A/N: I have just finished participating in my first ever NaNo. This is one of the results of that. I hope you enjoy. This fic is based on a prompt from OTP Prompts (Person A was out in the cold. When they come inside, they get warm by stripping down with Person B and cuddling under a blanket), and also from an anonymous request I received a while back which I never got around to filling (Team Downstais having a snowball fight).
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.
Winter's First Flurry
Like it did almost any time it came, the snow snuck up on them unexpectedly, in the dark of night. When John opened the curtains on the grey December morning, he raised his eyebrows and whistled. Anna, who was busy pinning her hair up at the other side of the room, immediately called out, "What's wrong, John?"
"The snow's come," he told her. "The sky's been threatening all week but I never thought it would actually fall." Indeed, the iron-grey colour had almost sent Mr. Carson into paroxysms. If there was one thing he hated, it was not being in control of every situation, and the weather was simply something outside of his limits. Downton was due to host a Christmas ball the following week, and John knew that the butler was already having nightmares about having to dig the cars out, or the great ladies sprawling their full length on an invisible patch of ice. Mrs. Hughes was almost in despair of him; the others snickered when he was out of their sights.
His musings were immediately interrupted by Anna's squeal, and he glanced behind him to find her throwing her hairbrush back on the bed.
"It never has!" she said gleefully.
"See for yourself," he said, stepping to the side to allow her a better look. She rushed over to the window at once, peering out at the fluffy flakes that lazily swayed through the air, falling to cover the floor in a cold carpet. Her eyes were shining.
"Oh, I love the snow!" she sighed.
John came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him, relishing the way she fit against him so perfectly. Almost three months on from his release and he still wasn't quite used to the sensation. Hell, he didn't think he'd ever get used to this. It still felt like a dream that he would wake from at any moment. He and Anna had a home all of their own, where they could shut out the outside world and simply be together.
"Why does that not surprise me?" he teased, nuzzling against her ear.
She squirmed, but turned her head just enough to glower at him. "You'd better not be mocking me."
"As if I'd ever do that," he murmured. "I'm just stating a fact." It really did not surprise him. Anna simply seemed like the kind of person who would love the snow, the wet powder a representation of her fun-loving, free personality. She had a child-like ability to find joy in almost anything, and that was reflected in the expression that she wore now at the sight before her.
"It's been years since it last snowed," she sighed, pressing her palm to the glass.
"It's never snowed while I've been at Downton," John agreed.
"I bet you hate it, don't you?" she said, glancing at him. "Please don't tell me that you're like Mr. Carson."
"I don't think anyone could hate it quite as much as Mr. Carson does." He shrugged. "Personally, I don't mind it either way. Like any child, I loved it as a boy. But times have changed since then. These days I'd rather it stay away for practical reasons. It does make me more wary of slipping, especially with my cane."
"I never thought."
"And why should you? Believe me, Anna, I'm glad that you don't see my knee as an impediment to anything. It would make my life a lot more miserable than it is if you did."
"Is it very miserable?" she teased, jabbing him gently in the stomach with her elbow.
"It's the very opposite," he murmured against her, dipping his head to press a kiss to her neck. "Wonderful, ecstatic, pleasurable."
She wriggled out of his arms. "All right, that's quite enough of that, Mr. Bates. We've no time."
"We can always make time," he said, pulling her back against him. She pushed him away, fixing him with that no-nonsense stare of hers.
"I swear, if you mess up one hair on my head I'll have your guts for garters. I don't have time to do it all again. And I'll not have you creasing my dress. Put me down. Perhaps we'll revisit it later."
He sighed overdramatically, stepping away from her. "Always so demanding."
She smirked at him as she hurried away, back to the mirror. "You love it really. It's one of the reasons why you married me."
He couldn't help but remember the way that she had come to him that night in the servants' corridor and demanded that he marry her, that he give her the proper place in his life that she was entitled to if they were to weather yet more storms together. His heart had swelled with love for her then, as it did now when she looked at him like that, so sassy and full of life.
"It is," he agreed quietly, holding her gaze through the mirror, pleased when she blushed slightly.
It was just one of the countless reasons why he loved her so much.
The walk up to Downton was a slow one, made more so by his unsteadiness. He hated anything that drew attention to his impediment, feeling even more like a cripple than usual, but Anna appeared not to notice anything, slipping her arm through his and chattering happily about the various things she had to do for Lady Mary today. The cold season had brought out the eldest Crawley daughter's grumpy side, but none of it seemed to faze Anna. In moments like these, when she seemed so happy and was holding on to him in the way that she was, he could almost forget that he wasn't as able as the next man. Its importance certainly seemed to shrink.
By the time that they reached Downton, he was out of breath. Anna's cheeks had gone bright pink in the wind, and she ducked under his arm to get in the back door first. The snow had started to come down harder, sitting in the rim of her hat like a white ribbon. She removed it and shook it out, showering him with powder. He cursed as it soaked through his coat, but she only giggled, moving to pull off her gloves. He bundled her over the threshold further so he could step inside too, repeating the same ritual with his own hat and shutting the weather firmly out. Not that it made any difference; the servants' corridor whistled through with the bitter wind, the air snaking under the crack of the door like a disease. He helped Anna out of her coat and hung it up for her. She tucked her gloves in the pocket and went to give him he same treatment in return. He was more than happy to let her play the valet.
When they were both suitably disrobed for another gruelling day of work, they made their way to the servants' hall. John could already hear the loud chattering from the others, and thought longingly of the fire that would no doubt be roaring in the grate. That, at least, was one thing—the hall boys always kept the fires burning. Not that it would make any real difference to him, though—he was usually sitting far too far away from it to feel its benefits. It was yet another thing to curse the regimented mealtime seating plan for. Of course, his biggest peeve was the fact that now Thomas had been kept on as under butler—and more fool him for helping that to happen, Anna was fond of saying—it meant that he could no longer sit by his wife's side while they ate. He missed the feel of her hand on his knee, or in his own under the line of the table, more acutely than he did anything else.
"Ah, Anna, Mr. Bates, there you are," said Mr. Carson when they stepped in to the servants' hall. "We were beginning to wonder what was keeping you. Mrs. Patmore's serving up the porridge."
"Sorry, Mr. Carson," John said as he limped around the table to take his new seat on the butler's left. "The snow made it a little slower than usual."
"Convenient excuse," Thomas smirked. Further down the table, Jimmy erupted in a fit of very reluctant snorts. Relations between the first footman and the under butler hadn't thawed at all since September. It had made for some very uncomfortable evenings. And, as usual, Miss O'Brien had got away Scott free, without the merest hint of a reprimand.
Mr. Carson glared at them as the younger maids joined in the tittering too. "We'll have none of your filth at the table, thank you, Mr. Barrow. Or would you like to eat out in the snow yourself?"
That seemed to do the trick; suitably chastened, Thomas fell silent, though he glared at John as if it was all his fault that he had been spoken to like a disobedient dog. John ignored him, helping himself to a slice of toast. Ivy hurried over to fill his cup with steaming tea. Thank the Lord for small mercies on bitterly cold days. He doctored it to his liking and raised it to his lips. Across from him, Anna smiled. She seemed to know what thoughts were in his head.
Breakfast was a lively affair, especially with the younger members of staff. Most of them were beyond excited about the snow, though Jimmy was quick to get in a few sneering comments when Alfred expressed how much he enjoyed packing a snowball together.
