A/N: Thanks to everyone who left a review for chapter one of this story. Feedback is appreciated.
The downstairs at Downton had a quieter air to it, as though people were afraid to speak too loudly. Subtle differences marked the change of Bates' absence from the world.
"It doesn't feel right here," Bates noted aloud. Beside him, Matthew said nothing as they made their way down the corridor towards the servants' hall. At the table, they found a few maids taking their seats for lunch and Ms. O'Brien sipping on a cup of tea.
"I didn't think she would be here," he said, referring to the lady's maid. But his companion did not respond to the invitation for comment. They stood to one side, watching as the scene played out.
Mrs. Hughes entered the servants' hall after a time and with a disapproving glance at O'Brien, began questioning the maids about which rooms had been sorted and if there was anything left to be done. For the lateness of the hour, the inquiries seemed unnecessary but the maids showed no confusion as they answered her mechanically, as though they were used to it from the housekeeper. Once she'd satisfied herself that the responsibilities had been discharged, Mrs. Hughes allowed herself a moment of rest as she sank into her seat at the table.
Bates noticed that everyone seemed slightly different, as though they carried with them an extra measure of tension which he had not witnessed before in his life at Downton. Mrs. Hughes looked particularly unhappy and only O'Brien carried her usual air of calm derision which she reserved for no one in particular and doled out without discrimination. A moment later, Thomas entered the room, looking as imperious and ill humored as ever. But to Bates' surprise, everyone stood up at his appearance, chairs scraping across the floor in haste as they came to attention.
Thomas took a moment to look about the room, ensuring everyone was properly giving him the necessary respect, before giving an arch nod that allowed the others to sit once more. As he took his own seat at the table, he glanced at Mrs. Hughes.
"Are the guest rooms ready?" he inquired, his tone icy and unfeeling.
"Yes, Mister Barrow," she said without taking her eyes off the table.
"Because we wouldn't want another repeat of what happened last time."
The housekeeper took in a breath but did not meet his eyes.
"Of course not, Mister Barrow."
Bates turned to Matthew beside him and asked, "Thomas is the butler now?"
"Yes. He was promoted after Mister Carson died."
The news hit him squarely in the chest, nearly knocking the wind from him. "How did he die?"
With a frown, Matthew answered matter-of-factly, "He had a massive heart attack. Thomas was promoted from Robert's valet because he knew the house the best. But no one likes him, so he rules by fear rather than garnering the respect of others. Everyone has some secret they'd rather not air to the world, and Thomas seems to know them all."
Glancing down, Bates noticed Mrs. Hughes' hand hovering over the pocket of her skirt. The movement was instinctive and he doubted that she knew she was even doing it, but Bates recognized the gesture. She wanted to reach into that pocket and remove its contents, just as she had done a number of times before. He knew in an instant from the way the fabric fell and pulled that something of weight lay within. A small bottle, Bates decided. Brandy, perhaps. Her hand shook faintly, and he sighed in understanding.
Just then, someone else entered the room and the movement caught Bates' attention, driving away all other thoughts from his mind.
Anna.
She wore the black dress of a lady's maid, but her skin seemed impossibly pale, as though she never saw the sun. Her hair style was more elaborate than he remembered ever seeing, although part of it hung down along her right side, hiding half of her face. Taking the seat beside Ms. O'Brien, she kept her eyes downcast and remained silent, almost like she was a ghost.
More servants trickled in before the afternoon meal, and Bates watched them all. No one seemed particularly happy besides the hall boys and younger maids, and even they would send occasional glances down the table towards Thomas. Mister Molesley sat in a seat beside Anna, garbed as a footman, and Baxter appeared in the uniform of a housemaid. The meal was subdued with little conversation, although Bates noticed that Molesley attempted to draw out Anna, who shied away from his attentions. Baxter spoke kindly to her but Anna gave her no more than a weak smile in response.
Suddenly, Thomas spoke, and everyone flinched at the sound of his voice. "His Lordship's new valet is set to arrive this evening. Also," he said, addressing Mrs. Hughes but speaking to everyone at the table, "Lord Gillingham will be back from London in the morning. Please see that the necessary plans are made."
Mrs. Hughes looked across the table at Anna, who froze in her seat, staring down at a plate of untouched food. Unconsciously, her hand went to her cheek, and Bates thought he saw a darker shadow beneath her hair before she smoothed it back into place. A bruise, he realized, the ugly color of the almost healed mark unmistakable.
"And before you ask, yes, he will be bringing his valet. Of course a proper Lord would travel with his valet, but because you always inquire, I confirmed with Lady Mary. I don't know what problems you have with Mister Gillingham, but they best be worked out soon. Lord Gillingham will be moving into the house after the wedding, so you'd best get used to the arrangement."
