Anna walked the road to from the cottage to Downton slowly. It had been a fortnight of sadness, long days and late nights, and even now on a beautiful early summer morning with mists rising from the fields around her and sunlight shafting in low from the East, already she was weary.
Scenes from the last few weeks rolled through her head: the family arriving at the hospital all whey-faced in horror, telling her the news. Mrs. Crawley, who Anna rather admired, soldiering through her own shock to confide to Anna that it might be easiest if only the family were there to tell her Mary but, "She trusts you, as a friend. I'd prefer you were the one to take the baby into the next room, over a nurse. Would you do that, Anna?" From next room Anna had heard the conversations, the shout of Mary's disbelieving anger, then the long silences and occasional low wails, then the other voices, mens' voices, joining, and finally Mary raging at them all to leave. Anna had reclined in the nursing chair with the child in her arms, singing softly to him and kissing his tiny fingers, inhaling the new baby scent that she loved; then Lady Mary was standing over her in a wash of golden, early afternoon light.
"I miss him," she'd said.
"Of course you do, My Lady,"
"I mean, yes...but I mean, I miss my baby," said Mary.
"Of course,". Anna handed the child to Lady Mary, who said,
"Anna, I'm so afraid of all this grief hurting him. Do you think it will hurt him?"
"My mother used to say that babies bounce. Throw them on the bed, they bounce. But I think she meant a different thing than that,"
Mary's black eyes were hollow. "Yes. I think she's right. But you protected him for me. You kept him safe while all that was going on,"
"It was only a half hour, perhaps, My Lady. The little darling has been asleep the whole time. I expect he'll be hungry in a moment,"
"Yes," said Mary.
Anna was straightening her dress and readying to go. "Shall I-"
Mary stepped up to Anna and wrapped an arm around her neck, bringing her close. Anna hugged back around the baby as best she could, then she patted Lady Mary's shoulder. "I know you'll be strong for everyone during this time," she said, "But you won't have to do that for me. It's alright,"
"How can I ever thank you, Anna?"
"You don't need to,"
"What would I do without you?"
"You won't have to do that, either,"
Mary pulled herself together, and upward. Anna had seen this process many times, watching Lady Mary rally, and although Lady Edith would sigh impatiently and Her Ladyship would twist her mouth at the sight, Anna was proud of Lady Mary. Being so close to her, she knew that it couldn't be easy being Lady Mary. And now, of all times...
Now, weeks later, life was still in turmoil at Downton. Mr. Crawley's passing not only left a hollowness and an undercurrent of sadness but Lady Mary was more brittle, the newly-arrived Lady Rose restless, Her Ladyship struggling to keep the household together, and Anna was seeing to all of them. Her mornings alone were an uphill race of trays, errands and navigating heartbreak.
Also, Anna had a heavy heart of her own. She missed her husband. John rose before dawn as a matter of routine (some military habits don't wear off, he'd explained) and he'd been busy with the funeral and memorial arrangements as well as simply helping His Lordship get through it. Anna had sometimes found him in bed late at night so she could at least hold him as she fell asleep, but many nights he was later than she was, and in the mornings he was gone.
John was systematically neat in a household but not fussy, so he didn't mind when she left her sewing out or forgot to rinse teacups; it made him easy to work around, but Anna had started to feel like she was living alone. He'd been gone from the breakfast table in the servant's hall or come in later than she had for several mornings now, so Anna hadn't had a proper sight of him in days.
She was relieved to see him at the table this morning as she hung up her hat and coat; he was taking the last drink of his tea as she sat next to him. He put down his cup.
"I must get on," he said.
"I-I just sat down," said Anna, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.
"I know, but I'd only time for one cup-"
Anna pinned him with a look. She couldn't help herself. She wanted to strap him to the chair.
"Mr. Murray is coming this morning," he murmured, "And I've agreed to help Mr. Branson-"
"Yes, fine, of course," snapped Anna. He'd been about to say something when Thomas sneered in a low voice across the table,
"Trouble in paradise, Mr. Bates?"
John shot him that dangerous smile and said, "Your keen interest in other people's lives is surely a sign that you need a hobby, Mr. Barrow. Perhaps the dance halls?"
Mr. Carson barreled into the dining hall amid chair scrapings and teacups being put hastily into saucers.
I hope you are not seeking a hobby, Thomas, as several of your new duties are not done to satisfaction and not up for delegation, either,". He glowered at Thomas, who gathered himself with all the dignity of a ruffled chicken and followed Carson into his office. Anna and John sat down in unison and Anna looked regretfully at her husband. He caught the look and reached his hand under the table to touch his fingertips to hers - a small, private act of forgiveness so eloquent and so gentle that Anna's throat caught.
"I-I'm off, too," she said, "After trays and errands I'm up to the attics,"
"The attics? What for?"
