Although Anna needed to mend Lady Mary's dress quickly, being next to Mr. Bates at the table was calming. He was smoking and finishing his morning tea. The discussion of the new heir went round and round with the usual snipes from the usual parties; Anna did hope that Thomas would gather a lot of details at dinner, though even the news of a new heir and of a possible big change coming to them all could not hold her attention as it used to. Anna took part in the conversation, but it seemed at an odd distance.

Mr. Bates was here, he was next to her, they were friends and had no need to discuss the fact. They had an understanding. It was like a warm hearth in January, just to sit next to him. Anna found herself hoping he would delay in starting his late morning work. Since the close call of him nearly leaving, she couldn't seem to get enough of him.

It was an attraction, Anna wouldn't have denied it. But it was much more than that.

She felt at home next to him. He seemed to be made of the same stuff she was. Cut from the same cloth, she thought, and that was what it felt like. She was never alone when he was there. In fact, just knowing he was in the world made her feel calmer, more at ease, and more at home anywhere she might be. And the closer he happened to be, the better she felt.

She admired the breadth of his shoulders as he leaned over the table to tap the ash off his cigarette. He had quite an athletic build, which most people would not see. They were blinded by the cane. Anna watched the way he took corners on his good leg, the way he took the stairs, and knew. He must have cut quite a figure at one time. But she wondered, would he have been the same person, before the war? As a young footman was he a dandy, a flirt, a peacock? Could he still hit those notes if he wanted to? Had he left a mess of shattered hearts in his wake?

There was a lot she didn't know.

But one very important thing was clear: he was a good man. If not before, then he had grown into one. He was kind and patient, he always had a moment to instruct or encourage someone without lording his knowledge over them. His gentle humor was a balm to almost everyone. These thoughts circled in her mind while her eyes moved over his profile, the fine line of nose and chin and the neat sideburns. He turned his head slightly to look at her. He had caught her staring. But he didn't mock her for it.

His eyes went right into hers, deep and soft. She held that tender, unmistakable gaze as long as she dared. Her lips parted; she needed more air. He smiled an almost hidden smile, a smile just for her.

"I'd best get on," he said so quietly that only she could hear him. It wasn't an intimate statement, but the way he said it made her feel many things at once: flattered, pampered by his attention, safe in a secret world of just the two of them. He might have said a hundred conspiratorial or sensual or even scandalous things in the same tone, but the words didn't matter. He was bringing her closer. He didn't talk to anyone else that way.

"I must, too, " she said, at the same volume. She pulled her eyes away first, folding up her mending. She looked at him quickly again. He still held that smile for her. She returned the smile and set off to work, knowing she would see him at lunch. More and more, the rest of her life was just a series of events that happened in between the times she saw him. More and more when she was next to him, she felt alive in a new way.