"Grown men don't enjoy the snow anymore," he said. "That's just sad. Mind you, I can't say I'm surprised you like it, Alfred."
"Don't be so mean," Daisy scowled, quick as ever to jump to Alfred's defence.
"No, Jimmy's right," said Ivy, predictably jumping to Jimmy's defence. "Real men don't act like silly little boys just because it's snowing a little bit outside."
Alfred looked suitably downcast at that. John resisted the urge to sigh. Oh, the heartache of youth. How was it that so many young souls under Downton's roof could be so in love with the wrong people? His heart ached for Daisy most of all. She was such a sweet girl, and deserved a chance of happiness that went beyond unrequited love. He knew that William would want that for her too. Still, it wasn't his place to get involved. It hadn't been the least bit effective the last time he had tried, on poor William's behalf. The young would simply have to sort it out between themselves. He caught his wife's eye across the table and knew that exactly the same thing was going through her mind. That was one thing he didn't mind about getting older; at least there had been no room for games in his association with Anna.
He kept his own counsel for the rest of breakfast, not interested in any of the jibes traded between the footmen. It was with relief when he glanced up to see his lordship's bell ringing. Excusing himself from the table, he limped out of the servants' hall and made his way upstairs, ready to face another long day.
There was no break in the morning's work. Task after task kept him preoccupied, and he barely caught a glimpse of his wife at all in those hours. It made things decidedly gloomier. On days like these, he lived for a flash of her hair, or for a brief smile sent his way. Alas, whatever Lady Mary had her doing, it was well outside the vicinity of the servants' quarters.
When his lordship rang for him again just before luncheon, he heaved himself to his feet and headed for the stairs. He doubted it would be for a change of clothes when the weather was preventing him from going anywhere, but he was glad if it meant that whatever his employer's task was took him away from menial mending for a while.
On the upstairs corridor, however, he found himself stopping short, moving closer to the window as his heart sank.
The day was already darkening in to a threatening black, and the snow was falling relentlessly, swirling in dizzying eddies around the house. There was a thick, untouched blanket as far as his eye could see.
Oh, Christ. That was the last thing he wanted to see.
Soft footsteps made John look up. His heart leapt at the sight, instantly healed. There she was, heading towards him, his darling Anna. She beamed wide in return when she saw him, picking up her speed.
"There you are!" she said breathlessly, coming to a pause in front of him. In such open surroundings they could do nothing more than smile longingly at one another. John wished that they were somewhere a little more isolated so that he could at least risk reaching out to hold her hand.
"Here I am," he said. "Have you missed me?"
"Madly," she told him. "Now, what has you standing up here looking like Heathcliff wandering in the Yorkshire wilds?"
All at once, he remembered exactly why he was feeling so morose. Sighing, he gestured for her to look out of the window. She did so dutifully, squeezing in front of him so she could see better.
"Oh!" she said in delight. "It's coming down even harder now!"
"It is," he agreed miserably.
"Why are you so upset? It's not as if it can hurt you."
"You may be wrong there."
She cocked her head to the side in confusion. "What?"
"If it carries on like this, we might not be able to get home tonight," he told her. "If we go blundering about it the dark we'll only end up breaking our necks, and I'm sure my cane will be more of a hindrance than a help."
Anna's face fell at that. "You're right. I didn't think about that. And I don't suppose they'd give us a set of married quarters for the night."
John snorted. "You're thinking right. You know what Mr. Carson is like. He'd have a heart attack and bluster that the world was coming to an end. He'd be certain that we'd have a bad influence on our juniors and would ban it."
"More's the pity," Anna sighed. "It's not as if we're living in sin together, is it? Everyone knows husbands and wives go to bed together at night."
His cheeks heated at the implication, even in the most innocent of senses. "But there's knowing it and actually seeing it, isn't there?"
She pouted. "Well, let's hope that it stops, then. I don't want to have to spend the night away from you."
"It can snow when we get in, though," he said, dropping his voice to a low rumble. "I wouldn't mind getting stranded at home with you. We've got a stockpile of dried food to survive on, and we can always share our body heat when the coal runs out."
"Mr. Bates!" Anna said, not sounding the least bit scandalised. There was a rather dreamy look in her eyes, as if she was having most satisfying thoughts about that very situation—
"Ah, Bates, there you are! I've been waiting for you!"
John almost jumped out of his skin, spinning around guiltily, though Lord Grantham couldn't possibly know about the kinds of thoughts that had been running through his head mere seconds before. Anna jumped too, backing away from his side hastily.
"Milord!" she squeaked, flustered now. "I didn't see you there."
"Quite all right," he said kindly.
"I must be getting on," she said, and almost fled from them, her ears bright pink. John watched her go for a moment before forcing himself back to Lord Grantham. There was a knowing twinkle in his lordship's eyes.
"What is it you wanted to see me for, milord?" he said with as much dignity as he could muster.
Lord Grantham shook himself. "Ah, yes. I was thinking that now would be the perfect time to start clearing out some things I no longer need for the missionary barrel. And I was thinking that perhaps we ought to do something to help out the villagers, you know, with the weather being so bitterly cold this year…" He continued talking all the way down the corridor, and John was happy to let him, glad for the distraction from his sense of growing dissatisfaction with said weather.
His lordship's request carried John well into the afternoon. By the time they had finished, they had a sizable pile for the missionary barrel, and his lordship was left musing about ways to ferry extra firewood down to those in most need of it. John was just glad to escape for a while. He could use a cup of tea.
The servants' hall was buzzing with people by the time he arrived. A veritable feast sat on the table, and everyone was helping themselves to cake and sandwiches as they discussed various aspects of their day. John spotted Anna in the seat nearest to the fire. Bless her soul. She really was marvellous. He made his way towards her, spying that the rocking chair was free. Even better. Ghosting his hand over her shoulders, he sank himself down into it, sighing as he stretched out his right leg in front of him. There, that was so much better. The heat instantly began to lick at him, burrowing deep into the muscle and loosening some of the tightness that had been building up in it. The heat washing over the rest of his body was a very welcome respite, too. Anna turned towards him, hooking her arms over the back of her chair and resting her chin on the top.
"Don't I even get a 'Hello' now?" she teased. "Have I been completely tossed aside for the company of a fire?"
"Sorry," he chuckled, setting the chair to rocking just slightly. "I had to take my opportunity while it was still there. Hello."
"That's a bit better," she said. "Honestly, I was half-sure that I ought to start feeling worried that you'd grown tired of me…"
"Never," he vowed. He wished he could reach out to take her hand, but that would be far too brazen. He settled instead for the softest look he could muster, hoping that she could read the sincerity of his words there. He must have been successful, because she shook her head, biting her lip to suppress a smile, and set about making him a cup of tea. God bless her indeed. He'd have to return the favour when they got home.
If they got home.
The thought soured some of his good mood slightly. At the other side of the table, he could hear some of the hall boys discussing just what the conditions were like outside.
"And I almost slipped over when I went out to have a cigarette," Jimmy agreed, reaching out for a third slice of cake. "It's ruddy horrible out there."
"It does look so romantic, though," Ivy sighed as she came around with the teapot once more. "All thick and calm like that. Makes you think that we're the only people left on the earth, doesn't it?"
"What's romantic about that?" griped Miss O'Brien. John guessed that she hadn't been able to venture outside for a cigarette herself. For some reason, she never seemed to smoke very often when they were in a big group. Then again, he supposed that Thomas smoked enough for every single one of them.
