Letter to Anna Bates, December 29th, 1919

by Harpy101

These are not my characters, this is not my story. These are imaginary letters between John and Anna Bates in the days before his trial for murder, in the last days of 1919.

Dearest Anna;

With the trial still several days away it would be best if you could find a way to rest and enjoy yourself.

I know how hard this is on you. To be loved by you is a miracle to me, but sometimes a sorrow. Your lovely face strained by fear and grief stays in my memory. It's not what I want for you, not what I wanted for you at all.

I hope you will join with the others in the servants' hall for New Year's Eve. I hope you will take walks around the estate where it's most beautiful, or go to the village and order a new hat or buy a sweet. I hope you are reading a new book. One of the keenest pleasures of my time with you has been our conversations over books, even though the rest of the staff at the table would give us quizzical looks while we understood each other perfectly. I miss us, discussing our thoughts.

Please tell me what book you are reading. Tell me when you buy a new hat. And news from the house is always welcome. I think very fondly of the family and staff at Downton, I miss the house, and I miss them.

Not the way I miss you. But you know that, you know that well. No one has ever known my heart like you do. I could be away from you for 100 years, we could appear to each other in different forms the way they believe in the Eastern religions, re-incarnate, and still I would know you, I would love you, I would need you.

I managed to get a battered copy of Howard's End which I enjoy, but it is a curious effect. My body will take on panic without a thought of my final walk to the gallows; in the middle of a passage I find that my heart is hammering on my ribs, just when I've had a respite from thinking about my fate. Yet reading is the best use of my time in here. Of course, letters from you are much favored over E. M. Forester.

Please regale me with tales of your small, daily details. Tell me your thoughts, share your memories, but also share the little things, the things I would be sharing with you if I was there with you. If need be do something deliberately small and deliberately commonplace, something just for you, so you can write to me about it.

9:00 tonight, the lights will go out. I will pull you onto my lap, I will kiss you. I will kiss you for hours, I will kiss you and caress you until you are bright pink and breathless and dizzy. I will obey every wish you have, every single one.

I love you, my Anna.

John