A/N: There's a little bit of a departure from the fluff in this chapter - I'm sorry! But I'm not as bad as Fellowes, and if you keep reading, I hope you'll enjoy. And the fluff quota is still fairly high...
Taking in the sizeable kitchen, John was more than a little dumbfounded at the sight before him. In all the times he'd set foot in there, which, granted, had not been all that many, he was sure he had never seen it in such a state. In the space of just an hour, in his absence, the place had been completely upturned. He could hardly make anything out through the clouds of flour that circulated in the air, getting at the back of his throat. The scene looked suspiciously like the entire contents of the pantry and cupboards had exploded all at once; there were eggshells scattered upon the floor, spoons leaving a trail of splodgy mixture across the counter. It was all such a mess, and, indirectly, of his own doing. He steeled himself just thinking of Mrs Patmore's reaction, hearing her shrieks and bellows ringing in his ears from miles away.
At the centre of the chaos, two little figures stood, one taller than the other even though they were both stood perched upon chairs to reach the worktop. The eldest held the bowl in her dainty fingers, tongue sticking out in concentration as the mixture slowly poured into the tray, while the youngest was far more taken by drawing patterns in the flour that dusted the surface, equally fascinated. Any anxiety he held melted away as he watched them; his two crafty, marvellous daughters. His heart overflowed with joy to see how much they were coming on, every second of every day, every little thing they did filled with wonder and delight. The wide smile fit perfectly on his features, betraying the slightly stern expression he was trying to portray, and nearly erupted into a laugh as the tin clattered and wobbled precariously on top of the counter.
"Be careful, girls; we mustn't make too much of a mess, it isn't our house."
"Oh, they're fine, Mr Bates. We've seen much worse before, I can assure you."
Daisy swept over from the other side of the room, balancing trays in her arms that she settled onto the table with ease before going back round to where the girls were. She took the bowl from Eleanor's hands and smiled brightly down at the little girl's searching face, stopping to quickly retie her apron before she cradled it in her arms.
"Oh Eleanor, you've done ever so well with such a heavy bowl. Now, if you keep hold of that spoon, you can make it all nice and smooth as I pour."
It was astounding, really; that this girl who was once as timid as a mouse was now a confident, fully-fledged kitchen assistant, second-in-command only to the stalwart cook. John smiled to see how much she had blossomed, and how good she was with the girls.
"If you're sure, Daisy. I wouldn't want them to cause more trouble for you, not when you have so much to do already."
There was a heavy thud, and John winced to discover that Alice had sent a half-full bag of flour spilling out over the counter. A heavy sigh escaped him, but Daisy only let out a chortle.
"They're no trouble at all, Mr Bates," she assured, scooping handfuls back into the bag and swiping a cloth over the remnants that remained. "It's lovely to have them here, they're my little helpers. I think with this one we might have a future cook on our hands." She glanced at Eleanor, still looking so intent and determined as she patted the mix smooth in the tray. "But really, it's a joy having them about. You should bring them more often, we'd all be so pleased."
John gave a warm, gracious smile to Daisy, his eyes crinkling softly as he regarded the pair of them, looking as much at home as they were in the cottage. They didn't make too much of a habit of bringing the girls to Downton Abbey. If he knew things would be relatively quiet, Anna would drop by with them for a couple of hours, which never seemed long enough, and on special occasions and every now and then Mrs Hughes would insist that they come and visit. If it had been a while, she'd complain that soon enough they'd be as tall as Alfred and she'd be too old to coddle them properly.
Whenever they were there, they were fussed half to death and spoilt something rotten. Daisy would sneak them biscuits from a freshly baked batch before they'd had their dinner; Jimmy sat them at the piano and let them run riot on the keys for what seemed like hours, a series of lightly tuneless notes flooding out, and even Miss O'Brien wouldn't roll her eyes quite as much as usual. If they were especially well-behaved, and even if they weren't as much as they could be, Mr Carson promised to take them on a tour of the house. When he was sure that the family wouldn't be disturbed, he'd clutch a little hand either side of him and lead the girls off, regaling them with all sorts of fascinating stories in his deep timbre.
