A/N: Thank you to everyone for the feedback on the first chapter! I'm accustomed to writing angst, but this has been a difficult story to craft and I appreciate hearing what people think.

"So she's found out 'bout ya steppin' out on 'er, eh?" the landlady cackled at him as she handed over the letter to Bates.

Usually his interacts with the vile woman left him wondering if he should look for lodgings elsewhere. But today the oddness of her commentary sent his heart racing as he looked at the return address on the post.

Mrs. A. Bates

A letter from Anna. He'd ripped open the envelope even before getting to his room, only bothering to pull the door shut behind him before reading the letter contained therein so his landlady would not have the pleasure of seeing his reaction.

Dear Mr. Bates,

He frowned at the absence of his Christian name once again.

This is a very difficult letter to write. I know you understand because I am sure it is a difficult letter to read as well.

Bates found himself nodding along with her assessment even as his stomach dropped uncomfortably. As he did so, he noticed a few smudges on the page which had been blotted but still bore the tell-tale marks of dried liquid.

Tears, he realized. She'd been crying as she wrote the letter.

You once told me to forget you and to be happy without you. I couldn't do as you asked, not in those circumstances. And yet I find myself telling you to do the same. Please forget about me.

As if he could follow her directive any more than she'd followed his. He could never forget about her. The past few weeks in London parted from her had been excruciating. Half a dozen times he'd resolved to return to Downton. Mrs. Hughes' letters detailing her terrible condition left him mad with worry. Only the memory of her pulling away from him, miserable and desperate to be out of his sight, stopped him.

Telling you what you want to know will not help anything. If you believe me to be unfaithful, use that belief to justify the anger you must be feeling and move on. Your generosity of spirit is a miracle, but I am unworthy of your forgiveness and I cannot begin to forgive myself. I know I've hurt you, and for that, I can only offer you my eternal regrets.

-Anna

He re-read the letter three times before arriving at the conclusion that she'd revealed nothing. While she'd heavily implied an admission of guilt to infidelity, Anna never came right out and made the claim.

But why would she implicate herself in adultery if it was untrue? He would never have suspected Anna of such a thing if not for her recent behavior. And even now, Bates could not imagine her betraying him. Not Anna. Her character would never allow such a thing.

He'd pulled out a page of paper to write her back when he heard a commotion in the hall. The landlady was yelling at someone and a female voice answered. Curious, Bates opened his door and looked down the corridor to see what the disturbance was about. His eyes locked with the woman arguing with his landlady.

Mrs. Hughes.

"You cain't have your mistress 'ere," the landlady called down to him tartly.

"She is only a friend," he informed the woman, not caring if she believed him or not. Mrs. Hughes ignored her with practiced ease and walked past her to Bates' room.

"Liar and a cheat," the landlady mumbled under her breath as she shut the door to her own apartment.

"Mr. Bates," the Downton housekeeper greeted him.

"Hello, Mrs. Hughes," he responded.

"I'm here about Anna."

"Come inside."

He watched as her eyes darted around the tiny room before finally settling on his tidy bed. Frowning at the possible impropriety of being in his bedroom alone with him, she sat primly on the edge of the mattress. Bates turned around the chair from the small table and sat down facing her.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Dreadful," Mrs. Hughes pronounced. "After you left, she only got worse. She's a ghost in that house, Mr. Bates. She barely eats, almost never speaks."

"Will you tell me why?" he asked quietly. Holding up Anna's note, he added, "I've had a letter from her and she still refuses to reveal her secret. Instead, she urged me to forget her and move on. I think you know that's impossible for me, Mrs. Hughes. Please end this purgatory of ignorance."

Mrs. Hughes frowned at Anna's letter but did not seem surprised by it. "I fear I must tell you. You are clearly too stubborn to return without knowing, and she will die of a broken heart before revealing it." She paused before adding, "Anna told me what you said in your letter to her. She said you suggested that she might have been unfaithful to you."

"I would never accuse her-"

She stopped him with a shake of her head. "I know you wouldn't. But I couldn't stand her letting you even consider such a notion."

"I know she would never do it, Mrs. Hughes. But she punishes herself so. I only wanted her to know that if something had happened... if she had a moment of weakness, so to speak... I would forgive her. Whatever it is, we can move past it. If she still loves me, I would not put her aside."

His voice broke as he thought of his pretty wife, so young and full of life, hampered by shame and despair. Anna once told him when he'd still been married to Vera that she'd live in sin with him, that she did not care if his wife tried to ruin her. The only ruin she recognized was to be without him. He understood that sentiment better in this moment than any other of his life. He could survive knowing Anna had sinned against him, just as Vera had done so much during his first marriage, if only he could have her back in his life.

"I do not believe Anna could ever be unfaithful to me. But if by some chance she has, if something happened and she succumbed to some desire for more than a crippled old man-"

"Mr. Bates," the housekeeper interrupted disapprovingly.

"-I cannot blame her. I cannot and I will not. And she need not fear that I would be angry at her or that I would divorce her. You see, Mrs. Hughes, I know what a lucky man I am. I know that when Anna married me, I received more happiness than I could ever possibly deserve. If she still wants me, nothing else matters. And if she doesn't want me... if she's found happiness elsewhere and is only tortured by the commitment she made to me-"

He'd let her go. Of course he would. How could he trap her with him, miserable and frightened? Even if it crushed his life into dust to lose her, the selfishness of keeping her in a marriage she detested-

"Anna was raped."

