As Dame Nellie left the hall, Bates stood up and stretched –unused to sitting for so long, little daggers of pain had begun to shoot through his bad knee.
"Anna's not back yet," he said to Mrs. Hughes as the servants filed quickly out of the hall and back downstairs. "Do you think she's alright?" He was starting to worry about her: it was quite unlike her to be so ill she needed a headache powder, and the fact that she had been gone for well over half an hour had him even more uneasy. What if she had been in such pain that she had fainted? What if there was something more wrong with her than just a headache?
Another thought lingered in a dark corner of his mind: was she really ill, or feigning illness to get some time away from him? What if she was still angry at him snapping at her in front of the staff like she was some recalcitrant child? He hadn't meant to shout at her like that –he never had before and he swore to himself he never would again. It was only worry about Mrs. Patmore that had done it –that, and the anxiety that welled up inside him when he saw Anna laughing and joking with Mr. Green. It hurt too much to see Anna with a man like that, a man more worthy of her... and shallow as it sounded, watching her smile at Green made him start worrying that Anna regretted tying herself to him. Compared to Green, he was just a sad old cripple, and he worried that seeing Green would make Anna start to realise that she had settled for far less than she deserved... that fear and anger at himself had come out instead as anger directed at Anna. He would apologise to her now, even before they left for the cottage, and maybe they could make up properly once they were alone together –that is, if Anna wanted to. Maybe Anna wouldn't want to, could even now be reconsidering her marriage vows...
"I'm sure she's alright," Mrs. Hughes reassured him, breaking into the valet's gloomy reverie. "Maybe she lay down for a bit in my sitting room to ease her headache."
There was no sign of Anna in the servants' hall, though the door to the boot room was open, revealing a most unusual mess: boots and shoes lying askew on the floor instead of on the shelves, and even the table had been pulled away from the centre of the room –what on earth had the boot boy been playing at? Bates thought angrily as he realised he would have to re-black His Lordship's shoes the next day –it was no good trusting them to Harry's clumsy fingers.
Walking past the open door –he wouldn't like to be in Harry's shoes when Thomas or Mr. Carson saw that unholy mess –he sat down at the table waiting for Anna to come in –maybe she had gone up to wait for Lady Mary in her room? The other staff in the room all gave him a wide berth, wary of approaching him after seeing him lose his temper with Anna over something so trivial as a game.
I'm sorry, alright? Bates wanted to shout after the third time he caught a maid giving him a furtive look and hastily looking away when he looked at her. The faster Lord Grantham rang so he could get him ready for bed and leave for home with Anna, the better.
He hadn't been seated for more than a few minutes when Mrs. Hughes appeared, looking more flustered than he had ever seen her.
"Mr. Bates?" the housekeeper called, looking round the servants' hall with eyes that seemed almost unseeing.
"Yes, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked, hastily pushing back his chair. "Is Anna in your sitting room?"
"Anna," his wife's name came out almost as a cry from Mrs. Hughes' lips. "Could you fetch Dr. Clarkson please?"
"Is Anna ill?" he asked, but Mrs. Hughes had already hurried away.
Thoroughly worried, he limped to Mrs. Hughes' sitting room and pushed the door cautiously open, almost afraid of what he would find. If Anna was ill enough that Mrs. Hughes would think it necessary to summon the doctor without sparing a few minutes to explain to him what exactly was wrong, it had to be bad.
His gaze shot immediately to the little sofa and armchair, but Anna was nowhere to be seen. During a brief lull in the buzz of activity in the corridor, he thought he heard a gasping sob and swivelled round in the direction of the sound: there, in the corner behind the hutch, crouched Anna, face bloodied, hair askew, clutching the torn remnants of her dress to her.
"Call Dr. Clarkson!" Bates turned and shouted at whoever was in the corridor behind him. Not even bothering to wait and see if his order was obeyed, he hurried to Anna and dropped to his knees beside her.
"No! Please!" Anna cried when he tried to put his arms around her, pushing him away feebly before crouching into a ball, hands trying desperately to hold her dress shut.
"Anna, it's me," Bates tried to soothe her. The more he tried to comfort her, the more terrified she became, until he backed away and tried to whisper soothing and encouraging things to her from across the room.
"Anna, it's okay, it's only me, I'm not going to hurt you," he called softly, though his mind was racing. Torn clothes, hair half-out of its bun, cuts on her face, begging him not to hurt her... together, they could only add up to one thing.
