A/N: Written for batesessecretservice's Banna Series Seven challenge over on Tumblr. I chose to write it from John's POV and include a bit of John/Robert interaction because we had a fair amount of Anna/Mary but we've had barely anything for those two in such a long time and I missed it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.
Pastures New
When all was said and done, it didn't take much time at all to come to the decision. It was something they had wanted for a few months shy of a decade, and though they had strong ties with Downton, their strongest ties had always been to one another, and now to the son who had come to join them. It was finally time to strike out on their own and build a future that they wanted to live. It was finally time to live by their own schedules and not someone else's—their son didn't count, and if he did, then there was nothing that they coveted more than being his willing servants.
The London house was sold, enquiries over various little hotels were made, one was chosen on the sea front of Scarborough, and plans to announce their intentions were created. They wouldn't be going too far, just over half a day's train ride away, and they would still be able to keep in contact with their old friends, but they would be casting off alone.
Their little dream, coming to fruition at last.
"Are you all right?"
John turned to find Anna in the doorway, holding Jack in her arms. Their son was gumming happily on his fist. That was good. He had just started to cut his first tooth, and he could be found screaming the house down most nights. Most days, too, according to what his wife told him. They'd tried to soak a cloth in cold water, and massaged his gums, but it did not seem to be having a great deal of effect. Doctor Clarkson had told them that there wasn't much more they could do, but it was difficult to stand by helplessly while Jack suffered. They both knew that they couldn't protect him from everything in life, but after what it had taken to have him, John was sure that they'd try their damned hardest whatever the impossibility.
"I am," he confirmed, shaking himself back to the present. "And you, my darling?"
"A little bit apprehensive," she admitted. "It'll be strange, to cast off."
"Not entirely, though," he said. "We can still keep in touch with everyone, and we can come back to visit if our schedules permit it. And it'll be nice to work together side by side every day again, won't it?"
Anna smiled at that. "It certainly will. I've probably missed it more than you have."
After Jack's birth, Anna had tried to continue her work as a lady's maid to Lady Mary. She'd taken a month off to adjust to motherhood, but it hadn't taken her very long to fall completely in love with the role that she'd professed to longing for for so long. She'd been restless the night before her due return to work, and John had caught tears in her eyes as they'd taken Jack up to the nursery to settle him in.
Not knowing any different at such a young age, Jack had adapted quickly. Anna had not. Juggling feeding times and work could be difficult and unpredictable, and she had often been called away at a moment's notice to tend to their boy. And, after spending every minute of every day tending to his needs, she had missed him fiercely when they were parted. John had come across her at several times on the upstairs corridor, lingering longingly outside the nursery door, just out of sight of the nanny. It had pained him to lead her away.
She'd lasted the month before handing in her notice officially, unable to miss one more moment with him after all the trouble they'd had to conceive. John knew she missed the bustle of getting stuck into work, having worked almost all of her life, but her family came first now.
And, of course, there was a solution to this particular problem.
A hotel by the sea, where they could work together every day and still devote themselves to Jack. And hopefully his siblings, if they could ever be blessed again in the little window remaining to them.
When Anna tentatively broached the subject abed one night, John's heart had soared. He enjoyed his work at Downton, and would miss Lord Grantham dearly after so many years together, but he wanted more out of life too. He wanted more than just rising to kiss his sleeping son in the morning and doing the same before he crawled into bed late at night. He was missing everything, every gurgle, every smile. He'd miss first words and first steps. If this was to be their one and only chance of raising a child, then he wanted to be there for every single milestone, no matter how trivial. He'd forced himself to be content with waiting, not wanting Anna to feel like she had to make the decision to leave when she'd expressed a reluctance so close to giving birth, but he was glad she had come back round to the idea sooner rather than later in this particular instance.
Now all that remained was to tell their employers that they would be moving on for good.
"Come here," said Anna. She placed Jack gently on the bed and moved over to him, reaching up to fuss with his tie. John dropped his arms to his sides, content to let her. He liked it when she touched him, whether it was in a chaste manner or not. And there was little he adored more than a domestic moment like this, with the little furrow of her brow and the way she stretched up on her tiptoes to even some of the height discrepancy between them. When she'd finished, he caught her waist with the flat of his hand before she could move, dipping his head down so he could kiss her. She was smiling when he pulled away, her eyes closed.
