It was late when they returned to Downton after their time in London. The train had been delayed – Anna wasn't really sure why – and by the time they reached the house again, she was informed that John had already set of for the cottage. She sighed, wilting at the prospect of having to wait even longer to catch a glimpse of her husband, but thankfully Lady Mary was eager to retire with Mr. Matthew. Anna dressed her for bed as quickly as possible, then declined the invitations to stay in the abbey for the night.

"No, really," she said to Mrs. Hughes. "I'd like to see Mr. Bates tonight."

"But it's very dark outside."

"I'll be fine. I could find my way in my sleep now. It's a kind offer, Mrs. Hughes, truly, but I'd rather sleep in my own bed."

The housekeeper relented then. "Very well. I can't keep you here against your will. Now, hurry home. I'll lock up after you."

Anna reached the cottage quickly, slipping the key into the lock and stepping inside. The bottom floor was in darkness, but she'd glanced up at the upstairs window on the way in and there had been soft light emanating from their bedroom. John was still waiting up for her. Unbuttoning her coat, she hung it on the hooks by the door next to his, tiptoeing upstairs. She pushed open the bedroom door and smiled at the sight in front of her.

John was sitting up in bed, but he was snoring, his chin dropped against his chest, his book sliding from his lap. She fought a giggle, slipping into the room. She wouldn't wake him now. Not when he didn't get much sleep as it was. She padded around changing for bed as quietly as she could, her gaze drifting over to him every now and then, soaking in the boyish lines of his face. London had been exciting, but nothing could beat quiet moments like this, where she and John were alone. She'd ached for him over the last two days. She was glad to be back with him now. So very, very glad.

She tied the end of her plait off with a ribbon, making her way to her side of the bed, sliding beneath the covers and anchoring her arms around his waist. He stirred a little as he felt her weight press against him.

"Anna?" he slurred.

"Yes, it's me. Go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Sleepily, he turned to press a clumsy kiss against her temple. She snuggled further into his side, resting her head into the crook of his neck. It wasn't the most comfortable sleeping position in the world, but John didn't seem inclined to move and she was more than happy to stay exactly like that with him, feeling his chest rising and falling beneath her hand, breathing in the warm scent of his skin.

The nearer Christmas got, the more the excitement grew. The young men and women who had never experienced the grandeur of the estate at Christmas were endearing to see. Even Jimmy lost a little bit of his bored arrogance at the sight of the huge tree being brought into the great hall. The servants' hall was dressed with holly, and a little Christmas tree of their own was set in the corner. People began giggling in groups, evidently discussing the things that they'd bought for their respective receivers. Anna was in part dreading seeing what Jimmy had been bought – it was quite clear from the blushing and the giggling that one of the maids had fallen lucky – and in part anticipatory of the thunderous expression that was sure to be on Mr. Carson's face should it be inappropriate in any way.

It was also wonderful to see John engaging with the holiday so enthusiastically. He was as restrained as ever at work, of course, and she suspected that no one else would see it, but she knew him. It was in the light shining in his eyes and his eagerness when it came to wrapping the presents. He'd taken himself home early one evening while she needed to stay and finish off some mending, and she'd returned to find that she'd been barricaded out of the bedroom while he worked. He'd managed to make an awful lot of mess, but his pleased smile was more than a little compensation for that. She supposed there was a kind of magic in them finally being able to have their very own Christmas, even if they were surrounded by everyone else too.

Christmas morning dawned bright and early. It was the one day of the year that Anna didn't mind getting up early for. As she and John readied themselves for another shift up at the big house, she found herself wishing that they had more time to themselves on this day, that they didn't need to be up at the abbey so early, that they could while away the morning in bed, opening presents and perhaps exchanging more. But she supposed they were lucky enough to be allowed to sneak away after the servants' Christmas lunch until the evening. It was more than most people got.

John huffed a little as he bent down in their little wardrobe, fishing about in the bottom for the gift he'd bought for Madge. Anna eyed it curiously.

"So, the nice candles," she said.

"Yes," he replied without looking up, laying it carefully on the bed. "Don't worry, you'll see them today. And what about your present for the gardener?"

"Here," she said cheekily, waving her own wrapped gift in his face.

"I'm just as curious about that," he said. "How do I know that you've not bought him something racy, like your French garter?"

She giggled at the twinkle in his eyes. "Maybe I did. I tested it out on you and thought the results were favourable enough."

