A/N: Happy New Year! Here's to a wonderful 2017, filled with lots of A/B!
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.
Auld Lang Syne
1914
They'd said that it would be over by Christmas, but now they were fast approaching the New Year with no sign that the war would cease. On the continent, men continued to fight for their king and country, facing God only knew what kind of horrors, and while there had been a slight tilting of the ground beneath their feet, there seemed a renewed determination these days for life to continue on exactly as it had done before. In the sleepy Yorkshire countryside, Anna had a feeling that Downton had an easier time of it than most.
The day had been a whirlwind of activity. Anna had been simply run off her feet, attempting to get everything she needed ready. In a bid to keep the good old days going, the Crawley family had taken the decision to host a New Year's dinner. Friends from miles around would be descending on the place. Many of them would be stopping overnight. The servants' hall would be filled to the brim with travelling servants, though there would be less valets than there usually were, with many of them responding to the call-up. Mr. Carson was almost on the verge of a heart attack. The others would be judging every single tiny detail, he boomed, and Downton Abbey would not be found wanting in times of crisis. They would not be the subject of gossip on every mouth in the county. It seemed that every piece of silver in the whole house had been polished for the occasion, every single room given a proper spring clean, and Mrs. Patmore's dinner downstairs was almost as fine as the one they were having upstairs. That was one thing, Anna supposed. It would make a change from the stews and the semolina, nice as they were. That was if she was awake enough to enjoy them. It wouldn't really be a surprise if she fell asleep into her starter, she was so bone-tired.
She barely had time to stop for a cup of tea and a slice of bread at tea time. With three young women to dress, all demanding very different things, she was being sent on frantic errands everywhere. Miss O'Brien was complaining about her workload for her ladyship. She ought to have her workload, Anna thought resentfully. She would gladly trade.
It was a relief when half past seven came around and all three of the daughters made their way downstairs. Now, at least, she could have some respite. Wearily, Anna trudged back downstairs. Mr. Carson and William were nowhere in sight. Mrs. Hughes was alone in sitting around the table, leaning her head back against it slightly. She straightened when she realised she had company.
"Ah, Anna," she said. "Come and sit down before the whole world descends upon us."
Anna did so, gratefully sliding into her usual seat. There were far more chairs than usual crammed in around the long table. It would be a tight squeeze for everyone. Under other circumstances, it might prove to be uncomfortable. Not so when Mr. Bates would be on one side of her. Her heart quickened a little at the mere thought of it. They would be sitting close enough that their elbows would clash, or their hands would meet as they reached for the salt at the same time, or their thighs would be pressed together because of how closely their chairs were squashed up—
"Anna? Are you all right?"
Anna shook her head, coming back to herself to find Mrs. Hughes staring at her oddly. Her cheeks burned.
"Sorry, Mrs. Hughes," she said sheepishly. "Yes, I'm all right. I was just miles away for a moment. It's the day catching up with me."
"Well, you ought to get used to it now. There will be no rest for the wicked until lord knows what time in the morning. I dare say we'll look like the walking dead all day tomorrow."
She nodded, already dreading it. The family had the luxury of staying abed to whatever time they desired. She as a servant did not. It would be up at six o'clock sharp, the same as every other morning.
At that moment, Mr. Bates appeared in the doorway. Anna's heart jittered in her chest. He looked so very, very beautiful, his broad frame filling the entrance deliciously, only adding to the sense of strength and power he possessed despite the cane he relied on.
"His lordship is dressed," he said. "And he went to check on how her ladyship was doing. I should imagine the guests will be arriving any minute now."
"Come and catch your breath a moment while you still can," said Mrs. Hughes kindly. "There won't be a minute to after that."
"It's certainly feels strange to have the house so full at New Year," Mr. Bates commented as he limped around the table to squeeze in between them. Anna's breath hitched as his warm arm brushed against her. Of course. Last year had been a different affair entirely. The family had gone to the nearby Skelton estate. They had not stayed overnight, so only Mr. Branson had been required to go, and they had had a very quiet, dignified celebration between themselves at Downton. The time before that had been his first in the house. Mr. Bates had seemed a little awkward and out of his depths, perhaps still not feeling like he fully belonged there with them, but Anna had made sure she had dragged him into the game of cards she had been playing with Gwen and William. Although, though she had refused to admit it, there had been more than just simple kindness driving her actions. Even then she had loved him.
"I'm rather surprised at it myself," said Mrs. Hughes. "They don't usually entertain at this time. They prefer it to be just the family. I suppose war changes everything."
Mr. Bates' expression turned pensive. Anna wondered what was on his mind. Was he thinking of his time fighting the Boers? Or was there something else on his mind?
Perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Perhaps she was just projecting her own yearnings on to him. The fine balance of their relationship had stayed exactly the same from the garden party, when he had told her that he wasn't cross that she'd been to call on his mother. Not one thing had changed since then. He treated her with the same polite warmth that he always had. They still shared plenty of smiles and laughs throughout the day, but there was a guardedness about him. No one else would notice it, but even without anything changing between them, she still knew him intimately well, had spent enough of her time dreamily studying him to know the intricacies of his expressions.
Mrs. Hughes was wrong. The war had changed many things, but it had not changed everything. It had not changed the thing she wanted most desperately in the whole world.
Before she could lose herself in more morose thoughts, one of them more junior footmen scampered into the room. He was one of the few men left at Downton, too young to sign up for the war effort. Anna wondered how long that would stop him. Already boys from the village had lied about their ages and run off for the glory.
"Mr. Carson said that I'm to tell you that the guests are arriving," he panted. "He says can you please make sure that you're all presentable and there's nothing out of place down here."
"Heaven forfend one fork should be out of place," Mrs. Hughes muttered as the lad dashed back out the way he had come. Since Thomas' departure, William had been doing the duties of both the first and the second footmen, but on an occasion such as this, Mr. Carson had deemed it unseemly that they weren't at full compliment. This young lad had therefore been promoted for the evening, and it seemed that he was relishing his opportunity to impress. Anna could remember what that feeling had been like as a junior housemaid. She had attacked every task delegated to her with a frightening and probably perturbing gusto, taking on the nastiest of responsibilities in order to impress. It had worked. By twenty-two she had been promoted to head housemaid, younger than some of the women who had then been below her.
Mr. Bates smiled. "I think it speaks well of Mr. Carson that he wants to show Downton off at its finest."
"It might do. But that man doesn't give the slightest thought of what it does to everyone else to follow these outlines so closely. I'm sure he'd marry the place if he could."
It was an impossibility to think of Downton Abbey without Mr. Carson at its helm. Anna could imagine him living forever, serving every master that passed through those doors, still lamenting a bygone age.
"Do you think there's anything else we need to do?" she asked.
"It's too late at this point. We're as ready as we can be. All we can do now is welcome these people with as much fervour as his lordship and her ladyship will be doing their guests upstairs. We don't want them leaving here gossiping that we weren't gracious with them. Mr. Carson is right about that: we don't want the reputation of the house to be damaged. I know I can rely on you too, unlike on some others."
Miss O'Brien had just appeared in the doorway; Mrs. Hughes' implication was obvious. In the months since Lady Grantham's tragic miscarriage, she had softened slightly, especially now she no longer had Thomas around to scheme with, but that didn't mean that she still wasn't outright unpleasant whenever she felt like it.
Sure enough, the hall soon began to fill with other servants who had travelled with their employers. Anna greeted them all with a polite smile and a dip of the head and expressed hopes that they'd had a good journey.