They'd been due a trip lately anyway, but John couldn't have been more relieved at the timing and the fact that the house wasn't too far of a way to go. In the past week, its welcoming walls and the faces within had been his saviour, even if he was feeling guilty that he may have been relying on its services a little too much, services that were piled on top of those it was built to perform.
He sighed, shaking his head. There was even less reason for him to berate himself now, though the instinct still crept in. Anyway, they couldn't have very well used their own kitchen to bake a special, surprise cake for Anna. That would have defeated the object entirely, especially as she would have guessed what was happening on catching even the slightest whiff of ingredients in the air. Also, the girls wouldn't have been able to reach their full potential pottering about in that tiny room – or otherwise, would have wreaked twice the havoc in the preparation.
Smiling wider, John kept attentive gaze on his daughters, still absolutely amazed by all they did, their simple but unbelievable presence in the world. It seemed only days ago since they were babies, newly arrived into their lives, and they could only wonder at the possibilities of who and what they would become. Time had gone so fast, slipped through his fingers. Eleanor was now five and seven months, and Alice had turned four. Both had very distinct personalities, which were clear for all to see even as they stood here, captured in a relatively quiet moment. Keeping her eyes firm upon the full tray, inspecting its contents carefully, Eleanor showed herself to be quite the perfectionist. Everything always had to be just right for her, and the same went for everyone else around. She was so precise, poring over the recipe and measuring everything out as needed, following Daisy's instructions to the letter. She had not been too pleased when Alice had got distracted in stirring in the milk and seized the spoon, bossing her slightly bemused little sister to take notice. That was for all of a minute, when soft-heartedness struck her once more and she threw her arms around her younger sibling, cuddling her tight, before wiping away the bits of flour that had somehow landed in Alice's dark brown curls and smeared on her rosy cheeks. Eleanor did like to be another mother to Alice, and would occupy herself with fussing over her. All the while, Alice remained largely oblivious to her sister's cosseting, wrapped up in a distant daydream. Her saucer eyes were set and an expression beyond her years planted on her face, so thoughtful as she watched Daisy begin to make delicate flowers from sugar paste. She could often be found in her own little world, at once away with the fairies and then far more contemplative, and was much more interested in being artistic than exact. Her button nose screwed up and one little hand reached out, as the other continued to swirl flour around on the countertop. Daisy grinned, and placed a little blob into her palm. Alice stared at it for a while, then fashioned a rather messy looking flower made up of two petals.
"That will have to go right in the middle," Daisy said. Alice's head flew up, curls bouncing around her ears and her eyes shone expectantly towards her father. John's own eyes grew even warmer as he nodded enthusiastically towards his youngest daughter, his mirror image, his pride and joy. Alice beamed a big smile, looking thoroughly pleased with her creation. John had to watch that she didn't topple from her throne.
"Okay girls, it's all done. You've done such a fantastic job. Now we just have to put it in the oven and wait for it to bake." Two pairs of sparkling eyes followed Daisy's movements as she lifted the tin up, away, and placed it into the open door. "It'll be ready in no time at all, and then you can take it home to show your mummy."
"Do you think she'll like it, Daddy?" Eleanor's voice was high and almost breathless with excitement as she craned her head around to look at John, when the as-yet unbaked cake was closed behind the door.
"Oh, she'll love it," John answered, clasping an arm around the little girl's waist, snuggling her into his embrace as he hoisted her from the stool. "Chocolate cake is her absolute favourite."
"Mine too," Eleanor chimed, giggling at her father while she was still in the air, held against him. John placed her securely on the tiles of the floor, then reached out to his other daughter who had already put her arms out in anticipation to be lifted.
"And she's going to love it even more knowing it was made by her favourite people in the whole wide world."
He swung Alice about in his arms, making her squeal with laughter, eliciting another chuckle when he stopped and lightly pressed a finger to the tip of her nose, before settling her down next to her sister.
"Now, you be good, keep a watch and stay here with Daisy. I'm going to go home and see Mummy, but I'll be back to see how well the cake looks in a little while."
Eleanor frowned a little, feet scuffing against the floor. "Can't I go with you while Alice watches, Daddy? I want to see Mummy too." Her little lips were set into a pout, and John wondered how his little darling had grown quite so quickly.