"There's a thought to make a new christening gown from parts of His Lordship's and also Mr. Crawley's," she said, "So I'm to find the family christening gowns and bring them down,"
They stood. Anna looked at her husband and saw a smile on him that no one else would see. It had been this way years ago when he had first come to Downton. Everyone else seemed to read John as nondescript at the very first until his deeds and kindness came through for each of them; Anna had seen the warmth and grace of him instantly and it was still there, comforting as a sunrise after a bad dream. She smiled back at him and was off.
After the trays, the dressings, the tidying up and other errands, Anna looked forward to a little quiet time in the cool of the attics. She only had an idea or two about where to find the christening gowns, but it shouldn't take long. She had come up the stairs, round through the door and into the dim hallway when she was surprised by a greeting.
"Hello?"
"Oh," was all she managed to say.
"You must be Anna," he said, extending his hand, "I'm His Lordship's valet,"
Anna stared for a moment, then bit her lip to keep her smile in check. "Good to meet you, Mr..."
"John Bates,"
"Mr. Bates,"
"May I be of assistance?"
"Yes," said Anna truthfully, "I'm looking for heirloom trunks in the family section, to find the family christening gowns,"
"Of course," said John, "I'll show you where they are kept. Will you be needing all of them?"
"That would be safest. And perhaps nice for the family, to peruse memories,"
He looked at her appreciatively. "That's thoughtful," he said. "I believe you're right. Memories can heal, particularly after a great loss. They add perspective. And if you'd like to, there are collections of christening gifts as well, cups and such,"
"Yes, thank you. I think they would like to see them,"
Anna looked at him as if she had just met him. It was all still there, the undefinable heat emanating from him that drew her in, the deep quiet she wanted to fall into like cool water and the details of his person which she could linger over without pause, his fine profile, the breadth of his shoulders, his athletic grace in contrast to his injury, his warm glance. But it was time to stop lingering over him. She couldn't dally long.
John had done some investigating; he took her straight to the section with the labelled chests. They pulled out stacks of cloth and paper wrappings and boxes. These were also labelled, so the job was quick. John put them under his arm and gestured for her to go ahead of him.
She paused in the hall to wait for him. He set the packages on a row of steamer trunks and turned to her. The attic windows behind him were sprinkled with rain, the light streaked and dim. In this angle of light his features were soft and his eyes more green than brown or hazel.
"You'll think me quite forward, I'm afraid," he said, closing in on her. Anna looked up at him and her heart, like a rabbit, gave a kick and then started thumping.
"Will I?"
"Yes,"
"Why?"
"Because you have the biggest blue eyes I have ever seen,"
"Yes?"
"And the prettiest ankles,"
"And what else?" Anna couldn't help it. She released her petulance of the morning and dove in.
"And the most tempting little waist. I want to wrap both hands around you and push you into a cloak room,"
"And-"
"And have my way with you,"
Anna flushed. "It would be shameful and we both have to get on,"
"We do," he admitted, "I would never do such a thing at this juncture...I just wanted you to know what I was thinking,"
"Oh," Anna put aside her disappointment; it was lovely just to have him flirting with her. "Well-" she said, and his arm went around her waist and he did, indeed, pull her back around a corner and into the dark of a coat room.
His mouth closed over hers and his hands went everywhere: up her back, down her thighs, around her neck, then holding her face and kissing her as if he would only be able to make love to her this way for eternity, his tongue gliding, taking her lips in his and releasing them, holding her face and making a feast of her without giving her any pause, any room, any choice, using caresses he had used on other parts of her body before; she recognized them and her body responded as if he had many mouths all over her at once. He was powerful enough that Anna knew he could have done anything he wanted to do to her, and because this was the man she trusted and loved the feeling was luxurious. She relaxed into his arms. His hand went under her skirt and traveled up to take a very strategic, delicate pinch of her and hold it, working his fingers on her as his kiss echoed the caresses. She trembled and her feet slipped; he pushed her against the wall, pinning her there, devoted to the kiss as his fingers circled and stroked. Anna cried into his mouth when the sudden, taut release went singing through all the nerves in her body.
He pulled her arms between them and took her hands, his kisses slowly calming and sweetening until he left her with a tiny sip of her upper lip. Then he took her by the hand and led her out of the coat room. He put his hands on her waist and spun her toward the windows.
"Your hair looks fine," he said. She turned back to look at him and he jerked his chin as if to say, "You'd better go,"
Anna heaved a few breaths, glaring at him. She patted her hair.
"Did I make you angrier?" he asked. "Is that possible?"
Anna heard her own laugh hit the air. She laughed as she hadn't in days. He stood looking at her with his shoulders shaking, eyes glittering. Anna laughed some more.
"His Lordship has seen the way you've cared for the girls and the baby, and Her Ladyship. And he's grateful. He's offered to give us three days off, but it won't be for another two weeks,"
"Three days?"
"If you like, we could go on holiday,"
"If I like?"
"We'll go on holiday," he corrected himself, grinning. Anna laughed again.
"I've missed you," he said, and cocked an eyebrow at her, "Sometimes, you have to live on rations,"