He growled, moving closer to her. "Then I'll have to make sure you forget all about him again."

"I'm counting on it," she said as his arms came up around her waist. He kissed her soundly then, but she pushed him away before they could lose themselves completely. "Now, Mr. Bates, I do believe we're required at Downton. The sooner we go, the sooner the afternoon will be here."

"Then lead the way, Mrs. Bates," he said, offering her his arm.

When they arrived up at the big house, the room was already filling with people. A rather large pile of presents had been gathered and was currently sitting in front of Mr. Carson, who sat at the head with his fingers steepled, looking very much like a god being gifted with tokens from his worshippers. She giggled a little at the image, then sobered when he caught her eye.

"Anna?" he said. "Is there something the matter?"

"No, Mr. Carson. Just the cheeriness of Christmas, is all."

He made a grunting sound at that, going back to contemplating the table top. Anna and John added their own presents there, moving to squeeze into seats further along the table together. Thomas and Alfred sat across from them. They were squashed in against Miss O'Brien.

Between the snake and the rat, she thought, but said nothing, choosing instead to focus on the conversations flowing around her. The beginning of the day was always exciting. It was always fun to receive secret gifts from someone – and now that John was going to uncover hers, she was more excited than ever. She was certain he'd like it.

When it seemed that the servants' hall couldn't get more crowded, Mr. Carson rose to his feet. Hush fell at once as he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, everyone," he said.

He spoke a little more about the proud Downton traditions (Miss O'Brien sniffed and huffed her disapproval beside them), and finally ended it by picking up the first present and looking at the tag.

"Mr. Molesley," he read, and the other valet jumped forward eagerly. He rustled with the paper while the butler continued to hand the gifts around, and his face fell when he saw it.

"What is it, Mr. Molesley?" Anna asked, craning her neck to see better.

"A pair of socks," he said, crestfallen. "Well, thank you."

"They're not for your feet," Miss O'Brien piped up. "I bought them so you might know when to put a sock in it when it comes to matters that don't concern you."

There were a few uneasy titters at that, but Mrs. Hughes shot her a look. "That's enough, Miss O'Brien. I suppose it's not too much to ask for you to pleasant for one day?"

The lady's maid flattened her mouth into a grim line, but she fell silent. Mr. Molesley continued to morosely handle his socks while exclamations of glee issued from the other members of staff.

"Mr. Bates, Anna," Mr. Carson said. Anna's heart skipped. The two presents were passed down the line of the table together, coming to a stop in front of them.

"You first," John said with a smile, leaning back in his chair.

"Why?" she said, arching her eyebrow. "Trying to distract me so that I don't notice Madge opening her gift?"

"More like I need my full attention on Harry when he opens his," he countered lowly, and they both exchanged fond grins before Anna relented.

"All right then," she said. "I suppose I am curious."

John leant closer as she turned over the card to read. "Recognise the writing?"

"No," she frowned. "In fact, I can barely read it."

John took a hold of it, tilting his head to the side. "It says, To Anna, with love. And look, that's a kiss."

"Don't be soft," she grumbled, snatching it back to peer at more closely.

"I'm not being soft. Someone's sent you a present with love. I'm quite jealous."

"Well, you needn't be. I'm hardly going to go running off with them, am I?"

"Even if it's Mr. Molesley?"

She stifled a giggle, chancing a glance in the other valet's direction. "Mr. Bates, don't be cruel. It can't be Mr. Molesley."

"Well, who else do you suggest? I've seen him looking at you sometimes. He still carries a torch for you."

"No he doesn't. He's just being friendly."

"Yes, very friendly. It's a good thing I'm back now, otherwise he might have offered you a shoulder to cry on."

"You mean again?" she teased, bumping him with her shoulder.

He grumbled a little in the back of his throat, evidently not wanting to be reminded in too much detail of Mr. Molesley's pursuit of her, even if it had come to nothing. "Just open it."

"Try not to get too jealous," she said cheekily as her finger found an opening in the paper and pulled. "Even if it is a wonderful gift that leaves me feeling like a very lucky lady."

He rolled his eyes at that, fighting a smile. "All right. I promise."

Silence fell again then as Anna tried to rip open the contents of the package. She couldn't help her frisson of excitement.

The paper fell away, and she gasped.

Sitting nestled in the paper was a set of her absolute favourite bathing salts. They were a luxury that she didn't often afford herself, knowing that they were a little too expensive to indulge in regularly. But how –?