"Listen to your daddy, Eleanor. Your mummy needs a bit of peace and quiet," Daisy piped up from the other side of the kitchen. John nodded a silent thanks in her direction as he watched his eldest daughter fold up her arms with a bit of exasperation and a lot of fondness. He unhooked his cane from one of the chairs at the table, picked up his hat and coat, kissing both of the girls on their cheeks before he headed for the doorway.
"Mr Bates."
He turned around to see Daisy wearing a pensive half-smile, twisting a dishcloth around in her hands.
"Give Anna our love. We're all thinking of her."
His gaze turned instantly sorrowful, but he managed to smile back, nodding towards her again.
"Thank you, Daisy. I will. And thank you again for looking after the girls. We both appreciate it very much."
Daisy simply smiled a little bashfully, swatting the air lightly with the towel. John headed from the doorway of the kitchen out into the hallway, sighing with each hurried step he took, anxious not to be held up and spend a minute longer than he need away from his wife.
Stepping from the threshold of the grand house, he was immediately greeted by a fresh, pleasant breeze sweeping against him and the hazy sun warming his face as it fought to shine from behind the threaded clouds. Making his way steadily down the first of several paths that wound back to the little enclave of cottages standing on the edge of Downton's estate, John couldn't fail to notice the pink and white blossoms fluttering upon the green branches, with a few tender buds being shaken to the ground. Spring had arrived only days ago, and today was a day that made the heart sing. A day where the light seemed to fall brighter upon every corner and crevice, making all small things magnified and magnificent, and when everything around burst brilliantly to life.
On days like this, not even those with the cloudiest outlooks could doubt that this world was quite a wonderful place to be. Yet, John acknowledged, it remained perennially glorious for him now, sunshine staying with him throughout the harshest, darkest depths of winter. His rays of light were everlasting, there to wake him with excitable leaps and near-suffocating embraces each morning and to cleanse him with soothing caresses and heavenly kisses every evening. They were what warmed him, sustained him, gave to him eternal joy. Seasons were entered and ushered out, years had passed, and all of them had been filled with such perfect happiness, more than he ever imagined. Every ounce he felt was all thanks to those two gorgeous little girls, who made his world shine brighter with each hour of each day, and his beautiful, amazing, absolutely remarkable wife, who he loved and cherished with everything he had, still astounded that she should have chosen to share her life with him, and to bring new life into the world with him. It was a life that only years ago he thought he would never know, and at times he could hardly believe that he did now.
While he lived so utterly and completely content every waking minute, Anna did the very same beside him. He was the first to notice when she was troubled in any way, through more unfortunate past experience than he wished was true, and some time ago her smiles had begun to falter and her eyes look a little distant each time he gazed into them. Without her having to say the words, John knew what the matter was. Alice had not long had her second birthday, and Anna expressed her wish for another child, confessing that she was a little surprised she had not fallen again sooner. While he shared that sentiment, John was quite happy with things as they stood. He considered himself the most blessed man on the earth to have their daughters, thinking for so long that he would never be a father. More than anything else, they were all blessed to have Anna; for as long as she was there by his side it was quite impossible for him to ask for anything more, the most precious thing already having been granted to him so many years previous. Yet the hint of sadness he glimpsed every time he looked at her made him ache so intensely, with every fibre of his being. He knew that Anna longed for another baby, and had done so for some while. She herself was one of three, and thought it was a very good number of children to make up a family. It was beyond him to even think of refusing; he would do anything she desired, without hesitating for a heartbeat. It was only all that she deserved, for her love and unwavering faith and loyalty to be returned to her after everything he had made her endure for all the time she had waited to be with him. Her happiness was his main priority in life, and he would strive to do all that was possible to ensure she savoured it in abundance.
Weeks and months went by without sign, and as time turned longer, hope began to fade too. They didn't stop trying, increasing their efforts even more than was usual, making the most of every spare moment they could grasp in the day. Yet all seemed fruitless as they came to nothing. Each time Anna's cycle arrived once more, he could see the embers burn out within her and his own heart hung heavy with sadness, as he too had become enthusiastic about the prospect of another child in the house, in their lives. He tried to push the thought from his mind, keep the optimism that Anna had taught him to believe in all these years, but it remained echoing: perhaps it simply was not meant to be. Lying with her in his arms in the dark that sheltered them both, he held her closer, whispered assurances that he wasn't completely sure were true and declarations of love that could never be denied. He felt the wisps of her hair brush against his shoulder, her cheek pressed firm to his neck. He sensed the wetness upon his skin before he heard her quiet sobs, and all he could do was hold her and silently curse himself for letting her suffer yet again.