"Oh, it is!" Ivy insisted. It probably had everything to do with the fact that she was conjuring up ridiculous scenarios revolving around her and Jimmy in her head. He caught Anna shaking her head slightly and bit back a grin of his own. Wise as an owl, was his wife.
"You know what, I think we should all go out in it later," piped up one of the hall boys. "It's not often it snows like this. It could be fun!"
At that, there was a choking sound from the end of the table. Everyone looked there at once as Mr. Carson almost sprayed out a mouthful of tea.
"I beg your pardon!?" he gasped, sounding outraged.
The hall boy, a naïve young lad who hadn't been working for them very long, carried on blithely, "We should all go out in the snow, Mr. Carson!"
"You will most certainly not!" the butler growled. "I have never heard anything so preposterous in my whole life! We are proud serving men and women, not heathens!"
"Speak for yourself," John heard Jimmy mutter. There was a definite downturn in the atmosphere after Mr. Carson's decisive put-down, and most of the conversation was muted. Anna sipped her tea demurely and bent in closer so she could speak to him without anyone else eavesdropping.
"How's your knee?" she said.
He managed a smile. "It's had better days, it's had worse. I'll survive."
"I'll make you a hot compress when we get home," she said briskly. "That'll help it."
"It will," he agreed. What would help even more would be to lie in his own bed with her vined around him. He hoped that that would indeed come to pass tonight. He'd have to keep his eye on the weather. Alas, there would be no sneaking home early to avoid the worst of it.
As tea was drawing to an end, a harried Mrs. Patmore popped her head around the servants' hall.
"Mr. Carson, there's a man at the back door," she announced. "He's here about a delivery."
"The wine delivery!" Mr. Carson said, standing at once. "I never thought it would make it in this weather! What a relief! Finish up, everyone, and get back to work." He hurried out of the hall without a backwards glance.
Mrs. Hughes pushed her chair back too. "You heard Mr. Carson. Finish up and get back to work, please." With that, she followed the butler out of the room.
As soon as they were gone, Jimmy stood.
"Listen up, everyone!" he said.
Reluctantly, John turned his head towards him as Anna span back around in her seat. He had very little time for the footman. Jimmy liked the sound of his own voice too much, in his opinion, and was very arrogant with it. He was very similar to Thomas, much as the young man might not wish to acknowledge it. John much preferred Alfred who, despite being Miss O'Brien's nephew, was eager to learn and much more thoughtful. Nevertheless, Jimmy had the charisma that was required to work a crowd, and not a single eye wasn't trained on him. He was lapping up the attention.
"I've got an idea," he said. "I think tonight, once Mr. Carson's gone to bed, we should all go out in the snow."
"But you don't even like the snow," Daisy pointed out. "Why would you want to do that?"
John knew exactly why. Jimmy seemed to have a problem with authority. Mr. Carson had forbidden them to go out, and that meant that Jimmy was determined to push the boundaries. No doubt he'd be able to recruit some of the younger members to his cause.
"I'd be up for it," Thomas said at once. Jimmy looked slightly less pleased at that, but soon Thomas' approval was joined by the other hall boys and maids.
"And what about you, Ivy?" said Jimmy.
She blushed pink. "Oh, I don't know. If Mrs. Patmore found out, she'd kill me."
"Mrs. Patmore isn't going to find out."
"She will. You don't know what she's like. She's got a nose like a bloodhound!"
John snorted at that. Ivy had that right on the money. There was very little that escaped the cook's attention. Between her and Mrs. Hughes, they had very formidable keepers.
Jimmy shot Ivy a dazzling grin, running a hand through his wavy blond locks. "Anyone would think you don't want to spend the time with me."
"Oh, it's not that!" Ivy said hurriedly while Alfred glowered in the background. "But I don't want to catch a cold."
"I'll keep you warm," Jimmy said cheekily. "Go on, you know you want to join in."
"I don't think she should," said Daisy, trying to assert some authority.
Jimmy's lip curled. "Don't be such a sour puss, Daisy. It'd do you good to have some fun yourself. You're always so tied up in knots."
Daisy bristled. "I am not."
"Then prove it. Join us for a bit of harmless snowball fighting this evening."
"I'm in," Alfred said suddenly.
At that Daisy relented too. "Fine."
"What about you, Mr. Molesley?" said Jimmy.
Mr. Molesley looked horrified that he had been drawn in to the conversation, especially when everyone' gaze swivelled to him. He almost spilled his tea down him. "Oh, well, I'm not sure—"
"Anna, what about you?" Jimmy asked, not bothering to wait for the valet to bumble his way through an answer.
"I would," Anna said cheerfully. "But I'm hoping that Mr. Bates and I can get home tonight, sorry."
Jimmy shrugged. "Fair enough. But I think it'll be a right laugh. You'll be missing out."
"You'd join in, would you?" John leaned in closer so he could whisper in his wife's ear. She shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder.
"Why not?" she said. "I'm still young at heart."
"Mr. Carson would likely have a heart attack if he found out that you were involved in such scheming. It wouldn't be befitting behaviour for Lady Mary's lady's maid."
Anna shrugged. "What could he do if the whole house was involved? Besides, it's not as if we're going down to the village and terrorising the locals."
"Sounds like you'd rather stay and be involved in this after all," he teased.
"Oh, believe me, I want nothing more than to be able to go home and spend the night in front of the fire," she said. "But sometimes it's nice to live a little, isn't it?"
He looked at her and felt his heart swell anew with love. "Yes, it is. Very nice indeed."
Before either of them could say anything else, Mr. Carson's heavy tread was heard in the corridor. Moments later he appeared, a harassed looking Mrs. Hughes at his shoulder.
"Well, what are you all still doing in here?" he thundered. "I thought I'd told you to all get back to work?"
There was a flurry of movement as chairs were pushed away from the table, last mouthfuls of cake were stuffed into mouths, and teacups were drained of their last drops. John finished his own with an internal sigh and Anna took it out of his hands, placing it on the table. Biting back a groan, he pushed himself out of the rocking chair and settled his full weight back on his right leg. It would probably hurt like the devil all afternoon, but at least the warmth had made it more manageable.
"I'll see you later," he said to Anna.
She nodded. "See you later."
They could exchange no more than that. With one last nod, John left the servants' hall behind.
As the afternoon progressed, the weather worsened. The wind howled outside, whipping up a frenzy. The snow started to fall faster and harder, swirling around so thickly that it was impossible to see past any of it. As John stared out of the window in his lordship's dressing room, his heart sank even further. This was an absolute disaster. It was time that he faced up to the truth: he and Anna would be staying at the abbey tonight. Not only did they not have any home comforts between them, it would mean spending yet another night away from her, when they had already been forced to endure so many, were still expected to sacrifice some of their time together with the nature of their jobs.
It wasn't fair.
"Bates, old chap, you look as if someone's just shot your dog. There isn't anything wrong, is there?"
Lord Grantham.
John jumped to attention at once, feeling flustered that he had been caught showing his emotions so openly. "No, milord, there's nothing wrong. I was just looking at the weather, that's all."
"It's a bloody mess out there, isn't it?" his lordship said conversationally as he positioned himself in front of the mirror, ready to begin their usual dressing for dinner routine. John rested his cane by the wall and limped over to him, reaching out to remove his jacket.
"It certainly is, milord," he said, hanging it up.
"I'm glad that I don't have to venture out in it. I feel sorry for the poor souls who have to travel in it. I don't suppose there will be much progress made anywhere. Mama is always fond of telling me about the time that she broke down in the snow and was forced to spend the night at a country pub. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added hastily.
