A/N: This has no bearing on any series five spoilers because although posted in September, it was finished in February, before filming started. It's a bit far-fetched, but so is Fellowes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

A Change in the Tides

1. The Cure of Saltwater

"Here we go, then. A penny lick for my dear husband."

John smiled as Anna returned to his side, holding the treat out in front of her with a wide grin upon her face. Her eyes danced as she watched him take hold of it, and he managed to shift it into his left hand while offering her his arm again. She giggled at that, taking the offer, standing close to his side.

"Don't let it melt," she said.

"I have no intention to. Let's find somewhere to sit."

"Have I tired you out already?" she teased, but seemed happy to comply. Together they strolled along the length of the beach, searching for a quiet spot a little way away from the others. While they certainly liked their colleagues very much, it was rare for them to spend any leisure time away from the village like this together, and John was determined to make the most of it while he could.

"Here seems like a good spot," said Anna. She was right: it was sheltered by the cliff face from the brisk breeze, and they had a very good view of the rest of the beach. John tossed his cane to the sand, releasing his hold on Anna while she spread the blanket that she had stolen from the servants' picnic basket en route. She settled herself down on it while he waited, and then he followed suit. She turned her head respectfully to glance out at the sea, obviously not wishing to dent his pride as he struggled like an old man. He was grateful for that, snugging his arm around her waist when he'd made himself comfortable. She leant in to him, resting her head against his shoulder. Her hat was getting in the way, digging rather painfully into his neck, but he couldn't mind in the slightest. She looked peaceful today, a sight that had become so rare over the last year. A sight that cut through his heart.

"It's so nice out here," she said happily, eyes scanning the vicinity. "I'm glad Mr. Carson chose here instead of one of those other stuffy places he was championing."

John chuckled. "I would have thought that you would have been interested."

"I never said I wasn't. But Mr. Carson as a tour guide?" She wrinkled her nose. "The fun would have been sucked right out of it. Can you imagine?"

Her expression was exquisite, and another spell of laughter bubbled inside him. God, he had missed her sharp wit and her beautiful sass and everything that had made her his Anna. For so long it had been muted, buried alive. At one time he had wondered if she would ever regain that fire. He was glad to see it fighting its way back now, even if only for short bursts at a time.

"Who would have made a better tour guide than Mr. Carson?" he said, trying to keep a straight face. "I imagine him to be very good indeed. You'd know the history of the royal family in great detail by the end of any tour, I'm quite sure."

"Well…" Anna drew the word out, as though she was mulling over her answer very hard. "I can think of one person who might have been a very good tour guide."

"Oh? Who's that, then?"

She tilted her head to the side, chin jutting. "He's a very clever man. He's built his knowledge through reading. He's got a lovely, soothing voice that you just have to listen to. And…" She leaned in conspiratorially, lips brushing his ear. "…He's a very handsome man too."

John's heart leapt in his chest, and he felt himself flush a deep red. Anna leant back, obviously satisfied, patting his thigh.

"Yes," she continued. "Mr. Molesley would have been perfect."

The little minx. He should have expected it really—the devilish light shining in her eyes was always a warning sign. Growling playfully, he squeezed her side, drawing her even closer.

"What did you say?" he said.

Her own arm came around him, anchoring them together. "You heard me."

He opened his mouth for a moment, intent on making a quip about the attentions of other men, before freezing. That was the sort of thing he could have said before. Not now.

Before. After. The labels would always exist, the neat little boxes that their lives together could be packed into. Such cold, scientific boxes. As if their whole life didn't revolve around them.

He'd soured his own mood at the realisation of his potential carelessness, instead clearing his throat and turning away. He had a second to spy Anna's hurt expression before he closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut. In the next moment her hand was on his face, the lace of her glove rubbing against his cheek.

"John?" she said. "Are you all right?"

He forced the best smile he could. "Yes. It's nothing. I'm fine."

She frowned. "No, it's something—"

"Nothing to worry about," he said firmly.

She wilted a little, casting her eyes downward. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh. He hadn't meant to make her feel as if it was her fault again. She was wont to blame herself whenever he was pensive or quiet, and he wished she wouldn't. Nothing could ever be her fault, and he wouldn't blame her for a single thing that had transpired that dark night. He was to blame. He should have looked after her, should have never have let her out of his sight when he'd clocked Green's overt flirting.