For months he walked under a cloud, until one afternoon when he arrived home, being dismissed by his Lordship after a quiet morning. He was nearly knocked from his feet as he got through the door by his wife who had ran out into the hall as soon as she heard the sound, a bright smile upon her face and the light he had missed the true sight of for so long shining in her eyes. His smile in reply to her was at first reticent; surely, it couldn't be true. She had been a little out of sorts recently, and he had dared to hope, but they had both come to realise that hope was so very fragile. The words that flew from her in a burst as she wrapped her arms around his neck made him sing with joy. That morning she had been to see Doctor Clarkson, and he had confirmed it: that she was pregnant. In a second, the world grew larger and simultaneously shrunk to fit inside their little hallway, holding only the both of them. With elation and ardour and tenderness, he met her lips with his, and the tears that spilled onto him were ones of pure happiness, mingling with his own that had started to fall against her.
By all accounts, it was an ideal pregnancy. Anna sailed through it with absolute ease, it being the best one out of the three she had experienced. It was a relief for everything to have gone so smoothly, considering that Anna was now regarded as an older mother. The girls were both old enough to understand what was happening, that they would soon have a brother or sister that they could help take care of and play with. John adored to see them each evening, huddled either side of Anna on the settee at the fireplace, eyes wide and sparkling as they watched intently, as Anna talked to them softly and patted her growing belly. She was more radiant than he had ever seen her, and grew more breathtaking every day. He was completely entranced by her, as she sat with their daughters, as she lay next to him in their bed, bathed in moonlight. Lost in eternal dreams of her, he started when she took his hand in hers gently and guided it to land upon the swell of her stomach. No sooner had the tips of his fingers braced the fabric of her nightgown was there a swift thump against them. He turned his head to catch sight of Anna's beaming smile and mirrored it upon his lips, a warmth rushing over him. A miracle, which he was in the midst of. Nothing could have made him happier.
"I love you," he whispered. "The both of you."
Her smile said all that he needed to know.
It was a week ago when he came home a little later than usual, when the now-shortening night had been long past entering. The rooms downstairs were in darkness and everything was silent, which was unusual but not unexplainable; perhaps Anna, being weary, had retired to bed early. Hanging his coat on the hook, he placed a foot softly upon the staircase, and not a moment later heard his name call out in a wavering cry. His stomach sunk to the floor instantly, and he rushed up the stairs at a speed he hadn't known he was still capable of. The sight was one which would be burned into him for the rest of his days.
Anna, slumped on the tiles of the bathroom, white knuckles clutching to the edge of the bath, her legs splayed awkwardly as though she had been left paralysed in that position. He could see that there was blood coming from her, trickling from her thighs onto the floor. The bolt of pain shooting through his leg became nothing as he crouched down to her, taking her face into his hands. It took her a few seconds to look at him, her breath hitching. When she was fully aware of his presence beside her, she grasped one of her hands to his forearm, and John could feel it trembling wildly against his suit jacket.
"It's going to be fine. Believe me. Everything will be fine."
He caressed her shaking cheek in his palm, tilting her head gently to look into her face. Catching glimpse of her eyes, locking them with his, he nodded repeatedly. He saw her swallow hard, her gaze not leaving him, and then slowly she began to reciprocate his action, falling into a rhythm that he fervently hoped was doing something to reassure her.
John repeated his words like a mantra as he rushed over to Downton Abbey with Eleanor and Alice held tight in his hands, as he travelled back to the cottage in the car that Lord Grantham all but bundled him into to let him take Anna to the hospital, everything that went by a blur as his mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, filled only with thoughts of his wife and their unborn child. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. Please, God, let it be fine, don't let anything happen to them. Please, let her be safe. I don't know what I'd do, my God…His desperate pleas were covered by the comforting look he kept pinned to his face, clasping Anna's hand as she clambered on wobbling legs into the compartment. He kept a careful watch upon her face, craned away from him as if she were too ashamed to look, staring instead unobserving out of the window. He saw even then that the colour was draining fast from her cheeks, and his chest tightened. For a moment, his gaze drifted down to her knees, barely perched upon the seat, set apart a little. A dark red stain soaked deeper onto the leather underneath her. A sickening cold seared through him, and his eyes settled once more upon her face, his hand held fast with hers.
