What if?
War was declared, but life went on. The days were full of work and duty, a smile, a rare touch of the hand; nights were full of fear, of worry, of fantasies, both good and bad, "What if he…?" "What if she…?" Before long, the what if's took on a life of their own and began to consume them.
Since the first stirrings of war, Anna knew that it was not out of the realm of possibility that Bates might have to go if (when) Lord Grantham went to France. She hoped that his leg would be enough to keep him home, but then felt ashamed of such thoughts because she knew Bates would feel less of a man, less useful, less valuable to his Lordship if his injury kept him from fighting. That unholy male ego thought Anna, why must they constantly prove themselves? He will think I think less of him because he cannot fight, that somehow being crippled cheapens him. Anna was at a loss as to what to do. Their time alone was extremely hard to come by; they had not had more than 10 minutes since the proclamation of war on August 4th, and they were reduced to sneaking the odd knowing smile, or a brief intertwining of fingers as they passed in the hallways and corridors of the house. As for kisses, there had been none, and Anna desperately missed the touch of his lips to hers.
What to do? What if he left? What if he was killed? Or worse, what if he were to sustain an injury that further crippled him? He would never consider a life with her then. His honour would not allow it. He barely thought himself worthy of her now (stupid man), and it had taken her almost 2 years to get him to see he had some self-worth. What if, what if, what if…over and over in Anna's mind. A solution presented itself a day or so later.
Bates had been literally walking on air since the night of August 4th. To find that he was worthy of the love of another individual (an individual as beautiful and lithe as Anna), was a constant source of amazement and joy to him. It had been so many years since any joy had entered his life that the newness of the feeling was akin to what a lamb felt in the spring. He wanted to hop, to bound, to leap like the lambs in the fields with the warm sunshine and soft grass. He found himself wanting to just spontaneously smile at the thought of Anna. His thoughts returned again and again to that evening in the kitchen gardens - such a terrible day, but the sweetness of its ending was a balm he rubbed on his heart daily. Deep down, he was afraid it could never last, afraid that he would disappoint (as he so always had), afraid that his body would betray him (as it so often did), afraid, afraid, afraid. But what if there was a chance for him, for them, to find happiness together?
What to do? He knew (perhaps better than any of them) what the declaration of war would mean, how it would change them. He also knew, deep down, that this time when Lord Grantham went, he would be left at home. There was shame in this for him. He owed Lord Grantham his service, his loyalty. The thought of being left behind, even though it meant being left behind with Anna, tore at him. Just one more way he let down those he cared about. And there it was, the tiny opening in his soul for the self-doubt to come creeping back. What if I was whole? What if I could fight? I could be a man for Anna, be a man for Lord Grantham, be a man for myself? But that would mean leaving her, even if the other way meant leaving him. Torn, so torn, never an easy solution, always struggle, always conflict. What if, what if, what if…
What if, one mild September day, the Crawley family went on a late season hunt at a neighboring estate? What if it was close enough they could ride there. What if Lady Grantham, Lady Edith, and O'Brien went to York for the day for some shopping? What if Thomas was sent to the village clockmaker, and William and Daisy went to the local agricultural show? What if Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson mysteriously disappeared about the same time leaving Mr. Bates and Anna alone?
What if?