reached under the table and clutched tightly at his hand. He had been pulling into himself ever since the train had arrived at Downton and she was determined to pull him back to her.
"It's a good thing your train arrived as soon as it did, Mrs. Bates," Miss Baxter said in her soft voice from across the table. "Lady Grantham and Lady Mary have planned a small celebration in your honor this evening. You'll have time to get ready now."
Anna caught her husband's eye and questioned him silently. He tilted his head slightly to the side in a gesture she had long since learned to interpret as confusion. It was followed quickly by the tight frown that signaled disappointment, an expression, and an emotion, they were both all too familiar with. Anna sighed, they had come straight to the Abbey from the train station, knowing the others would want to see her, but all she really wanted was to go home, their true home, the one she shared with John alone. She wanted to be able to firmly shut the front door on all of their demons and simply relish the company of her husband. It had been glorious being cradled in his embrace on the train from London to Downton, in their very own first class car at His Lordship's insistence, but that wasn't nearly enough after a month of being denied even the sight of him. They had decided on the way back that they would stop in at the Abbey, and then ensconce themselves in their cottage for at least a day before even thinking about anyone else. But it seemed that Lady Mary had other plans, and Anna couldn't very well deny her.
"Yes," Daisy enthused as she darted back in from the kitchen, "we're getting two Servants' Balls this year! One for you, tonight, and then the regular ball after the New Year."
"A Ball?" Anna asked, even more taken aback.
"Her Ladyship insisted," Miss Baxter explained. "She wants you to know how valued you are by the family."
Mrs. Hughes patted Anna's shoulder gently before sitting beside her. "I did try to convince Her Ladyship that you might prefer to . . . rest, after your long journey," she said quietly, for Anna's ears alone, "but Lady Mary wouldn't hear of it. She was adamant that you should be welcomed home by the entire household."
Anna noticed John tapping the handle of his tea cup, a sure signal of his agitation at the words she was certain he had heard as well. She tugged his left hand into her lap underneath the table. Stroking her thumb across his knuckles, she wondered which of them she was trying to comfort. His large hand clenched into a fist around her fingers for a moment then relaxed. His palm settled onto her thigh and she continued to gently sweep her thumb back and forth across his knuckles. Switching hands, not wanting to lose the physical contact with him, she reached for her own tea, flashing John a quick smile of thanks as she did so. As always, her tea was just the way she liked it.
Mrs. Hughes leaned toward the couple once more, satisfied that the rest of the staff were focused enough on the meal. "Certainly Her Ladyship won't expect you to close down the ball, Anna. As long as you stay long enough to be greeted by everyone, and dance with His Lordship and Mr. Branson, you could probably make an early exit."
"If you like," John whispered as he lightly squeezed her knee, "I could go get you something else to change into and bring it back here for you to change."
"Do I really look that bad?" Anna asked him with a slightly lilting tease.
"Of course not," he replied. "You look perfect." He glanced around the table, almost daring anyone to comment, even though few beyond Mrs. Hughes could have heard his words.
"Then if the family wishes to welcome me back, they can welcome me just as I am," she declared. "You and I have played this scene before, Mr. Bates, and it will go a little differently this time. We will go home together."
"As you wish, Mrs. Bates," he murmured. "As you wish."
Anna smiled and returned her attention to her tea and the rather large sandwich and scone on her plate.
"So did they tell you who did actually kill him then?" Mr. Molesley blurted out as he swallowed. "I mean, since they know neither you nor Mr. Bates did, though why they'd suspect either of you I—" Molesley stopped speaking abruptly as Miss Baxter tapped his forearm on one side and Mr. Barrow practically elbowed him from the other. Mr. Carson harrumphed from the head of the table.
"There will be no speculation of that sort here, Mr. Molesley," he ordered in stentorian tones. "We are grateful that the authorities now know what we have always known, that Mrs. Bates is a tower of civility and propriety, incapable of any wrongdoing."
"Thank you, Mr. Carson," Anna and Bates spoke in unison, though Anna noticed more pride than gratitude in John's voice. Then again, she recalled her own pride in him the day she brought him home from prison. Perhaps it was finally time to lay all of their respective self-doubt aside and rest in their assurance of one another.