"What was that for?" she murmured.
"I love you," he said simply. What other reason did he need?
Her cheeks had pinked, and she fussed with the lapels of his jacket. He couldn't stop smiling at her. She really was the loveliest thing he had ever seen.
They were broken out of their private moment by Jack's gurgling, and they turned to find him attempting to roll over on the bed, looking a little bit like an upended tortoise. He'd just gained the knowledge that his arms and legs were for more than just waving, and his newfound eagerness to crawl clumsily around the rooms had certainly added an extra layer of chaos to their everyday lives. Anna was quick to move over to the bed now, before he could cause himself a mischief, and she hitched him onto her hip, rubbing her nose against his forehead.
"Darling boy," she cooed. "Stay right here with Mummy." She glanced back up at John then. "Are you ready?"
John took in the sight before him, of his wife bathed in sunlight cradling their son close to her, the very embodiment of Madonna and child.
"I've never been more ready for anything," he said.
The morning was just beginning to lighten as they made their way up to Downton. It made for a very welcome change to have Anna with him, pushing Jack in the old pram beside him. It had been a long time since they'd last embarked on this walk together.
As they approached the big house, their gait slowed to a stop. John took a deep breath, flashing Anna a smile.
"Well, this is it," he said. "The moment of truth."
She reached out and squeezed his hand. "The start of the rest of our lives."
They moved round to the servants' entrance. At one time, the place had been a hive of activity, filled with numerous hall boys and kitchen maids hurrying across the courtyard with various parcels. Now only two hall boys remained, and the courtyard, which had always been so loud first thing in a morning, was muted. John was sad to see how quickly this way of life had declined. While he wasn't a believer in the idea of men and women being repressed just because of their social standing, he didn't believe that the families who had had lived like that all their lives deserved to be thrown out into the unknown, either. Especially kind and decent men like Lord Grantham, who had always treated the people under his care with the utmost respect.
But the end of this way of life seemed to be approaching more quickly than anyone would have thought a decade ago.
Shaking himself from those sombre thoughts, John opened the back door and bent down to help Anna lift the pram inside the door. Jack whimpered a bit at being jostled, but settled when Anna leaned over and chucked him under the chin.
"It's all right, darling," she cooed. "There we go. Flat ground once more."
"Is that…? Yes, it is! I thought I heard your voice, Anna!"
They looked up to find Mrs. Hughes just coming out of her sitting room, a pleased smile on her face.
"Hello," Anna greeted her happily.
"And you've brought little Jack too! What a treat for us all." Mrs. Hughes bent down, her Scottish brogue thickening. "Hello, wee bairn. My, but haven't you grown! Look at the size of you now!"
"Takes after his father," said Anna proudly.
"What brings you here, anyway?" the housekeeper asked as she stroked Jack's cheek. "It's very early for you to be out and about with him."
John took the reins smoothly. "Actually, we were hoping for a word with you. And Mr. Barrow, if he's available, since this news will concern him."
It had been strange, adapting to a life without Mr. Carson at the helm. It had almost seemed like the butler had been there since the beginning of time, guiding every earl through the years. The place was emptier without him, and while Thomas was certainly trying harder than he ever had done before, he didn't quite fill Mr. Carson's considerable shoes. And this conversation wasn't one John was relishing having with the younger man, who he certainly felt no bond towards. But those were the rules, and as butler, Thomas needed to be the first person to know.
Mrs. Hughes frowned. "Of course. Can it wait until after breakfast? We're just about to start."
"It can," he confirmed.
"And you'll be joining us, Anna?"
"I will. I'm afraid I didn't have a bite before I left the cottage this morning. I hope it won't be too much trouble."
"Nonsense. Of course it won't. What about Jack?"
"No, I fed him. He should be fine for a while."
"I'm sure the ladies will keep him quite preoccupied," Mrs. Hughes said with a knowing smile. It was true. Everyone, from the maids who came in from the village, to Miss Baxter and Mrs. Patmore, all were completely enamoured with the youngest Bates. He was always the centre of attention whenever he was in the vicinity. God knew he'd be so overcome with female attention in the future that he wouldn't know what to do with it.