Heaving a weary sigh, he reached out and tentatively closed his hand over hers. "I'm sorry."

"You were thinking about it again, weren't you?"

Her small voice took him by surprise, and he glanced down at her. Her own gaze was averted from his, following the movement of her foot as she dug her heel into the sand. He couldn't answer her. She'd know that he was lying. The silence stretched on.

"You know," she said after a few moments, "I was having a nice time until now. I was having fun."

"I've spoiled it for you."

"No," she said fiercely. "It wasn't you. But I don't want to let it spoil it anymore. I'm tired of it. Please, John. I just want us to enjoy a normal day together. Is that too much to ask for?"

"No," he said quickly. "Of course it isn't."

Silence reigned for a few more moments before she nudged him, smiling tremulously. "Your penny lick will have melted if you don't hurry up and eat it."

John glanced down at the glass flute he was holding. She was right: the vanilla ice cream inside was looking decidedly soupy. Lips returning her smile, he held the glass between them.

"Why don't we share it?" he said.

Her eyes lit up a little at that. He knew how sweet her tooth was. "All right. I'd like that."

He let her go first, holding it in front of her while she bent her head and extended her tongue. Leisurely, she began to lap at the ice cream, humming in delight. He watched her softly, his heart swelling in his chest. The sweet innocence emanated from her. He was glad that it hadn't all been taken away.

Presently, she lifted her head, licking the trace of ice cream from her bottom lip. "Now your turn." Tenderly, she held the glass for him, and he obediently mirrored her actions, closing his eyes and shivering involuntarily at the thought of his tongue tracing the places that hers had been only seconds before. It was cold enough to hurt his teeth, but he had his fill, hand coming up to cup Anna's gently, drawing it away.

"Do you want the rest?" he asked.

She giggled a little, her gaze flickering across his face. "Well, I'm not sure if I want all of it, but I'd quite like a little more."

He offered her the pot again, but she pushed it down. He frowned as she moved her hand towards his face instead, her thumb coming to brush against the swell of his cheek. He was about to ask what the matter was when she began to lean closer. He caught the scent of her skin—light perfume, delicate sweat, the tang of sea salt—and lost all ability of speech.

And then her lips were on the corner of his mouth, sucking just lightly, and he couldn't keep his eyes open. He struggled to contain the moan that bubbled in his throat, staying stock-still. Anna turned her head more fully, and her lips covered his completely. He couldn't resist kissing her back after that, the delicate movement of her lips too tempting. He made sure to keep the pressure of his mouth light, butterfly brushes, catching her bottom lip between both of his and nibbling just lightly on it. Anna's breath stuttered, and she pulled away from him with a ragged sigh, pressing her forehead against his chin. Her hat dug painfully into his face, but he said nothing, wrapping his arm more firmly around her waist.

"Well, that was certainly a nice bit of ice cream," she said, and he felt her shoulders shaking. She was laughing.

"It was a very nice surprise," he agreed, nudging her back a little.

"And now I've got an even better one," she beamed.

John delighted in seeing her face so bright and pure, void of all troubles. He would do anything to see it continue. "Oh? What's that, then?"

She pushed herself to her feet gracefully, towering above him for once. He couldn't stop his own smile at that, craning his head backwards so that he could keep her face in sight.

"We're going for a paddle in the sea," she said. "We can't come to the seaside and not do that."

If she'd told him that they were going to swim naked he would have done it, but he was enjoying the light in her eyes and wanted to prolong it for as long as possible. So, tilting his chin, he cast a lazy eye over her, leaning back.

"And what if this old man doesn't want to risk the treacherous journey to the sea?" he said. "It could be quite perilous with my cane."

The way her eyes danced reassured him that she knew he was only teasing, but she folded her arms across her chest all the same, continuing on with their game. "Mr. Bates, I can see Mr. Carson down in the water with Mrs. Hughes. If even he can do it, then you have no excuse."

"But Mr. Carson was no doubt railroaded into it by Mrs. Hughes," he pointed out. "And she's quite the force of nature."