One of the lone young men who had travelled stood awkwardly on the outskirts of the group. Knowing that it was her duty, Anna made her way towards him.
"Hello," she said with a kind smile. "I'm Anna Smith, head housemaid. What's your name?"
"My real name is Henry Chester," he said. "Though I suppose you'll call me Mr. Lumley while I'm here."
"You work for the Earl of Scarborough, don't you?"
"You're well-versed in your lords. Yes, I do."
"Have you been with him long?"
"Not really, no. Only about six months. And I don't suppose I'll be there for much longer, either."
He did not need to explain himself. These days, the war was the reason behind most things.
"It looks like most of the men from here have gone too," said Mr. Lumley. He did not seem to find that fact heartening. The very opposite seemed to be true. His apparent reluctance cut a stark contrast to William's enthusiasm; their young lad had been sulking and moping in varying degrees since his father had told him that he was not to sign up unless there was absolutely no other choice.
"I don't blame you for not wanting to go to war," she said.
Mr. Lumley's expression turned defensive at once, and he parroted off what sounded like a well-versed reply. "I never said that! I'd do anything for my king and country! I'm not a coward!"
"I never meant to imply that you were," she said. "I'm sorry if I've offended you. AndI wouldn't blame you if you were scared. I know if I was in your position, I'd be absolutely terrified."
He relaxed his shoulders slightly. "And I'm sorry for snapping. I never should have. That was rude of me."
"Think nothing of it. Now, let's introduce you to some people. Dinner won't be for quite some time yet."
"Do you think I might sit beside you when it comes to dinner?"
The question made Anna pause, a little uncomfortable. "I already have my place at the table. But you're encouraged to mingle, so perhaps you could sit across from me?"
"Oh, yes. Of course. That would be nice."
He followed her further into the room, which was swelling with bodies as more and more travelling servants arrived at their destination. The room was a loud hubbub as men and women chatted and laughed amongst themselves. Anna spied Mr. Bates standing near the back of the room with a woman. A sharp pang of jealousy hit her, startling in its intensity. Which was absurd and out of place. Mr. Bates was looking at her with nothing but the customary politeness he reserved for everyone. There was nothing at all worrisome in his gaze.
Perhaps it was the woman's that was making her feel on edge. Which was absurd. Because while there appeared to be a hint of interest there, why should she feel threatened? She was a complete stranger in their midst.
Which might be part of the problem. If Anna knew her, then she'd know that she had nothing to fear. With a completely unknown woman, there was no telling what she might be capable of, or what she might want from a man.
"Hello," she said, careful to meet the other woman's eyes as she came to a stop. "I'm Anna Smith, the head housemaid here at Downton Abbey. Pleased to meet you." She thrust her hand out for her to take.
The woman looked at it as if it might poison her, then took it delicately with two fingers. It was the briefest handshake that Anna had ever encountered.
"Hello," she said, her voice perfectly sculptured, as if she was putting on an accent that didn't belong to her.
"This is Mr. Lumley," said Anna when it became clear that the other woman wasn't going to offer up her own identity. "He works for the Earl of Scarborough."
"Lord Grantham holds him in high regards," said Mr. Bates kindly. "I'm John Bates, his lordship's valet. Welcome."
He hooked his cane over his arm and offered his hand. Mr. Lumley eyed it dubiously for a moment before taking it.
"Mr. Bates, do carry on telling me about the grounds," said the mystery woman, practically batting her eyelashes at him. "I was enjoying it so much before we were interrupted." The disapproval was implicit. She wanted them to leave them alone so she could monopolise more of his time. Well, that was one thing Anna wasn't prepared to do. She had never really considered herself the type of person to be jealous, but then again, she had never had any reason to be jealous in the past. She had had few crushes of her own thanks to her stepfather, and Mr. Bates had neither had any interest shown in him, nor shown any interest in anyone else.
"Oh, I know all about that," she said brightly, flashing a dazzling smile in the other woman's direction.
"Anna knows every nook and cranny of this area," said Mr. Bates. "I'm nothing but an interloper, really. Anna was born and raised here. If you're interested in knowing anything, Anna is the one to ask."
"I'd much rather hear your thoughts," said the woman. "A fellow interloper."
Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was hardly an interloper herself. She was trying to mask her accent, but she was clearly from somewhere in Yorkshire. Mr. Bates had come from much further away than that.
"I still didn't catch your name," she said, deliberately breaking up the flow of the conversation.
"Miss Lascelles," said Mr. Bates. "Lady's maid to the Countess of Harewood."
"I did say you could call me Alice," she said, still fluttering those eyelashes.
"Miss Lascelles is fine for now," said Mr. Bates, and Anna felt a stab of triumph. That would show her.
Miss Lascelles did indeed look rather put out, especially being snubbed in front of Anna, and she tried to keep the delight off of her face. Moving closer to his side, she touched his forearm. It was more than she had ever dared do before, but she wanted it to be clear that she was not going to roll over. Mr. Bates wasn't hers, that was a fact that she was painfully aware of, but she would not allow this woman to come in and sniff out the weakness. Miss Lascelles was a guest here, not the other way around, and she would remind her of that fact.
Mr. Lumley cleared his throat nervously. "Well, it's very nice here, I have to say."
"I've heard a lot of good things about the Earl of Scarborough's seat. I've not had the pleasure of visiting, but Mr. Carson holds the house in high regard," said Mr. Bates.
"It's a good place," Mr. Lumley agreed reluctantly. "Though I won't be calling it home for much longer."
"Because of the war."
"You're lucky to be able to count yourself out of it."
Mr. Bates tapped his cane against the flagstones ruefully. "I'm not sure how much of a blessing it really is. I think every man wants to feel useful, no matter how old they are."
"You're not old," tittered Miss Lascelles. "There are plenty of men your age serving! And what an honour it would be to have a man like you fighting for our cause."
What a flirt, Anna thought resentfully. She simply had no shame.
"Mr. Bates, Anna!"
They turned in unison to find Mrs. Hughes approaching.
"What can we do for you, Mrs. Hughes?" Anna asked.
"Can I borrow you for a moment?"
"Of course," said Mr. Bates.
With a polite nod to the other two, Mrs. Hughes gestured for them to follow her to the other end of the room. There, she lowered her voice.
"I need you to do more rounds," she said. "There are so many people here, and we don't want anyone to feel as if they've not been given proper attention. There aren't enough of us to go around, so we really need to make sure that we're distributing our time equally between everyone."
"I understand," said Mr. Bates. "Leave it to us, Mrs. Hughes."
The housekeeper cast them a relieved smile and disappeared back into the crowd. Mr. Bates turned that smile on her, the one that crinkled his eyes and made her weak at the knees.
"Well, Miss Smith," he said, "let's go and do our duty."
Anna nodded, and watched him walk away, silently very glad that Miss Lascelles could no longer get her claws into him. Just let her even try.
Dinner came around faster than anticipated, and soon everyone was seated at the table. It was indeed a tight squeeze, with so many people present. Anna truly didn't mind. As predicted earlier, the small space meant that she was pressed up against Mr. Bates' side, and the way that his body heat licked through her was enough to send chills down her spine. There was probably enough room for her to move a little closer to Lily on her other side, but she was not about to pass up the opportunity to be so close to Mr. Bates when a valid reason to be came along.