A short while later, Anna tucked her hand in John's elbow as he led her into the library. She found herself gripping the fabric of his suit jacket tightly. His Lordship had sent word for the Bateses to see him as soon as possible upon their return. Anna was not surprised to see Lady Mary sitting regally on one of the red settees. Her mistress rose and walked toward the couple, hand outstretched.
"Anna, welcome home," the bit of intensity in Lady Mary's tone was the equivalent of gushing in anyone else. She took Anna's free hand and squeezed. Anna squeezed back and loosened her hold on John's arm slightly.
"Thank you, my lady," Anna nodded. She observed Lady Mary's gaze taking in her rather possessive hold on her husband, and mentally shrugged off any concern about proper behavior for a servant. She hadn't seen her husband in almost a month. She was not about to let him go so soon. If this ridiculous idea of a ball truly came about, she supposed she would have to let go long enough to dance with a few others, but that was, hopefully, some time away. She would keep John close for a while yet, no matter who thought she should do otherwise.
"Bates," Lord Grantham began with some hesitation, "I've asked you here because I've been given some information that will become public soon and I feel that you and Anna have a right to hear it directly from me." The earl rifled through some papers on his desk, apparently not relishing whatever he was about to tell them.
"Anna," he began again, "I don't know how much Bates has told you, but he has spent most of the last few weeks in London, working with Mr. Murray and the police to secure your release."
"I am very grateful, Your Lordship," Anna said. "I cannot thank you enough for the support Your Lordship has given—"
"Anna," he interrupted her firmly, but quite gently. "It wasn't their efforts that freed you. Apparently Scotland Yard received another anonymous letter suggesting that they investigate one of their first alleged witnesses a bit more thoroughly. As it happens, that 'witness' turned out to be the actual murderer."
"I wondered what had happened," Bates said. "They simply sent me a message the day before yesterday telling me Anna would be released. As I told Your Lordship that afternoon, all I wanted was to collect Anna as soon as possible and return to Downton immediately."
Lord Grantham nodded. "Just as you should have done, Bates," he agreed. "But as the truth still impacts this house, Mr. Murray felt I should be aware of the recent developments. As I feel you both have a right to know."
"Well, Papa," Lady Mary said as she settled gracefully back onto the edge of the settee, "do, please, enlighten us."
"Do you recall Miss Braithwaite?" Lord Grantham asked the room. "She was lady's maid to Lady Grantham for a short time after O'Brien left."
Lady Mary shook her head in a slight negative. Bates nodded affirmatively while Anna looked to the floor. She had always wondered about Miss Braithwaite's rather abrupt departure.
"As I recall," Lord Grantham continued, "she was none too fond of you, Anna. She felt you weren't very kind to her. Bates and I argued about it one evening when I asked him to speak to you about it."
Anna ran her hand forward to grasp John's and looked up again. "I am sorry about the trouble with Miss Braithwaite, Your Lordship, but what does she have to do with us now?"
"Apparently she struck up an association with Green when he was first here with Lord Gillingham," he explained. He ran his finger down a page on the desk, as though looking for a piece of information. "And apparently their association continued in London. She was evidently privy to enough details about Green's life that when they had a falling out, she was able to make his murder appear an accident. And even when witnesses began to come forward, she was then able to divert attention to members of this house, first Bates, and then you. If the police hadn't received the anonymous letter suggesting they investigate her, you might be standing trial by now."
"Well then, I'm extremely grateful to whomever this anonymous person may be," Anna said. She clasped John's hand just that bit more tightly as she thought about standing trial. She still occasionally had nightmares about John's trial. The merest thought of watching him in the gallery as she stood in the prisoner's block brought them all crashing to the front of her mind.
"I suppose I should have listened to Carson," the earl mused. "He said at the time that Miss Braithwaite was not up to Downton standards despite the reference Mrs. Hughes had written her. But then, he said the same thing about you once, Bates."
"You weren't to know, m'lord," John offered. "But you had known me."
"So what happens to this Miss Briefcase?" Lady Mary asked.
"Braithwaite," Anna and the earl corrected her in simultaneous fashion. Lady Mary waved off their attempts as though the maid's name was of no moment.
"She'll stand trial," Lord Grantham said. "Though it will probably be quick as she confessed to the whole story almost as soon as the police had turned the tables on her."
"It sounds as though Miss Bumblebee deserves to be stung," Lady Mary pontificated.
