In the Darkness
Summary: Season 4 AU/Entire season spoilers – When Mrs. Hughes refuses to share Anna's secret with Mr. Bates, he leaves Downton Abbey.
A/N: My first Downton Abbey fic so I'm still trying to get down the characters' voices and the period style. Spoiler warning for all of season 4 because of events in future chapters. This story picks up in Season 4 with the episode where Mr. Bates confronts Mrs. Hughes about Anna's secret but explores the question of "what if" she refused to betray Anna's confidence, and future chapters will likely be a re-write of season 4. I kept a little of the canon dialogue but largely went my own way. As this story involves the Anna Bates season 4 storyline, I'm putting a trigger warning so please take care in reading. I tried to remain sensitive to the subject matter while exploring a little more of these characters. Reviews are always appreciated.
Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey. No copyright infringement intended.
"My wife no longer loves me. The sight of me is torture for her, which is torture for me. If you will not let me hear the truth, I will hand in my resignation now and be gone before she gets back."
"Leaving? Why?" Lord Grantham demanded.
"I fear I must. Whatever I've done to upset Anna..." He shook his head. "She won't talk to me. She flinches when I approach and shrinks away from me when I try to touch her."
"And you believe that leaving will help her?" the nobleman asked pointedly.
"My being near her seems to make her more miserable. If absenting myself will give her some relief, then I must do so."
Grantham frowned but nodded in acceptance having already told his valet that he'd accept no resignation but would allow an extended leave of absence until things were settled. "Hopefully things will right themselves quickly and you may return to us without delay. Where will you go?"
"I know of a place in London where I can find work and board temporarily."
Bates thanked his lordship for being so understanding and holding his position for a short while in hopes that things could be worked out. But as he returned to the cabin he had so happily shared with Anna since his release from prison, Bates wondered if he was simply too proud to admit reality.
His wife had left him, moved back into the main house on the pretense of taking care of both Lady Mary and Lady Grantham. While she refused to tell him what he had done, Bates' mind churned through the possibilities. Perhaps she had finally realized that she was too good for him? That she could do much better than an old, crippled felon?
And yet, Anna had never even hinted at such thoughts. Quite the contrary - she had always reassured him of her love and affection, hushing any negative statements he made about himself. She'd always played the part of his greatest champion, and he could not imagine her suddenly behaving otherwise.
But the fact remained that every time she saw him, Anna started. Her back stiffened and she refused to meet his gaze. She avoided even a casual brush against him if they passed in the hall. Whatever he had done, it had turned her world upside down, and she did everything possible to keep away from him.
He'd overheard Mrs. Hughes confront Anna about some secret his wife was keeping from him. He'd always known that the sin of eavesdropping only rewarded the sinner with misery, but this conversation proved the adage in spades. Mrs. Hughes thought Anna should tell him her secret, why she stayed away from him, why she was relieved there was "no baby." But Anna refused, saying that her husband would know if she did not tell him the truth. And somehow his future was at stake.
However, when Bates confronted the housekeeper, she denied all knowledge. But he could not miss the look of pity in the woman's eyes. Even as he threatened to quit his position and leave the house - a place where he'd known both happiness and love and yet now had neither - Mrs. Hughes would not budge.
And thus, Bates found himself at the railway station, waiting for the next train bound for London. He'd only packed a small suitcase, preferring to leave most of his possessions at the cottage in the hope that he would return one day. The one small consolation he took with him was the promise he'd extracted from Mrs. Hughes to let him know how Anna fared in his absence.
A week later, as he'd settled in as a bartender at a tavern and took a room in a boarding house, Bates received his first letter from Mrs. Hughes. The missive proved both brief and heartbreaking.
Mr. Bates,
I informed Anna of your move to London and she was beside herself with grief. She insists you have done nothing wrong and do not deserve to be run from your home. She hopes you will reconsider and return. From my own observations of her, I would say that Anna is much the same as she was when you left except that your absence heightens her guilt.
Please return soon,
Mrs. Hughes
He re-read the note three times, struggling to understand its meaning. Anna bid him come back to Downton but had not written to him herself. And the housekeeper said she had not improved with him gone, but rather she was worse. And what did Mrs. Hughes mean by "heightens her guilt"? What had Anna to feel guilt over?
Was it guilt over him leaving Downton, guilt at how she'd treated him before he'd left, or something greater? Anna and Mrs. Hughes had spoken of some secret and perhaps that was the culprit. Whatever his wife's secret, it brought her great shame, such shame that she refused to share it with him.
He'd never really considered the possibility of her being unfaithful to him, not Anna. But all the other circumstances seemed to fit. The flirtation she shared with Lord Gillingham's valet, her sudden refusal to have anything to do with her husband. Perhaps something had happened between the two of them, something Anna regretted and which caused her enormous guilt. A kiss? A touch? More?
The thought of Anna with another man was a stab through Bates' heart, a betrayal familiar from his first marriage but utterly foreign to all notions of his second. And yet, he knew Anna to be without fault. If she had indeed transgressed with Mr. Green, a younger man who obviously made her laugh, Bates could only blame himself for not being enough for his wife.
Anna asked for so very little, and Bates did everything within his power to make her life more joyful. But the fact remained that he was many years her senior, disabled, a former drunkard, and not long out of prison. Marrying Anna had been perhaps his most selfish act, but he'd done so believing that he could at least make her happy.
"Perhaps I was wrong," he said aloud to himself.