True to his word, Mr. Lumley had taken the seat across from her and, despite her best efforts to get closer, Miss Lascelles was by his side. That gave Anna a rather uncharitable stab of satisfaction. There. That woman hadn't got her own way after all. No doubt she would spend dinner fluttering her eyelashes across the table at him, but she wouldn't be able to monopolise his conversation in the same way that she would if she was beside him. Anna derived grim joy from that.
As it turned out, dinner was a loud and raucous affair. It was clear from Mr. Carson's face that he did not approve of such frivolities, but with so many guests, there was little he could do. He had seated one of the valets from one of the other great houses at his left hand side, much to Miss O'Brien's obvious indignation, and Anna could hear him trying to engage the other man in conversation about the wines that were always a good vintage. The valet did not look comfortable, but he would not find an escape with forked-tongued Miss O'Brien. Anna ducked her head into her plate to hide her amused smile. Thank goodness for Mrs. Hughes, who took the reins with smooth practice and guided the conversation towards easier territory.
As seemed inevitable these days, the conversation eventually turned to the topic of the war.
"My brother is over there," said one of the travelling maids in conversation, and it was latched onto at once, with most of the women around the table professing to having someone they loved out there fighting the good fight. The remaining men looked distinctively uncomfortable.
"Y'know," said one of the women, "I've heard talk about a movement."
"What kind of movement?" said Daisy curiously. She had popped her head in to fill everyone's wine glasses back up. Perhaps that wasn't such a good idea. Drink could be so dangerous, Anna thought. She shook her head when Daisy offered her the jug, content with water.
"It's all about encouraging as many men as possible to take up the cause," the girl replied, shooting sidelong looks at the men still sitting around the table. "Women give men white feathers to remind them of their duty."
"That doesn't sound very pleasant," said Mrs. Hughes with a frown.
"And why not?" the woman challenged. "We've all said ourselves, we've all got loved ones fighting out there. Why should some be allowed to skulk in the shadows while the others sacrifice their lives for us?"
"That's a bit of a sweeping generalisation," said Mrs. Hughes.
"And I'm not certain how much of a good topic for conversation it is," said Mr. Carson said, furrowing those fearsome brows.
"You would say that," said the woman, undeterred. "You're a man. A little too old to be serving, I'll grant you that, but you're a man all the same. I see no reason why he shouldn't serve." She jabbed her finger in William's direction, who looked mortified. "Or what about you?" Mr. Lumley sank low in his seat. "And you." The valet next to Mr. Carson burned bright red. Finally, that accusing finger landed on Mr. Bates. "And are you really so hurt that you cannot serve your king and country?"
If Anna had a pin to drop, she was quite certain that the whole room would hear it. Furiously, she opened her mouth to argue. How dare she say such things? She had no right. She would give her a piece of her mind and let her know that she at least would not tolerate the man she loved being spoken to in such a way—
Mr. Bates' hand landed on her knee.
Anna started, whipping round to face him at once. Her heart, beginning to speed up in her indignation, pounded now for a completely different reason.
Mr. Bates was touching her. Touching her intimately. No man had ever rested his hand there before, and it made her skin prickle and heat with pleasure. God, that felt amazing. His hand was so large, encompassing so much of her leg, and firm to boot. Its heaviness was one of the most glorious things she had ever felt. Dazed, she dropped her own hand beneath the line of the table, seeking out the warmth of his bare skin, her pulse already throbbing in her throat at her imaginings of what it would be like to press her bare skin to his once more—
Mr. Bates' hand slid away from her leg, as if it had never been there at all. He had not turned to look at her once during the entire exchange.
"I have already served my king, and the queen before that," he said calmly. He very rarely spoke of his time in the African War; Anna had half-expected him to be more ashamed. She was glad that he wasn't. At least not on the outside, where everyone could see. "I got my medals, and I brought home another badge of honour too. I still have shrapnel left in my knee, which is the reason why I need the cane. I've no way of showing you that, of course, unless you'd like me to cut into my leg and show you the bullet myself, but I have already played my part in a war. I am content to sit this one out. And I am sure there are a multitude of reasons why other men do not sign up for the war effort. There is no reason to judge them."
The woman looked alarmed to have been called out in such a manner. The other servants were trying and failing to pretend that they weren't sneaking glances at him from under their lashes. Mr. Bates did not waver. Anna felt her pride in him spike. He really was the best of men. He always protected the downtrodden and spoke up for those who were less likely to defend themselves. Go to sleep and dream of a better man, he had told her months could he truly not see what a worthy man he was? How could he not see that there really was no better man, that everyone else paled by comparison? No one had ever made her feel this way before, and she knew that no man ever would again.
Her musings was interrupted by that suppressed Yorkshire tone across the table. "Oh, Mr. Bates, how right you are."
Of course she thought he was right, Anna thought resentfully. Miss Lascelles was practically leaning across the table towards him, pouting prettily.
"That sounds like a horrendous time that you went through," she continued. "It must have really hurt. Does it still hurt now?"
But she had made a fundamental error in her chatter. If there was one thing Anna knew about Mr. Bates, it was that ultimately he hated talking about himself, especially in front of an audience. He had offered up those details before in an act of self-defence, but he would not elaborate on any of it further, not in front of all these people. Now he simply picked up his knife and fork and went back to eating. It took several moments for the conversation to pick up in murmurs around him, and Anna felt another stab of ungenerous satisfaction at Miss Lascelles disgruntled expression. There. That had shown her.
The rest of the meal passed relatively smoothly. Mr. Carson seemed to have taken it upon himself to ensure that nothing else controversial could happen to disrupt the dinner, and he grilled everyone in turn about various aspects of the stately homes. That was probably what it was like to be tortured by the enemy, Anna thought.
After the last mouthful of dessert had been consumed, it was finally time to break. The kitchen maids scurried in to clear the tables, and everyone was free at last to mingle again. As Mrs. Hughes turned to Mr. Carson, Anna said quietly, "I have to say, it was very brave of you to say those things."
Mr. Bates ducked his head boyishly. "I don't know about that."
"It was. Standing up for those boys like that. Not everyone would be brave enough to do it. And I daresay that there are a few people here who might even agree with the sentiment."
"I daresay you're right," he murmured. "But I don't blame them. They're all so young. Just children, really. What do they know of suffering?"
What indeed, Anna mused. Likely he thought of her in a similar vein, but she would not disabuse him of the notion. There were things that he did not need to know. Things best left buried in the past.
From beside them, Mrs. Hughes cleared her throat, and tapped her on the arm. "Anna, I think it's time we worked our way around the room again, hmm?"
She tore herself reluctantly from him. She did not want to leave him. Not then. There was something strangely vulnerable in his eyes, something she had never seen before. There was something in the atmosphere, something that told her that if she was just allowed a few more moments, there would be a breakthrough.
And, God, how she needed that.
But she was the dutiful servant. With a respectful nod, she pushed her chair back from the table and moved away.
There was a lonely figure in the corner once more.
"Chin up, Mr. Lumley," she said gently as she approached. "It can't be as bad as all that."
The young man had taken out a cigarette and was smoking, his expression glum.
"Isn't it?" he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "You heard them. They think I'm a coward."
"People can be close-minded and stupid. You have to rise above it and show that you're better than they are."
"Easy for you to say," he uttered. "You're a woman."
"Women haven't had it easy, you know," she said. "Whether you approve of it or not, you've heard of the women's rights movement. It highlights what we're not allowed."
He was silent.
"I think as a whole we're better placed than anyone to understand," she continued. "Do what you have to do. And if you do go to the front, then I wish you luck, Mr. Lumley."