Anna stood straighter, towering over him even more. "And you don't think I am?"

He chuckled lowly, refusing to answer. Of course his Anna was a force of nature—he knew they wouldn't have come as far as they had in the last decade without her being one—but he was quite enamoured by the seemingly indignant air now surrounding her.

"Well," she said, "if that's how you're going to play it, then perhaps I'll convince you to come along with me in a different manner. We don't all need to railroad our men to get them to do what we want."

"Then please," he said, a challenging lilt to his tone, "convince me."

She held his stare for a moment, before stepping nearer, reaching down for his hand. He linked their fingers together firmly, making sure to keep his weight off her as he heaved himself to his feet. Her eyes glowed as they returned to their normal statures, and without loosening her grip in the slightest, she rose up on her tiptoes, meeting his mouth in a kiss. His eyelids fluttered at the contact, and he waited until he felt the swipe of her tongue against his bottom lip before opening up, his spare hand sliding down to cup her hip and draw her closer. He followed the pace of her mouth faithfully, suppressing a little moan in the back of his throat when her tongue touched his.

At last, she drew back, cheeks pink. "Did that convince you?"

He couldn't stop his grin, squeezing her hand tight. "Yes, it did."

John shivered as the waves lapped at his feet, curling his toes in the sand. He'd rolled his trousers to just below his knees, leaving his stockings with his shoes further up the beach, out of danger of being swept away on the tide. Anna's smaller shoes were beside his, her own stockings stuffed into them to keep them safe. She was a few paces in front of him, skirts hiked scandalously high. Several strands of hair had fallen loose from her bun, whipping around her face. She looked beautiful. She held out her hand to him, just waiting for him to take it. He raised an eyebrow, staying put.

"Come on," she whined, evidently growing impatient with his dawdling. "The fish aren't going to bite you."

"I hope there are no fish in such shallow waters," he said good-humouredly. "Otherwise there wouldn't be even the slightest chance of me joining you there."

She paused for a moment. "What? Don't tell me you're really afraid of fish?"

"Don't tell me you aren't," he countered.

She shot him a confused look. "Of course not."

"The way they swim and stare doesn't unnerve you?"

She stared flummoxed for a moment before breaking into peals of laughter, the sound ringing out and carrying away on the wind. He couldn't help smirking too, pleased that he'd made her giggle again. She sloshed through the water towards him, grabbing hold of his hand and linking their fingers firmly together.

"Stop teasing me," she said.

"Who says I was teasing?"

"Well, you can't have been serious. That's the silliest thing I've ever heard in my life."

He pretended to growl at that, squeezing her hand tighter. "You won't be saying that when one comes and tries to take a chunk out of your lovely legs."

"John, they can't bite!"

"Those exotic Indian fish do."

"Yes, in India," she said, amused. "We're standing in the North Sea on the edge of Brighton. And it's also bleedin' cold, so I suggest we start to move before we lose our toes."

"You were the one who wanted to do this," he pointed out, taking a step forward with her anyway. "I was quite content to stay sitting up there with my penny lick."

She huffed in frustration, tugging more insistently. "John, really. Stop being so childish."

He winced as a slightly larger wave came rolling in, breaking across the middle of his calves. "All right. If you insist."

"I do," she said.

"Then I have no choice. I'm coming in."

He clutched her hand more tightly as he took his second cautious step forward. The shifting sand beneath his toes made him feel even more unstable, thanks to the absence of his cane. But Anna's hand was a welcome anchor, helping to keep him grounded. In two wobbling steps he was standing close by her side, their joined hands pressed securely against their thighs.

"There," she said. "It's not so bad, is it?"

"You're with me," he returned. "It could never be bad."

He was pleased to see the slight blush spill across her cheeks, and she stepped closer to him so that the side of her right foot brushed against the side of his left. The breath left his throat at the tiniest bit of contact, and he glanced down to find her staring up at him with the most unfettered adoration in her eyes. He swallowed hard.

"Come on," he said thickly. "Let's move a little further out."

"I thought you were scared?" she teased.

"Not scared. Apprehensive. But I know I have nothing to fear. After all, you're with me."