"Come on through," Mrs. Hughes continued. "We can clear a space for the pram next to you at the table so he doesn't feel left out of the action."
Anna smiled gratefully, and pushed the pram after Mrs. Hughes. John followed faithfully behind, helping them to clear the chairs so that Jack could be tucked in snugly facing his mother, content that she was still nearby.
His hand dropped beneath the line of the table to take hold of hers as they sat there together, with the toast being passed around and Daisy helping the one remaining kitchen maid to fill the tea cups—she told them that she'd dropped by early on Mr. Mason's request so that she could pass on an invitation to the farm for Mrs. Patmore and Andy. The place was certainly much quieter without the young woman around every day. John rather missed her, and Mrs. Patmore had certainly been more subdued since Daisy had left to move in with Mr. Mason. He gently squeezed Anna's fingers and she squeezed his in return, never letting go even as she was drawn into conversation with Miss Baxter.
It was like the loveliest of old times.
When Thomas stood to call an end to breakfast, he jerked his head towards them.
"Mrs. Hughes told me that you wanted to speak to us," he said. "Come along, then. I have a little time before breakfast upstairs."
"Can I leave Jack in the servants' hall?" Anna asked. He seemed perfectly content, burbling away to himself.
"If you want," said Thomas. "Though I need everyone to get on with their work."
"I can look after him!" Daisy said eagerly. "Mr. Mason won't mind me hanging about a little longer. He knows I'm having breakfast here this morning anyway."
"And I've no work until breakfast is called," Andy added. "Don't worry, Mrs. Bates, he's in safe hands."
"I'm quite sure he is," Anna said with a smile. "Thank you. We won't be too long."
"That's all right," Daisy chirped. John smiled. Truth be told, he had never really seen Daisy as the maternal type, perhaps because it had always seemed that she still had a lot of growing up to do herself before she brought a child into the world, but since New Year, there had been a definite shift in her relationship with Andy. They weren't really openly courting—they both seemed too shy and awkward for that, and the fact that Daisy no longer lived in the big house made things more difficult—but there was something there, and it was sweet in its chasteness. So many men and women didn't have that now with the modern world, rushing into things before they had truly considered all angles.
They left Daisy and Andy to it, moving through to the butler's pantry. John had a hard time calling it anything but Mr. Carson's room, even now. Thomas moved to sit behind his desk, steepling his hands in front of him like a judge dishing out his verdict. John shifted his weight against his cane restlessly. But this was it. This was his decision to voice. It wasn't as if he really cared what Thomas would say. There had been a restless peace between them since his return, but they were never destined to truly rub along. No doubt Thomas would be glad to see the back of him, as he had been glad to see the back of Thomas in the summer, if he was completely honest with himself.
"Well?" Mrs. Hughes prompted.
Yes, back to the matter at hand. John cleared his throat, stood up straighter, and said, "I would like to tender my resignation."
Thomas' eyes widened slightly, the only sign of his surprise. Mrs. Hughes, by contrast, clamped her hand over her mouth in disappointment.
"Oh," she said. Even muffled, John could hear the sadness in her voice. "Well. I expected it one day, of course, but I can't deny that I'm very sorry to hear it."
"We've been thinking about it for a long time," John said.
"Years," Anna agreed.
"We might have done it earlier, but well." He cleared his throat, letting Anna's hand slide into his. Even that chaste touch was something that they would never had indulged in under normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances. She took a step closer to his side, a united front. "Anna fell pregnant, and though we were still making enquiries, we both felt that it was a good idea to put it to one side just for the time being while we settled into a new kind of rhythm."
"And now you feel like it's the right time," said Mrs. Hughes.
"We do," he confirmed. "Anna has already left service, and we would like the opportunity to spend more time together as a family. Pursuing this route would give us that."
"And there is nothing on earth more sacred than family," Mrs. Hughes whispered. Her eyes looked a little wet. "In that case, there is nothing more to add. It will be a wrench to see you go—both of you. But you must do what's best for you as a family."
"Have you spoken to his lordship yet?" asked Thomas.