"Would you write to me?" he blurted. "If I went?"
She frowned. "I have no wish to sound unkind, but I'm not sure if that would be appropriate."
His face fell. "You've already got a beau? Well, I don't know why I'm surprised. Any man would be lucky to have someone like you."
His words were so much like Mr. Bates. She hoped that there was someone out there for this young man who seemed so lost in the world. "I'm afraid there is someone, yes. It's not openly known yet, but one day I hope to marry him."
"Then I hope you get there," he said sincerely. Most likely he thought that her beau was at the front, fighting in the war, not standing mere feet away with a group of others. She glanced over at him now. Miss Lascelles was with him. Of course.
"If you'll excuse me," she heard him murmur.
The other woman was on him at once. "I'll come with you."
Mr. Bates smiled the kind smile, but there was finality in his tone. "No, thank you. I'll be all right. You stay here."
With that, he slipped away from the group. Anna traced his uneven gait. He was heading for the back door.
Now was her chance.
"Excuse me," she murmured to Mr. Lumley. Without waiting for an answer, she followed Mr. Bates. No one took the slightest bit of notice of her as she crossed the room. There were too many people to keep track of. She wouldn't be missed for ten minutes.
She found him outside, sitting on the crates that she considered their own. Her footsteps slapped against the slabs as she approached, but she did not bother to mask them. She would not sneak up on him like a thief. If he wanted to send her away then he was in his rights to do so.
He looked up as she approached. Smiled. She took that as a good sign.
"Do you mind if I join you?" she asked.
"Not at all," he said.
"Budge up, then," she said. "I'm not that small to squeeze in next to you, you know."
He chuckled, following her command. She sighed as she took the seat beside him, relishing the feel of his body so close to hers, tipping her head back so she could contemplate the night sky. It was unusually clear.
"The stars look beautiful," she commented.
"They do," he agreed. "On nights like this, it's hard to believe that there's any strife in the world."
This was her opening.
"Are you sure you're all right about earlier?" she asked tentatively. "I know being under the microscope like that can be an uncomfortable ordeal. You've had to go through enough of that with the others, never mind perfect strangers."
"I've had a lot of time to get used to it."
"You shouldn't have to. I hate to see people looking down on you."
"You are far too kind for your own good."
"I'm not. I just don't like to see you not getting the respect that you deserve."
"I don't know what I've done for you to be such a staunch supporter," he said.
She resisted the urge to shake him. He knew very well that it went well beyond being a staunch supporter. But she would not push him too hard. She would bide her time and pounce at the perfect opportunity. That feeling in her gut was back. If she played her cards right, everything might change.
She was determined to try.
"Speaking of staunch supporters," she said carefully, "you seem to have quite the admirer."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I think you do."
"Well, what about you?"
This caught her off guard. "Me?"
"Yes. That Lumley chap. He seemed very keen. Following you round like a puppy, giving you those sad eyes."
"I didn't see it that way."
"No," he murmured. "You wouldn't. You're so kind to everyone. You don't see what those kindnesses make other men feel."
She tilted her chin, looking him boldly in the eye. Now was not the time for fear. "There is only one man I want to make feel something with my kindnesses."
"He's the very man you shouldn't wish that for."
"You don't have a choice over that."
Mr. Bates met this with silence. His jaw was set in that stubborn way of his. No matter. She wasn't afraid. It was time to take a chance.
"Miss Lascelles likes you," she said.
"You're mistaken."
"I'm not. I know what a woman looks like when she's interested in a man, and she is interested in you."
"Then I'm afraid her interest is misplaced. I'm no good for any woman."
"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Bates. You have so much to offer someone."
"A marriage to someone else?" he said bitterly.
Anna would not be swayed. She would not let him beat her. Not this time. Last time, she had had no knowledge off his past, and it had caught her off guard. She was more prepared to do battle this time. "There are plenty of things you have to offer. Friendship. Companionship. An ability to make anyone laugh. Cleverness. All of the things that matter the most."
"Except for my freedom."
She kept her gaze steady. "The one person who truly wants it doesn't mind waiting for as long as it takes."
His lips quirked in a sardonic smile. "I thought you said Miss Lascelles was interested too?"
Anna resisted the urge to smack his arm. "She was interested in you," she said.
Rather than deny it again, as she had expected, he said, "I know." He seemed to be moving closer, filling her vision. She licked her lips, her heart beginning to drumroll faster in her chest, as if building up to a grand finale that her brain had yet to catch up with. She could feel his warmth. "But I'm not the only one with an admirer, much as you might want to deny it. You have your Mr. Lumley. He was interested in you."
"I know," she breathed, and that was the last thig she managed to say before her mouth was occupied with his, and his big hand came up to cup the side of her face, tentative as a tiny bird. Her eyes fluttered closed, unable to keep looking at him when he was so close to her. More than that, she needed to relish this moment. She needed to soak up every single sensation, lock it away in her memory. John Bates was kissing her.
And what a kisser he was. She had very little experience when it came to such matters, but she recognised a talented mouth when she felt one. John's movements were careful and measured, not just focused on his own gratification but on making the experience as enjoyable for the both of them as it was possible.
And, God, it was enjoyable. His mouth was warm and soft, his tongue exquisitely perfect as it brushed against her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, eager to encourage him further into her.
When his tongue slipped into her mouth for the first time, she made a sound deep in the back of her throat, not quite sure where she should put her own hands. She wanted to touch him somewhere. Anywhere. Just to cement that this was real, that she hadn't fallen asleep and found herself in a dream. Her hand moved down to his knee on pure instinct. She felt the strong muscles in his thigh contract beneath her touch, and it sent thrills through her. It anchored her. He wasn't running away from her anymore. He was hers, whatever the law might say.
Slowly, the kiss came to an end. Mr. Bates rested his forehead against hers for a moment, before pulling away. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his eyes dark and conflicted. She had to keep the guilt at bay. It would only spoil things. She reached for his hands, which had returned to his lap, and held them between hers, marvelling at the sheer differences in size. She could barely hold them in hers, they were that big. She saw the smile tugging at the corner of his lips too, and counted it as a victory that he derived the same joy from it as she did.
"Well, that was a little unexpected," he said softly.
"In the best possible way," she said firmly. "You have no idea how long I've longed for this moment."
"It doesn't make it right."
"I can't think of anything more right than this." She took a deep breath. "I still love you, Mr. Bates. Absolutely nothing could change my feelings for you. I know that you're married, and I know you feel you have things in your past that you could never atone for, but none of it changes the way I feel."
"It should," he said helplessly. "I can never be worthy of you."
"I don't need you to think yourself worthy. I just need you to trust that as far as I'm concerned, you are more than worthy. You trust me, don't you?"
"I'd trust you with my life," he said simply.
"There you are, then. You should never have a reason to doubt the way I feel about you. You should never doubt that I don't care about what's happened in the past. The past is the past. Neither of us can change it. What we can do now is look to the future. I want a future with you, Mr. Bates, in whatever capacity we can manage."
"The future sounds like such an impossible concept."
"It doesn't have to be. It might take us a little while to get where we want to be, but it's not impossible."
"I don't even know where Vera is," he said. He ducked his head, as if he couldn't even look her in the eye while he made that admission, as if he was letting her down. She reached out and cupped his face again, encouraging his gaze back to hers, willing him to see the sincerity in her eyes.
"Do you want to find her?" she asked.