"You don't half try and charm me," she said, but he could still see the pleased glow in her cheeks and knew she appreciated the comment no matter how she might protest. "Come on, you silly beggar."

He followed her willingly enough, the water sloshing and churning around them as they ventured further into the sea. It was certainly cold even for the reasonably warm day, and he couldn't help shuddering as it lapped further and further up his legs, making his hairs stand on end. Anna seemed to be coping better than he was, moving out in front of him and turning so that she was directly in his face, never letting go of his hand.

"Thank you for this," she said.

"Why? Spending time with you is no great hardship."

Her eyes darkened for the briefest of moments, and he was just about to start cursing himself for being so tactless when the smile brightened her face, and she tugged him closer, so quickly that he almost stumbled over. "That's very kind of you to say, Mr. Bates."

"You're most welcome, Mrs. Bates."

They stood in silence for a few moments longer before Anna sighed, tilting her head back. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is on nice days," he agreed. "I'm not sure how pleasant it is in the winter."

"No, it's lovely," she decided. "So majestic and powerful. I love it here."

His heart contracted in his chest, and he instinctively tightened his hold on her. Perhaps one day he'd be able to give her this, give her the world. One day soon. The dream of their little hotel still burned within him. It had flickered in the weeks and months after that bastard's attack, had, for a time, been buried, a skeletal frame left to rot in the ground, but somehow it had survived, had fought its way free, still flickered. He would be damned if he let anything else take that away from them.

He was so lost in thought that it came as a shock when the droplets of water splattered onto his face and the front of his vest. Flinching, he shook his head to find Anna grinning at him, eyes dancing with mirth. The saltwater stung a little, but he couldn't stop his own lips from furling into a smile. God, he had missed this side of her. He had missed it so much.

"What was that for?" he asked as a droplet slid down his chin and disappeared down the neck of his collar.

"You looked far too pensive for my liking," she retorted. "I had to bring you back to me somehow."

"And that was the only way?"

"Well, we're a bit too close to the others for me to dare to kiss you."

"You've kissed me at Downton before."

"Yes, without anyone knowing. We might kill Mr. Carson off if we dared to do it in front of everyone."

He chuckled. He couldn't argue with that. "Still, it wasn't a very pleasant experience. I've a good mind to pay you in kind."

"Have you now?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him, and his heart caught mid-beat. "Go on, then."

There was a challenge in the jut of her jaw, and John couldn't resist. It had been absent for so long. He needed to chase it. Without warning he jerked on their joined hands, pulling her forward. She shrieked in surprise, and then gasped with dismay as he moved his spare hand into the water and splashed it down the front of her dress. He cursed under his breath as he watched her blink, the material beginning to cling. He hadn't meant to get quite so zealous. He'd only wanted to send a few specks her way, not a bloody tidal wave.

"Oh, God," he said, "I'm so sorry."

She didn't speak for a few moments, and John feared that he'd made her angry. But then a lazy smile drifted across her face.

"Well, Mr. Bates," she said. "I think you'll have to pay for that."

He was so relieved to see her smile that he didn't immediately register her words. Not until it was too late.

Water splashed down his front and he hissed at its chill, almost stumbling over. Anna burst into peals of giggles as he shook his head, droplets of water flying every which way.

"Mr. Bates, need a hand with your wife?"

They both turned towards the shore. Jimmy was standing there with Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter. The younger lad's eyes were glowing with the promise of mischief. John glanced down at Anna. Her eyes were wide.

"Don't you dare," she whispered. "He'll cause mayhem."

"There's no bargaining with me now, Mrs. Bates," he smirked. "There is no such thing as honour in war." Louder, he called to Jimmy, "I might just take you up on that offer."

The footman gave a battle cry and charged into the water. John winced as more water sloshed over him.

Miss Baxter called from the shore, "If Mr. Bates gets extra help then so does Mrs. Bates." She turned to prod Mr. Molesley in the chest. "You and I are enemies now." The poor man looked quite terrified.

Anna turned to smirk at her husband. "Well, Mr. Bates, this really does look like it means war."

"I'll have you know that I'm an expert."

"You'll have to prove that to me."

