A/N: My goal is to post at least two chapters each week for this one, but seeing as I won't have much free time, I decided to post the second chapter now. I'm ever so grateful for all the kind reviews, and I hope this won't disappoint you! :) Thanks so much for reading!
Chapter Two
Anna didn't dare to think of her family's reaction upon her news; she dreaded this subject, but she knew that sooner or later she would have to tell them. She had ruined herself for this, and now she'd ruin her family too. She doubted her father would let her stay home. She'd probably be sent away to deal with her own problems alone. That's what families did with this kind of women, and Anna couldn't believe she was now one of them.
Her emotions were slowly taking the best out of her. As the train started, she looked out of the window and thought about how she'd deal with this. And without caring, she let the tears fall freely, knowing it was best to let it go than to control it. No one was particularly interested on looking at her, anyway; people were generally quiet and minding their own affairs, and the seat next to her was empty anyway.
She sobbed quietly, already imagining the disappointed look in her father's face, and her mother's tears. She'd also ruin Nellie's chances to get married – who would want to marry the sister of a fallen woman? No one would. It was amazing how a moment's decision could change so many lives.
"Excuse me," a voice reached her ears and took Anna out of her reverie, "Is this seat taken?"
The man's voice was soft and his expression was kind when she looked at his face; embarrassed for her tears, Anna shook her head violently and tried to wipe the tears off her face with the back of her gloved hand.
He sat beside her and she sniffed, but it turned out to be louder than she had intended it to be; she blinked a few times, the tears now subsiding, and he sympathetically offered her a handkerchief. Anna took it with a watery smile and he responded with one of his own. How would it be like, in a few months? Would people still smile kindly at her after knowing about her unmarried status?
She dried her tears with his handkerchief, grateful that at least for now she could rely on someone else's kindness.
"Thank you," she mumbled, turning to look at him again, and motioning to hand the handkerchief back to him.
"No, keep it. You look like you need it more than I do," he said kindly.
The man was respectful enough to not address her crying, and for that Anna was thankful. She folded the handkerchief and managed a convincing smile.
"I'm sorry about this," Anna said, "I'm usually a cheerful person."
"Don't worry," the man said, "Everyone's had a few bad days."
She stared at him, taking in his kind brown eyes and feeling the sincerity in his voice. She noticed, now, that he held a cane, but knew best than to mention it. This stranger, who was so kind to her, didn't deserve to be the object of another person's curiosity.
"I'm Anna. Anna Smith," she introduced herself, extending her right hand to him.
"John Bates," he said quietly, taking her hand. His hand was warm against hers, and his shake was firm.
She took a quick look at his appearance; his smile was shy, even hesitant, and his clothes were well-maintained, but not new. She wondered what business he had in Ripon. She certainly hadn't seen him before.
"Is York your last stop, Mr. Bates?" Anna said tentatively, trying to get a distraction.
"I dare say it isn't," he said, "Though I'm not exactly sure about where I'm going. What about you, Ms. Smith?"
"I'm going home," she told him quietly, "To Langton."
He arched his eyebrows and smiled, "Always nice to be home."
Anna nodded absentmindedly, "I suppose so. Though it'll be odd to go back after so many years away," she turned to look at him, "You aren't from Ripon, are you? I don't remember ever seeing you around."
"No, I'm from London," he told her, "I've been working in the area for a few weeks, but now it's time to leave."
"I know how that feels," Anna sighed, "I'd been working at Downton Abbey until a few weeks ago. I had a hard time leaving."
He felt his eyes on her but didn't say anything else for a moment before he spoke.
"So you're Anna, the head housemaid?"
His tone was one of amusement, and she frowned at his words, letting her eyes bore into his.
"I was his Lordship's valet up until this morning," he told her a bit sadly, "You caused a bit of havoc upon leaving. Everyone was still talking of it when I arrived."
Anna's heart sank as she heard his words, "Really? How's everyone?"
"Alright, I suppose," he said, "I didn't stay long enough to make friends, so I wouldn't be able to properly answer that to you."
She gave him a sad smile.
"I'm sorry you didn't stay," she started, "Everyone was always very kind to me. In all the years I worked there, I..."
Her words were stuck in her throat as she was reminded of the main reason why she left in the first place. She looked down at her lap and smiled.
"It was a great place to work in," she said at last, and John Bates nodded in agreement.
