An Accidental Cyrano

Someone had left another unsigned note on the servant's hall table and Mr. Carson was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"If the dismantling of the hospital and restoring Downton back to its original condition is not keeping you busy, I shall be more than willing to provide duties to fill your time," he barked to the staff sitting around the table waiting for dinner to begin. "We've no time for foolish sentimentality."

Mrs, Hughes rolled her eyes discretely, but the rest of the staff was simply confused. Mr. Carson had gained custody of the notes before most of the staff had had the opportunity to pass them around and gossip about the authorship. His gaze fell upon each staff member, as if the force of his glare might spur a confession, but was disappointed in the response.

"No more of this," he said, crumpling the note in his hand. He tugged his coat irritably and indicated to a paralyzed Daisy that she could serve now. Low conversation began immediately.

"What do you suppose that's all about?" Anna asked Mr. Bates.

He shrugged and gave the crumpled ball of paper beside an uneasy glance.

"I suspect someone is trying to make trouble," he replied, cutting his eyes at Miss O'Brien and Thomas. All through the meal, while chatting with Anna during one of the few opportunities they had to talk, he was distracted by the note.

"Or maybe they're love notes," Anna suggested when the topic of the notes arose again," and someone is too shy to sign his name."

"Why assume its a 'him'?" Bates asked in amusement. "And what good would a love note be if the intended recipient didn't know it was for her?"

"See? You assume its a him writing to a her as well, Mr. Bates," she teased. "And St. Valentines Day is tomorrow. Perhaps they were practice notes and whoever wrote them left them by accident."

Bates drew his eyebrows together in thought. "Possibly," he said slowly. When Anna turned to answer a question from another maid, he patted his at his jacket. A slightly panicked look spread across his face when he found nothing.

"Whatever's the matter, Mr. Bates?" Anna asked, squeezing his arm discretely.

"Nothing," he said, trying to smile at her as he normally did when they had a quiet moment. "I was just reminded of something."

As the bustle of everyone getting up from the table to resume their duties rose around them, Anna gazed skeptically at him. He winced as that determined look came into her eyes and braced himself to try to deflect her questions. fortunately for him, Anna was called away and he could take a deep breath.

Mrs. Hughes had pocketed the crumpled up note when Mr. Carson had been distracted, and Bate followed her with his eyes as she took it with her. Clearing his throat, he began to casually follow her.

"Mr. Bates," she said pleasantly as he passed her.

"Mrs. Hughes," he replied. then he stopped as if something had just occurred to him. "If Mr. Carson is truly determined to get to the bottom of the notes, he might look at the type of paper its written on. With the rationing still on, paper quality hasn't returned to its pre war quality."

Mrs. Hughes looked at him suspiciously, then took the paper out of her pocket with a little smile at the corner of her lips. She held it up so that he could see the paper and the writing, but couldn't quite read the content. The paper and the writing were quite enough. He had found at least part of his missing notebook.

"The quality is quite good, Mr. Bates, but the writing is a little faded." She looked a little closer at him, noticing his nervous swallow. "I've no time to play detective, and neither does Mr. Carson, but if you've any idea where these notes are coming from, I'd greatly appreciate putting a word in the person's ear that enough is quite enough."

"I'll do that, if anything occurs to me, Mrs. Hughes," he agreed and went on his way, not missing the amused look she threw at him as he left. "I'll do that, if I can figure out who has the bloody thing," he muttered.

He was no closer to figuring it out when he and Anna took advantage of a few free moments to meet in the courtyard that night. Anna took note of how distracted he was and smiled.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Bates?" she asked, her small hand disappearing into his larger one.

"They're not worth even half that," he replied with a smile, caressing the top of her hand with his thumb. "Anytime I'm not thinking of you is a waste of a good penny."

"You've a way with words, Mr. Bates," she said with a lilt of mischief in her tone. "You're almost as good as Kevin."

"Kevin? Who do…you mean the hall boy, Kevin?" he asked, bewildered.

She laughed like chimes running down the scales. "That's exactly who. I overheard him reading such lovely poetry and such to one of the maids earlier. Who'd have known he had it in him?"

"Perhaps I'll take up some lessons with him," Mr. Bates choked out, barely restraining himself from hunting young Kevin down that very moment.

"Oh, you won't be able to," she replied, taking a small, very familiar notebook out of her apron pocket. "I've given him a lesson on trying to have his way with the maids by using someone else's words. And not just one of the maids, either. He'd given pages to several." She shook her head with a satisfied smile. "I suppose that's how they wound up left on the table. The cheek of him."

Mr. Bates stared at her, flabbergasted. "How…how did you…?"

"Know it was yours?" She smiled at him as if he was a bit simple. "I've watched you scribble in that notebook for years now, Mr. Bates. You never mentioned what was in it, and I never asked." She raised an eyebrow at him as he flushed to the tips of his ears. "It was sharp of you not to put your name in it."

Mr. Bates leaned against a crate and looked anywhere but into Anna's eyes. He took the notebook from her when she handed it to him.

"I haven't carried it around for quite some time," he said in a low voice. "It didn't seem right to write about you when we were apart, due to all of my mistakes." He snuck a glance into her shining, amused eyes. "I've only just started writing in it again. That's why I was carrying it around and managed to drop it out of my pocket, making me an accidental Cyrano."

Anna giggled at that and stepped closer to him, shivering in the night wind. He took quick look around and then gathered her into his arms.

"Why start writing in it now, Mr. Bates?" she asked, her voice muffled by his chest.

"I was hoping to give you something…a letter or a poem for St. Valentines Day," he admitted. "It doesn't seem like we've ever had a proper one, since you agree to marry me."

"You're quite the romantic, Mr. Bates," she said, smiling tenderly at him. "But I don't think Kevin did your work justice."

"I hadn't pulled anything together like I wanted," he said glumly. "Everything's been so busy since the Armistice, and now with all the wedding plans…"

"You don't need to pull anything together," she corrected him. "I know now that you've been writing love poetry to me for years - what more could I need?"

He smiled and pulled her in closer to him. "That's because I've loved you for years," he whispered into her hair.

Anna leaned up on her tiptoes to surprise him with a passionate kiss.

"That's all I need for a Happy St. Valentines Day," she said against his lips. "You're all I need."

He pulled her back for another kiss that didn't seem to end until locking up time.

There were no more unsigned notes in the Servant Hall, and Mr. Carson was satisfied that his words had been taken to heart. Kevin the hall boy sported a lovely bruise in the shape of a maids hand on his cheek for a few days.

Mr. Bates gave the notebook to Anna, and in the hard months that followed, she read through it until she could hear every word he had written in her heart.