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Mrs. Hughes' words fell on him like great mill stones and the breath was instantly driven from his body.

Raped.

The explanation which Bates' mind had been unwilling to actually voice finally began screaming at him. He'd been hoping it was adultery, he realized suddenly. That Anna had chosen the forbidden act, despite it being completely contrary to her nature, was preferable to what Mrs. Hughes had just revealed. He could have lived with her kissing another man, perhaps even loving another man. But to know she'd been forced?

Bates knew Anna would never have betray her vows to him, not willingly. Instead his wife had endured a cruel violation of both her body and soul. And in her guilt and despair, she'd been pushing him away ever since. Some part of him had known it was as bad as this all along, considering the bruises on her face that night, but he hadn't been able to face it until now.

"How..." he began, but found himself momentarily unable to speak.

"It was the last night of the house party," Mrs. Hughes revealed quietly. "I returned from the concert to find her in my sitting room. I helped her clean up. I tried to get the doctor but she wouldn't let me. She didn't want anyone to know, including you, Mr. Bates."

"She told me she fell."

How foolish that sounded to his own ears. He thought about the bruises and her cut lip, the injuries almost overshadowed by her changed demeanor. Obviously, Anna was hurt in the attack. She'd likely fought back, screamed for help. But with everyone upstairs at the concert, no one would have heard her cries.

His eyes slammed shut at the image of Anna, terrorized and alone, calling out for him while he sat upstairs enjoying the music.

Pushing aside his own feelings, he ground out the question, "Who was it?"

Mrs. Hughes hesitated before answering, "I don't know. I have my suspicions, but she wouldn't tell me. She didn't tell you about the attack because she thought if you found out who did it, you'd kill the man. And with your history with the law, a judge would not be lenient."

The flow of logic sounded so much like Anna that he could hardly breath. "She's protecting me. That's why she's kept her distance?" he demanded, his body shaking with anger and pain for his wife.

"'Better a broken heart than a broken neck,'" Mrs. Hughes confirmed, and it sounded as though she was quoting Anna. "But beyond that, she feels... soiled by what happened, as though she's now unworthy of you."

The thought of Anna ever in this life being unworthy of him was so foreign a concept that Bates could barely wrap his mind around it. But he had seen the victims of this atrocious crime before, while he was in the army. He'd seen the shame they carried despite it not being their fault. Beyond the horrible act of forced intimacy, the victim had to face not only the doubts and recriminations of anyone they told, but of their own fragile psyches.

And now Anna...

"I shouldn't have left Downton."

"No, you shouldn't have," Mrs. Hughes agreed.

"I'll go back straight away. Does she know you've come here?"

The housekeeper shook her head. "No, she'd be horrified if she knew. And I suspect she'll hate me when she finds out I've told you."

"You say that you don't know who did it, Mrs. Hughes, but you suspect a man. You think it was Mr. Green, don't you?"

Bates could not hear the anger in his own voice, but he saw its effect on the woman along with his guess. "You know I can't say-"

"Did she tell you who it was?"

"No, she never specifically told me."

"If it was Green, he's a dead man."

Mrs. Hughes admonished, "This attitude is exactly the reason Anna didn't tell you. I know you're upset, Mr. Bates - that's perfectly understandable - but she needs you now. She needs your understanding and your patience. The last thing she needs is for you to go off on a vendetta and die in a hangman's noose."

Bates wished he was a better man. He wished that he could push aside the murderous impulses rising up inside of him. But the thought of someone hurting Anna - precious, sweet Anna, who rarely had a cross word for anyone - made his blood boil and tinted his vision red with hatred. She deserved justice, but Bates knew as well as anyone how unlikely that would be, not for this sort of crime. Rape was difficult to prove, and Green would likely argue that it had been consensual. While Anna's injuries proved otherwise, he doubted she'd make it through a trial.

So instead of justice, Bates would make sure she had vengeance. He was a patient man, and his time in prison had taught him much about how these things were done. Anna would not need to worry about him being caught.

"I understand, Mrs. Hughes."

He and Mrs. Hughes arrived on the last train from London, Bates having quit his job at the tavern and left the boarding house with all due haste. His landlady had screamed at him about giving no notice, and he'd happily ignored the woman.

A car was waiting to take them back to Downton. While Mrs. Hughes had given him frequent glances on the train, they had been rather silent traveling companions, for which he was grateful. His own thoughts so preoccupied him that he forgot the housekeeper was even there.

He went up to see Lord Grantham as soon as they arrived at the house. He found Thomas filling in for him as valet and dressing His Lordship for bed.

"Look what the cat dragged in," the under butler muttered at Bates' appearance.

"Bates!" Lord Grantham greeted him more warmly. "You've returned. Is everything settled, then?"

"I hope so, milord." He gave an obvious glance at Thomas before speaking more, and taking the hint, the Earl dismissed the younger man.

"Clearly you have found out the problem. Can you tell me what it is?" Lord Grantham asked.

"No, milord. I'm afraid it is of a delicate nature and not my secret to tell."

Grantham nodded gravely, perhaps understanding too much.

"Will you be able to resume your duties straight away?"

"That is my hope. But first I must check on Anna."

"You mean you haven't seen her yet? Well, what are you waiting for, man?"

TBC