"Of course I do," he whispered. "If she appeared tomorrow, I would get down on my knees and beg her to grant me a divorce. I'd give her anything she asked for, if it only meant that I could be with you."
"There you are, then. That's all the reassurance I need. I am content to wait, however long it takes."
"And if it takes years?" he said miserably.
"Then I'll wait years."
"I can't ask you to do that. It's too much."
"You're not asking. I'm telling you that I'll wait. I'm not weak, and I'm not stupid. I know how hard it'll be. But as long as have your love, and as long as there are a few opportunities to steal away for a kiss like this one tonight, then I'll be a very content woman."
He stared at her, pure love shining in his eyes. Finally, it seemed like she was beating back his demons. "You're truly sure?"
"Truly sure," she said, smiling at the way his smile lit up his whole face.
Dimly, through the half-open back door, they heard the scraping of chairs and the muffled sounds of voices. A countdown.
"…Seven, six, five…" he whispered.
"…Four, three, two…" she said, joining in with him. "One…"
There were dignified cheers from inside. Anna could see them all now, clinking glasses and exchanging well wishes for the year to come. She moved closer to the large bulk of man beside her. She could luxuriate in the look in his eyes for the rest of her life, the warmth engulfing every inch of her. He was hers now, and she would never let him go. She touched his cold cheek once more, and brought his face closer to hers. He went willingly, the tip of his nose brushing hers in a way that made her breath hitch.
"Happy New Year, Anna."
"Happy New Year, Mr. Bates."
He smiled, and she moved in to cover it with her own, lingering. Now that she had kissed him, she couldn't stop. It was as if an addictive substance had got right into her blood stream, compelling her to kiss him over and over again. John's mouth moved softly and tenderly under hers, and she thrilled that in this moment, their very first together, he was letting her take control and set the pace. She needed that, somehow. After all the hurt and uncertainty and confusion of the last few years, she needed the reassurance that they could find a way together, towards a future that would see them united.
As the New Year began, Anna's heart bloomed with renewed hope for what the future would bring.
1924
It seemed so surreal that just a week ago, she had felt so lost and lonely. It seemed so surreal that just a week ago, John had not been there beside her.
But he had been the greatest of Christmas miracles, appearing behind her like a long-lost soul, bringing joy back to her life.
And now they were here together, on the cusp of a New Year, the nightmares of the last couple tantalisingly close to being behind them. She was still on bail for the moment, but at least for today, Anna was determined to be optimistic and to look forward.
It was so much easier to do that now John was beside her. The bed they had shared seemed far too big without him, and no matter how many blankets she used, she could not get warm. She'd lain awake, shivering, staring into the darkness, praying for his welfare, wishing that he would return to her, frightened of what it would mean for them if he did.
It had taken him a while, but he had answered her calls for him. And the week since then had been one of delirious happiness. It was hard to remember a time when she had been happier. It rivalled how she had felt when he had been released from prison.
It had been one long, hedonistic week. She'd been a little worried that her confession about her stepfather would send him tumbling back to how he'd touched her right back in the beginning, but her worrying had been for naught. Every spare moment they'd had had been spent sequestered away in their cottage, touching, teasing, desperate for each other. They were newlyweds all over again. Going to the cottage to read had become their euphemism when talking to the other servants, though Anna wasn't sure that they were fooling anyone; they had even been late one morning, flushed and guilty as they sidled into the servants' hall. She had never felt so alive as she did when she was in his arms, almost insensible with her need to touch him. She'd span his broad, hairy chest, squeeze his shoulder blades, wrap her thighs around his waist and draw him closer, kiss him everywhere she could reach, scour her nails down his back in her passion. His breaths were hot and wet against her, and she was all-powerful, for she knew that she had the same effect on him as he had on her.
Tonight, they were the picture of decorum. New Year's Eve had come around in a flash, and once more they were gathered to celebrate with the rest of the servants. Many of them still treated her like glass after her spell in prison, but she was hoping that Johns returned presence would help them to forget. God, there was nothing more than she wanted than to put the whole awful business behind them and start anew.
This New Year was a quiet one. After the busy summer she had heard about, it seemed that the family wanted a bit of time to catch their breaths. From what Mr. Molesley said, her ladyship was keeping a severe eye on the amount that his lordship was drinking. It suited Anna down to the ground. After the turmoil of the last few months, there was nothing she wanted more than just a quite night with her husband.
Not that such a thing could ever exist in the life of a servant. When she wasn't running around after Lady Mary, she was caught up in some other task. Likewise, John seemed to have been occupied most of the day trying to get a stain out of Lord Grantham's favourite tails. They had barely had a minute to exchange a smile, never mind anything more. The memory of their morning together, spent in the way every other had found them so far, had to be enough to sustain her.
"It's just going to be a quiet affair," Mr. Carson rumbled at luncheon. "We'll eat like we usually do, after we've seen to the family. And then you may occupy yourselves how you like until midnight. I expect everyone back in the servants' hall by midnight."
"Will we turn into pumpkins otherwise?" Thomas sneered, lighting a cigarette. Mr. Carson scowled at him.
"It is a Downton tradition to see the New Year in with our fellow man," he said. "Even with you, Thomas."
Mr. Molesley giggled at that. Thomas shot him a dirty look, and Miss Baxter shuffled uncomfortably between the two of them. Anna didn't much care. She wished, just for once, that they could break those traditions. She had always loved spending those hours with the people she worked with, but this year, all she wanted was to spend the time with John. He was all she needed. He was everything.
Dinner wasn't a feast, but it was nice nevertheless. Wholesome food. Anna noticed that extra helpings were heaped on her plate. Mrs. Patmore had fussed around her something rotten when she had returned from prison, the little cook declaring that she had lost far too much weight and needed fattening up. She hadn't had the appetite for it. Without John by her side, she had had little energy to do anything more than get through the day. She tucked in with greater gusto now, but she still had the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, the anxiety that threatened just beneath the surface.
She hated this. She hated the scrutiny, the constant feeling of being like fragile glass. When the awful, awful business had happened, she had vowed to herself that no one but Mrs. Hughes would ever know the truth. And then John had found out. Then Lady Mary. And now everyone knew. It was never discussed in front of her, but Anna could tell with the way that the room went silent that she had been the subject of gossip just moments before. The others side-eyed her. Didn't know how to be around her. As if she was different to how she'd been before. And she was, in many ways. But she wasn't weaker.
Which was why she'd needed John so very badly in those weeks. Yes, sometimes he treated her softly, but he didn't patronise her. He didn't see her as less than she was. She'd needed that.
After dinner, they all broke off into their little groups. Thomas skulked off to the rocking chair to smoke. Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter huddled themselves together, murmuring quietly while she did some sewing. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes took themselves off to her sitting room to share some leftover sherry. Andy, the new footman sat by awkwardly, flicking through a magazine that had been left on the table.
John slipped his hand beneath the table, finding hers. "Fancy a game of cards?"
It had been something they had done to reintroduce trust and intimacy to their relationship. He seemed to sense that she needed that now. Smiling, she nodded, and he retrieved the battered old pack, dealing them out. They played in silence for a while, methodically working their way through, just like it had been in those days. It gave her something positive to focus on, something repetitive to do, something that soothed her mind. John was always so good at reading her moods, giving her the space she needed to process and come back to him. His sensitivity to her thoughts and feelings was part of what made her love him so much. Part of what made him the best of men.