"Oh, believe me, I look forward to it."

Jimmy pulled a face, splashing them both with water. "Please, stop it."

Anna blushed and giggled, raising her eyebrow at John. He returned the expression as Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter reached their sides. Jimmy was the first to make a move, splashing water in a high arc and successfully soaking both of the women. They struck back, and soon the air was rife with shrieks and splashes.

More and more of the servants joined when they realised what was happening. Thomas seemed to be most intent on splashing Miss Baxter with more viciousness than was required, and Mr. Molesley appeared to have deserted them for the opposition as he retaliated in kind towards Thomas. Daisy and Ivy shrieked and cowered as the hall boys and Mr. Slade targeted them, and even Mrs. Patmore joined in, laughing manically as she took the unsuspecting lads out from behind.

John noticed these things, but he barely registered them. His focus was entirely on Anna. She looked radiant. Water dripped from her dress. He could see strands of wet hair plastered to the sides of her face. Her cheeks glowed rosy with exertion and laughter. Her eyes shone. She had not looked this alive for more than a whole year. He basked in it, the sunshine returning to his life.

"What's the matter, Mr. Bates?" she panted. "Are you tiring?"

He growled good-naturedly, grabbing her around the waist. "I'll show you who's tiring, my dear."

She squealed and wriggled in his grasp, slapping his upper arm with her palm, soaking his shirt further. They almost toppled over as they tussled, but even as Anna giggled freely, John felt his whole body freeze as he processed just what was happening.

He was holding onto her. She was pushing against him. He was trying to force her—

No. No. Eyes wide and heart pounding sickeningly, he released his grip on her and stumbled back a few paces. The noise of the others faded to a dull roar as his world began to collapse.

Anna frowned at him, face so innocent, yet another trace of hurt threading through her voice. "What's wrong, Mr. Bates?" The hurt was worth it if it meant that she hadn't realised what he had.

He still had to think of a reply, a lie. He opened his mouth, fruitlessly searching for the right words—

"What on earth is going on here!?"

The booming voice cut through the entire party. Silence fell abruptly. John turned with the rest of them towards the newcomer, dread flowing through his veins.

Mr. Carson.

The stalwart butler was almost purple with anger and indignation. The wind blew gently, children shrieked in the background, the sea continued to whoosh and the gulls squawked and swooped, and still the terrible silence continued.

"What—I have never—the honour of Downton—" Mr. Carson was spluttering, never a good sign. Beside John, Anna shrank back, as though hiding behind him would lessen the explosion that would surely follow.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Hughes spoke up at last when it became clear that Mr. Carson could not make a coherent sentence.

John kept his eyes trained on the flowing water, reluctant to put himself forward and into the butler's line of fire, but Jimmy seemed to have no such qualms. "It's just a bit of fun, Mrs. Hughes."

"A bit of fun!?" Mr. Carson roared, evidently finding his voice in the face of such offensiveness.

"I thought that that was the whole point of the day out," the young footman shrugged.

"The whole point of the day out was to enjoy yourself in a civilised manner!" thundered Mr. Carson. "Not to behave as if you're no better than heathens!"

He drew himself up to his full height, piercing eyes sweeping over John. He lowered his, unable to hold the gaze, and felt Anna tuck herself further into his back. This was his fault.

"As for you, Mr. Barrow, Mr. Bates, Mr. Molesley, Miss Baxter, Mrs. Patmore, Anna…" John felt Anna wilt as she realised that her hiding had been in vain. "I expected better from you. All of you. You are trusted senior members of staff, and I was relying on you to set a good example to all. I have never been more disappointed in any of you. Now get out and collect your things. We're going straight back to London. You'll have to suffer through being wet on the train and embarrassing yourselves, but it's the least you deserve for bringing shame to Downton."

With that, he turned and stormed away, muttering something about childishness and the reputation of the Crawley family. The group in the water waited until he was a fair distance away before trickling out, evidently not wishing to have the butler's wrath channelled on them. Jimmy was the first to leave, hands in his pockets, looking as if the entire scolding had gone straight over his head. Thomas followed quick on his heels, and then Mrs. Patmore, who looked as if she was fighting back a smirk.