"No, milord." John contented himself with imagining what it might be like in years to come, when he and Anna were hopefully able to follow their dearly held dream of owning their own hotel, and would be, God giving, blessed with children of their own. How nice it might be, to sit in front of a crackling fire with their children all around them, listening to the roar of the waves as the snow settled on the sand. It would be like a picture on a postcard. "But I'm afraid that it means that Anna and I won't be getting home this evening."
"Oh, heavens, I never even thought about that." Lord Grantham paused, turning. "What will you do?"
"We'll make do," John said simply. They always had to.
"I hope there are some rooms made up."
"My old room is still free. I'm sure there are sheets kept in there." As for the rest, he'd have to sleep in his trousers and his undershirt. It wasn't the most comfortable combination, but it was far too cold to do anything else. The whole room had been freezing in the winter. He hadn't missed it at all since moving in to the cottage. Their home, old and dilapidated as it might sometimes be, had never failed to keep them warm.
"Well, that is bad luck, old chap," Lord Grantham said sympathetically.
"Needs must, milord."
"Indeed. Don't fret too much, Bates. It won't be for long."
John nodded, but he could still feel the sour sense of disappointment in his stomach. Because with the rate that the snow was going, they wouldn't be getting home tomorrow, either. Two nights of forced separation from his wife would make him decidedly grumpy.
They spent the rest of their time together in companiable silence. When it was time for Lord Grantham to depart for dinner, John gathered together his dirty things and headed back downstairs. Anna was already sitting there. That was a rarity. Usually she spent hours with Lady Mary. At least this way he could grab her for longer than usual. They had plenty of time before the dinner seating arrangements forced them apart, but even a second not spent with her was a wasted one.
"Have you seen the weather?" he asked her without preamble.
"I have," she sighed. "I sneaked a look out of Lady Mary's window. It's a wretch."
It was more than that. But there was no point in dwelling on it while he was in her company. She was always telling him that they had to make the most of bad situations, and he was determined to do that for her. So, on the pretext of casualness, he let his left hand fall beneath the line of the table and moved it to cover hers, which were clasped in her lap. She met his gaze at once, and he smiled at her reassuringly.
"As you are fond of saying, it'll all come out right in the wash," he said. "We've endured worse, haven't we?"
"We have. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though."
"Look on the bright side: you can take part in Jimmy's daring snowball fight later tonight."
She giggled. "The only way I'd be interested in that is if you come along with me."
"I'm not sure I'll be much good. I'd be terrified of slipping over and making a fool of myself in front of the others."
She pouted. "But who will protect me from being hit with snowballs?"
"That's the cost of rule breaking, my darling."
"So I didn't marry Prince Charming after all?"
"No one is perfect."
She squeezed his hand in return. "You ought to come out, you know. I'd have a lot more fun if you were there."
"And here was me thinking that I couldn't possibly compete with the snow."
"Silly beggar. Please say yes."
"I don't know." He affected Mr. Carson's disapproving tone. "Some of us have got to keep up the standards of Downton. He wouldn't expect it of you but you're young enough to still be able to blame youth. I, unfortunately, am not."
"Age is but a number if you're still young at heart."
"You're not going to back down on this, are you?" he said with an exasperated sigh.
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Bates. You might as well admit defeat now. You know we'll only keep going round the houses until you give in anyway."
Frustrating as it was, he knew that she was right. He could never deny her a single thing. Making sure that the rest of the table was engrossed in its own conversations, he leaned in closer to her ear. "All right. You win. I'll come out with you later tonight. I can't promise that I'll be any fun, but if it'll make you happy…"
"It will," she chirped. She squeezed his hand tighter.
They passed the time until their dinner in peace, occasionally trading soft words but mostly pursuing their own endeavours. John had a book that he had been trying to get through for weeks; now felt a good time to pick it back up as Anna did some darning beside him. He let the chatter of the others wash over him, tuning it out like the buzzing of a bee in the background. And while he read, his mind wandered a little, to the disappointment that had transpired that afternoon. At least there was one consolation now: as much as he did not want to go out in to the cold later tonight, it would mean more time spent in his wife's company and, ultimately, less time spent alone when they finally stole back up to their beds.
It would have to do for now.
The evening seemed to take an eternity to pass, time trickling slowly, like grains of sand on the beach. Every so often, John shot a surreptitious look at the clock on the wall. The hour was moving later and later, and it seemed that Lord Grantham was reluctant to move away from the fire in the library. Lady Mary and Mr. Matthew had already rung, and Anna and Mr. Molesley had left and never returned. Mr. Carson had told them all to head straight to bed instead of coming back down, and they were all taking heed of that, though the younger members of staff smirked between themselves, enjoying the secret they had over the butler. Mr. Carson was oblivious.
At long last, Lord Grantham's bell tinkled. John rose with relief, leaving the footmen, Mr. Carson, and Thomas behind. It would be another long wait until the butler retired.
He made small talk with Lord Grantham as the latter undressed, and bid him a goodnight as he tied a silk nightgown around his waist. His lordship mumbled a similar reply, already turning in the direction of her ladyship's room. John would rather not think about what would be happening in there soon enough. He made his way back to the stairwell and began the long climb up to the attics where the servants slept. It wasn't a journey that he'd ever envisaged having to make again.
His old room had been made up, just like Mrs. Hughes had promised it would be, and he sat himself on the edge of it. There was little point in getting changed for bed when he'd be sneaking out into freezing temperatures soon, so he lay back, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the sounds of the house around him. It was almost forty-five minutes later when he heard noises on the corridor that signified that, at last, Mr. Carson and the others had completed their duties. It would have to be at least another half an hour before they dared try to sneak from their rooms, in order to give Mr. Carson enough chance to fall asleep. It would put their excursion past midnight. God, this was madness.
It was also something that he had agreed to do for his wife's sake. When he heard the soft knock on his door, he pushed himself off the bed with a groan and padded across the room, opening it to find Alfred standing there.
"Jimmy's gone to wake the women," he whispered. "We're all meeting down in the servants' hall."
John suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Jimmy had gone to wake the women. He'd love the daringness of it all, creeping along the women's corridor in full view of his unsuspecting superiors. He'd have to find a way to keep an eye on that one. The last thing that he wanted to happen was for Jimmy to pay a young woman a visit in the middle of the night if he thought he could get away with it again. The lad was certainly cocky enough to try it, and would likely put the effort in to wooing a girl if he thought it would get him the desired result.
"Mr. Bates?" Alfred was staring.
He shook himself. "I'm coming."
It was painful, going without his cane, but there was nothing else for it. The tapping would echo along the corridor, and he didn't want to risk Mr. Carson waking up and catching them all in the act. Thomas would never let him live it down. For once, he would have to grit his teeth and get on with it. He made sure that he fell behind everyone else, not wanting the added pressure of someone breathing down his neck, and took each step carefully, determined not to bear his full weight on it and make it even worse. He was a few minutes behind the others, who were all milling around in the servants' hall, looking excited and apprehensive. They were all wrapped up in their warmest outdoor clothes. John spied Anna at the back of the room, scarf pulled up high around her throat and gloves on her hands. He sidled towards her and touched her back.
"Hello," he said softly.
She beamed at him. "You made it."
"I promised, didn't I?"
She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. "Let's go and get your coat."
He followed her out into the corridor, finding his coat where he'd left it. Anna grabbed his scarf.