"I wonder who sent the letter," John mused. "Only that it was an anonymous letter that led Scotland Yard to question Miss Baxter a while back."
"We'll probably never know, Bates," their employer said. "I recommend simply being grateful to Anna's mysterious benefactor."
"I certainly won't argue with that," John said as he, rather daringly, let go of her hand and put his arm around her waist. While Anna was certain that Lord Grantham and Lady Mary saw happiness and pride in John's face, she doubted, or at least she hoped they wouldn't pick up on the darkening of his eyes as he gazed at her that signaled his desire. Anna found herself wondering yet again how they were supposed to make it through a party without one of them dragging the other back to their cottage or out into the bushes to properly celebrate her return.
She was pulled from her pleasant reverie as Thomas stepped into the room. Anna noticed that he wore a regular suit, not his tie and tails. "Mrs. Hughes says we're just about ready, m'lord. Lady Grantham is in the drawing room. Did you want to change?"
The earl glanced between the Bateses and Lady Mary. "I think not, Barrow, but thank you. This is a welcome home, not a gala. As long as I can steal her away for at least one dance, Bates," he added as he turned toward them.
Anna sensed John was about to speak through the tension in his hand and quickly pre-empted him. "As long as it's a quick dance, Your Lordship," she stated firmly. Her words were met with an indulgent smile from the earl and a blank stare from his daughter. "I'd really prefer to spend most of the evening with my husband."
"Understood, Anna," Lord Grantham said with a nod and a slight smirk toward his valet. "Shall we go? The sooner we begin, the sooner it will all end." He waved his arm grandly toward the door and waited for Anna and Bates to precede him.
Two hours into her "Welcome Home" ball and Anna was well and truly frustrated. She had danced with His Lordship, Mr. Branson, and Mr. Aldridge, which seemed to thoroughly amuse Lady Rose. Then there was Mr. Carson, and Mr. Barrow, and every last groom, gardener, and hall boy the estate still employed. Even the Marquis of Flintshire and Lord Merton had each claimed a dance. The only men in the Abbey she had yet to dance with were Mr. Molesley and her own husband. She wondered why Mr. Molesley seemed to be ignoring her. She had been able to spend some time with John, but scarcely had they exchanged a few words when someone was whisking her off to the dance floor. She hardly felt like she could truly refuse, no matter how much she wished to do. They had all missed her— well most of them anyway— and they had invested such hope and emotion in her, and she knew how they felt, having been through the same experience waiting for John's release. And she had missed them—well, most of them anyway—just not nearly as much as she had missed John.
As Lord Merton bowed to her at the end of their dance, she caught sight of two rather young hall boys snickering to each other behind a potted fern. John had mentioned for her to keep an eye on them during one of their all-too-brief interludes. It was odd, come to think of it, she recalled. He had nodded at the boys, and then said, "Remember Duneagle?" None of which made any sense at all until two hands grabbed her own and began to swing her around like a top on a string.
"Whhhheeeeeee!" Mr. Molesley exclaimed as her spun with her.
Anna found herself chuckling despite her dizziness. She came to a stop, forcing him to stand and look her in the eye. "Are you quite all right, Mr. Molesley?"
Mr. Molesley seemed unable to remain still as, no sooner than they had stopped spinning, he began to dance a sprightly jig. Anna wondered how he could keep the beat of his steps since they seemed completely out of time to the music that was playing. "I am wonderful, Anna," he shouted, "absolutely wonderful!"
"I'm very happy for you then, Mr. Molesley," she said, backing away from him and looking for John.
"I've always wanted to dance with you," he said in a softer voice. She would have considered it a compliment were it not for the giggle, titter, and hiccup that punctuated every other word. He reached out to grasp her hands again. For all his inebriation, he moved very fast. He put one arm around her waist and twirled her around the dance floor. "I used to fancy you, you know," he whispered loudly, as though sharing a great secret.
"I do know," she said, her own head beginning to wobble as he spun them around faster and faster. She couldn't find John. He had been sitting at the same table most of the evening, sometimes talking with His Lordship, other times with Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson. But he had always been there, and now, when she actually needed him—not just wanted him—he was nowhere to be found.
Suddenly, Molesley spun her out so she was at arm's length from him. "Whheeeeee!" he trilled again, spinning her back into his arms. He spun her out again and she slammed into the solid bulk of . . . oh, thank heaven, of John.