She looked up at John. He regarded her neutrally. "Bathing salts? Who got you those? They're very nice."

"Very nice indeed," she confirmed. "But who would know about them? I've never told anyone about my bathing habits before."

"I should hope not. That would leave me feeling rather insecure."

"It was you? You were the one who pulled my name out of the hat?"

"I'm not confirming that," he said, though he was grinning broadly. "Who says it isn't Mr. Molesley after all? He might have been close enough to catch a beautiful whiff of your lovely skin and perhaps he didn't rest until he found the very same scent."

She smacked his arm just lightly. "Stop being so silly. It was you!"

He sobered then, catching her hand beneath the table. "Well, perhaps it was. I know how much you like them."

She knew how much he liked them too – he was often extra amorous when she'd bathed in them, burying his head in the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply, his lips playing over her skin as he murmured his appreciation.

But she hadn't had them in months, and tears welled unbidden in her eyes at his thoughtful generosity. "Mr. Bates, you didn't need to. I know these cost far more than what the set amount was."

"And?" he said. "You're my wife. I'm allowed to treat you."

"Yes, but I've seen the pile of presents in the wardrobe at home. I think you've treated me enough."

His face fell. "So you don't like them?"

"No, of course I do. And I'm more than a little relieved that these weren't for Madge." Her eyes twinkled, flashing heated promise at him as she recalled the romantic evenings they'd spent after she'd luxuriated in such finery. "They're perfect. Thank you."

He smiled. "I'm glad."

"Now, come on. It's your turn." Anna suddenly remembered that through some ironic twist they had picked each other. And he still thought that she'd bought Harry something. Suppressing a giggle, she leant in to him eagerly, not wanting to miss his face expression as he uncovered his present and realised the same thing.

"Oh, all right," he sighed unenthusiastically. "I just hope a certain someone hasn't picked my name out. He's more bitter than ever now."

Her grin widened. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Open it."

He chuckled. "You're worse than a child." But his tone was nothing but affectionate, and she knew that he found it altogether endearing. Slowly, he picked it up. "It's heavier than I thought it would be." Cautiously, he peeled back a corner. She waited with bated breath. His brow furrowed. "Is this…?"

The book fell out onto the table. He picked it up, staring. Then, he turned towards her.

"Frost?" he said.

She couldn't contain her smile, unable to pretend any different. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," he said. "It's his best volume. But how…?"

And then the penny dropped, and he started to chuckle too. "You had me?"

She nodded. "Or rather your name chose me. I was last to pick the paper, after all."

He shook his head disbelievingly. "What are the odds?"

"I know," she said. "But it was very nice. Now open it. There's a reason why I chose that one."

He picked the book of Frost's poetry up reverently, opening the spine. Her inscription, lovingly carved, lay on the inside. She read the words over his shoulder, biting her lip, hoping that he'd like it.

My darling John,

Years have passed like minutes, and I am so grateful that we are here together now. But I hope we never forget our roots and how we came to be here today, and I hope this can serve as a reminder. Look upon this book and remember a night in the middle of October in 1914. Remember that I love you just as much now as I did back then – more, if it is possible. No matter what, always remember.

Forever yours,

Anna.

John looked back at her. She saw his eyes were misty, but he was smiling.

"If we were alone now I'd kiss you," he told her quietly. "This is perfect."

She smiled wide and was about to reply before Miss O'Brien's voice cut across them.

"Oh, bloody hell."

They both turned towards her to find her staring down at the inscription of the book with her brow wrinkled in distaste.

"Problem, Miss O'Brien?" John said with icy politeness, closing the book with a snap.

But the lady's maid was not to be deterred. "I thought we'd be spared all your awful soppiness now that you've got a home of your own, never mind you bringing it here to inflict upon us all. I might be sick, and I've not had breakfast yet."

"What's this?" said Thomas. Although he and Miss O'Brien generally ignored each other now, he was always interested when it came to any tension with the Bateses.

"Looks like Anna pulled her darling John's name out of the hat," Miss O'Brien said coolly.

Anna felt herself blushing, but John merely tucked the book out of sight. "I suggest that you keep your observations to yourself."

"Come now, Mr. Bates," said Thomas. "She does have a point. I don't want to see any of your silly love nest antics here at Downton. There's a time for those kinds of things, and in work time is not one of them."

"When I'm interested in your opinion I'll ask for it," John shot back.