The letter from Mrs. Hughes sat on the bed beside him and he took out paper and a pen to write her back on the only other piece of furniture in the room: a small desk wedged into a corner. The rented room's cheapness explained its sparseness as Bates intended on sending every possible penny he earned back to Downton for Anna. She would need money to keep the cottage and he hoped, perhaps with him gone, that she might move back to what was once their home.
Mrs. Hughes,
Thank you for your letter. Please give Anna my best wishes for her health and happiness as that is all I want for her. However, I will not return unless I know what has caused her such grief. My being near her seemed to cause her great pain and I can only hope that she may improve while I am away.
He paused for a moment before putting his pen back to the paper.
However I have wronged her, I will make any reparations she desires. I will do anything to make our marriage work. I will do anything at all for her. Anna can hold no blame for whatever has occurred. Please tell her this and tell her I love her.
Sincerely,
John Bates
He sealed the letter and delivered it to the post immediately. He saw none of the usual bustle on the London streets, his attention so many miles away at Downton.
A fortnight had passed by the time he received Mrs. Hughes' second letter, handed to him by his crass landlady as he returned to the boarding house after a long day at work. The time in London had not been kind to him as the draft in his small room left his leg aching and stiff. The bad food and dull mood caused him to miss Downton almost as much as the loneliness of being separated from his wife.
"You've got another letter then," she informed him unnecessarily before remarking, "And the name of that missus isn' the same as yours."
The woman smelled of chewing tobacco and too many cats kept indoors.
"Thank you," he responded simply, taking the letter from her hand. The return address showed it was from Mrs. Hughes.
"Steppin' out on your wife, are ya?" her voice followed him as he continued down the hall. "No 'onder she threw ya out."
Ignoring the woman, Bates let himself into his room and shut the door behind him. Lowering himself onto the bed, he paused before opening the letter.
Anna still had not written him herself. He took her lack of direct communication as a bad sign. Part of him wanted to ignore the housekeeper's letter, to put it away and put off reading what he knew could only be bad news. But he craved any news of Anna, any scrap of information as to how his wife fared.
Dear Mr. Bates,
I must renew my plea that you return to Downton Abbey. Anna needs you even if she will not admit it. I read her your last letter and she told me she believes you deserve better than her. You know I cannot give away her secret, Mr. Bates, but it is tearing her apart. She is trying to protect you, bless her, and that is why she pushes you away. I will try again to convince her to tell you what is wrong, but I doubt I will have much luck. Just know that she still loves you and she needs you right now even if she can't tell you what is the matter.
Sincerely,
Mrs. Hughes
A line of text at the end of the letter had obviously been added later.
Anna has asked that I include a letter from her as well. I have not read it.
-EH
He removed the small folded paper and immediately scanned through it. Words like sorry, love, and pain jumped out at him, making his heart race in a dizzying confusion of fear and joy. But he forced himself to read it from the beginning.
Mr. Bates, it began, and he let out a breath at the use of his last name. Anna sometimes teased him by being formal in private, but she'd gotten used to using his first name since their marriage. Pushing aside whatever hidden meaning may have been in the address, he read on.
Mrs. Hughes was kind enough to let me read your letter to her. Thank you for your concern for me. I want you to know that you've done nothing wrong. I'm sorry for putting you through this. I love you, more than you will ever know. I hope you know that you're too good for me.
He let out the breath he'd been holding and blinked at the tears gathering in his eyes. Too good for him? How could she even conceive of such a notion?
If you will come back, I can find a position elsewhere. It isn't good for you to be on your leg all day serving at a public house. And your wages at Downton were much better.
His hands trembled as he read Anna's concern for him. Those few sentences showed more of the true personality of his wife than he'd seen in many weeks. But the last line of her letter was nearly his undoing.
If you want to divorce me, I will not contest it.
She signed only with her Christian name, but his attention stayed riveted to those final words.
Divorce.
Only a few weeks ago, he never would have considered such a thing. He could barely think of it now without the image of a life without Anna turning his stomach in somersaults. But his wife had broached the subject. And he'd been the one to leave their home.
Shaking uncontrollably, Bates read the letter again. His attention caught on her confession of love for him and her statement that he was too good for her. By everything that she'd said, he was not the source of whatever was bothering her. Thinking back over her avoidance of him at Downton, Bates tried to view each moment with her in a new light.
Self loathing. Hatred. Disgust. Guilt. Shame. Rather than anger at him, she felt these things about herself. Whatever the source of her distress, Anna blamed herself. And she kept away from him in an attempt to protect him from... something.
Had she committed adultery, and wished to spare him from that knowledge? It would explain her guilt and fear of him, and the offer of divorce made sense. But surely she must know he would never hurt her, no matter what she'd done? If she still loved him, it was something they could move past.
Pulling out a piece of paper, he wrote to Anna directly.
My dearest Anna,
In your letter to me, you spoke of divorce. I know of no grounds to seek it even if I wished to do so, which I do not. If you have something to confess which you believe will make me divorce you, know this instead: I want you. I want our life together. Whatever drives your guilt and suffering, if it is something you believe you have done, you have my forgiveness. I would never hurt you, Anna. I never want to be parted from you.
I cannot believe you would ever commit an act of infidelity, but if that is the source of all this, I forgive you. You are a young, beautiful, vivacious woman and I have tied you to a broken old man. I know your own honor would torture you for an act you perceive as adultery, but nothing in this world is black and white. I have existed in gray shadows for so long that I would never throw stones, and I can only assume it was because a failing on my part. But if you still love me, if you still want to be with me, I will rejoice in that and forget everything else. Please tell me. My life is nothing without you.
Always,
Your loving husband
TBC