"Bend down," she said softly.
He did so dutifully, and she leaned up on her tiptoes, winding it around his neck. He shivered when he felt her gloved fingers brushing against him. She tied it in a snug knot and then reached for his coat. Knowing what she wanted, he turned around, finding the arms and shrugging it on. She ducked around his front to fasten it for him, patting his chest once she was done.
"There we are," she said. "That'll keep you snug."
He snuck down to steal a kiss. "It certainly will."
She blushed. "Silly beggar."
They slipped back into the hall to find Jimmy standing on the table, looking for all the world like a priest commanding his fervent followers.
"I've been in Mr. Carson's office and found the keys, ladies and gentlemen!" he announced. "Are we ready to have some fun?"
Cheers rang out from the younger members of staff. Jimmy smirked.
"Let's go, then!" he said. "Come on!"
He jumped off the table with a clatter and led the way to the back door. John and Anna let the more eager amongst them go first, finding Mr. Molesley standing dejectedly beside them.
"I don't know why I always let myself get dragged into these situations," he said miserably. "I'd much rather be in bed. And if Mr. Carson ever finds out I was involved, I know he's going to be very cross with me."
"We'll be all right," Anna said reassuringly. "Don't worry, Mr. Molesley. It won't just be you in trouble. We'll all be in trouble."
Thar didn't seem to be a consolation for him. He sighed mournfully and dragged his feet after them.
John paused at the doorway, shivering. "Bloody hell, it's freezing out here."
Anna didn't seem to mind, ducking under him and crunching out into the snow. "Oh, John, it's lovely!"
Lovely was not the word he'd use for it. He eyed it sceptically as he slowly edged his way outside. The snow felt treacherous beneath his feet, and he was very afraid that he'd find himself sprawled out in it. But Anna was there in the next moment, ducking under his shoulder, her hand in his.
"We'll be fine, Mr. Bates," she said reassuringly. "Come on, we don't want to fall too far behind and miss all the fun. We're going a little away from the front of the house so that we won't disturb anyone."
They trudged through the snow, using the tracks already made by the others. There was very little they could see by the moonlight, but they took it slowly, John mindful that even a small misstep could send him tumbling to the floor. By the time they reached the others, they were already in the middle of a full-on fight, shouting and shrieking as snow flew overhead.
Anna's eyes were shining. "Come on, Mr. Bates, let's go and help Daisy out."
The poor girl was cowering away from a gloating Jimmy as he hefted a ball of snow into the air and caught it.
"Come on, Daisy," he taunted. "Don't be a baby."
Nodding, John let go of Anna's hand and bent down with a grunt to gather snow into the palm of his hand. The wetness soaked through his gloves unpleasantly but he paid it no mind as he packed the snow into a hard ball. When it was done, he stood and took deadly aim. The snowball sailed through the air and hit Jimmy in the back of the head. He yelped spinning around at once.
"Who was that?" he said furiously. Anna stifled a giggle, and threw her own snowball. It cannoned through the air and hit him straight in the face. John was rather impressed. He hadn't expected such killer aim from her.
Jimmy shook his head, droplets flying from his hair. "That does it! I'm going to get you!" He turned to his fellow youngsters. "Help me out here!"
Ivy was the first to take up arms, lovesick puppy that she was. Eager to impress, Alfred was quick to follow. Daisy scowled.
"Well, I'm joining Anna and Mr. Bates," she announced sullenly. "That's only fair."
Jimmy waved his hand. "They're not on their own. They've got Mr. Molesley."
Who would be of no use to either of them, judging by his terrified expression.
"And they can have Mr. Barrow, of course."
"I'd rather be on your side," said Thomas, shooting John a venomous look.
"We've got all the help we need, thanks," Jimmy said coolly. "You can stay over there."
John would rather the under butler did join the others. As far as he was concerned, he couldn't trust him as far as he could throw him. Even if Thomas was meant to be on their side, it wouldn't stop him from doing something devious for his own gain. It never had in the past, after all.
With a twist of the lips, Thomas reluctantly made his way over and stood on Mr. Molesley's other side. They made for a mismatched band. They were outnumbered now, but John had beaten worse odds before under much more extreme circumstances. He was sure that he'd be able to outsmart a few headstrong young men and women. He felt Anna tense beside him.
"Are we ready for this?" she murmured.
"We're going to have to be," he replied as Daisy joined them.
"You know, when I vowed to stand by you for better or worse, I never had this in mind."
"None of this is my fault. You're the one who got us in to this."
"We'll have to find a way out of it together."
"I wouldn't put myself in this situation for just anyone, you know."
"I know. You love me. The question is, do you love me enough to take a snowball for me?"
"I suppose we'll see soon enough, Mrs. Bates."
"Ready?" said Jimmy.
John nodded. He was ready as he was ever going to be for being assailed with snowballs—which wasn't very ready at all.
"Attack!" Jimmy yelled, and leapt forward.
It was total chaos. Snow sailed through the air, hitting its mark with soft thumps and high-pitched squeals. There were yells and whoops, harsh pants for breath. People slipped over, missed their targets by miles. John stuck to his task with dogged determination. It was like being back in the army again, being back under fire by the enemy. He had always been an impressive marksman, it was one of the things that had kept him alive, and he worked those old skills to his advantage now, keeping himself as small as possible to minimise the target, hurling snow with cool efficiency at anyone who dared to get too close to him. The housemaids squealed and ran if he even looked at them, which made the task somewhat easier. Instead, they focused their attention on poor Mr. Molesley, who was faring most poorly; he was drenched through and looked like he might be on the brink of tears.
Anna, on the other hand, was holding her own magnificently. He'd never doubted her for a moment. Small and quick as lightning, she darted to and fro, throwing the snow with speed if not always accuracy and causing the younger members of staff more than enough problems as they tried to organise themselves. It was exactly the kind of distraction he needed to gather more snow up and prepare for an attack on the leader. He knew that if Jimmy fell, they'd all fall. No one had the confidence that he did, and he was quite sure that they would all back off if they thought that they were going to be hit with a barrage of snow over and over again. As Anna danced around below, John steadied himself and took aim.
Jimmy yelled out again as the snow hit him square in the chest, almost with enough force to knock him over.
"Bloody hell!" he said. "You're not getting away with that one!"
He bent to gather his own snow but Anna leapt in to action, hurling her own snowball at him. Ivy was upon them in the next minute, loyal to a fault, but her aim was much less impressive. The snowball sailed past the both of them and hit Mr. Molesley in the face. He squealed, and began to clumsily gather up his own snow.
It was a good thing they had Thomas, really. As much as John disliked the man, he had a good aim, and proved to be more than a decent shot. Evidently his desire to stay dry outweighed his dislike of working with his sworn enemy. Between the three of them, they did a decent job of keeping the youngsters at bay. The less that was said about Mr. Moelsey's contribution, the better.
But that did not mean they were totally superior. Alfred had fought in the war and had a sharp aim. Jimmy was quick and clever. Between the two of them, they were dangerous. And John was not as agile as he had once been, unable to dodge with ease. His knee was stiffening up to a very painful degree, and it made it very difficult to navigate the area. Several times he was caught by the flying snowballs, grunting in pain as a hard ball of ice struck him in the arm. Anna was beside him in an instant, anxious.
"Are you all right?" she asked. "You're not hurt?"
"I'm fine," he reassured her. It would probably bruise in the morning, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He'd had worse injuries.