He did not let go until the very last second he had to, as she was led away in a bed down a pale corridor. The cloying scent of medical supplies enveloped, sticking to him and sending him deliriously dizzy. Doctor Clarkson had told him that there would have to be an immediate delivery, even though Anna was not due for another six weeks. The baby was already in danger, having turned into a difficult position. Anna had lost a fair amount of blood. They would do all that was possible to be done…the rest of his words became empty, faded into the distance as blood thundered against John's ears.
He tried his hardest to breathe, to quell the sheer panic that had filled him from head to toe. He needed to be strong, but in all his life, he had never been as frightened. Not when he was being threatened relentlessly by the enemy in the thick of war, not when a damning sentence was weighed upon him in that cold courtroom. All that he had been through, the very worst that could be placed on a man, was made bearable knowing that she was there, with him in spirit and waiting to be with him in body, with all of her heart and soul offered so openly to him. The darkness that had been ready to claim him for years dissolved against her light. His love, his strength, his entire world. To think that he may lose her now, after all they had struggled so long to overcome, with all that they now had…he could not truly comprehend even the thought, but as much as he could made him break. She had always been there with him, long before he had come to know her in life. If she were to leave him alone now, he had no doubt: it would be the end of him. Silently, with tears beginning to stream, he prayed to a God that he did not believe in, to save his life.
Taking a deep breath, John shut the door of the cottage behind him, feeling his heart pound as he ascended the stairs. A queer, yet all too familiar mix of fear and joyful anticipation took a firmer hold of him with each step. Nothing could have gone wrong in the short while he had been away, but he would not be totally assured until he laid eyes on her once more.
He breathed easier as he entered the bedroom and saw her, sitting up against the pillows, her golden waves like a halo around her head. The soft breeze lifted the curtains up lightly from the window and the afternoon sunlight fell upon the bedsheets, then her face. She was still pale but had regained most of her natural flush, and the rays that drifted onto her coloured her quite wonderfully. Thank God, he thought, not for the first time in his life, thank God for her.
He moved without knowing, his feet bound to walk until he was at her side once more. Lowering himself onto the bed beside her, he picked up her hand, closing his eyes in reverence as he left a warm kiss upon the soft skin. Opening them again slowly, he revelled in the look she gave him, her blue irises glowing and the corners of her lips curling softly. He kept his fingers laced with hers as he rested their hands on the bed, wanting and needing to make up for every second that she had had to be without his touch.
"How are you? Are you comfortable? Do you need me to get anything?"
Anna smiled at his questioning, shaking her head a little.
"I'm fine," she replied softly, squeezing the hand that held hers. "A little sore, still, but quite well." He noticed her rub the covers that lay pooled above her stomach. "I'm just so happy to be back here, even if I have slept most of the day. I think I would have gone mad if I'd had to stare at those peeling walls a second longer."
"That reminds me, this could do with a lick of paint. As could all of the rooms." John glanced upwards at the ceiling with thoughtful eyes, his gaze directed back to his wife as he heard her chuckle lightly. "But of course I have bigger priorities at present." He smiled and kissed her hand again, feeling her warmth flood through his veins. "Daisy's looking after the girls, and she said she'd be happy to do so for a couple of hours more, at least, so you can get some more rest, undisturbed."
"Oh, it feels like so long since I've seen them," Anna sighed. "I've missed them so much."
"And they you." The smirk grew on his face as he recalled their daughters dancing about excitedly in the kitchen of Downton before he had left. "I suppose I shouldn't say, but they've been baking a cake for you. I said you wouldn't be able to eat it straight away, but they didn't seem to mind. It's meant to be a surprise."
He looked slightly sheepish as Anna frowned in mock exasperation, before breaking into a wide smile, rubbing her thumb against his knuckles.
"And I shall be surprised."