With alarm, Bates looked at Matthew. "Mister Green..." he said, his face ashen.
His dead host simply nodded in affirmance, and Bates looked back at Anna sitting at the table, whatever appetite she might have had before suddenly gone.
"He still..."
The words died in his throat, but Matthew knew what he was going to ask.
"Yes. Green still... hurt her. He tried it again the last time he was here but there were too many people around. You see, Mary is engaged to marry Lord Gillingham..." The young man in the soldier's uniform paused, his own emotions becoming apparent as he spoke of his wife moving on with another. But he pushed through the pain, keeping his tone steady as he explained Anna's predicament. "She can't go to anyone. Mrs. Hughes knows, of course, but she's already on uneven footing. He's been pushing Robert to make her retire so O'Brien can take over as housekeeper. Anna never told Mary what happened, and she has no choice but to put up with Mister Green's presence or risk losing her position."
As he finished, the woman in question pushed herself back from the table, leaving her lunch untouched. Mrs. Hughes called after her, "Anna, you haven't touched your-"
"I have to see to something for Lady Mary," she explained, excusing herself.
Bates watched her go, itching to follow her, to give her some measure of comfort. But he could not. He was a dead man, a ghost, only here to observe. Anger boiled up within him as he looked at the other servants around the table. "Surely, they must know?" he demaned. "They must see what happened to her, how she's acting?"
With a sigh, Matthew explained, "They keep themselves to themselves, Bates. They feel for Anna, but no one wants to risk losing their job."
Disgusted with the lot of them, Bates walked out of the servants' hall and followed Anna down the hall towards the boot room. She disappeared inside and found some shoes to polish. It did not seem to matter that they were already perfectly serviceable as she set about the chore with deliberate movements, the kind that helped her keep her hands steady when they threatened to shake uncontrollably with fear.
"She never married."
Bates made the observation knowing that Matthew was behind him.
"No, she never did. Mister Molesley showed an interest, but she told him she intended to stay in service for life. She never met a man she loved as much as she would have loved you."
The knowledge stabbed at Bates like a knife to the chest, and he grimaced with the pain he saw hidden behind Anna's carefully veiled expression. And as her hands moved across the shoes, the sleeve of her left hand pulled back slightly, and his eyes went to the pale mark on the delicate skin at the inside of her wrist.
A scar.
He understood exactly what that scar meant.
As if reading his mind - and perhaps he was - Matthew stated evenly, "She attempted to take her life the first time Green came back to the house with Lord Gillingham. Seeing him again after what he did to her nearly destroyed her. Luckily, Mrs. Hughes found her and got her to the doctor. But it hasn't been easy with him coming back to the house so often-"
On cue, Anna paused in her polishing of the shoes to run her fingers across that scar, her body momentarily frozen as she appeared lost in thought. She trembled faintly and Bates desperately wished he could reach out to her. But as he put out his hand to touch her shoulder, he met no resistance and passed through her body like air.
Fury beginning to truly build within him, Bates turned on Matthew. "If God truly does exist, why would he put her through this? Why would he reward such a kind and amazing person with such pain and suffering?"
Anna went back to polishing the shoes she had selected, the sound of the bristles moving back and forth across the leather filling the room, nearly drowning out her uneven breaths.
"You of all people should know that it doesn't work that way." Matthew looked down at the maid. "She might have had a happy life. But it would never have been filled with the joy she experienced from knowing you. Love isn't finite, you know. Love multiplies in such a way that the more someone loves, the more they are able to love going forward."
They both looked at Anna, who had paused in her work and just stared at the table. Her eyes were empty, glassy, and void of emotion, as though she had cut herself off from both feeling and hope.
"And perhaps you didn't consider it, Bates, but the pain Anna went through to be with you made her stronger. She was able to survive what happened to her in this room the night of that concert. Without you... she's barely hanging on. And she has no one to turn to for support."
Bates shook his head. "You can't tell me that what that man did to her was meant to happen. I don't believe that."
"No, it wasn't meant to happen," Matthew confirmed, "not any more than I was meant to die. Or you for that matter. Or Sybil or William, or anyone. Sometimes terrible things occur in life, things which make no sense. Things we'd give anything to change."
An image of Lavinia Swire entered Bates' mind as he looked at the other man, and in that moment he remembered that they each had their own deeply held regrets.
"You were lucky," Matthew continued on, swallowing uncomfortably, forcing himself to speak. "You got that second chance, with only an injured leg and a discharge from the army to slow you down. And despite your hardships, you found happiness again. Few get that kind of opportunity. Few that do are as lucky to find the life you found."