But Anna's face had twisted in distress. "You're hurt—"
"Anna, I'm fine," he said firmly. "Stop fussing—"
The snowball arced through the air and hit him square in the face. Swearing, he stumbled backwards, almost twisting his knee.
"What—" Anna started to say, only to squeal and stumble backwards herself, shaking herself like a dog shaking its coat. "Bleedin' hell!"
She too had been showered with a burst of wet snow. Her cheeks had gone bright red, and droplets dripped down her face, disappearing into the neck of her coat.
"Jimmy!" she squealed. "I'll get you for that!"
"I'd like to see you try!" was the cocky response. Anna growled under her breath.
"That boy," she said. "I swear he's too confident for his own good."
John wiped the snow from his own face, wrinkling his nose. "'Confident' is one word for it. I have a few of my own."
"You'd better not say them," said Anna. "I have a feeling that they're rather uncharitable."
"Whatever gave me away?" John ducked another snowball thrown his way, gritting his teeth.
"Your tone of voice." Anna span gracefully out of the way of a third, tugging at his arm. "Come on, we need to find some shelter so that we can regroup."
"Good luck getting that message to Thomas and Mr. Molesley," said John, watching the two of them grappling with two of the hall boys on the edge of the fight. It looked suspiciously like Thomas was allowing Mr. Molesley to take all of the hits. Daisy had completely vanished amongst the others.
Anna snorted. "I wasn't thinking about including Thomas and Mr. Molesley. We're here, aren't we? I think we can take Jimmy out on our own. We're Team Bates."
"Team Bates?" said John, momentarily distracted as he turned to look at her. "Is that how you think of us?"
Anna shrugged. "Well, it is what we are, isn't it? Husband and wife and all that. I thought it sounded rather nice in my head."
"It sounds more than nice," he whispered. Hearing those words issuing from her mouth made his insides twist and melt. It was stupid, really. She was his wife, for God's sake, had been for over a year now. But it still seemed so surreal. And when she said things like that, with such surety…
The next snowball smashed into the side of his face with such force that he almost lost his footing completely. He stumbled, arms flailing.
Was prevented from falling over only by Anna's strong hand on his arm.
"Watch what you're doing," she giggled. "Come on!"
He let her lead him behind a nearby tree, snow exploding around them like hand grenades. Anna ducked down, immediately gathering snow in her arms.
"I'm going to scoot around the trees and come up behind Jimmy," she told him whilst she worked. "I'm smaller than you so it'll be easier for me to remain undetected."
"And me?"
"You'll be the distraction."
"Cannon fodder, more like."
"Whatever it takes to win. You want to beat Jimmy, don't you?"
He did. And he loved Anna's quick wit, how her brain was always working to find the best solution to a problem. No wonder she had managed to free him almost single-handedly. She had been born in the wrong place. If she had been born of a higher station, born a man, there would have been no limit to the things that she could have achieved.
Selfishly, he was just glad that he was allowed to be in awe of her.
She'd gone in the next moment with a swish of her skirts, swallowed up by the darkness. John dutifully began to gather snow together, packing it tightly in his palms as he prepared himself for what was to come. He was likely going to be soaked to the skin and very uncomfortable. But it would be worth it if Anna was right. And he wouldn't let her down.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the shelter of the trees. It was a bit like facing the guns all over again.
"Here, lads," he called out, and hurled the snowball with all the strength he could muster. It struck one of the hall boys, and he lost his balance, falling flat on his backside in the snow. John bent down quickly to gather some more together. He didn't have much time. The assault was bound to start soon.
And start it did. The air was alive around him with the susurrus sounds of snow soaring through the air, combined with the battle cries of victory. John took each blow with the stoicism required from him, holding back his grunts of discomfort as the snow hit his body all over. Under the barrage of attacks, he managed to gather together enough snow for a counterattack, but it was feeble at best. Simply alone, he wasn't enough.
But he always had Anna by his side now. His belief was strengthened when he heard her cry, heard the surprised yells of the lads as she came out of the darkness and launched her own attack. While the boys were distracted, John took the opportunity to grab more snow and hurl it back.
It was a master of a plan. The lads were now effectively penned in by the two of them, and John resolutely kept up a steady supply of snowballs. His deadly aimed made him a formidable opponent. Another lad went down after a moment, and the third fell to Anna's fair hands. That left only Jimmy. The footman's lip curled.
"You won't beat me!" he said. "I'm made of stronger stuff than these dandies!"
"So you say," said John. "Personally, I'm still waiting to see it."
"I'll show you—!"
John tensed, waiting for the blow that never came.
Because Anna stepped in neatly for him, hurling a snowball with startling accuracy at the back of the footman's blond head. It exploded there, sending him cannoning forward. Jimmy swore loudly.
"That does it!" he yelled, and John took a step forward, intent on aiding Anna in any way he could—
"Would anyone care to explain what's going on here?"
The sound of the sharp Scottish brogue stopped everyone dead in their tracks. John guiltily dropped the pile of snow that he had been shaping, spinning round and almost losing his balance as he came face to face with someone he had never expected to see out here.
Mrs. Hughes.
Mrs. Hughes had found them.
She was flanked by Mrs. Patmore, another person he had been certain he'd never see in a situation like this. How had they found out—?
His gaze fell on the woman flanking her other side, and his insides twisted. Damn. How could they have forgotten about Miss O'Brien? She was standing there with a smug look of triumph on her face, as if she knew that she'd outsmarted them all and would enjoy their downfall.
In the sudden silence that had taken over the vicinity, Anna had crept closer until she was beside him. Now, she shrank away, her confidence fleeing her in the presence of her superior. John knew that she hated to be a disappointment to anyone, but especially to Mrs. Hughes, who had always treated her with such kindness and respect. None of them had seriously considered that this could ever be a possibility, but now it was right there in front of them, the reality of it was frightening.
Mrs. Hughes arched an eyebrow, glaring around at them all. "Well?"
"It was all Jimmy's idea!" Daisy blurted. "He said we should come outside in the snow after everyone had gone to bed! We all just went along with it!"
"And are you incapable of making up your own mind and saying no, Daisy?" said Mrs. Patmore.
Daisy wilted.
"Miss O'Brien came straight to me and told me exactly what you were all planning," Mrs. Hughes continued. "And I must say, I am very disappointed that you would think to deceive us in such a manner. Mr. Carson had every right to tell you not to go out in the snow. And I am especially surprised to see some of you who should have known better."
Her gaze found the small group that John was part of. John felt his scalp prickle in shame, and Anna edged further behind him, as if she hoped to disappear. Mr. Molesley gulped audibly. Miss O'Brien smirked wider, the snake facing the mice. How had they all been stupid enough to forget themselves in front of her? He ought to have known better. Miss O'Brien was never one for showing mercy.
"Mr. Carson would have every right to punish you all accordingly," Mrs. Hughes continued. "Some of you more harshly than others." This was accompanied with another pointed look in their direction. There was nothing any of them could do or say to make things better, soaked to the bone as they were, looking nothing like the decorous servants. "You'd all deserve it, for disobeying direct orders."
Anna shuffled uncomfortably, and John chanced a quick glance in her direction, eyebrows raised; after all, it was her fault that they'd ended up in this situation. He would have been quite happy whiling away the hours being miserable and alone.
But then, miraculously, Mrs. Hughes' lips twitched. Her eyes began twinkling. "Happily for all of you, I will not be telling Mr. Carson about what's transpired here."