By the time they all regrouped, she felt calmer. She stood in a dignified manner with the rest of them, holding a single glass of wine between her hands, waiting.
The clock struck midnight.
"Happy New Year," said Mr. Carson, leading the celebrations. Everyone turned to their respective neighbours, echoing the sentiment, exchanging hugs or dignified nods of the heads.
John did better than that. Paying no attention to the people around them, he said, "Happy New Year, my love."
"Happy New Year," Anna said, smiling when he leaned in towards her. She had a moment to close her eyes before his mouth was on hers, chaste but lingering, uncaring of who saw them.
"My dinner is going to come back up," Thomas grumbled, but she paid him no mind, flushing all over when her husband pulled away from her.
"Happy New Year," she whispered again.
They were interrupted by Mrs. Hughes singing the first few lines of Auld Lang Syne, the others joining in one by one. John's rich voice sounded lovely, and Anna tuned out everything else, focusing on him singing the praises of the year to come. When the final note petered out, Mrs. Hughes cleared her throat.
"I've just got one more thing to say," she said. Anna looked at her curiously. There had never been a speech before after the New Year had been welcomed in. Mrs. Hughes was not usually one for sentimentality. "I think it's safe to say that this year has been chaotic and uncertain at times. I know we can each take a moment to remember the times that have tried us, but we're here at the other side." Here, she exchanged a look with Mr. Carson. There seemed to be a moment of understanding between them that went beyond the usual. Anna started to wonder if something had occurred, but she wasn't given the opportunity to linger on it for long, as Mrs. Hughes resumed her previous speech. "But I think it's fair to say that Anna and Mr. Bates have had one of the most trying times of all, and I for one am glad to see you there together again. I am sure we all share the sentiment when I say welcome home, Anna and Mr. Bates, and I hope this New Year brings you much happiness."
"Do we all share the sentiment?" sneered Thomas, casting his usual sour look at John.
"We do," said Mr. Carson with a warning glower. "Happy New Year, Mr. and Mrs. Bates."
The other servants echoed the reaction, raising their glasses gingerly before gulping down the contents. Most of them seemed uncertain of where to look, and Anna felt it rising within her again.
"Thank you," she managed. "That means a lot. May I be excused for a moment? I'm feeling a little hot."
"Of course," said the housekeeper. Anna practically bolted from her seat. Dimly, she was aware of John making his excuses to follow, but she didn't wait for him. She needed the cold air on her skin.
He found her moments later, sitting on the crates. So much had changed in the years since he had first arrived at Downton, but the layout of the courtyard was comfortingly familiar. It wasn't their spot anymore, not like it had been back in the days of their early courtship, but it could still bring comfort to her.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly.
"Yes" she said. Shook her head. She didn't need to be strong in front of him. "No."
John limped to her side, sinking down beside her. He put his arm around her waist, and she shuffled into his embrace.
"What's wrong?" he murmured, grazing his lips against her temple.
"I'm being stupid."
"You could never be stupid. Tell me, Anna. Please."
She sighed, gathered her courage. His hand lay in his lap and she reached for it, taking comfort from wrapping her entire fist around his first two fingers. "I just…I can't shake this feeling of being so exposed."
"What do you mean?"
Her throat worked fruitlessly. "Everyone…everyone knows what happened, John. It makes me feel how it did back then. I thought I was working past it, but every time someone looks at me, I tumble back. They're not seeing me as I am now. They're seeing me as I was right after it happened. They treat me like I'm in danger of shattering at any moment. I'm moving on, I really am, but now I look at them and they don't see that. They see me frightened and cowering, in need of protection and sympathy. I don't want that."
"It's hard," John acknowledged. "But they'll get there. You'll see. You are the strongest woman I have ever come across, Anna Bates. That I call you my wife is still beyond me, even after all these years. Just keep doing what you're doing. Don't change a thing. Eventually, they'll come to realise what I know. That you're incredible. That you're far, far more than what you've lived through."
"It's so hard to wait," she said. "Sometimes, I just want to scream at them. That I haven't changed. That I'm still the woman I was before."
"I'm not comparing the situations," said John. "What you went through is far beyond what I'm talking about. But their opinion of me changed, didn't it? When I first arrived, they all thought I was some useless cripple. You were the only person who saw beyond the exterior. But the others caught up eventually. They'll do so again. Trust me, my darling. I know it's hard, but trust me."
"It's not hard to trust you," she responded, squeezing his hand. "I love you."
"I love you too. So, so much."
He leaned in to kiss her sweetly, and she wrapped her arm around him, hugging him tight. A long time ago, she had asked him to believe in her. Now she had to do the same.
"Anna, Mr. Bates? The bells are ringing."
At the sound of the housekeeper's voice, they pulled apart. John coughed.
"We'll be right along, Mrs. Hughes," he said.
"Very good."
They listened to her footsteps receding away before getting to their feet. John held her hand all the way through the servants' quarters and up the stairs. It thrilled her. He didn't let go until they hit the main part of the house.
They parted on the gallery to undress their respective employers. Lady Mary chatted happily as she did so, and Anna responded dutifully, making interested noises where she deemed it necessary, but her mind was elsewhere, down the corridor with her husband. They had some celebrating and cementing of their own to do when they got home.
For once, she was finished before him, and stood impatiently in the hall dressed in her coat waiting for him, anxious to set off for home.
"You took your time," she said when John eventually appeared.
He took his coat from her proffered arms. "Sorry. His lordship seemed to be in a melancholy mood today. He's lamenting the passage of time."
"Today's supposed to be celebrating it, not lamenting it."
"We're not all as young as you, you know."
"Silly beggar," she giggled. "Let's go home."
"Sweeter words have never been spoken."
"Did I hear you're heading off now?" Mrs. Hughes poked her head out of her sitting room door.
"We are," Anna confirmed. "We'll see you in the morning."
"You will. There's no rest for the wicked. Try and get some decent sleep if you can."
"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," she said, feeling her cheeks heating. If she had things her way, there would be no sleeping for quite some time.
They left amongst well wishes from the other servants, and a kiss on the cheek each from Mrs. Hughes. Johns colour was rather high. As the door closed behind them, he took her hand in his.
"Let's go home," he murmured.
Home. She wanted it with everything in her.
The journey was made largely in silence, but Anna was content with it. She enjoyed listening to the night sounds, the gravel crunching beneath their feet, the wind whispering through the trees, their breaths coming as one. Since the attack, she had come to treasure these simple moments more than ever. Somehow, they helped to steady her, helped to keep her in the moment. With John's hand in hers, she knew she could tackle anything. She would never be alone again.
When they neared the row of cottages, John paused to fish the key out of his pocket.
"Go on ahead," he said. "Don't let me keep you from the warm any longer."
"Silly beggar," she retorted affectionately. "I'm not going anywhere. We'll arrive together, like we always should. Besides, it's not going to be any warmer inside without a fire."
"Do you want me to make one up? We've some coal left so I won't need to refill it until the morning."
She shook her head. "I doubt we'd be downstairs long enough to enjoy it."
"What about a cup of tea to warm your bones, then?"
"I'm not in the mood for tea."
"Then what are you in the mood for, Mrs. Bates?" he asked, his voice all silky sensuality. She shivered at the sound of it, but she wasn't about to give in that easily.
"Why don't we go inside and you'll find out for yourself?" she said.