"Not yet. I thought you and Mrs. Hughes ought to be the first to know. I will speak to him when he rings to be dressed for breakfast. I will work out a notice period, of course, and wait until he finds a suitable replacement." It was to his shame, but he had left Lord Grantham without warning too many times before. He would not do it this time, their last time together.
But Thomas waved it away. "Never mind. I'm sure I could manage for a few weeks. I've valeted plenty of times before, and he's not too picky. I'm sure he'd be more than fine with travelling to London alone if he needed to go there before a replacement has been found. Who knows, perhaps he won't even bother replacing you." In the past, the comment would have sounded scathing, perhaps accompanied by the derisive curl of a lip, as if it was an impossibility that Lord Grantham could think so highly of a cripple. Now it was a genuine comment. It unsettled John a little, but he tried to raise a smile.
"So, have you got specific timeframes in mind?" Mrs. Hughes asked.
It was Anna who answered. "We were hoping to be away for the last couple of weeks in August. That would give us time to settle in and perhaps gain some of the late summer visitors to get us going. We know that it's going to be tough until next summer, but we're hoping that we can use the time to make the place look really nice, and perhaps make some plans for the following season. But like Mr. Bates said, it ultimately rests on your wishes."
"Well, we certainly wouldn't wish you to miss out on the most crucial time of the year," said Mrs. Hughes. "I'm sure we can all corroborate to find an acceptable solution that suits us all."
"That's very kind," said John, genuinely touched; Mrs. Hughes had always been such a strong advocate for them, supporting them through everything. Particularly Anna. And he couldn't be more grateful to her for what she had done for Anna in her darkest days. Of course, he wished that he could have been the one to provide that comfort to her, as any decent husband should have done, but at least she hadn't been completely alone. At least it had been the housekeeper, staunch and unwavering.
He didn't think of it as much as he had done back in the day—that was the thing with time, no matter how much you wanted to cling on to something, whether it was healthy for you or not, it had a way of blunting round the edges, like vision after a few warm whiskeys—but he would never forget Mrs. Hughes' kindness. Much like his memories of Africa, he knew that Anna would never truly forget what she'd lived through, but they'd found happiness, built an even stronger life together. No revenge could be more satisfying than that.
"So, you want to leave towards the end of August," said Thomas, making a note on a spare piece of paper. "I think if it can be arranged, we should hold those talks with Lord Grantham this afternoon. The sooner we can get organised, the better. Have you given any thought to what you will do if you can't leave as early as you would like?"
At one time, Thomas might have done that deliberately, delayed on their hopes to sabotage their chances. Now it seemed a genuine question. John nodded.
"We've discussed it, yes. I suppose we'll just wait and see what becomes of it before we make any concrete decisions in that area." They had thought of Anna possibly going ahead with Jack so they could be settled in before the season ended. She was more than capable of scouting out people who might have the potential to work for them. They would need a cook and a night manager, for certain. Anna said that she was more than happy to play the housemaid, having spent so many years in the role, but John wondered if they ought to hire a local woman to help anyway. Anna would help him with the business side of things just as much, and there was their little cottage to maintain and Jack to care for. Not that they wouldn't do those things together, but Anna would still be spending more time doing those things, for Jack wouldn't be going to work with him early in the morning. With their harboured hopes of extending their family by at least one more, he wouldn't have her straining herself any more than she needed to. He hadn't really been able to stop her last time, rationalising that it was better to have her in the house rather than alone at the cottage if the labour started, but if they were ever lucky again, their cottage would be very close to their place of work, and he could always invent paperwork for her to do to keep her still while still letting her fulfil her need to be useful. They could work it out.
There was a knock on the pantry door, and Andy opened it.
"Sorry to intrude, but Lord Grantham has rung," he said.
"Thank you, Andy," said Thomas.
"I'd better get going," said John. "Thank you for hearing us out."
"Don't forget the meeting I'll set up this afternoon to discuss it in greater detail."
"Yes, Mr. Barrow."
With that John turned and left the room, Anna following behind. He could probably linger for a scant minute. Allowing Anna to pass him, he shadowed her back to the servants' hall, where Daisy was still keeping an eye on Jack.