"Are you all right?" he asked her, taking hold of her arms to help steady her.
"Yes, I'm . . ." Anna began. "Oh my goodness!" Mr. Molesley had jigged his way around behind John and was now swinging his suit coat in a circle above his head. Anna tugged John further onto the dance floor to avoid seeing him be smacked in the back of the head by Molesley's jacket.
"Ole!" Molesley cried as he flung his jacket across the room. To Anna's horror, he then began undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. John turned to confront him.
"Mr. Molesley," he stated in the calm voice that had always soothed her, "I think you've had enough of the ball for one evening." Anna felt His Lordship and Mr. Branson come along either side of her. She could just see Mr. Carson out of the corner of her eye, apparently too flabbergasted by Molesley's performance to even react.
"Ole!" Molesley shouted again as he flung his waistcoat in the opposite direction from his jacket.
"I always wondered if he had Latin blood," His Lordship muttered to Mr. Branson. Anna found the comment even more odd than Mr. Molesley's behavior.
She leaned around John to see the footman swinging from Daisy to Madge. Molesley's shirt had become almost completely untucked after his vigorous performance. He took one more energetic swing and twisted away from Madge to come directly face-to-face with Miss Baxter. His face fell slightly.
"Ahhhh, Miss Baxter," he said with a slight questioning tone, "I'm sure. Do you want to be sure? Are you sure?" He took her abruptly in his arms and spun them around together several times.
Baxter grabbed him by the arms and stared him down. "I think you need to calm down," she said patiently. "You need to calm down, Mr. Molesley." He returned her stare for a moment then collapsed in on himself as he looked from her to Mrs. Hughes' stern countenance behind her.
Anna watched him deflate still further as John and Mr. Branson came along either side of him and took him firmly by an arm. "We'll take care of him, Lord Grantham," Mr. Branson said. John met her gaze and cocked his head at just that angle that let her know he would finish the task as quickly as possible so he could rejoin her.
As they escorted Molesley toward the entrance to the service staircase, Baxter said quietly, "I am sure, Mr. Molesley. Quite sure, indeed."
Molesley's face erupted with the most beatific smile Anna had ever seen. "Did you hear that, Mr. Bates?" he asked her husband as he shifted in John's hold so he could still look at Miss Baxter. "She's su-u-u-u-u-u-ur-r-r-r-r-r-re!" As he trilled out the word he surged through the door, practically dragging his reluctant attendants along with him.
"I'm sure this is the strangest evening I've spent in this house yet," the Dowager murmured to Mrs. Crawley.
"And that's certainly saying something, with all you've seen," Mrs. Crawley agreed.
Sometime later which felt an eternity to Anna, she sat at the table in the servants' hall waiting for John to return from tending to His Lordship. She drummed her fingers on the table, feeling out of sorts with no tasks to work on and . . . well, to be honest, no John. Every so often her wedding ring glinted in the glare of the electric lamps. She found herself moving her fingers in ever more intricate patterns, trying to make the little glimmer of gold dance. Despite her earlier protests, and her most determined intentions, she had spent about as much time with John today as she did the day of his return from prison. She found herself musing on the very odd cycle their life together seemed to be going through. As outlandish as the thought was, she decided that she perhaps ought to keep John away from the company of the Dowager's new lady's maid. While her taste seemed to run toward younger men, if ever there was a woman who could turn a man inside out as thoroughly as Green had done to her (although in quite a different fashion, she dearly hoped), Miss Denker was that woman.
"Anna?" Mr. Carson's voice was a velvet rumble as he came near her. "Are you . . . how are you feeling?" His hesitation amused and gratified her. If another person asked her if she was "all right" she was certain she'd truly scream. For all of the distance the butler preferred to keep between himself and most of the others, Anna knew he truly cared. Having been witness to several times when his façade had slipped ever so slightly over the years, she felt she could read him well enough.
"I am well, Mr. Carson," she said firmly. "And I am very glad to be home." She folded her hands together and brought them to her lap, hoping to rein in the frustration she felt. "The last few weeks have been quite unpleasant, but I want nothing so much as to leave them behind and move forward."