The grin he gave out made the corners of his eyes crinkle, staying there while he rose from the bed, reluctantly letting his hand fall from hers so he could walk the very short distance to peek into the crib at its side, padded with soft white blankets. His eyes filled as he took in the sight, and he brought up a finger to swipe away the tears before she could notice them there.
"Oh John, she's so tiny," Anna's soft voice fell at his back. "I'm almost afraid to pick her up, in case she might break."
John smiled at her fearful words and the baby that lay sleeping, surrounded by covers and a stuffed bear that seemed almost bigger than her standing guard at her head. She was very small, but perfectly formed and flawless to his eyes, seeming quite content as she took tiny but stable breaths in and out. He touched a couple of fingers delicately to the blanket she lay on, just to the left of her head, and watched happily as she moved round ever so slightly, following his movements in her sleep. There was certainly nothing wrong with her reflexes, or anything else, it seemed.
"What did Doctor Clarkson say about her? She must be doing well to be allowed here."
"He said that as long as she feeds well and regularly, there should be no reason that she shouldn't thrive as she would have done if she had been born later. She's put on a few ounces already, so he said, but I'm not sure I can see it." Her face was clouded with worry as he took it in again. "She's just so early, and so small. I can't help but think it will take a long time."
"Probably not as long as we think," he stated, doing his utmost to sound certain, wanting so much to allay all of his wife's troubles. "She has a lot of strength, already. We know where she gets that from." He smiled knowingly at Anna, always a pillar of strength to him, and was relieved to find her smiling back. "And what about you? Did he say that everything was alright?"
"Yes, I'm on the mend, so you can stop fussing quite so much." She waved her finger at him and then chuckled melodiously. The hunch in his shoulders relaxed to see the ease in her expression. He drunk every bit of her in, carefully committed every hair and beat and breath to his memory, so thankful that she was here and everything had been fine. "Though I shouldn't really complain about it, and I don't. I'm told I need to rest for at least a week or so more, but it's so strange to just be lying here, doing next to nothing. It feels awfully wrong, and very lazy of me." The twinkle that was dancing in her eyes was so irresistible to him.
"Nonsense. You should make the most of it," he chortled at her, settling back down onto the bed and resting his hand upon her thigh over the sheets. "I've spoken to his Lordship and he has agreed to relieve me of my duties for a while, with almost full pay."
Anna took in a sharp breath. "Oh John, you mustn't. There's no need, really."
"There is every need," he affirmed firmly, searching deep in her eyes. "You, along with the girls, are the most important, precious thing in my life, and the only duty that matters to me is that you are cared for absolutely." He fought to keep the shake from sounding in his voice, and shuddered a little when her hand gently laid on top of his. "I don't care about money, or anything else. I care about you." His simple words from so long ago rung truer than ever. "And I intend to be right here, seeing to your every waking want or need, now and always."
Anna's fingers fumbled against his upon the bedsheets, shaking visibly. He dropped his head, caressing her hand attentively, lifting his eyes from the porcelain smoothness of her skin to glimpse her face once more. A lone tear was making its way from her lashes down across her cheek, and she sniffed loudly, shaking her head to the side before she collected enough courage to look at him fully again.
"John," she started, her voice trembling. He had never heard his name uttered with such complete love, and such heartbreaking sorrow. "I'm so sorry. All of this, it was all my fault. I've been so very selfish." The tears started to cascade freely against her face now, the tips of her nose and her ears burning bright red. "When I think of what I put you through, when it was not needed…I just can't believe it. I'm so very sorry. Please forgive me."
The last three words came out as barely a whisper, and he was sure he felt his heart splinter in his chest upon receiving them. His unbelievable, beautiful Anna. As if she should ever have to be sorry to him. Without hesitation, he brought a tender hand up to her face, letting his fingers gently wipe away her hot tears.
"I would never need to forgive you for anything, my love, because you could never be at fault for anything. Not for as long as I am living."
He continued to issue tender caresses, getting rid of most of the moisture upon her face. He leaned into her to allow his lips to remove the remaining traces, tasting salt upon the very tip of his tongue. John could feel Anna inhaling upon the contact, and she moved her head with a slight jerk. Then, his lips were upon hers, moving gently and softly, absorbing her sadness in an achingly sweet kiss.