"'E's lovely, in't 'e?" she cooed as Anna fussed over tucking his arms back inside the pram—it appeared that he'd been waving them about quite happily in their absence—and wheeled it away from the table.
"We do like to think so," she said with a smile, bringing him over so that John could bend down and run his finger across his chubby cheek. Jack laughed and grinned at him, giving him a glimpse of a tiny white tooth. "Anyway, we'd better be getting back home."
"Let me walk you to the courtyard," he said at once.
Together, they got the pram out of the back door and back onto solid ground.
"Good luck with the conversation with his lordship," she murmured, tilting her head back to look at him. "I know it will be a difficult one for you."
John sighed. "It will be, there's no denying it." He moved closer, smoothing his thumb over her cheekbone and angling his head closer to avoid the rim of her hat. "But it's worth it, Anna. It's more than worth it for our future."
She patted his chest. "Go, John. I'll see you later. Tell me all about it when you come home."
"I will," he murmured. Then, drawing her closer, he said, "Now, give me one kiss to get me through this."
She obliged happily, and it was all he needed to give him strength to face the difficulties that were to come.
His lordship was jovial when he entered the dressing room.
"Ah, Bates!" he greeted him cheerfully. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd got lost somewhere along the way."
"No, milord," he said carefully. "I just had something to discuss with Mr. Barrow and Mrs. Hughes."
"Blimey, that sounds ominous. May I be privy to it?"
"Yes, milord. In fact, you need to be, as it concerns you greatly."
"Now that is something I don't like the sound of. What is it?"
John took a deep breath, studying the face before him. Lord Grantham had aged in the years that he had known him. His hair was completely silver now. There were more lines on his face. There was a definite middle-aged paunch around his stomach. He was not as robust as he had once been; his health scares had almost been enough to scare John to death, never mind his lordship.
But the eyes…the eyes were still the same. The same bright blue eyes he had known in his youth, filled with a stubborn, fiery determination to do things his own way and to hell with it. Even so young, he had been a fearsome commander in Africa. Lacking some of the caution that came with the older officers, Lord Grantham had led from the front every time, focused completely on the task at hand.
His naivety had been what had lured them into trouble in the end. Young and desperate to prove himself, he had fallen into the trap set by the Boer soldiers, and there had nearly been no survivors to tell the tale. As it was, there had been two.
John could still remember the iron taste of panic, the bullets raining down upon them and blowing his friends and comrades apart. Brain matter and spraying blood and those awful, awful screams—his own mingling with them as his knee had shattered.
They'd been trying to return fire on the Boers who had besieged them, but with the protection afforded to the Boers from their high vantage point, it had been an impossibility. They'd been shot like animals rounded up for the slaughterhouse, and it had been pure instinct that had forced John to push Robert Crawley out of the way to take the bullet himself in the madness.
How they had lived to tell the tale, John would never be able to say. The pain had been all-encompassing, the fall completely taking the wind out of him. It had been a white-hot flash in front of his eyes, and then darkness.
He'd woken in the dirty field hospital, sweating under the canvas, still screaming, covered in blood. Lord Grantham had been right there by his side, looking no more than a frightened young boy. Gone was the leader. Drifting in and out of consciousness, the following hours had been a miasma of terror and agony. He'd come round just before he'd been taken in to have his knee operated on, and even now he could remember the way he had sobbed, begging them almost drunkenly not to take his leg.
He'd only learned the real truth of it a week later: by pure chance, they had been spared. The other lads around them, groaning in pain, had been opened from throat to thigh to finish them off. Passed out as he was, the Boers must have mistaken him for dead, and with the blood pooling all over Lord Grantham, and indeed his body a dead weight on top of him, they had been left in the dirt right where they had landed. Other members of their regiment had come across the massacre only minutes later, and the Boers had escaped, leaving destruction behind on this particular occasion. A revenge for all the wrongs that had been done to them over the long years of fighting.
All of their history flashed before John's eyes in but a brief second, and he blinked it away. He took a deep breath.
They had parted with finality once before, when John had been shipped back to England, delirious with pain while Lord Grantham remained to serve. And now they would again, for the very last time.
