John bolted the door to the cottage and set the small lamp on the table as Anna went to put the kettle on. The two had made small talk about the starry, inky sky above the frosted February grounds and Master George's growing interest in politics during the easy stroll home, not wanting to discuss private matters for the cool night breeze and anyone who might also be strolling in it to hear.

"Well that was quite a surprise, wasn't it?" Anna said brightly when she heard the chink of the bolt.

"The end of Downton or Mrs. Hughes suggesting you be Housekeeper?"

"Both really." Anna faced John with a sigh. "I can't take Mrs. Hughes' job. She needs to stay as long as she's able."

"It was kind of her to make sure we'd be looked after," John said as he removed his outdoor wear.

Anna joined him at the coat rack.

"But she needn't worry about us. We've got plans." The corners of Anna's mouth stretched upward smugly.

"Plans we've been putting off for quite some time." John's eyes shone.

"And suppose they release all the valets and ladies maids and keep just the housekeeper?" Anna said rather contemptuously.

"But suppose she and Mr. Carson retire together?" John smiled mischievously as he took his seat at the cozy table.

"What, so those two get to ride off into the sunset while you, me, and Mrs. Patmore get stuck cleaning and running the whole of Downton by ourselves, is that it?" Anna took her seat opposite him in the intimate bronze glow. "Or are you suggesting it be me, Mrs. Patmore, and Mr. Molesley?" she teased. They listened to the wind lightly call its greetings from outside the door.

"Are you alright with it?" Anna's forehead creased.

"I am much more than alright as long as I have you," John reached for her hand across the table. "And there are certain… limitations… of life in service." He stroked her thumb.

Anna returned his sultry look with a coy smile, but this conversation wasn't quite over.

"Do you think she asked Miss Baxter? I dare say she and Mr. Molesley won't want to be separated." Anna was amused.

"I wonder why they don't make it official." John looked thoughtful as he searched his memories for something Molesley might've mentioned.

"I think the poor man is afraid to acknowledge having something good in his life. Afraid that if he does, it'll disappear."

"How very sad." But John knew it was true.

"Did you suspect?" Anna asked when the whistle of the kettle brought the two out of their reverie.

"I don't think there's much left to 'suspect' where Molesely and Miss Baxter are concerned." John gave an embarrassed cough.

Anna giggled. "No, silly. I mean about Downton." She clarified with a note of seriousness. Leaving the tea to steep, she returned to the table.

"Lord Grantham did mention something rather coded several times. But I thought he was referencing raising goats or selling furniture or cars or… I never thought they'd lose it all." His eyelids fluttered in disbelief.

"And poor Mr. Carson. How could he not have known?" Anna's heart melted at the thought of what he must be feeling.

"He'll be as put out as the Crawleys when this is all finished. He takes such pride in his work."

Anna shook her head as she stood.

"Whatever will they do?"

The floor creaked grumpily, as though it would rather she were asleep at this time of night instead of plodding across it making tea. A tingling happiness took hold in Anna's core as she collected two of the blue-flowered cups and saucers from the set passed down from John's mother. The sensation bubbled and grew, sending excitement and joy in golden waves through her heart and to the tips of her fingers and toes like internal, hopeful sunlight.

Her hands may have been pouring tea, but Anna's mind was gazing at a perfect, quaint cottage inn on the corner across from an equally quaint pub with an aromatic bakery next door in a charming hamlet near a river. Everything was perfect, surreal even, the way that future's promises are always picturesque through the rose-colored glasses of hope.

Anna was absolutely giddy by the time she'd plopped back down in her seat.

"I feel I should be more upset about this, but I just can't manage it. Not when I know I'm going to be happy with you."

John hadn't seen such a youthful, gleeful glow from his wonderful wife in many years. He smiled as he remembered their very first late night they'd dreamed of the future, their shared future together.

"We'll have to be more reserved about our joy whilst around the others."

"Yes," Anna sighed. "I suspect we will."

She pulled her chair close and leaned over the table until the steam floating up from her tea wound its way around her cheekbones.

"We've got plans to make, you and I." But her eyes suggested a plan that would make them happier in the more immediate future.

"I thought we already had plans." He leaned in to meet her eye level, his lips only inches from hers. "You and I."

"Remind me then." She straightened and sipped her tea, keeping a pleasant, unblinking gaze locked with her husband. She sat as expectantly as a child awaiting a favorite bedtime story.

"Right now," John smiled at her insistence, "My plans are to share a lovely cup of tea with my wonderful wife. In the morning, I and my wonderful wife will tell our employers we plan to leave as soon as we can get settled elsewhere. I shall then visit with those same employers about a possible day off for looking at prospective inns." John took a moment to enjoy his tea.

"Where should we go?" Anna brimmed with excitement.

"With all Thomas's talk about the slump, you'd think England was as bad off as Germany or America, but he's got it wrong. We'll be fine so long as we avoid the mining towns."

"But I reckon Alfred might be right in that letter to Daisy. I really do relish the idea of staying near everyone, staying here, but I think we'd better head south."

"Do you know… We may have enough saved to buy an inn without selling the house, a modest inn at least."

"And we could keep renting. In case business is a slow start."

"You've read my mind," he sighed.

"Good. Now maybe you can read mine." Leaving the half-finished tea still steaming on the table, Anna gracefully stood, caressed her lover's hand with both her own, and led him to the first of many good things ahead.


A/N - I'll freely admit I have a little trouble writing Bates because I don't understand him as well. In the actual show (S4), he keeps surprising me. (Polite for I'm currently finding Fellowes' writing of him a little inconsistent.) And of course, prison does change a person. But I very much enjoyed who Bates was in S1, and I felt that character was consistent, so that's the version of Bates in this story.