John's mouth fell open; so did most everyone's around him, who had been following his lead and looking most ashamed of themselves. He stared aghast at the housekeeper. She couldn't truly be letting them all off Scott-free…
Miss O'Brien seemed to feel the same incredulousness, but hers was tinged with spitefulness. "What?"
Mrs. Hughes turned towards her. "Were you hoping to witness your colleagues' downfall, Miss O'Brien?"
Caught out, she muttered, "No, of course not, I just thought you had the right to know…"
"And thank you for that. But there is no honour in being the Judas amongst the ranks. You have made your point glaringly obvious, but I absolutely forbid you from telling Mr. Carson anything. There's nothing wrong with being young every once in a while, or remembering what it was like to be young, for that matter."
"Does that mean we can carry on having fun?" Jimmy said boldly.
"It does," said Mrs. Hughes. "And what's more, it means that Mrs. Patmore and I will be joining in with you."
John was quite sure that the looks of shock on everyone's faces around him were identical. It sounded utterly surreal. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore joining in?
It was fantastic. A way of gaining the trust of the younger members of staff, and their undying respect, too, for not throwing them over when they had every right to do so. For the older members of staff, like him, it simply showed them what good, kind-hearted people they worked with. They were very lucky indeed to have colleagues like the housekeeper and the cook.
"We're quite disappointed you didn't include us from the beginning," said Mrs. Patmore. "I'll have you know that I was quite proficient at whipping up snowballs in my youth."
"And what's more," Mrs. Hughes added, "you will also be joining in, Miss O'Brien."
Angry and mortified, the lady's maid snapped, "What?"
Mrs. Hughes gestured, triumphant. "Well, I think it's only fair that you join in with your fellow servants and build up some camaraderie. We insist, don't we, Mrs. Patmore?"
"We do," Mrs. Patmore agreed. "Come on, Miss O'Brien, after you."
Miss O'Brien looked furious as the little cook all but frogmarched her into the centre of the circle. With a whoop, Jimmy kicked snow in her direction, and the chaos began once more. A snowball whistled past Anna's ear, narrowly missing hitting her full in the face, and she squealed.
"Alfred!" she yelled. And with that, she was gone, diving right back into the fray, young and carefree and so breathtakingly beautiful. John kept away, watching from a safe distance.
"That was very kind of you," he said to Mrs. Hughes as she sidled up to his side. She gave a nostalgic smile.
"Well, I spoke the truth," she said. "We were all young once. And it's lovely to see the young be allowed to be so every once in a while. They're not going to get these days back. One day they'll have huge responsibilities, perhaps to their own families, perhaps like we are to them now. I want them to be able to look back on their youth with fondness, not with despair." She tilted her head towards him. "You must share some of that sentiment, otherwise I don't think you would have been here tonight."
He chuckled. "Do I seem that unlikely a candidate for snowballing? Well, it's true, I admit. I'm here because Anna wants to be here. She's happy, and that makes me happy."
His gaze drifted towards her now, where she was closed in with Daisy and ducking an assault from some of the boys. She was laughing freely, in a way that had been so rare in the years before his release from prison. He never wanted to be without the sight ever again.
There was a smile in Mrs. Hughes' voice. "I hope you know that we're all happy for you, too. There's no one more deserving than the two of you, not after everything you've gone through. You deserve the opportunity to laugh and have fun. Even if it was against Mr. Carson's express wishes."
"Blame Anna for that one," he argued good-naturedly. "She was the one who wanted to do this. I am but her humble servant."
"And so you should be. But I could have guessed this was Anna's influence. She's always been a good charge, you know. Right from the beginning, she never gave me any of the trouble that the other young girls did. She had a serious head on her shoulders, and a desire to learn and ply herself to her trade. But there was a mischief about her too. She kept it well-hidden, but I know what she was like. I'm glad to see that she hasn't lost any of that."
"So am I," said John. He was privy to Anna's bouts of mischief much more than Mrs. Hughes was, knew just what a impish heart she hid beneath the layers of decorum. There had been flashes of it when they were courting; he was glad that it had only blossomed further once their troubles were behind them. He couldn't help but gaze upon her, feeling a soppy smile blooming despite himself. He couldn't help it: she was far too beautiful, far too marvellous.
"What do you say we join in the fun, Mr. Bates?" said Mrs. Hughes.
Anna turned and caught his eye. He felt his heart swell in his chest.
"I'd say that that's a very good idea, Mrs. Hughes," he said. Together, they joined their co-workers and friends.
It was past two in the morning when the furious snowball fight finally petered out. It had been a long, unexpectedly enjoyable interlude, but all good things had to come to an end.
Ivy was the first to capitulate, almost asleep on her feet. Mrs. Patmore, bright-red in the face and clashing admirably with her hair, was upon her at once.
"Right, to bed, missy!" she said, ignoring the kitchen maid's half-hearted protests. "You're never going to make it through the day at this rate."
Ivy grumbled a little more, but soon gave in. It signalled the end of the party. In drips and drabs, the others announced that they were done for the night. Mrs. Hughes told them to be careful as they made their way back up to bed lest they disturb Mr. Carson and bring on his wrath. Mr. Molesley all but fled the scene, soaked to the bone and looking more than a little dismayed by it all. He had been a prone target for the others, with his poor aim and gentle nature making him easy to overpower. If John was honest with himself, he had enjoyed throwing the one snowball that he had thrown at him rather too much; it had been a payback of sorts for what Anna had told him all those years ago, that the other valet had once tried to move in on her when he had been away in London. His jealousy had amused her, and he knew it was stupid to feel such a way when Anna was undeniably happy with him, but he was only human. He was allowed his petty vices every now and then.
And, more satisfying than all of that, had been the way that Miss O'Brien had been treated. Ousted as a spy in their ranks, she had been subjected to snowball after snowball thrown her way. By the end of it, she had looked like an angry, mangled cat, hair dripping, clothes ruined. Anna, John had noticed, had got in a couple of her own deadly blows there. It was no less than the sour faced woman deserved. Likely this treatment would make her more vengeful than ever, but John knew that it would prove an effective silencer. She now wouldn't be able to complain about what had happened without admitting that she had been there. And he was quite sure that the others would be lining up to protest that she had been involved right from the very beginning if she did dare to breathe a word. This time, she had been well and truly beaten.
When the last dregs of servants finally admitted defeat and began to traipse back towards the house, Anna found him once more, breathless and shivering and jubilant.
"That was amazing!" she beamed, slipping her hand into his without a care as they started off slowly. John bit his tongue to prevent the painful groan from escaping him. The cold had done his knee absolutely no favours, and he was really feeling the effects of that now. It would be like hell to walk on tomorrow, made worth it only by the look on his wife's face. "I had so much fun!"
"I'm glad," he told her, lowering his voice so that Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes, walking in front, would not hear them.
"But did you enjoy yourself?" she asked him earnestly. "I'd hate to think that I made you endure something you hated for a whole evening."
"I'd endure anything I hated as long as it made you happy," he responded.
"That doesn't sound promising," she said.
"But it's romantic?"
"Very romantic," she agreed, squeezing his hand tight.
At last, they made it back to Downton. Mrs. Hughes was waiting for them inside the back door.
"Hurry up to bed, the both of you," she said. "I'll lock up here. See you in the morning. Or in a few hours, as the case may be."
"Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes," Anna chirped, peeling off her wet layers. John followed suit, and together they crept back up the stairs to where the staircase divided between the men's and the women's corridors. He risked a glance around him. No one in sight. Emboldened, he leaned in and brushed a kiss against her mouth.