Thankfully, the atmosphere was broken by Mr. Carson's booming voice. "That's it, everyone. Everyone has received their gift. It's time to start work now. I f the table could be set for breakfast…"

The relaxation period broken, everyone reluctantly rose to their feet in order to take their rightful places. John stayed them a moment, brushing his fingers against Anna's.

"Ignore them," he said. "They're just jealous. I shall treasure this forever. It's perfect."

She glowed. "I thought you'd like it. I know you've read it before, but –"

"You don't need to make excuses for it," he said firmly. "Nothing could be better than this. Thank you."

Even Thomas and Miss O'Brien's unfriendly looks couldn't dampen her spirits.

Their afternoon in the cottage passed far too quickly for her liking. There, they exchanged the other gifts that they'd purchased for each other, Anna again repeating her claims that John had spoiled her far too much. He'd remained adamant that she deserved even more, that if he'd had the means to do so he would have bought her the world, for she deserved it for everything that she had put up with because of him.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent unashamedly in bed, sheets thrown from their bodies despite the cold weather, hands entwined as they talked intimately. Anna always felt naughty undressing in the middle of the day, when everyone up at Downton was still hard at work while they were making love with their curtains wide open. It was delicious.

Unfortunately, it had to end, and they dragged themselves back to the house for their evening tasks, throwing each other secret smiles as they were engulfed with the chaos and bustle once more. She happily gossiped with Lady Mary about the things that she had received, not feeling the least bit envious when Lady Mary described her jewels and new frocks. She wouldn't change the life she had with John for anything.

Her duties were finished now until Lady Mary needed her to change for bed, so she made her way slowly back down the staircase to the servants' quarters. When she arrived, however, there was no sign of John.

"Is Mr. Bates still with his lordship?" she asked Mrs. Hughes as she moved to take her usual seat.

The housekeeper looked up. "No, He's gone outside to the courtyard for a breath of fresh air. Though it's not very warm out there. I don't know how long he'll really be."

Anna frowned. They hadn't used the courtyard since he had been released from prison. It was usually occupied by some of the younger members of staff now. Although it had been theirs exclusively for years, times had changed and they had made a new haven for themselves to enjoy. John no longer brooded the way he had when they'd courted each other. It was strange that he'd be out there.

"I think I'll go and see how he is," she said.

"Very well. Don't be too long. You know the family don't take as long tonight so that we can have a little more free time ourselves. I shouldn't think that dinner will be far away."

Anna nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes."

She made her way into the hallway, taking the opportunity to grab her coat – the weather was certainly chilly – and then made her way to the back door.

He was sitting in the shadows on the far side of the courtyard, surrounded by disused crates. She folded her arms over her chest, eyebrows raised playfully.

"Mr. Bates," she said. "You're going to catch your death out here with no coat on, and I won't feel sorry for you."

He started initially, but chuckled when she'd finished speaking. "You should know me by now."

"I do know you," she said, and watched his eyes darken at her implication. Rubbing her hands over her arms, she stepped out into the courtyard, moving to nestle against his side. He lifted his arm and pulled her in, and she snuggled closer, resting her head against his chest.

"I know I've said it already, but thank you for your secret present," he said. "It was beautiful."

"I'm glad you liked it."

"I love it. I love all of your presents, of course, but that one was…"

"Special?" she offered.

"It puts mine to shame."

"Don't be silly, of course it doesn't. I love it. And I'm very relieved that it wasn't for Madge. I'm sure I would have been quite jealous myself to know that you'd bought my favourite soaps for someone else!"

"Perhaps next year," he teased, and she swatted him.

"Hush, you. Otherwise I'll take your gift back."

"No, you won't. You're far too kind for that."

They fell silent for a moment, and then Anna turned to look at him. "There's one more part to the gift."

"Is there?" He was visibly surprised now. "What more could there be?"

She took a deep breath, looking to the sky. "Do you remember our first kiss?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that he was frowning. "That's an odd question. But, yes, of course I do. It was the same night that I was reading that collection of Frost poems at the table."

"It was out here. Almost in the exact same place."

"Yes, I know."

They fell silent again for a moment, each remembering the day. Anna rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. The war had only just started. The young men had signed up and departed for France. Morale had been high. But every day more deaths were reported, someone else's husband or sweetheart or son blown apart, never to return. Downton had been no exception. A young groom had been killed first, then others in quick succession. It had been almost surreal how so many people could be wiped out in so short a space of time.