"I was speaking to Mr. Barrow and Mrs. Hughes because Anna and I have made an important decision about our lives," he said, picking his words carefully. "It's not that we don't love living here. Downton has given me a whole life that I never would have envisaged or believed in if someone had told me about it before you offered me the job. If things had remained as they were, we might have been content here for the rest of our days."
"But things haven't remained as they were."
"No. We have Jack now." The greatest blessing in their lives.
"And that means you are no longer satisfied with the work you do."
"That's not the way I would word it, milord. I am happy here."
Lord Grantham's shoulders slumped. "You're right. I'm sorry, Bates. I just…I believe I know where this is going, and I don't like the sound of it. Is that terrible to say?"
"No, milord. Believe me, it's as difficult for me to say the words as it is for you to hear them. But I must."
"Then I must be man enough to hear them."
"I would like to say that I am tendering my resignation. I am thankful for the chance you gave me in the first place, and all the opportunities you have provided with me since, opportunities that I had no right to. Your loyalty has astonished me. No employer could have been more understanding and generous than you have been during my time here, milord, and your kindness has touched me in ways that I cannot say. More than that, you have shown overwhelming support to Anna in times where I have not been able, and nothing can make me more thankful than that."
A moment's silence followed, filled with the weight of all that they had shared together. At last, Lord Grantham cleared his throat.
"Quite a testimonial," he said. His voice was shaking. "Thank you, Bates. That means a very great deal to me. You cannot know how much."
John dipped his head, a little embarrassed by the words he had spoken, however true the sentiment. They had never spoken to each other like that before, not even in the aftermath of what had happened in Africa.
Perhaps, just this once, it had been necessary.
The atmosphere between them remained thick with words left unsaid, but like the two stoic Englishmen they were, they fastidiously ignored it, steering onto safer topics like Master George's sudden interest in cars, and the imminent arrival of a new Crawley grandchild.
Just before he left for breakfast, Lord Grantham reached out and clapped him on the shoulders. No more words were exchanged, but the weight of his employer's hands—his friend's hands—on his shoulders almost brought tears to John's eyes. Lord Grantham's looked suspiciously watery too.
It lasted but a second, and then his lordship was gone, leaving John to find his composure before he returned to the servants' hall.
It had been an exhausting day, made all the more tiring by the meeting that he'd had with his superiors in the afternoon, making plans for what was to come. It made it realer, somehow. And while it was something that he was looking forward to, their future, it filled him with a powerful sadness too. He had been sad here, at times, but he had been happy by that same token. So, so happy.
The downstairs of the cottage was in darkness as he trudged down the lane, but he could see oil lamps flickering in the bedroom. Anna had waited up for him.
He shrugged off his coat and hung up his hat, leaving his cane by the door as he locked it behind him and made his way to bed. He popped his head in on Jack on the way. His son was fast asleep. It strengthened his resolve in the decision they had made.
Anna was sitting up in bed when he entered, twisting the end of her braid round her index finger. She sat up straighter when she saw him.
"How was it?" she asked.
He sighed, loosening his collar and tie. "Hard, I won't deny it. But it had to be done."
"Even so, I can't imagine that it was something that you'll be over in a hurry. You and his lordship have a long history together. There's no shame in feeling it."
"I suppose you're right," he said, hanging up his discarded shirt and waistcoat. He unfastened his trousers next, reaching for his pyjama bottoms. He picked up his shirt and threw it across his shoulders, to be shrugged on after he'd washed in the bathroom. He raised a smile when he saw Anna furrowing her brow at him, but it didn't quite fit his face. "I'm fine. Really."
He went through his nightly ablutions in the bathroom, then returned to the bedroom, his hair slightly damp from his washing. The oil lamp had been turned down in his absence, leaving the room in darkness. He was thankful for that. Pulling back the covers, he slipped into bed beside his wife.
She rolled over when he'd settled, slipping her arms around him. One hand found the back of his neck, encouraging him closer. With a sigh of capitulation, he went, settling his head into the crook of her neck. She pressed a kiss against his ear, her fingertips idling with his hair in a soothing manner. Not one word was exchanged. That was how well this woman knew him. They did not have to voice what they needed; they instinctively knew.