Not Anna, please not her, Bates begged a deity he no longer believed in, wanting to fling himself to the ground and join Anna in her sobbing.
"Mr. Bates!" Mrs. Hughes gasped, entering the room with Dr. Clarkson.
"What happened?" he growled, knowing but not wanting to believe it.
"Anna came down here alone during the concert," Mrs. Hughes answered, speaking to Dr. Clarkson as much as to him. "Someone must have been waiting down here, or followed her down..."
"She's been raped?" Dr. Clarkson asked, though it was more a statement than a question.
"Yes," Mrs. Hughes gulped, putting down the pile of things in her hands –towels, Bates vaguely registered, and what he assumed was a clean dress.
"See if you can calm her down," Clarkson said in an undertone to Mrs. Hughes. "If Mr. Bates or I approach her in this state, it'll only upset her more."
"Bates," Clarkson said as Mrs. Hughes went to Anna to try to soothe her, "you need to be calm and strong for Anna now."
"How can I be?" Bates almost spat. "Do you realise what some scum has just done to my wife?" After hearing Mrs. Hughes confirm it, he wanted to march through the Abbey beating the living daylights out of every man he saw until someone confessed, and then, once a confession had been beaten out of someone, tighten his hands round the animal's throat until his lips turned blue...
"Bates," Clarkson said sharply, breaking through the red mist of anger than had descended upon Bates. "I can give you something to calm you down if you need it, or I'll have to ask you to leave the room while I see to Anna –you can't upset her any further."
"I'm not letting Anna out of my sight again," Bates said, taking a deep breath. Over Clarkson's shoulder, he could see Mrs. Hughes leading Anna to one of the armchairs. She was still crying, but more softly.
"You know we have to inform His Lordship of this?" Clarkson asked Mrs. Hughes as he dug around in his medical bag.
"Yes, I do," Mrs. Hughes said reluctantly.
As Clarkson began gently to examine Anna, Bates stood next to the door, afraid to move closer but unable to turn away. Every inch of Anna that he could see seemed to be covered in bruises or bloody grazes. He was no ladies maid, but even he could see that Anna's dress, as Mrs. Hughes helped her out of it, had been ripped beyond repair.
"Mr. Bates, could you fetch me a long strip of cloth?" Clarkson asked in a determinedly matter-of-fact tone. "One of Anna's ribs may need binding."
"I'll go," Mrs. Hughes said, hurrying past Bates. As she swept past him, he could see tears in the normally stoic housekeeper's eyes.
"John?" Anna called, looking blindly around for him.
"I'm right here, love," he answered, moving towards her and holding her hand as Mrs. Hughes had been doing.
"Will she be alright?" he asked Clarkson.
"Physically, yes," Clarkson answered. Before Bates could press him for further elaboration, Mrs. Hughes came back in, a long strip of linen in one hand and a tumbler of whisky in another, which she gave to Anna to drink.
"I've told Mr. Carson to ask His Lordship to wait in the library," she said. "I've said it's urgent."
"That it is," Clarkson agreed.
"It's alright, Anna," Bates soothed, squeezing her hand gently as she started to shake. "It's going to be okay. Who did this?" he asked, turning to face Mrs. Hughes, who shook her head.
"I don't know," she admitted.
"Anna?" Bates turned tenderly to Anna. "Tell me, who did this to you?" She shook her head, but Bates would not be deterred. "Tell me," he pressed, shaking Clarkson off angrily when the doctor tried to intervene.
"I need to know," he snapped, regretting it instantly when he felt Anna flinch away from him.
"I'm not angry at you," he tried to reassure her. "You've done nothing wrong." How he regretted his earlier outburst!
"Mr..." Anna began haltingly, and even Clarkson stopped his ministrations to listen. "Mr. G –Green."
"The valet!" Bates growled, his animalistic tone surprising even him.
"Bates!" Clarkson said sharply. "Leave him for the police to deal with... right now, your wife needs you here."
With this blunt reminder, Bates turned back to Anna and her needs.
"Just one more cut that needs suturing," Clarkson said softly to Anna. Her hand gripped Bates' tightly as the needle dug through her flesh.
"It's okay," Bates whispered to her. "You're being so brave."
Finally, when Bates was afraid he was going to be sick with nerves, Clarkson put his needle down.