Anna had received the letter from her mother one morning as she'd sat eating breakfast. The words had hit a place inside her that she had long forgotten about, and she had asked to be excused. Mrs. Hughes must have seen the expression on her face, for she'd granted it at once.

Later that evening, she hadn't felt like socialising with the others. John had been sitting at the table with his book propped open in front of him – the newest one that they were reading together, sitting side by side with their shoulders touching, still nothing more than friends. Instead of turning into the hall, she'd made her way outside, into the brisk October night. Only a few minutes later John had followed her, moving to sit beside her on the crates. Anna closed her eyes and brought the memory properly to her mind. She could remember each little detail perfectly.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

Biting her lip, she debated whether to show him the letter. In the end, she fished it out. She could never resist sharing her burdens with him, even if he never wanted to share his with her.

He took it without a word and read it quietly, only asking for clarification when he reached the end. "Who's Daniel Miller?"

"Danny," she said softly. "He was the son of a neighbouring farmer back at home."

"Oh." He didn't ask, but she knew that he wondered why his death was affecting her so.

"We knew each other quite well," she said, staring straight ahead. "He was very nice."

"And you were…sweet on him."

It wasn't a question. She didn't turn to look at him.

"I suppose I was, really. We spent a lot of time together before I came to Downton." Her lips tugged into a nostalgic smile. "He was my first kiss. Only kiss, actually."

John shifted against her, obviously uncomfortable. "What happened?"

"I came to Downton," she said simply. "Mum and Dad needed the money, and I couldn't tell them that I wanted to stay."

"You would have married him if you had."

There was something unidentifiable in his voice.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I was sweet on him, but I didn't know what love was. Not then. Not like I do now."

His intake of breath was sharp, but she didn't flinch. He already knew how she felt. What was the point of pretending otherwise?

"I'm going to the memorial," she said. "I've arranged it with Mrs. Hughes. They don't have a body so they can't have a proper funeral, but they're holding it next week."

They fell silent, each contemplating the unpredictability of life. She took the chance and glanced into his face. It was a miasma of agonising emotions, and she knew what he was thinking about. What if he'd never met her? What if she'd been Mrs. Miller, mother of two young children, now a widow? He swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said. "Truly."

She sighed. "It's not my loss, not really. I sometimes saw him when I visited home, and we sometimes passed the time together, but he had someone else. And anything else I might have felt for him was long gone. And you know why."

Cautiously, his arm came around her. It was unexpected, but she wasn't about to question it. She shifted closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, before Anna turned her head.

"Thank you," she said.

His grip tightened unconsciously. "It's nothing."

"It's something to me."

Slowly, she looked up into his face. He tilted his head down. Their faces were closer than she'd initially thought. There was barely a few inches between them. She drew breath sharply. His eyes flickered between her lips and her own eyes. She knew that he wanted to kiss her. It was a heady sensation to realise that. She inched a little closer. He didn't move away. Their noses brushed. They continued to let their gazes flicker. She wetted her lips nervously. He followed her every move. Her hand found his shoulder, touching just barely, as though she was afraid that the spell would be broken if she used any more pressure.

"Mr. Bates," she breathed. He shivered, his eyes lowering to her mouth once more.

And then they were leaning in towards each other, closing the very short distance. Anna was unable to keep her eyes open, letting them drift closed in anticipation.

And then their mouths met. Softly at first, barely grazing. Anna made the tiniest of sounds in the back of her throat, trying to memorise everything about this moment. The exact texture of his lips. The rush of his breath over her face. His warmth. His everything.

The contact stayed like that between them for several long seconds. Just the gentle brushing of mouths, John's arm around her back, her hand on his shoulder. No other contact.

Eventually, they broke apart. John shuddered, leaning his forehead against hers. She gazed up into his eyes, trembling.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't you dare apologise for that," she said fiercely. "You hear me? I don't want to hear about what you can and can't offer me."

"Those things are the truth."

"And they're not important right now. All that matter is you and me. And our happiness. You make me happy, whatever you might think. You can't kiss me like that and then take it away as though it means nothing. Because I know it means something to you too. As much to you as it does to me."

He shivered at that, gaze flickering over her. She pressed her forehead more firmly against his, looking deeper into his eyes. Her grip on his shoulder had tightened.