Bates thought about Anna - his Anna - the way he'd seen her the night before, as she retired to their bedroom at the cottage. She had looked genuinely happy, both relieved that their latest trials were over and excited to move on from the trouble which had plagued them of late. Knowing that he could always find solace in Anna's smile and comfort in her arms, Bates had long ago recognized that was well worth the pain he'd endured in his earlier years. But it had never before occurred to him the same might be true for Anna, that she would gladly go back and endure it all again just to reach the same point in time.
"What of her second chance?" he asked, drawing a shallow breath around the lump in his throat. "Why wasn't she allowed to go back and change things for the better for herself?"
Matthew looked at him and then meaningfully at Anna's wrist, which she had pulled down to cover the pale, raised scar. "Who says she wasn't?"
Their conversation paused as someone else entered the room - Mrs. Hughes. They watched as the housekeeper approached Anna.
"Are you all right, dear?" she asked the lady's maid gently.
Anna nodded stoically. "I'll manage," she answered.
"Do you really think Lady Mary will go through with it?" Mrs. Hughes asked. Almost unnecessarily, she added, "I mean, marry Lord Gillingham..."
With a shrug, the other woman answered, "I don't know. She broke off her engagement with Sir Richard before choosing Mr. Matthew. Maybe she'll do the same again."
"We can always hope."
But the words brought Anna no solace. "I have no hope, Mrs. Hughes," she said sadly. Her features were empty, her face deliberately expressionless.
"You must have hope. You never know what richness in life might be coming. You could still get married..."
The lady's maid shook her head. "My life is service. I will never marry. Even if a good man did want to marry me, I am ruined."
"Don't say that."
Her brow creasing, Anna persisted, "But it is true. I once had a hope I would meet someone, someone I was intended to be with. I know that sounds silly..."
Frowning, Mrs. Hughes glanced towards the hallway before stating, "It isn't silly at all. I must admit... I felt the same, once."
"I don't know if I can keep going, not with him here," the younger woman confessed.
"I know it will be difficult-"
Interrupting, Anna stated, "Not difficult, Mrs Hughes. I cannot live in this house with that man. I just can't."
"But what choice do you have?" the housekeeper asked, and as she finished the question, Bates recognized the slightest of slurs which confirmed his earlier theory. The woman hid it better than Lord Grantham, but she was just as much of a drunkard as the lord of the house.
She sighed. "Oh well, we best get on then."
The two women did not touch, but there was a moment of camaraderie between them before Mrs Hughes moved about her day and left Anna to finish her work in the boot room.
"The Mrs. Hughes I knew would never let this happen," he told Matthew.
The younger man dipped his head apologetically. "That isn't the woman you knew," he told Bates. "Mister Carson's death hit her hard. She's had no one to lean on herself, let alone allow others to lean on her."
Bates shook his head. "This cannot all have changed because of my death. It isn't possible that my coming to Downton could have made such a positive change."
Matthew responded, "Perhaps your presence was more important than you thought."
"But why would you show me this," Bates asked, "if there is nothing I can do to change it?"
"Would you change it, if you could? Not long ago you were convinced that Anna would be better off if she'd never met you."
He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering those feelings of worthlessness and self loathing. She deserved better - she always had and she always would. But she wanted him, despite all the suffering their relationship had brought her. Bates would always regret the pain he'd brought her. Nothing could change that. However, having glimpsed a window into her future without him, he realized that her life could have gone much worse.
His eyes opened again, and he truly saw the Anna sitting before him. Misery was written in every line of her delicate body, and she held out no hope of an escape. If her employer married Lord Gillingham, then Mr. Green would be in the same household every day - threatening and menacing and reminding her of the horror he had inflicted on her body and soul. It was no wonder she'd tried to kill herself once, and Bates would not see that happen again. And beyond all of that, she'd given up on love or the possibility of a different life.
"I would give anything to spare her such pain."
"Would you trade your life?"
Matthew asked the question as though it was a momentous thing, something people considered with great weight and thought - not something to be given lightly.
Bates answered without a second's hesitation, "I would trade my soul, if it would spare Anna's suffering."
As a non-believer, the concession was less than it might have been for others. Despite his upbringing, the valet had not considered himself a Christian for a very, very long time. But he recognized the concept of a person's spirit, the one thing that might persist after death. But despite everything, he would gladly give up that one chance at immortality to have another few minutes with Anna. In the face of winged angels and promises of heaven forever after, Bates' only concern was for the incredible woman who had shown him greater love and devotion than he'd ever known.