"Well, I think it was worth it," John heard her say to Mrs. Hughes as she passed. "I felt like a girl again, make no mistake."

Mrs. Hughes chuckled in answer, and John relaxed. At least the housekeeper didn't seem as angry as the butler. He turned towards Anna, lips quirking feebly. "Are you ready to go?"

She peered up at him from under the brim of her hat, chewing on her lip. "All right." She slipped her arm into his and they moved towards the shore, Anna keeping her head low when they reached Mrs. Hughes.

"I'll go and find the blanket we left up there," she mumbled, hurrying off. The back of her neck burned red.

Mrs. Hughes laughed again as she watched her go. "Anna's not used to being scolded."

John had to smile. That was very true. Anna was diligent and hardworking and kind to everyone. It was one of her strengths—and one of her flaws. His smile faded.

Mrs. Hughes must have noticed his expression, because she tapped him warmly on the arm. "Come on, let's join the others. You all make a sorry state, I must say."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes," he said. "This was all my fault."

"You can't be blamed for everything that goes wrong in the world, Mr. Bates."

"I can be this time. I started it with Anna. And I encouraged Jimmy to join in. I'll apologise to Mr. Carson when we get back."

"I'd keep quiet, if I were you. He'll be all right once the shock has worn off." The housekeeper's eyes were affectionate as she stared into the distance.

They were quiet for a few paces. John glanced down at her. She was twisting her hands together, taking deep breaths. He slowed his pace.

"Mrs. Hughes, do you have something to say?" he asked kindly.

She glanced around to make sure that they were alone, stopping entirely. "Anna looked happy today."

"I like to think so, yes. It's been a long time coming."

"I would hate to see the smile leave her face again."

The words hung ominously between them, as suffocating as a war zone. John shifted from foot to foot. "Mrs. Hughes, is there something you're trying to tell me?"

For long, suspended seconds that seemed to last whole lifetimes, she said nothing. And then she took a deep breath, her voice quiet. "I discovered the ticket in the pocket of the coat that Anna gave to me, Mr. Bates. The one that was issued for London."

The blood in his veins congealed into frozen lumps. "What?"

"I didn't know what to do," Mrs. Hughes continued, as though she hadn't heard him. "So I showed it to Lady Mary. She was very…concerned about it. I tried to make her see reason, but…" She chewed on her bottom lip uncertainly. "Well, I'm not sure what she intends to do. I don't think she does. But I just had to warn you because…because…"

"I know what you're thinking." Dear God, he felt sick. "You think that I killed him."

Mrs. Hughes' head shot up at his words. She looked as though she had aged ten years in the wake of her confession. John looked her full square in the face, desperate to make her see. She was scared, he realised. Terrified of facing up to the truth.

"I didn't do it. You have to believe me. I swear to you, Mrs. Hughes."

"Then why the ticket? Why the secrecy?"

"I did go down to London," he admitted. "But not for that reason. I knew…" He swallowed the gritty lump in his throat with difficulty. "I knew who had done it to Anna, no matter how many times she swore blind that it was a stranger. I was afraid of her being anywhere in London, when that animal could be anywhere. But I had other business to attend to too."

"Like what? What business?"

He toyed with a wet cuff, casting his eyes down. "Gwen. She said in her latest letter before then that her husband's work was taking him to London. They're currently renting a property but they want to buy somewhere outright. When I heard, I thought I would make enquiries as to their requirements. I have my mother's house in London, and we've been toying with the idea of selling for a while. I thought it was a good opportunity."

"You went to London to see Gwen?"

"Yes, truly, Mrs. Hughes. Write and ask her if you don't believe me."

"But why on earth keep it a secret for so long?"

"I didn't want to. But I saw Anna's face when the news was announced. I saw the way she looked at me. And I thought that admitting to being anywhere near London that day would spell the end. You didn't see her face, Mrs. Hughes." His voice cracked like glass in the cold over those last words. "You didn't see it."

"But surely she would have understood—"

"No, she wouldn't." There was little doubt in his mind. If Anna had any true inkling that he had been involved in that bastard's death somehow, then it would have been as good as the end of the trust between them. Those words, her pleadings for him not to do anything stupid, were forever scoured into his eardrums. There was no escaping them, that terrified tone. He couldn't have borne to watch the faith leech from her eyes for good.

