Summary: He didn't need to say the words.
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey, don't sue me, etc.
A/N: Just a somewhat fluffy piece that occurred to me after writing lots of angst lately. Reviews are awesome.
They passed each other in the hallway upstairs, her carrying shoes and a dress needing mending and him toting laundered shirts. He winked at her and she flashed him a smile as her cheeks flushed pink.
x
He took the seat across from her at lunch, making sure to catch her gaze as he sat down. She raised her eyebrows in silent question, as she nodded to the empty seat next to her. But he simply shook his head. A moment later, Miss Baxter took the seat next to Anna instead, and he gestured at the other lady's maid with his eyes. On the other side of Miss Baxter was Mr. Moseley, who greeted the woman with bashful cheer. Anna turned back to grin at her husband, who simply shrugged off the gesture.
x
At the end of the evening, he waited for her to return from undressing Lady Mary at the bottom of the stairs. Giving him a tired smile, she led him to the back door where he helped her on with her coat before following her out into the night air.
x
As she poured water into the tub for her bath before bed, Anna opened the cabinet in search of some oils to add to it. She'd used up the bath salts she'd gotten for her birthday and hadn't had a chance to get to town to buy more. But as her hands traveled across the small assortment of soaps and oils, she discovered a brand new bottle of her favorite bath salts. Looking over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door, she smiled, knowing who'd replaced the salts but not knowing how he'd accomplished the feat.
x
He was late to tea, Lord Grantham having kept him reminiscing over their days in the army. Most of the other servants had gone on with their work but Anna sat waiting for him at the table. The cup of tea she slid him was still hot, and with a furtive glance around to ensure no one noticed, she slid him a biscuit she must have pilfered from the kitchen.
x
The fair was in town and they walked down with the others after dinner. His naturally slow gait allowed them to fall behind the group and when the others were far enough ahead, he reached down to take her hand in his. She grinned at him openly as he threaded their fingers together.
x
The letter came in the morning post. Bad news. A friend from the old days had died unexpectedly and his own grief hit him with a sort of strange urgency which sent him to the courtyard for air. Anna followed him. Seeing his face and the sadness written there, she asked no questions. She simply wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her, bringing him into the shelter of her embrace.
x
He found her in the garden. She'd beaten him home by half an hour on one of their rare half days and she had already changed into a work dress and apron. For a moment, she did not notice him as she knelt on the ground by a bit of churned earth, hollowing out holes in the soil to place the seedlings they'd been tending for several weeks. But as if sensing his presence, she turned to look in his direction, her face splitting into a bedeviling smile. Rolling her eyes at the sight of him still dressed from work, she held out an empty watering can, the simple question not needing to be asked.
x
She rolled over in bed, unable to find a comfortable position. He slept on next to her, his gentle snores going uninterrupted. Frowning at his ability to sleep so deeply while she tossed and turned, she punched her pillow, squeezed her eyes shut, and waited. Sleep did not come. Sighing heavily, she got up and went to the bathroom before returning to bed. As she crawled back under the covers, she noticed that his snores had stopped. A moment later, a strong arm wrapped itself around her waist and pulled her against him. Wrapped snugly beside him, cocooned with his warmth and scent, she finally drifted back to sleep.
x
In the morning before work, he helped her lace her corset, pulling the lacings to exactly the right tension with the ease of practiced hands. And before she could step away from him to retrieve her dress from where she'd laid it out on the bed, he placed his hands on her waist and gently tugged her back to him. Looking back at him with a questioning smile, he answered by placing a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder before letting her go.
x
He opened the last box under their tiny tree. The wrapping was simple but neat and inside he found a wool knit scarf. Immediately recognizing the yarn - not to mention the occasional dropped or uneven stitch - he gave his wife an appreciative smile. He knew she had to have learned the skill in secret as he'd never seen her knitting. Pulling the scarf from the box, he wrapped it around his neck, paying no attention to the scratchiness of the wool. But as he did so, he noticed something else in the bottom of the box. Removing the item, he realized they were two knit socks. Two tiny knit socks.
