A/N: My first attempt at a narrative A/B piece, as I have been not only inspired by the amazing work of Brendan Coyle and Joanne Froggatt, but also by you talented writers on here! Srsly, I am not worthy! I dedicate this to TheShippyQueen 'cos she encouraged moi to post this :-) x
Chapter 1 - The Wait
He paced and paced. And paced.
The more he glanced at his pocket watch, the slower the hands seemed to move. By the third hour, he could have sworn he saw one of them go backwards. The tick-tock tapping of his cane off of the stone ground wasn't helping matters either.
Suddenly, the door opened.
"Mr. Carson, have one of the maids fetch us more towels," Mrs. Hughes ordered, her command doing little to drown the cries of agony coming from inside the room, "and will you please bring Mr. Bates back downstairs."
"Are they alright? Can I see her?" the paled father-to-be asked, trying to look over her shoulder.
"You certainly can not!" the housekeeper affirmed, holding the door near closed. "It's no place for a man, and given her choice words about you the past hour, I think you're the last person Anna wants to see! Mr. Carson, the towels..."
"Come now, Mr. Bates," Carson urged, guiding him to the staircase. "Let us go make ourselves useful. It could very well be another while yet."
Another while yet? Surely labour couldn't last this long!
...
"Congratulations Mr. Bates!" Daisy burst as they entered the servants' hall. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Daisy, bring up some towels upstairs will you," Carson intervened quickly, saving Bates an answer.
"I can bring them, Mr. Carson!" Molesley immediately jumped. The Dowager Countess had asked him to accompany Matthew for tea earlier that afternoon, so as he could tend to the troubled roses in the Downton gardens. The visit was timed well, for no sooner had they arrived when the panic of Anna's labour began.
"I'm sure Daisy'll manage," Carson replied as he eased Bates into a chair, "and I'm not quite sure men are welcome upstairs for another while."
Thomas stubbed out his cigarette and rolled his eyes. It was bad enough having a woman stay in the men's quarters. Now a screaming sprog as well? Marriage or no marriage, Anna should never have been allowed share Mr. Bates' room in the first place.
Bates pulled out his pocket-watch again. "Dr. Clarkson should be here by now..."
"Mr. Branson's the fastest driver in all of Downton, Mr. Bates, he'll be here with Dr. Clarkson and Mrs. Crawley any moment now," Daisy chirped beside him, "and Lady Sybil and Mrs. Hughes are taking good care of them, it'll all be over in no time."
"No time?" Thomas scoffed from across the way. "I suppose you think a baby just walks out, don't ya? This could go on 'til mornin'..."
Daisy slunk back as Mrs. Pratmore came to her defence. "Well she'll know a lot more about havin' a baby than you ever will, that's for sure!"
"Yeah, I suppose a childless widow would. Where's Ethel when you need her, ey?"
"Thomas..." Carson warned before looking over both his shoulders for the scullery maid, "...And Daisy will you please hurry?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Carson sir," she apologised as she sped past him.
"Oh and bring a facecloth," the butler suggested, recalling the Grantham girls births, "In case Dr. Clarkson might want to administer a little chloroform when he arrives."
Daisy quickly nodded before dashing off.
Not to be left behind, an eager Molesley made his way to the stove. "I'd better boil the kettle again, incase they'll be looking for more hot water."
"Looks like everybody here knows about havin' a baby," Thomas mumbled, looking in the direction of O'Brien.
"Thomas, that's enough!" Mr. Carson barked.
Though he realised the enormity of Mrs. Hughes' current situation, he wished she were around to help quell some of the bickering that'd been going since lunch. It was always worse on a rainy day, never mind the added excitement of a baby. Pulling out the head chair for himself, Carson sighed and sat. At least it would be bedtime soon... though with Anna in labour in the men's quarters, he'd most likely have to deal with Thomas for a while longer. Most of the staff did hate to miss out on anything newsworthy and men and women alike would probably stick it out for a few more hours.
Slowly but surely, the night settled in. Some of the maids swapped their favourite baby names whilst Mrs. Pratmore baked the morning's bread. Knowing how Mr. Bates loved even just the smell of hot flour and dough, the cook had kindly made an extra loaf and laid it out on the table.
"Go on Mr. Bates, get that down ya... you've not had anything all day."
He didn't even hear her, or see the pot of jam she placed beside him.
"He doesn't want food...," Thomas remarked, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a slim tin and threw a cigarette on the table. "There you are Mr. Bates, much better for your nerves."
Lighting up his own cigarette, Thomas then started looking to take some bets, offering odds favouring the baby being a boy. O'Brien sat sewing and uncharacteristically quiet beside him. In fact, it was a wonder she'd never made a single jibe about the baby since Anna revealed her news to the staff some months ago. Not one. Of course, none would have suspected that she still carried the guilt of injuring an innocent when Her Ladyship, Lady Grantham, was last expecting.
The only excitement during the wait was His Lordship and Lady Mary's brief visits, each of them offering Bates a "It won't be long now, dear fellow" and "I'm sure Anna is doing wonderfully."
He prayed she was. He'd never heard her – or another in fact – make such noises as he'd heard coming through the door upstairs.
His coat long discarded and his waistcoat now opened, Bates ran a rough hand over his face. Branson should have arrived with Dr. Clarkson and Mrs. Crawley long ago. He sat forward in the chair, with his elbows resting upon the table and his fingers absent-mindedly kneading his palms. He contemplated impending fatherhood and the arrival of little baby Bates.
Suddenly aware of the fact that he didn't know how to hold a baby, he began to panic once again. What if he had no idea what to do? What if he was a terrible father? What if the baby cried any time he stood near it? What if the baby hated him?
At least he had Anna as his team-mate. She took to pregnancy as easily as she'd taken to being a wife, and no doubt she'd be a natural mother.
His precious Anna. He hated the thought of her suffering as she was now, especially when he could do nothing to help her.
He cursed himself again, as he had many times before, for being absent in the early stages, particularly when she first found out she was expecting. Instead of sharing the excitement of the first few months with her, and being there to help her through sickness, he'd managed to get locked up in jail.
...
TBC