"I'm intrigued," he said, but he wasn't, not really. There could be no missing what she wanted. She had ached for him all day, ached for the security she felt when she was in his arms. She knew the others meant well, but their constant scrutiny had made her feel anxious, as if they were jinxing what might be in store for them. All she wanted now was to feel safe and loved, for her husband to chase her fears away once more.
John unlocked the door and they slipped inside. He reached out to light the oil lamp on the table in the hallway, but she touched his wrist.
"Leave it," she said.
She couldn't see his face, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, heavy with his desire. In silence, they shed their outer layers. And then John moved closer, both of his hands moving to cup her face.
"You are so beautiful," he said, and captured her mouth beneath his own. She whimpered, clutching at his jacket. Somehow, in a mass of tangled limbs, they shuffled to the foot of the stairs. John lost his jacket, tie, and collar there. Dimly, Anna was aware of dropping his collar studs to the floor, but she didn't care. They'd find them in the morning. Right now, all that mattered was the need to keep kissing him. Step by step, they ascended, mouths never leaving each other, hands wandering. Only when they reached the bedroom did John pull away, and she whimpered. She did not want to lose him.
He moved forward and lit the oil lamp. Dim light flared and flickered, shadows dancing on the walls. It was an intimate half-darkness, and Anna followed him.
"That's better," he said. "I can see you now."
She reached up and touched his face, orange in the low lighting. "It's not all about seeing, Mr. Bates."
"No," he conceded. "But I like to see you nevertheless. I like to watch your face, see how it scrunches up with your pleasure…"
"Oh," she breathed. He moved towards her like a great cat, all lithe and strong. All she could do was surrender to his touch as he took her back into his arms, pulling her flush to him. His mouth moved to suckle at her neck. She tilted her head to the side, whimpering, for once not caring about whether he left a mark or not. She was his. She wanted the world to know.
Too soon, he pulled away. But he didn't leave her disappointed for long, his hands still keeping her tight to him.
"Now," he breathed, "I think there's only one thing we can do."
"Hmm?" she managed, distracted by the way he was moving his fingers over the fabric at her back. She squirmed, suddenly very aware of how much she wanted him.
"Yes," he said, pushing her down onto the bed. Her knees folded beneath her, and she stared at him with eager anticipation, her heart palpitating in her chest as she looked upon him. Her husband. Her protector. The love of her life. She wanted to say something, anything, but words seemed to have deserted her.
He leaned in, capturing her mouth with his. She kissed him back, grappling clumsily with the buttons on his waistcoat. This transcended simple wanting. She needed to have him, needed him like she needed the air to live. Every part of him was utter perfection.
He resisted her when she tried to pull him to her, raising her legs in invitation.
"No," he said.
"No?" she said breathlessly, hurt. "What do you mean?"
He soothed her by running his hands down her sides. His eyes burned into her. "Tonight is about your pleasure. I want to make love to you in whatever way you allow."
"But it should be about us," she protested.
He smiled at her, resting his chin against her thigh. "Believe me, nothing gives me greater pleasure than giving you pleasure."
Her breaths came faster as he slipped under her skirts to unclip her stockings. He was so careful, ever the valet, pulling them down gently so that they didn't run. And his hands on her skin felt so nice…
"John," she tried again.
He found her hand and twined their fingers together.
"Shh," he murmured. "We've got all night."
All night. Those words were filled with delicious promise. Anna's breath came more unsteadily as he pushed her skirts up and lowered himself to the floor.
"Your knee—"
"My knee is fine. Don't worry about a thing. Just lie back and relax, my darling. Just enjoy it."
She could do nothing else.
After, they lay twined together. It was hot and sweaty, but Anna didn't mind. The air outside their little cocoon was bitter, and she had no wish to be cold.
John smoothed her damp hair away from her forehead, cupping the side of her face in the palm of her hand.
"I love you," he said.
She smiled contentedly. "I know. I love you too."
He moved in to kiss her again, and she welcomed him, looping her arms around his neck. Her skin still tingled with pleasure, and his hands were lost in her hair. She had a feeling that the long night he had promised her would turn into just that. She wasn't sure that either of them were done just yet.
But, after a time, he eased back again, propping himself up on an elbow. She shuffled away from him slightly, peering through the darkness at his face.
"Are you all right?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "I was just thinking."
"About what?"
"What the future has in store for us, I suppose."
"Nothing else bad, I hope." She couldn't mask the trepidation in her voice, and he shifted closer again, cradling her cheek in his palm.
"Nothing else bad," he said firmly. "I won't let anything else bad happen to you ever again."
"But the investigation…"
"They're not going to find anything. And I won't let that pathetic excuse for an inspector within ten feet of you ever again. We both know that we're innocent. If we have to run, we'll run, dammit. I was safe in Ireland. My cousin would be happy to have you over. We could build a new life together out there."
"Like those American outlaws?"
"Yes, exactly like that," he growled. "Mr. and Mrs. Bates, living off love alone."
She giggled at the image she had of them, roaming from place to place and making love beneath the stars. "It sounds rather lovely."
He smoothed his thumb down her cheek and over her bottom lip, his gaze never wavering.
"Whatever happens, this year will be one of the best we've ever had," he said. "I promise you that, Anna."
And he was right. In a year's time, when she was holding her son—her son—in her arms, Anna knew that they had reached the pinnacle of perfection.
1934
"Mummy, when will Daddy be home?"
Jack's impatient shout brought Anna to the doorway. She wiped her hands on the dishcloth and threw it over her shoulder. "Soon, my darling. Daddy won't keep you waiting much longer."
Jack sighed loudly, as if he had the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders, his head falling forward against the glass windowpane. "He's been ages."
Anna couldn't see his face, but she knew he was pouting, she could tell from his tone of voice. He was so very hard to resist when he pouted. His bottom lip popped out in a way that was so reminiscent of his father that she couldn't help but fall in love. Despite the blond hair and blue eyes, Jack Bates was very much his father's son.
"It's all right, Jacky," said Lizzie, ever-present by her big brother's side. She was a mere thirteen months younger than her brother, almost eight herself, and had been quite the little delightful surprise for them when they had discovered that Anna was pregnant again only a month after they had resumed their lovemaking, three months after Jack's birth. Anna's mind had returned immediately to that conversation she had had with Lady Mary all that time ago, and had found herself giggling in her own private joke. No, there was absolutely nothing wrong with John Bates' virility.
"It'll only be all right when Daddy comes home," said Jack.
"And he'll be here soon. Don't fret, love. He just needs to make sure that everyone is all right at the hotel."
"But it's my birthday!"
"Which is exactly why he'll be here the very moment he can get away. He's not going to miss a second more of his favourite boy's special day if he can help it. But you know today is good business for the hotel."
They had spent all day together, celebrating the most special of occasions with whatever whim the boy fancied, but Jack's birthday did fall on a difficult day of the year. Like every year since they had moved, they were hosting a New Year's party for the patrons who were visiting. John had left that in the capable hands of their workers, but they had both agreed that it would be wise for him to put in a brief appearance to ensure that everyone was happy.
It had not mattered quite so much in the first couple of years, when Jack had not known how the day differed from any other in the year, but it had always been important to John that he was there to mark the milestone in his children's lives. Part of the reason they had moved away from Downton so soon after Jack's birth was the fact that they felt like they were missing out on the opportunity to be a proper family. Anna had not managed to return to Downton to work, too attached to her very heart to leave him behind in the nursery to be cared for by someone else, and John's long hours meant that he was barely seeing anything of the little boy they had both longed for so fiercely. Jack was asleep when he left for work and had been put to bed by the time he got in. Being woken in the middle of the night because he was hungry or needed changing was hardly the ideal time to spend with him.