x
He waited for her outside the bathroom, listening to the sounds of her retching with the utmost concern. When she finally emerged looking exhausted and pale, he held out a damp cloth for her. But before she could take it, a look of disgust passed over her face and she fled back into the bathroom, half-heartedly pushing the door shut behind her. He only listened to the sounds of her being sick for a few seconds more before following her in. She barely noticed as he delicately lowered himself to the floor beside her, gently pulling her hair back from her face. He sat there with her until she was finished.
x
She walked even slower than him as they made their way to church on a Sunday morning. Frowning at the tightness of her dress, she stopped to fuss with it for a moment before moving on. But a short time later, she paused to pull at the fabric again. An idea occurring to him, he tugged at the sweater around her shoulders. Her brow wrinkled in question as he removed the item, but she said nothing as he reached behind her and unzipped her dress halfway. The extra space seemed to solve the problem, and as he helped her back on with the sweater, he check to ensure it covered the open zipper. She rewarded his ingenuity with a smile and they continued on the road to the church.
x
They arrived home from work, both exhausted from a long day. But his knee throbbed from the exertions and he could barely limp to the table and lower himself into the chair. Without a word of complaint, Anna hung up their things on pegs and set to work in the kitchen making them tea. She'd been on her feet even more than him, and he could see the tension in her shoulders as she set to the tasks. But within minutes, she brought a steaming cup for both of them. Seating herself across from him, she gave him a tired smile as she took a sip.
x
On a rare day, they snuck off in the middle of the afternoon to have a private moment in an empty room. On one such day, Mrs. Hughes walked in on them together in a store closet. She froze at the sight that greeted her: Anna seated on a drunk, her husband standing behind her, his hands gently kneading her shoulders and upper back. The seated position highlighted the extra slope of Anna's midsection. Mrs. Hughes only smiled kindly, shook her head at them in exasperation, and pulled the door shut behind her.
x
She traced her fingers cross the scars on his knee, her touch firm but gentle as she applied the balm. Sitting at his feet, she had better access and could see the areas on his lower leg where the screws from the limp corrector had left lasting damage in his skin and muscle. The balm would do nothing for the injury itself, the doctor had told him, but it did help with the tightness of the white scars. As she massaged it into his skin, he watched her, as he always did, looking for some trace of disgust or disappointment in her eyes. But as always, he saw only love and sympathy. When she was done, she looked up at him and smiled, moving her hand to rest on the inside of his thigh.
x
When she could no longer work at the house, Anna began meeting him at the door when he returned home in the evenings. The cottage would be alight with warmth, the smell of fresh baked bread coming from the kitchen as she helped him off with his coat and hat. He'd lean forward to kiss her and as he did, he'd see the genuine pleasure in her eyes at the sight of him. As his lips found hers, her rounded belly pressing into him, he let his hand feel the long tresses of her hair flowing free over her shoulders.
x
The plants in the garden began to produce vegetables, and Anna tended to them every day despite the difficulty of getting up and down unassisted. She never complained, but on his half days, he was there to see the problem. One day when she was in the garden, he went into the cottage and returned a moment later with an object in hand. The cane had been a gift from some well-intentioned friend, but it was too short for him. He handed it to Anna. Understanding, she used it to leverage herself off the garden earth so she could face him and reward him with a delighted grin.
x
He paced the hallway of the hospital up and down, the clack of his cane on the wooden floor beating the rhythm of a slow drum. Stopping when he heard his wife's screams of pain from behind the door, his face cringed. Mrs. Hughes sat nearby, a picture of sympathy as she waited with him. Finally, after many hours, a single sound rang out through the building. A baby's cry. Some moments later, the door opened and Dr. Clarkson exited, a tiny bundle in hand. He handed the tightly wrapped newborn over to the proud father who fairly trembled as he accepted the child. Looking down at the pink face of the baby, he saw Anna's eyes reflected back at him.
x
He'd carried the rocking chair up to their bedroom himself, taking great care with both it and his knee. The labor was worth it to see Anna rocking back and forth, their child in her arms nursing at Anna's breast. She would hum to the baby or sometimes sing quiet lullabies as she rocked. And he just stood in the doorway and watched them both, amazed and perpetually delighted. Anna looked up at him, her tired eyes full of the same emotions in his.
He didn't need to say the words, but he did anyway.
"I love you."