Silence fell upon them, and Anna knew he probably needed some comfort; it was quite obvious that he had some sort of injury, hence the cane, but she thought there was more to him than that. She didn't know why he didn't stay – no doubt him being the valet would insult some people there, especially Thomas, who wanted the job so much. She could put the pieces together; she didn't know John Bates enough to reach any conclusions, but she could have an overall idea of what had happened.
A few minutes later he talked again, which was a relief to her. She was feeling a bit nauseated, probably from the train ride – or something else she'd rather not think about at the present moment.
He was a good man, that much she could tell already. It was indeed a shame that they dismissed him in Downton, but perhaps it hadn't been bad at all for her. This kind stranger called John Bates was definitely a remarkable person, at least for her. For a few minutes, he had even managed to take her mind off of her troubles, and for that she was thankful; the nausea had come and gone, and he distracted her during most of the trip to York.
As they approached York's train station, however, the nausea returned, and with it returned the thoughts of her life and the changes she'll bring to her family. Anna wasn't sure which thing caused the other to happen, but she was sure they were connected.
Mr. Bates had been kind enough to pick her suitcase for her, along with his, and they left the train together; after walking away from the crowd, Anna stopped, the smell of oil and smoke doing nothing to help with the nausea she was feeling. He looked at her, apparently not noticing the deep, slow breaths she was taking to try to make the nausea go away, and he smiled that kind smile of his that she had been growing used to seeing, for the last hour.
"It was nice to travel with you, Ms. Smith," he said.
Anna gave him a sincere smile, momentarily distracted, "You too, Mr. Bates. I hope you'll find whatever you're looking for."
"And I can say the same to you. Have a good day," with one last shared glance he turned away from her, and she looked at him while he slowly walked out of her sight.
He shook his head and sighed; of course his train to London was late. Some kind of problem in the railway. He tried not to imagine his mother's disappointed face when he returned. Another job lost. This was becoming his fortune now.
The station wasn't as full as it had been when he first got here, barely ten minutes ago; a train had just left and it looked like it would be a while before his own train arrived. He looked around the station, and had just found an empty bench where he could sit to wait when heard the distinct sound of someone regurgitating. Trying to find out where the noise came from, he looked to his left, behind a column, and saw none other than Ms. Anna Smith.
He gave her a moment to recompose, looked around and fortunately there was no one watching the scene. He watched as she used his handkerchief to wipe her mouth, and he noticed how her shoulders were low, as if she was defeated. There was something happening with the girl, and he found himself worrying over someone he had met that day.
She was a nice girl, young and he imagined that she was bright too; they hadn't talked that much, but she had looked distant sometimes. He never mentioned it out of respect, but she had, after all, been crying in the train before he interrupted her. It only served as a reminder to him that he wasn't the only one with problems – and this young lady seemed like she had her own problems to worry about.
As he started to walk towards her to see if there was anything he could do to help, she turned – and looked surprised to see him there. Her eyes were watery but she seemed a little less pale than when he last left her.
"You should sit," he said, motioning for the bench near them and she looked embarrassed, "I'll see if I can get you a glass of water."
Five minutes later, he found her exactly where he expected her to be, both of their suitcases beside her, and she seemed a little better than before.
He handed her the glass of water and sat beside her, his leg complaining of his walking around.
"Thank you," she said at last, looking at him with an open expression, "It's very kind of you to help me. You didn't need to do that."
He shook his shoulders, "It was the least I could do."
She smiled at him, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She looked down at the glass in her hands.
"You probably wouldn't do that if you knew the truth about me," she said after a moment.
Her tone startled him and he frowned; what could she possibly mean by that?
"None of these people would do anything to help me if they knew," she said softly, looking at the station around them, "You see, I'm pregnant."
Of course he was surprised. He kept watching her but she didn't turn to look at him; he saw a lone tear escape her right eye and wondered if there was more to it than that. This girl, who had seemed so down to earth before, with clever ideas and a charming laugh, was pregnant? And it was even worse, she was unmarried – or at least he supposed she was, because she hadn't corrected him when he called her 'miss'.
So this was her problem, this was what was burdening this young woman so much that she couldn't think of anything but it. He couldn't blame her.
Her eyes were glassy when she finally looked at him, and he admired those beautiful features of a burdened creature.