"Sweet dreams, love," he whispered.
"Sweet dreams," she echoed, reaching up to kiss him more firmly. He enjoyed the weight of her body against his for a moment before a distant echo brought him back to his senses. He pulled away from her, brushed his thumb against her cheek in goodbye, and turned in the direction of the men's quarters.
He dressed himself for bed as quickly as possible, eager to wrap himself up warm. He clambered beneath his bedsheets, shivering, and tried to find a comfortable position for his knee. It took him some time to be successful, and even longer to doze, but at last he slipped beneath the waves of sleep.
He woke with a start when he felt something heavy on him.
"Wha—" he started, before a hand closed over his mouth. He stiffened, ready to struggle—
"Mr. Bates, really," a voice hissed. "You'll give the game away."
Anna. Anna was in the room with him. Startled, John pushed her hand away, struggling up into the most upright position he could manage when she was hunkered over him as she was.
"What are you doing here?" he whispered.
"I've come to keep you company, of course. Why, don't you want me?"
His brain was sluggish with tiredness. "But…you shouldn't be here."
She tutted. "If you really don't want me here, I'll go."
He shook his head. "That's not what I meant…but what if someone finds you here?"
"They won't," she said confidently. "Everyone's in bed. I have my own room now. No one's going to notice I'm missing. I think Ivy will be so asleep on her feet that she won't even notice that I haven't answered her when she comes to wake us."
"And how are you going to get away without anyone seeing you?"
She shrugged. "I've managed it before, haven't I?"
The words sent a bolt of heat through him. Because she had. Just a few months ago, when they had been forced to wait for their cottage. On his second night home. She had come to him, blazing just like now, and she had told him that they deserved to be together every night, that the previous night, spent once more in the room they had used on their wedding night, was something that they should experience every day, and he had been powerless to resist her, drawn in by her strength, her courage, her beauty, his own desire…
"We shouldn't," he said half-heartedly.
"And why not?" she challenged. "It's not our fault that we've been forced to spend the night here again. We should be at home in our own bed. And I'm cold. I need your warmth to keep me from freezing."
"Anna—" he tried to warn, but his words got lost in his groan.
She never failed to surprise him. In a moment she had risen up on her knees and pulled her nightgown clean off. She was wearing nothing underneath. Enchanted, his eyes ran along the miles of silvered skin, so beautiful in the stormy moonlight. How had he ever got so lucky to have somehow snared her heart? It beggared belief.
"Budge up," Anna whispered.
"I don't think it's a good idea," he choked. Already he could feel his body responding to her, simply by looking upon her. They would be playing a very dangerous game if he allowed her any closer. True, they had played this game before, but it felt different now, somehow. Perhaps it was because they had already been so daring this evening, pushing their luck with Mrs. Hughes. If she ever found out about this, he was sure that all bargains would be off.
But she had never found out about it before, a dangerous voice in the back of his head whispered. They had beaten the odds then. They hadn't been discovered. If they were very quiet now…
Anna made the decision for him, tugging hard at his thin bedsheets. Before he could even blink she had burrowed herself beneath them, snuggling right up to the crook of his neck. He shuddered at the feel of her breasts pressed so tight to his chest.
"What are you doing?" he breathed.
"What does it look like?" she replied. "I'm sharing my body heat with you."
There could be no denying that the temperature of the room had shot up several degrees despite the frigid conditions. He shifted below her, hyper-aware that she could probably feel him stirring against her. "I see."
"You know what's even more effective?" she asked.
He knew he was going to regret answering her. "What?"
"If you were naked too," she said. "That way we'll generate heat between us quicker instead of it being tapped by our clothes."
"And how do you know that?"
"I heard it once," she said vaguely. "But I think it's a good idea to test it out. I'd hate for us to be cold, especially when we were outside for so long."
"It's a good theory," he agreed thickly. He knew then that he was fighting a losing battle. It was simply impossible to resist Anna when she was that close to him, as beautiful as she was. He was but a weak, weak man. She would defeat him every single time.
Evidently, she knew that. With a grin that would rival the Cheshire cat's, she ran her hand down his body, coming to rest right where his interest was most prominent.
"Well, well, well," she breathed. "What do we have here?"
He wriggled, embarrassed and aroused all in one go. She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his trousers, and that was it. He was lost. Whimpering, he pushed up into her touch, not even caring that the triumphant grin upon her face was less a direct blow to his masculinity.
"Should we get you out of these things?" she said with mock concern, palming him in a way that simply made 'no' not an option. He nodded frantically, and together they worked to get his restrictive clothing out of the way. Anna threw them somewhere in the darkness, where they hit the floor with a soft thump. He ran his hands up over her hips, mapping her smooth skin by memory in the darkness.
"We're going to have to be very quiet," she whispered. "Can you do that?"
"Can you?" he challenged. "We're not in the cottage now, love."
"I think I can manage," she returned. "I've done it before."
"In that case…" he murmured, "Lead on, Mrs. Bates."
And she did just that.
In a hazy afterglow, John pulled Anna closer to him, burying his head in her hair and breathing in her scent as she sighed happily and kissed his shoulder. Yes, he thought dimly, that had been a most effective way of warming back up. It was now rather hot and humid beneath the blankets, but he was loath to separate from her. Anna seemed to be of the same mind.
"D'you mind if I stay here?" she said sleepily.
He kissed her hair. "Of course not."
It wasn't ideal, of course. He would find it difficult to move position if his knee started to cramp. If she fell asleep and he decided that he was uncomfortable then he was stuck here for the next few hours.
He couldn't bring himself to care one small bit. This was more than worth the price of a stiff knee.
Deep breathing reached his ears, and he turned his head with some difficulty to gaze down upon his wife. Her cheeks were pink, her mouth open just slightly. Her lashes feathered against her face. She was fast asleep, always so quick to slip away when she was tired. His heart swelled anew.
Anna was worth any price at all.
Dawn came too soon. Dressed once more and still sleepy-eyed, Anna reached up to kiss him.
"See you soon," she murmured.
He poked his head out to check the way was clear. Nodding to let her know it was, he held the door open for her as she ducked under his arm and hurried on bare feet towards the door that she had left unlocked. He watched her go, brimming with love for her. She glanced over her shoulder one last time before disappearing, giving him a little wave.
John couldn't help but think that even if they had to endure a few more days of living back up at the abbey, he could make do with it as long as they could have this every day.
At breakfast, Mr. Carson glared round at everyone suspiciously.
"You're all very subdued," he said. "Have I missed something?"
Most of the servants exchanged shifty looks with one another.
"No, Mr. Carson," said Mrs. Hughes, her face innocently blank. "Why on earth would you think that?"
The butler scrutinised her more severely. "I'm not sure. But it seems that there's something that you're not telling me."
John couldn't stop his own guilty smile across at Anna. He remembered their own secrets of just a few hours previously, the silk of her skin against his, her hot breath at his ear, the slick heat they'd generated between the two of them, the way that she'd rested on him all night, a warm, heavy weight.
"I don't know what you mean," said Mrs. Hughes. "This house has no secrets."
Anna stifled her own grin, ducking her head, and John felt his cheeks warm. Oh, but how many secrets the house did have. Secrets that he'd remember with fondness for the rest of his life. With the look on Anna's face, he knew that she felt exactly the same way he did.
It would be enough to warm him on the many cold winter nights to come.