"It is not for me to judge," Mrs. Hughes said quietly. "Lord have mercy, but I wouldn't have blamed you if you had done it. He was a foul creature. But Lady Mary is less convinced. I thought it was only right that you're warned now in case…in case she's done anything stupid."

He felt as if he'd been doused with the icy sea once more. To return to prison…it was unthinkable. He had the proof of his whereabouts that day, a staunch alibi, but the mere thought of prison made him sweat. And what of Anna?

As if reading his thoughts, Mrs. Hughes, squeezed his arm. "As soon as we return to Downton, I'll seek Lady Mary out and correct her of her mistake. There's no need to show me proof, Mr. Bates, I believe you. But I think you should speak with Anna while you can, clear things up. The past cannot be changed but I see no reason for the future to be muddied by more secrets. You should know that better than anyone."

He did, was painfully aware of it. He had been crippled by secrets in the past, weighed down to the point of drowning. Anna had cut him free and nursed him back to health. He had tried to do the same for her in the months since the attack. But perhaps Mrs. Hughes was right. Perhaps the last barrier—the truth about London—was what was really needed to set them back on track. He wasn't naïve—he knew that he would be haunted for the rest of his life by his terrible, terrible failings—but he owed Anna that much at least.

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured.

Mrs. Hughes looked like she was going to say more, but they were interrupted by Anna's return. She had the blanket under her arm, her cheeks still rosy from the brisk wind. She presented a bright smile to the housekeeper before offering the blanket to John.

"Here," she said, "wrap it round your shoulders."

"You should keep it," he protested. "I'll be all right."

"Nonsense. I started to dry off with the walk."

Mrs. Hughes excused herself with a smile, evidently amused by their light bickering. John half-wished that she would stay, act as a barrier between him and his wife. He wasn't sure that he was ready to face her just yet.

Sure enough, she seemed to know that something was wrong, slipping her arm into his and gazing up into his face with doe-eyed worry. "John, what's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

He tried to force a smile, though the muscles in his face seemed reluctant to move. "It's not a conversation for here."

"But we'll talk about it when we get back to London?" she pressed.

He thought it might be too late then for such a potentially heavy subject, but he nodded nonetheless. "Yes, all right."

She squeezed his arm, risked pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I have had a lovely time today. I hope you know that."

"I'm glad of it."

They strolled at a leisurely pace behind the rest of the others as they meekly began to pack up their things. Most of them kept at a safe distance away from Mr. Carson on the walk, not wishing to incur his wrath any more than was necessary, and John kept even further back with Anna, wanting to savour his last few moments alone with her while he still could.

At the train station, they clustered onto the platform like herded sheep, waiting for their train to come in. John led the way over to a little bench, settling on it with Anna by his side. He sighed as he stretched out his leg in front of him, resisting the urge to rub at the gnawing ache in his knee. Anna bit her lip in concern, her hand hovering over him.

"Is it very bad?" she asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," he reassured her. "If only we were at home. A hot bath would put it right as rain."

"Maybe I can rub it," she said lowly. "That might ease the tension."

He tried to temper down the little flare of heat he felt at her words, clearing his throat instead and turning away to gaze out across the platform. The train was due in another half an hour. He wasn't looking forward to a rickety journey packed in with the others like sardines.

At least, that was what he'd been thinking just before the portly little station master waddled out onto the platform. He cleared his throat loudly several times until the whole place fell silent, then swelled with self-importance as he announced, "I'm terribly sorry, ladies and gentleman, but there has been an accident on the train line. I'm afraid that there are going to be severe delays."

"Delays?" thundered Mr. Carson. "Of how long?"

The station master turned towards him with an air of righteousness. "No trains will be passing on this line until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

Mr. Carson looked as if he would have keeled over had it not been for Mrs. Hughes' steadying hand on his arm. "Tomorrow morning!?"

"That is what I said, sir."

The stunned silence stretched on and on, broken only by Mrs. Hughes' thick Scottish brogue.

"Well well," she said. "It appears as if we're stranded."