It had been surprisingly easy to put the wheels in motion. They'd fallen on a beautiful little place in Scarborough, right on the sea front where they could inhale the good sea air and watch their children grow together. They could run their business but still ensure that they had the time to spend with each other. Anna had helped out with everything until later in her second pregnancy when John had insisted that she take on less taxing jobs. She had groused a little, but it had mostly been for show; in truth, she had loved having less responsibility, already having plenty to their little boy. Being pregnant so soon after Jack had tired her out more quickly, and she was grateful for the extra respite. It had suited her completely in the years that had followed. She had had the luxury of balancing her work life and her life as a mother, and the children loved to be around the hotel. And since they had started school full time some years before, it meant that she had been able to dedicate much more time to the business.
It had also meant that John could be with them nearly every night, where he should be. There was nothing the children loved more than to have their daddy read them a bedtime story, and their joy made Anna's heart swell. There was nothing she loved more than to see them together, as it should be. Occasionally, John took a full Sunday off too, which the children loved, and they'd take daytrips further afield, relishing in their time together.
"He'll be here, love. Don't worry," she repeated now, hating to see the way Jack's face was scrunched up.
And, right on cue, Jack let out a yell.
"He's here, Mummy! He's here!"
Without waiting for her to respond, he'd jumped out of the window and raced for the door. It banged on its hinges, and then again as Lizzie barrelled out after him. Anna rolled her eyes affectionately. Lizzie simply worshipped her big brother. She'd follow him anywhere. Even out of the house in the dark and cold with no shoes on.
She could hear them chattering incessantly as they approached the house once more, John's deep baritone egging them on. Anna moved into the hallway, propping herself against the doorframe and raising her eyebrow. Jack was dancing round his father's legs, talking nineteen to the dozen. And little Lizzie was in his arms, cling tightly to his neck, her face buried against him.
"John Bates, what have I told you about carrying them?" she scolded.
John's grin was sheepish and proud. "I can manage."
"They both weigh a tonne now. Don't you come complaining to me if you twist your knee."
"And here was me thinking you might rub it better for me."
"Don't even contemplate that, you scoundrel."
"Why not?" Lizzie prompted. "That's mean, Mummy!"
"You always rub our knees better when we fall over and hurt ourselves," Jack pointed out.
John shot her a wicked, arrogant smirk. "Yes, Mummy, you do."
She huffed, hiding her smile. "Be off with you, beggar. And come inside. You're letting all the cold in."
The three of them did so dutifully, the children bouncing impatiently on their heels as they waited for their daddy to strip off his outer layers. Once he'd done that, Jack grabbed his hand.
"Come on, Daddy!" he demanded. "I've been waiting all day for the cake! And it's chocolate!"
"My favourite," John chuckled, casting a look at Anna. "Lead the way, son."
He was practically frogmarched to the kitchen. Anna followed behind.
"Wait there," she said as Jack and Lizzie clambered into their seats. "Don't you dare put those fingers in it, John Daniel Bates. I see what you're doing."
Jack lowered himself back into his seat. "It is my cake, Mummy."
"It is, but I will not have holes in my hard work. Here, you can help me cut the first slice."
Hs eyes lit up at that, and she guided his hand with the knife, cutting four generous helpings.
"Happy Birthday, my lad," said John as one of the plates was pushed towards him. "I hope you've enjoyed your day."
"It was the best ever!" Jack enthused. "I loved my toy car and going to the park and…" His list went on and on.
Anna grinned as she sat down. "What about your new coat?"
"That was nice too," he said, decidedly less enthusiastically. Jack was growing like a weed at the moment, and seemed to need his clothes replacing every couple of weeks. Anna had gone out to find the nicest coat she could for this particular special day, but her son had only given it a cursory glance and a perfunctory thank you, remembering his manners. In truth, he was his father's son when it came to shopping. Likely he would wear the same clothes until they fell off if she didn't force him into new ones.
"How long until New Year?" Lizzie asked as she licked chocolate from her fingers. Ever since they had been told that they could stay up to see it in with them, they had talked of little else.
John checked his pocket watch. "A couple of hours yet."
Jack pouted. "That's ages."
"Well, what would you like to do to pass the time?"
"Can you read my new book to me?"
"Of course I will, if you want me to."
"I do! I want to know what happens to the boy!"
"Me too!" said Lizzie.
John glanced at her. "What do you say, Mummy?"
She looked around at her little family, and their beautiful, eager faces.
"I think it sounds perfect," she said.
They gathered together in the sitting room. Jack and Lizzie sprawled out in front of the fire, staring up at John with keen eyes. Anna snuggled against his side, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head against his chest. He kissed her temple then opened the book.
"Here we go," he began. "Chapter one…"
He never broke pace in his reading, the silence punctured only sometimes by the children's gasps and giggles as John put on every character voice for them. Anna smiled. This was the perfection she had always strived for.
She closed her eyes and let the sound of John's calm rumble soothe her.
Anna woke with a start. She was still pressed tight to John's side, her arm draped across his waist, her head resting against his chest. The fire crackled and popped in front of her tired eyes, seeming to shimmer with magic. She raised a hand to rub at them.
"Well, hello there, sleepy head."
John's voice was teasing and affectionate, and she pushed away from him so she could see his face. It was half in shadows, but there was no mistaking the smile that was on his mouth.
"What time is it?" she said. "How long was I out?"
"It's just before midnight," he responded. "And not long. I don't blame you. It's been a tiring day."
Anna scanned the darkened room, her gaze coming to rest on the children. They were tucked in with a blanket on the armchair, fast asleep.
"They fell asleep not long after you," said John. "I didn't want to take them up to bed because I'd like them to be here to see the New Year in with us, even if they aren't awake. So I thought the armchair was the next best thing."
"Sentimental thing," she said affectionately, kissing his cheek. "Come on, let's get something to drink. We might as well see the New Year in now."
They crept into the kitchen. Anna poured herself a glass of wine from the bottle Lady Mary had sent to them for Christmas, and John filled a glass of water for himself. He checked his pocket watch.
"Almost time," he said. "Let's get back into the room."
They returned to the sitting room. John limped over to the window to peer out.
"Looks like the festivities are still going strong," he noted. "I'll have to pop my head in again once I've seen the New Year in."
Anna passed her hand over each of her children's soft hair as she made her way to his side.
"The boys have done well to hold the fort," she agreed. "But forget about that for a moment. Let's just enjoy this moment together as a family."
"You're right," he said. He glanced at his pocket watch again. "Here we are. Right on time."
"The New Year?"
"The New Year. Happy New Year, my darling."
"Happy New Year, my love."
They clinked their glasses together, casting each other a smile before taking a sip. His eyes were dark on her, and she placed her glass aside. He mirrored her movements, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. She stretched up on her tiptoes, meeting his mouth in a soft, lingering kiss. How she loved this man.
They broke apart, touching their foreheads together. John kissed her one more time, a promise of what was to come. Anna felt his arm tighten around her, and she manoeuvred them until they were looking inside their sitting room, at everything they had fought for. The cosy little home. The hotel they had always dreamed about at their backs. And the two children curled up in the armchair, one light haired and the other dark, both cherished so much. They were the most important things in the whole world, their pride and joy. Truly, they had had the best of New Years since finding out about Jack.
Anna knew, with her family by her side, they could only get better.