She held him that way for a long time, repeating the same motions over and over until, exhausted, he finally slipped beneath the waves of sleep.
The day had finally arrived. Weeks of planning had led to this moment, and now it was finally here.
John stood with his little family on the platform, waiting for the train that would take them away from Downton for good. Anna stood close to his side, cradling Jack in her arms. There were two valises by their feet, all of their worldly clothes packed into there. It made him feel oddly small. Jack seemed to possess more than the two of them combined. The bulk of the furniture in the cottage did not belong to them, but what did would be cabled to them tomorrow so they could begin settling into their new home with earnest. Almost fifteen years had passed since he had stepped off the milk train, ready to start a new life at Downton, and now it was the reverse; a chance to start a new life away from Downton. But this time, he wasn't alone. Nor was he apprehensive for what the future might bring. As long as he had his family, he knew he could tackle anything.
That cool April morning, he had stood alone at the train station, contemplating everything that was ahead of him. This morning was surprisingly cool too, but he was not alone.
Beyond Anna and Jack stood the people who had shared their life for so long. Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, Daisy, Mrs. Patmore, Mr. Molesley, Miss Baxter…even Thomas Barrow. And the family. Lord Grantham, Lady Mary, Lady Edith, Mr. Branson. Lady Grantham too, a surprise. Each face older and yet so familiar. The extended family that he hadn't realised that he'd even been yearning for.
He'd arrived with nothing. He'd never expected that he could possibly leave with so much more.
Mrs. Hughes was the first person to move, stepping forward with arms open wide.
"Come here, then," she said, her accent stronger than ever, voice wavering just slightly. "The train'll be here any minute."
Anna moved towards her, right into her waiting arms. She couldn't return the embrace, Jack still clutched in her arms, but she buried her head in the crook of the older woman's neck.
"Thank you for everything, Mrs. Hughes," she said, the words carrying more weight than most others could possibly know. Oh, they knew about the whole awful business with Green, what Anna had thought of as her shame coming to light after her arrest, but no one could truly know what Mrs. Hughes had done for her in the weeks following. Even John knew that he couldn't fully fathom the things that the housekeeper had done for his wife. That was for them to know alone. He didn't need to know. He was just grateful that Anna had had someone she'd felt she could turn to when she had been afraid of confiding in him.
Mrs. Hughes sniffed. "It's been a pleasure, my girl. I knew there was something special about you the moment I laid eyes on you, so quiet and solemn. I knew you were a girl who would never cause me a minute's trouble. And I was right. And look at you now. The finest young woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. A wife and a mother to boot. I am so proud of you, Anna."
"Thank you," he heard Anna whisper fiercely, and the housekeeper took everyone by surprise by easing Anna away and pressing kisses to her cheeks, like a mother would to a daughter. John found his eyes misting over, and had to look away.
No one else's goodbye could possibly compete with that, but they rained well wishes onto her, squeezing her shoulder when they couldn't shake her hand because Jack was secured in her arms. She reached the end of the line and then Lady Mary took her by the elbow, dragging her further away so they could have a more private goodbye; or, rather, waddling in Lady Mary's case, since her due date was but days away. John suspected that it would be just as emotional as the one she'd shared with Mrs. Hughes.
And then it was his turn.
For a moment, he stood awkwardly in front of the housekeeper, not quite sure what to say. They had made the decision together, but he was part of the reason why Anna was leaving Downton behind, the place she had called home for so long. They both wanted it, but what if Mrs. Hughes secretly thought it was his fault for taking her away from everyone she had ever known and loved?
He was being needlessly fretful. Mrs. Hughes cast him a tremulous smile. "Take care of each other."
"We will," he said, hooking his cane over his left wrist so he could extend his right hand towards her. She did not take it.
"No need for that," she said, and surprised him all over again as she threw her arms around his neck and brought his head down to her shoulder, almost throwing him off balance. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her in return, catching sight of Mr. Caron's raised eyebrows at the placement of his hands on her waist. She embraced him for an almost embarrassing length of time before she straightened up, clearing her throat as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"Good luck with everything, Mr. Bates," she said, all professional, the voice of the housekeeper returning.