"I love you," she breathed, and claimed his mouth again. It was longer this time, firmer now, bolder. John's hand grazed her breast as he moved it down to cup her waist. And then his tongue touched her lips, moist and warm, more wonderful than she'd ever thought possible. Tentatively, she opened her mouth, allowing him access.

The first brush of his tongue over hers made her pause. The second stopped the world from spinning. Nothing else existed. He kissed her so softly, so tenderly, pouring everything that he hadn't said to her into the movement of his mouth. She held him close, her shaking hand moving tentatively to the back of his neck. She shivered at the contact. It was the most intimately that she'd ever touched him. His skin was so soft there. His hand burned her through her clothes.

When they broke apart for the second time, they pressed their foreheads together again, panting softly. She breathed in the warm spice of his breath and closed her eyes, tears blossoming behind closed lids, lips quirking up in a shaking smile. They stayed like that for some time, and Anna's heart sang at the realisation that he wasn't going to try to take it back. It was here to stay. He might not have said anything yet, but he didn't need to.

He had just given her back the greatest gift of all in the midst of this hopeless darkness:

Hope.

Now, John tilted his head down to look at her. "Why are you bringing that up again?"

She slipped her hand beneath his jacket, splaying her palm against his ribcage. "I don't know. I'm feeling nostalgic, I suppose. I gave you that book as a reminder of how we truly started. And it was necessary to remind you of it in detail for what I'm going to do now."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows in question. She turned her body a little into him, her eyes searching his face.

"Yes," she said simply. "Now close your eyes."

He shot her one last quizzical glance before obeying. She took the opportunity to study those fine features of his, from the strong, dark brow to the masculine line of his jaw. Then, smiling just slightly, she leaned closer, placing one of her hands over both of his.

"Keep still," she said. "I'm giving you your present now."

He opened his hands beneath hers, evidently expecting her to drop something into them, and her smile widened as she leant in to him instead, pressing her mouth to his as her eyes drifted closed. He started a little, but she stroked her thumb over the back of one of his hands in a soothing circle, and he soon settled down. There was nothing passionate about it. They didn't even move their mouths against each other. But the lingering pressure of his against hers flooded the pit of her belly with warmth. Its innocence was beautiful.

Too soon they parted, the soft smacking sound audible even over her pounding heart. She opened her eyes reluctantly and thrilled to find John's still closed, his lips tugging into a warm smile.

"What was that for?" he murmured.

"I've told you. Today was about reminding you of old times," she said. "It was a nice reminder of our first kiss out here. And we've not done it here since you came back. There's been no need to with a home of our own. I thought it was quite appropriate. "

His smile widened. "You think so?"

"Well, perhaps not appropriate," she amended. "But it fit in nicely."

"I can't argue there."

They kept their foreheads pressed together for a few moments longer, savouring the feel of each other's breaths on their faces. Anna would never grow tired of being this close to him, of touching him in such a way. But the night was dragging on. Soon they would be required to attend dinner, and no doubt the other servants were beginning to wonder where they'd disappeared to. It wouldn't do to have them talking. She was just about to reluctantly suggest that they head back inside when she heard Mrs. Hughes' voice.

"Anna, Mr. Bates. Dinner's ready."

They broke apart at once. Anna felt embarrassed heat flood her cheeks at the thought of being caught like that, arms around each other, faces so close, their voices low and intimate. But Mrs. Hughes' expression betrayed nothing as they struggled back to their feet, making sure to put extra space between themselves. John excused himself with a bow of his head, slipping back inside, but Anna lingered beside Mrs. Hughes for a moment longer, contrite.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We shouldn't have forgotten where we were."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the housekeeper replied lightly. "I saw nothing."

She had to have, of course; it was impossible to have missed them. But Anna smiled gratefully all the same, moving back inside herself. In the doorway to the servants' hall she lingered for a moment, seeking out the back of her husband's head and smiling softly to herself.

Today had been very nice, she thought. It was nice to remind themselves of how they had started off, of how much she had enjoyed courting him even though it hadn't been in the conventional sense. She would always remember each and every aspect of it.

At the same time, however, she thought much later that night, cradling her husband's body between her thighs as he rested his head against her shoulder and panted softly for breath, the present was a wonderful thing to behold too.

A/N: Apologies for not replying to reviews yet - I was working Monday and Tuesday and I've just not had the time. But I appreciate them all.

To those who celebrate it, Merry Christmas! To those who don't, have a great day. :)