Mr. Carson nodded and, in a rare gesture, reached out to gently pat her arm. "We're very . . . proud of you, Anna," he said, accentuating each word with a brief tap on her forearm. "I know I speak for the family, and the staff, and for . . . for me. I speak for me. You have maintained your dignity and grace throughout. I am proud of you, Anna."
She was certain that she had never heard him speak so sincerely. "Thank you, Mr. Carson." It was all she could think to say. He squeezed her arm once more, almost in benediction, it felt, and made his way to his office.
"I'm proud of you, too." John's rumble was every bit as velvety as Mr. Carson's yet had an edge to it that cut away everything else around her. He was the moon and she the tide; he had only to step into a room and she would rise up to meet him.
"I want to go home, Mr. Bates," she said as she stood from the table, the desire in his eyes calling to her far more fervently than the pride in his voice. When he reached her side and offered her his arm, she took it carefully. Just running her fingers along the fabric of his jacket sent tingles racing through her. She felt certain that once she touched bare skin she might quite literally burn with wanting for him.
"The only place I've wanted to go all day," he growled.
Anna smiled as he helped her into her coat and carefully placed her hat upon her head. His touches also seemed to be careful, as if he were holding himself rigidly under control. "I don't think it's going to be a long walk home tonight," she said with a smirk.
Anna loved their long walks home, nights when every twist and turn of the path was marked by a kiss or caress, when their strides were precisely in step with the other, when they held hands or linked arms, and spoke at length of plans and hopes and dreams. But she rather enjoyed their short walks home, too, when one or both of them were so enflamed with desire that the briefest touch, or even a glance might erupt in more passion than they cared to share with any passersby. Those nights were a race to their front door, crashing it closed behind them with relief and joy as they crashed just as quickly into one another's arms.
"Probably not," John agreed, bundling her out the door.
"Oh," Anna sighed as she took in the view. Snow was falling in huge, soft flakes, gathering in the corners and on the ledges in the courtyard, transforming the drab service entrance into a picture postcard scene. The cold and the silence both calmed her and emboldened her.
"John," she whispered, "we need to talk for a moment." She stepped away from him and turned her head up, letting the snowflakes settle on her cheeks. She turned then and saw him watching her bemusedly.
"I love watching you do that," he said with a chuckle. He leaned his cane against a stack of crates and took a half-step toward her. "One day I hope—"
"John," she interrupted him. She glanced around, suddenly feeling rather warm, and unbuttoned her coat. She stepped closer to him, not wanting to lose all the heat between them. "I know my time, my experience in jail wasn't nearly as demanding as yours, but I did learn some things about myself there."
"Oh? What did you learn, oh brave and beautiful wife?" He drew her closer still, slipping his arms under her open coat and making her warm again.
"I learned that I never want to be without you," she said. "I know I pushed you away after . . . well, after what happened, but you were still here. Seeing you every day was torture, but it was also all that kept me going then. Not being able to see you, speak to you, touch you these past weeks has been a far worse torture." He kissed her forehead and moved his hands to cradle her cheeks. She placed her own hands over his.
"John?"
"Hmmmm?" He kissed her forehead again.
"I learned something else about myself while I was away." Anna shifted from one foot to another, stepping out of the growing puddle as the snow melted at their feet.
"What did you learn, oh wise and wonderful wife?" He slipped one arm back inside her coat and the other around her shoulders, drawing her in for a slow, deep kiss.
Anna licked her lips as her drew back, savoring the taste of him. Pausing until he looked directly at her, she said, "I learned that I was . . . that I am . . . pregnant." She smiled at the momentary disbelief and then the sheer wonder in his eyes.
The hand inside her coat drifted down to rest over her stomach. "Baby Bates, at last?" His laugh was almost a giggle.
She nodded and laughed in answer. "Next summer," she breathed.
"It can't come soon enough," he said. "You make me want to spin you around the way Molesley did earlier." He took both of her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing each in turn.
"Oh, please no," she begged. "It was all I could do to not faint!" She tucked his arms back around her waist and leaned up on her toes to kiss him. "I have a much better idea," she said as she eased back down, running her hands along his lapels.
"And what might that be, oh miraculous and marvelous mother of my child?" He jostled her even closer, holding her with one arm and again stroking the other hand across her stomach.
"Take me home, Mr. Bates," she rose up and whispered in his ear. "Take me . . . take us home."