"Thank you," he said numbly, unable to think of anything else to say before he was swamped by the others. He too fought his way down the line, exchanging words of good luck and firm handshakes with the other men and women who had formed such a part of his life.
And then he was in front of his lordship.
Lord Grantham coughed, extending his hand.
"I wish you every good fortune, Bates," he said formally. "You've a shrewd head on your shoulders. I know you'll do well."
"That will all be down to Anna, milord," he said.
Their gazes drifted towards her, where she was still standing with Lady Mary. The tears on both of their faces were unmistakable.
"She is a fine woman," said Lord Grantham.
John looked at her, her side profile so striking in the dull grey light, her blonde hair a welcome flash of colour beneath her hat.
"The finest," he said softly. "She's made my life meaningful in a way that I never thought possible."
"And now you have a family together."
"We do," he agreed, looking at Jack, waving his arm over his mother's shoulder, drooling as he grinned toothlessly at the other servants.
"You're making the right decision," said Lord Grantham quietly. "Family is to be cherished. You never know what's around the corner."
He was thinking of Lady Sybil, and what had happened to her. John felt a lump in his throat. Nothing would happen to his, he would make sure of it.
"Bates."
John turned back to his employer.
"You'll write, won't you?" Lord Grantham didn't turn to look at him, but he heard the longing in his voice.
"If you want me to, milord," he responded.
"It's not a request as an employer. I ask you as a friend, one man to another. I want you to write because you want to."
"There's nothing I would like more," he said.
Lord Grantham smiled, and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Good luck, Bates."
"And you, milord."
The whistle of the train shattered the moment, and in the next it had screeched into the station, steam billowing forth and covering the platform. Anna hurried to his side, and he bent down to pick up the valises. Lord Grantham opened the carriage door for them. Anna hoisted herself into the carriage first, and John followed, hefting the valises up onto the floor and pulling himself inside afterwards. The floor juddered beneath him, a signal that it wouldn't be long before they were racing towards their new home. Lord Grantham slammed the door closed and leaned in through the window.
"Don't forget what I said."
"I won't."
"I want regular updates on how my friend is faring."
"And I you, milord."
He nodded. Lady Mary appeared beside him.
"Goodbye, Anna," she said. "I expect to hear from you too."
"You will, milady."
Mrs. Hughes appeared at his other side. "And me."
She beamed. "Of course, Mrs. Hughes."
"Take care, Mr. Bates."
"You too, Mrs. Hughes."
The three of them stepped back, waving frantically as the train whistled, signalling its departure from the station. Anna stood as close to the door as she dared with Jack in her arms, hitching him against her hip so she could wave with her spare hand. John moved his hand to the small of her back, keeping a watchful eye should the train jolt unexpectedly. The train began to pull out. They craned their heads so that they could see the platform for as long as possible, until the angle grew narrower and narrower.
And then Downton was gone.
They sat together on the seat, so close together for moral support. They were alone in the carriage, but John wouldn't have cared if it was packed; nothing could have made him let go of his wife. He had his arm wrapped around her waist while she rested her head against his shoulder. Jack sat leaning against the both of them, held in place by their spare arms. His blue eyes were drooping. The rocking motion of the train was making him sleepy. His tiny weight only served to awaken all of John's deepest familial instincts. The both of them meant the world to him. There had been sorrows at Downton as well as triumphs, but he was determined that Anna and Jack would know nothing but laughter and happiness in their new home. The bad days were behind them for good.
He shifted slightly. Anna lifted her head from his shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he asked her, searching for the answer in her eyes. She smiled at him. The answer was unmistakeable.
"I'm all right," she confirmed, needlessly. "Better than all right. Everything's going to be wonderful from now on, isn't it?"
He looked around the carriage, at the worn valises at their feet and their most precious cargo sleeping soundly between them, a little bit of drool on his chin, his head supported by the both of them. He looked at Anna's face, seemingly younger than ever, as if simply moving out of Downton had unburdened her, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Unable to resist, he moved in closer beneath the brim of her hat, catching her mouth in a chaste, lingering kiss. She smiled into it, pressing closer.
"It's going to be wonderful," he agreed.
Just wonderful.
Fin