"I don't even know why I'm telling you this," she said, rolling her eyes in a tentative of sounding casual, "But then, it's unlikely that we'll ever see each other again. And you haven't said anything rude yet, which is a good start, I suppose."
He managed a smile, "I have no right to judge you or anyone."
She took a deep breath, her eyes distant again.
"I haven't told anyone yet," she started, her tone anxious, "I won't be able to hide forever, obviously. I'll have to tell them soon. And I truly am lost, for I know I won't be welcomed into my family anymore."
He listened in silence, feeling terribly sorry about this young woman's situation. How fair it was to women, who couldn't do anything wrong and would be cursed with this for life, while men were free to do whatever as they please?
Ms. Smith lowered her head, the severity of her situation apparently taking the best out of her.
"My father will disown me the moment he finds out, I'm sure of that," she mumbled, "I'm the oldest, and I was always supposed to be an example for the others. What kind of example am I now?"
Her words were soft, but strong at the same time.
"I wish there was something I could do to help," he said after a moment. She tilted her head to look at him and smiled.
"You've helped a lot already. Truthfully," she said, "I'm ever so grateful to have met you today."
They exchanged a sad smile and sat in silence, pondering the situation before them.
The girl was due for a big change in her life, that was quite obvious. And she did seem like such a nice girl. He feared for her – what future would she have, with a child and with no support? He didn't know this woman, but he did hear good things about her in Downton – responsible, respectful, and apparently a wonderful cleaner as well.
He truly wished he could do something to save her pain, but in his life he had never been quite good at helping other people. Still, maybe there was something he could do to help her with her family. Perhaps he could talk to her father? No, he would never do such a thing. He was never one to meddle into someone else's affair. Even though this girl had his sympathy, he doubted there would ever be something he could do to help her.
"Maybe... maybe there is something you could do," she started, her eyes wide as she looked at him. She shook her head immediately, before he could say anything, "No, don't mind me. I'm not thinking clearly."
But he was intrigued. Here he was, sitting on a bench in a train station, talking to an unmarried pregnant young woman he had just met about helping her; he was sympathetic towards her, for he couldn't know the true circumstances of her life as a housemaid in Downton Abbey, but perhaps he was letting himself get too close. He already had enough troubles as it was. He didn't need another person's problem on his shoulders as well.
"No, I meant it. If I can help you, I will."
Her expression was hopeful when she looked at him again, and he noted how her bright eyes glistened now – not from tears this time.
"You could... You could come with me. To Langton," she explained, "And I could tell them that we're married, and if you leave after a couple of days... Well, I won't be disowned for poorly choosing a husband and getting pregnant in the meantime."
To pretend to be this young woman's husband so that she won't be punished or ill-spoken of? The ideal seemed fair, but the means to it were far beyond conventional. Could he do this? It seemed too much of a fantasy, but her face told him otherwise; she was serious and desperate. She'd never joke about something like this.
"This is crazy. I'm asking way too much of you," she said after a moment, "And I understand if you want to leave right now. But if this could be done, well, you... you'd be doing me a great favour. And I can pay you. There won't ever be enough money in the world for me to pay you what you'd deserve by doing this, but I'd pay you."
He crossed his arms in front of him and frowned, "I can do this. I can stay for a couple of days. If you're sure it would help you."
"I... I think it would," she said after a minute, "But I wouldn't want to be a bother to you."
"You wouldn't be a bother. No one is expecting me in London," he assured her, "I stay there a couple of days and leave before daylight. No one would ever know, and your name would stay clean."
She pursed her lips, her bright eyes glimmering.
"You don't need to stay long," she said, "And I'd never ask this of anyone unless I could give something in return."
"Don't worry about that, I don't want..."
"You'd be defending my honour and my child," she insisted, "I... I think the least you could do is to accept some money in exchange for a service."
He nodded thoughtfully and stared at her. There was a new look around her, a little smile and a look of hope in her eyes. He could try to make something right about this adventure in the north, and since his job didn't work out, he might as well do something for someone in desperate need for help. He had his whole life ahead of him, and he didn't quite know what to make of it yet. Perhaps helping this young woman would help him as well - if nothing, he'd have some time to think before facing the consequeces of his dismissal from Lord Grantham.
"Do we have a deal, Mr. Bates?"
She extended her right hand in front of him, and he took it.
"We do, Ms. Smith."