"And look what we have now," he breathed against her ear. "Another beautiful daughter. She was worth it all. I can't thank you enough, my darling." His heart lifted to feel her smiling against him, the softness of her lips kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth.
Pulling back from one another just a little, they both turned to face the crib where their new baby was kept safe and protected.
"Do you still want to give her the name? I will understand completely if not, if it seems strange to you all things considered."
He had pondered the matter since she had been born so unexpectedly suddenly, but was only getting the chance to voice it now. Not that long ago it seemed, they had discussed names once more, always liking to come to agreement. Anna had said that she would like to give the baby an Irish name, as a nod to his heritage, if he didn't mind. He hadn't at all; in fact, he had been very heartened by it, by her thoughtfulness. She admitted that she didn't know very many, and he began to list ones that he thought likely to meet her approval, leaving out those that only reminded him of unfortunate people and bad memories of his past.
When it came to girls names, there was one that remained stuck in his head, shining above all others. It wasn't accompanied by completely happy memories, but that was of nobody's fault. It was the name that belonged to his only sister, the only daughter of his parents who had been known to them for such a short time, as she had died just hours after being born. He often thought of her, how she would have been. He had wanted a little sister more than anything else, and knew his mother had longed to have been blessed with a daughter to dote on. It was a tragedy that she carried in her heart for the rest of her life, though she loved her boys so very much, hiding the pain and taking it to her grave. As he had recounted the story, for the first time to anyone he was a little surprised to discover, Anna had wept silently. It was a beautiful name, she said, and if they were to have another daughter she would be honoured to grace her with it. It would stand as an honour to her departed grandmother, who would have cherished her so very much.
John kept his eyes upon Anna's face in contemplation and anxiety. A warm smile washed over it.
"I think it should be her name," she said, resolutely. "She is getting stronger, and I don't believe in bad signs, not that it could be one. She already has a guardian angel watching over her, and now she will have another."
He could feel his smile burst as she turned to him, her eyes radiating.
"Besides," she went on, "I can't see her being anything else."
She really was the most amazing woman he had ever known.
"Very well, then," John replied, the delight clear in his voice as he spoke. "Aoife, it is."
As if on cue, a little cry pierced the air.
Not long afterwards, a soft knock landed upon the door, Ivy smiling as she stood on the doorstep, bringing Eleanor and Alice back from Downton. John brought them upstairs, carrying Alice in his arms and letting Eleanor charge in front. Her little hand reached valiantly to grasp the door handle of the bedroom, and both girls let out delighted squeals as they saw Anna, almost deafening to his ears. He bid them be careful, but couldn't refrain from grinning wide to see the girls scrambling up onto the bed, showering their mother in cuddles and kisses. In return, Anna scooped them into her embrace, laughing and smiling, her eyes lighting up and her hands carefully taking the little bunch of purple flowers that Alice clutched and shyly offered. Stroking the petals, Anna admired them, exclaiming how beautiful they were and what a clever daughter she had to know exactly which ones were her favourites, bringing forth a blush and happy giggle from Alice.
Standing at the foot of the bed with a daft smile on his face, John was sure he had never seen a better sight in his life. He would hold it in his head and his heart forever, he was already sure of that much. His two young daughters, so vibrant and growing so fantastically. At the heart of the picture, his stunningly beautiful wife, glowing with pride and unconditional love as she gazed down at their newest addition, little Aoife, as pretty as her namesake had been and already so strong. Her presence had made the bonds between them even stronger, a living testament to prove that they could overcome any battle placed in their path, and she was made from the same stout stuff. A house full of girls. He laughed to himself; a lot to deal with, and with many trials ahead. But he was more than happy to face them, wouldn't change it for the world. In fact, it was all he ever wanted. Anna looked up at him, gracing him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen her wear. Their family was now complete and his life was too. Indeed, the world could not have been a more wonderful place.
A/N: I found various meanings of Aoife - the one I was going for was the meaning of the English form, Eva: 'life'. But it also means 'pleasure'; 'radiant'; 'beauty/beautiful'; 'joyful' - and I think all of these would be applicable to a daughter of Anna and John. (also, in Irish legend, Aoife was a 'warrior princess', apparently, which seems very apt...!)
I'm planning one more chapter, but whether there will be another baby, who can say...?