Matthew challenged him in a gentle, controlled tone, "And what if the best thing for Anna was to have you with her? Even if you cannot always protect her. Even if you might occasionally cause her heartache with your words or actions. God knows, none of us are perfect." The younger man blinked back tears before saying quietly, "When I think of all the time I cost Mary, the time we could have been together..."
Staring at him for a moment, Bates noted, "With all due respect, sir, I don't think you understand what Anna has been put through."
He turned to look at Anna, or the shadow of the woman he'd known currently inhabiting her body. Her shoulders were hunched and she appeared impossibly thin, as though a stiff wind might blow her away completely.
"I understand that it was worse for her without you by her side," Matthew told him. "You gave her hope and love and support. Sometimes, when we give our lives for others, that is what it means."
Anna paused for a moment in her work to look up and around, as though she had heard them talking. Bates never took his eyes off of her as he asked, "What can I do to set things right?"
He looked back to Anna. Her eyes were so vacant, the set of her shoulders so despondent that he felt the overwhelming urge to touch her and wrap her in his arms. He stepped forward, and in that moment, something happened. Something changed. Bates felt a tingling sensation and as he turned to question Matthew, the other man was gone.
His eyes swept back to Anna, but her body was twisted and she was suddenly staring right at him. She could see him.
There was curiosity in her eyes, but beyond that, he could make out the fear. Her gaze bounced between his form and the door immediately behind him even as the rest of her body tensed.
"Hello," he managed, taking an involuntary step back from her. Bates recalled how terrified his wife had been after Green had attacked her, the months of nightmares and flashbacks which made her irritable and fearful seemingly at random times. There were times he could not even touch his wife, those memories came back to her so strong. And the woman in front of him did not know him, did not recognize him or take solace at his presence. He was a threat to her, the same as any strange man.
"Who are you?" Anna managed to choke out, the question barely louder than a whisper. Her eyes again swept past him as though she were looking for escape.
Somehow, Bates knew what to say.
"I'm his Lordship's new valet." As he spoke, he felt the familiar weight of his packed case appear in his left hand.
She met his pronouncement with a moment of silence and he wondered if she would call him a liar. He attempted a nonthreatening smile, and while she did not return it, he saw her tension dissipate slightly. Momentarily reassured that he was not going to attack her, Anna's eyes stopped trying to see around him to the exit and dropped to the cane in his right hand. Her expression reminded him greatly of Ms. O'Brien's first reaction when he appeared at Downton.
"You're early," she finally stated, her voice lacking inflection.
"I came on the milk train. I thought I'd spend the day getting to know the place and start tonight."
It felt strange, echoing those words from so long ago. The woman before him was anything but a stranger to him, but to her, he was nothing. Everything between them had been wiped clean. He suddenly recalled that he had not introduced himself.
"I'm John Bates," he said, setting down his bag and hooking his cane into the crook of his left arm. He held out his hand to shake hers, but she regarded him coldly in response, refusing to take it. She looked at him as though he were a loathsome thing, a villain and a liar.
"I better take you to Mister Barrow," she said, moving to skirt around him. But Bates stayed in the doorway of the boot room, momentarily startled by her shortness.
With a sigh, Anna said quietly, "Please let me by."
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he ventured. He stooped to get his bag, but was not moving fast enough. Panic sprang into her eyes.
"Let me by," she said again, more forcefully, and this time, Bates stepped aside with haste. Anna pushed past him into the corridor.
Once she was out in the open hall, Anna was able to take a breath and calm herself. "I'm sorry," she said, looking from him down towards the servants' hall where the others were still gathered eating breakfast. One hand went to her stomach in a gesture he recognized as she tried to sooth herself.
"No, it is for me to apologize," Bates said quickly. "I should not have cornered you in such a way. I am entirely in the wrong."
She raised her eyes to look at him, and for just a moment he glimpsed a bit of the old Anna, the woman who had survived not only a horrible assault by her attacker, but also being falsely imprisoned for that man's murder. He glimpsed his wife's spirit buried deep within this poor woman. He recognized the spark of fire, of life inside of her. But just as quickly, it was gone and Anna looked away.
The Anna he had known was no longer within this woman. She had been entirely changed by her experiences, and rather than continuing to struggle through the hardship, she was on the verge of giving up. He noticed her rubbing at her wrist once more and wondered what was going through her mind at that moment.
"Come with me," she said briskly and walked away from him.
Bates took a step to follow her, but as he did so, the case in his hand vanished and the corridor shifted. With his surroundings suddenly blurred out of existence, Bates looked around in confusion. For a few seconds, he thought he had been struck blind. Wherever he had been taken, it matched the place where he had been before, but instead of bright light, he saw only blackness.