"That's all I can do from a medical standpoint," he said as Anna collapsed against Bates: rigid with fear but too weak and weary to pull away. "Would you like me to speak to His Lordship first?" he asked Mrs. Hughes.
"I think that might be best, while I help Anna wash and change into a fresh dress," Mrs. Hughes answered gratefully. Uncertain where they wanted him to go but not wanting to move from Anna's side, Bates helped her stand up, hoping to find little jobs to keep himself busy with in the same room as her.
"What –what will happen now?" Anna asked, and daggers shot through Bates' heart as he heard her voice, so small and scared.
"His Lordship might want to speak to you," Bates said "but it's alright, I'll be with you," he added quickly as he saw tears well up in Anna's fearful eyes.
"We both will," Mrs. Hughes added gently, helping Anna step out of the last remnants of her dress.
"Shall I fetch some hot water?" Bates offered. Mrs. Hughes gratefully accepted his offer, and while it hurt to walk out of the room, leaving Anna behind, he couldn't deny that it was a slight relief to be out of the little room with its atmosphere of pain and sadness –and immediately felt guilty for even thinking it. None of this would have happened if you hadn't been too proud to walk downstairs with her.
As he waited for the kettle to boil, he was thankful that everyone else had already been shooed off to bed, aside from the valets and ladies maids, who were presumably upstairs with their principals –he couldn't have borne being surrounded by people who had no idea that his world had just taken such a beating.
"Mr. Bates?" Mr. Carson approached him cautiously. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes," Bates choked out, unable to keep control of himself. "Something is very wrong."
The older man paused, uncertain what could have reduced Mr. Bates to such a wreck of a man in the space of an hour.
"Anna's been... attacked," Bates said. "And it's all my fault, I let her come down here alone during the concert. I can never forgive myself for that."
"Is that why Dr. Clarkson is with His Lordship?" Carson asked. "And where is Anna now?" He was uncomfortable with displays of emotion, but reached out and patted Bates' shoulder awkwardly as the valet leaned on the kitchen counter, struggling to keep from crying.
"Mrs. Hughes called him to tend to Anna," Bates explained. "They're still in Mrs. Hughes' sitting room." The kettle whistled and Bates picked it up, eager to get back to Anna, while Carson settled down in the servants' hall to wait.
When he returned to Mrs. Hughes' room, he found that the housekeeper had helped Anna put her hair to rights and was applying salve to the bruises already forming on her face while they waited for him.
"May I stay?" Bates asked, suddenly realising that he didn't know if Anna was still upset at him over his earlier outburst –and after what she had just gone through, partly through his own stubbornness and reluctance to accompany her, he would understand perfectly if she didn't want him around. "I should have asked you before, Anna."
"Please stay," Anna nodded, and relief flooded through him at this obvious gesture of forgiveness.
Mrs. Hughes had only just finished helping Anna into a clean dress when Dr. Clarkson knocked lightly on the door before entering.
"Lord Grantham would like to speak to Mrs. Hughes and Anna," he informed them. "Lord Gillingham has also been summoned and heard my version of the story."
"Must she?" Bates asked. "Doctor, you can see she's in no fit state to –"
"I can do it," Anna interrupted in a shaky voice. "Only... could Mr. Bates come with us?" She reached out to him for support as she spoke, and the feel of her small hand on his was enough to move Bates to tears. How could she want him at her side, how could she even forgive him?
"I'm sure Lord Grantham will have no objection," Dr. Clarkson smiled.
The trio walked slowly towards the library where Lord Grantham and Lord Gillingham were waiting, Mrs. Hughes and Bates on either side of Anna. As they approached the door, Anna began to shake even more. "He –he won't be there, will he?" she asked, terrified. "No," Bates promised. He knew Lord Grantham would never be so insensitive, and he hoped Lord Gillingham wouldn't either. Not that it mattered –if Green was in the room waiting for them, smirking, the animal had minutes left to live –no power on earth would be able to stop him launching himself at the vile creature, bad leg and cane be damned, and beating him till he begged for mercy.
A/N: I've had this little story crying to be written since Season 4 aired –my modern brain just couldn't fathom a world where Anna felt she couldn't admit the attack to anyone, which is what makes this fic so AU. I hope you enjoy it –this will be a two-shot, maximum a three-shot, but definitely not a very long fic