Matthew appeared again, and the sight of him startled Bates. "Where is she?" he asked, looking around, trying to see through the dark. "What happened to her?"
"She's still there," Matthew said, "but what happens to her now is up to you."
"Let me go back," Bates plead. "I can help her. I can protect her from Green. She doesn't have to live that way."
The dead man shook his head. "She is beyond your aid, I'm afraid."
Shaking his head, Bates insisted, "She doesn't have to be. Let me go back. Give me another chance, and I can be there for her. I can keep Green away from her and give her what she needs to heal. Please, I'm begging you."
Tears had formed behind his eyes and he made no effort to stop them from escaping down his cheeks.
"You yourself said that you were no good for her," Matthew pointed out. He added apologetically, "I can't let you go back. You were only meant to observe. I shouldn't have let you speak to her at all."
Having his own feelings turned back on him stung, but Bates was willing to admit, "I was wrong. I can be of use to her, if only you'll let me."
"I'm sorry, Bates." Matthew took a step back, and his form began to dim, leaving him swallowed by blackness.
"Please!" he shouted, his breath catching.
He tried to reach out for Matthew, but the man was already gone. Bates was alone in the dark. Fear did not touch him, not in the way he would have thought. His only concern was for the woman they'd left behind at Downton, the shattered bits of her tortured spirit ready to crumble into glass-like shards.
"Please let me go back to her."
Bates spoke the words aloud, not even knowing who he was appealing to any longer. But if everything he had just seen was orchestrated by a God or a power beyond his comprehension, he had to try.
He awoke to the feeling of warmth. Light was scarce but in the dimness he was able to make out movement near him, and Bates reached out a hand to touch whatever had just been placed on top of him.
A blanket. His hands recognized the familiar fabric of the warn quilt even as his mind began to adjust to his surroundings.
"I didn't mean to wake you," came a soft voice, and he could have cried as he recognized its owner. She reached past him to turn up the oil lamp, the wick having burned very low. As she pulled away, his hands captured hers.
"Anna." He said her name like a prayer, a thanks, and an absolution.
"You fell asleep down here again," she chided him, situating herself on the arm of his chair. "I thought I'd let you sleep but didn't want you to get cold."
As she finished her explanation, Anna reached out to tuck the quilt in around him a bit more, but Bates took hold of her hands in both of his once more. They were warm and solid in his grasp, reminding him that she was indeed real. She shook her head in bemusement at his odd behavior, but permitted his possessiveness. Likely sensing his need for reassurance, she brought their entwined fingers to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. Her lips were soft but very, very real.
"It was all a dream," he mused.
Anna arched an eyebrow at him and asked, "What kind of dream? A bad dream?"
"Yes. A nightmare, one of my own making."
Smiling at him indulgently, she said gently, "Well it is over now and you are safe and sound. Would you like to come to bed with me? It has gotten late."
Bates nodded. Her hands were still in his own, and she used his grasp on her to help him get out of the chair. But once he was standing, he still did not let go of her hands. Rather, he turned them over to look at her wrists. The faint bruises he remembered seeing in the jail from her shackles had faded entirely, leaving behind unblemished skin. He brought first one and then the other of her wrists to his lips and kissed them reverently before pulling her into his arms. Anna snuggled into his embrace and Bates sighed at the secure feeling of surrounding her so completely.
They stood that way together for a long moment before she gently offered, "Do you want to talk about our nightmare?"
He pulled back from her enough to see her face and responded, "No, not tonight. We should sleep."
He followed her up the stairs, extinguishing the lamp behind them. In their bedroom, he changed for bed while she waited for him under the covers. And once he joined her, she moved over to his side, fitting her body against his as she rested her head in the crook of his arm.
"I'm so happy you're home," he told her. "It seems as though every time we think our troubles are over, something new comes up."
"Perhaps," she agreed. "But whatever comes next, we will face it as we were meant to - together."
Anna hummed in contentment as she began to fall asleep.
"Together," Bates said gratefully.
Bates stayed awake a long time just watching her and reveling in the warmth of her pressed against him. The details of his dream were fading, but parts of it remained as stark images in his conscious mind. His guilt and recriminations from earlier in the evening were not gone either, but now they could be held more easily at bay as he truly considered Anna's life in his absence. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to consider the value of his affection for her and his role in her life. Looking down at his wife, he noticed Anna was smiling in her sleep, obviously enjoying some aspect of her own dreams.
"Sleep well, my love," he whispered before closing his eyes.
fin