4. Destiny
At what point had she known that they were destined to be together?
It certainly hadn't been immediately. There had been no love at first sight, not for her. There had been no butterflies flapping wildly in the stomach, her heart hadn't thumped erratically in her chest, she hadn't grow warm and pleasantly fuzzy all over. She had perhaps been more drawn to him than she should have been right from the beginning, but it had been nothing that she had felt worried over; she was too practical to believe in love at first sight. Despite the unlikeliness of it all, she was his friend. Some of the other servants—particularly Thomas and Miss O'Brien—had scoffed at such a ridiculous notion, but Anna hadn't let that bother her. She'd found the valet to be pleasant and very interesting and much nicer company than the bitter footman and the sour lady's maid.
She hadn't thought that they were destined to be together when she had eventually realised that she was in love with him—something that had come upon her so forcefully and unexpectedly that it had made her head reel. There had been nothing remotely romantic happening at the time for such a thought to be sprung upon her. They had merely been sitting side by side, as they always did, his chair turned slightly towards her and his voice lowered as they'd discussed the latest book that they had both read—Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, much to Mr. Bates' distaste; she would never forget that seemingly minor detail—when his hand had accidently brushed hers as he argued his case by finding the relevant passage, leaning just perceptibly into her. It had barely lasted a few seconds and yet she had found herself memorising the feel of his skin beneath her, the slightly calloused pads of his fingers symbolising a lifetime of hard work, the roughness of his palm. She had found herself holding her breath during that short period of time, the blood inexplicably rushing to her face and making her cheeks glow and, when he'd turned his warm, concerned brown gaze on her and inquired in a quiet, worried voice if she was all right, she had known. Her feelings for him were not simply platonic. She felt so much more than friendliness when he spoke to her. She felt nervous and fumbling when he glanced in her direction, as though her expression was naked and completely open to him.
But she'd known that they weren't destined to be together then. Although he seemed to like her a great deal, Mr. Bates had never given her any signal that he might feel the same way about her. He was much more open with her than he was with any other member of the house and it was rare for him to spend his time with someone other than her, but she hadn't been able to decipher his feelings at all. Mr. Bates had been an enigma to her, someone who she could never quite unravel no matter how hard she tried, and who still held at least a little of himself at a distance despite her efforts to show him that he could trust her with anything.
She hadn't thought they were destined to be together when she had confessed her love for him. If anything, his response had killed a little of the hope inside her. For a few weeks, she had been harbouring the suspicion that he did—finally—seem to be falling for her, and when he had given his veiled speech about Mr. Patrick and Lady Edith, it had all but confirmed her suspicions. Confidence as high as it would ever be in such a situation, she had bided her time and found the perfect opportunity to declare her feelings for him. She'd expected some sort of declaration in return. Not a gentle rebuff. It had knocked her confidence more than she could say. Still, she had dusted herself off and carried on. She had had to. She'd told herself that having him in her life as a friend—even if she was desperately desperately hoping for more—was better than not having him at all.
And then, for a few shining moments after his declaration of love that first time, she had thought that perhaps they really were destined to be together, that fate was shining down upon them and presenting them with the opportunity to make the best of their situation, no matter what else would come. But she had been wrong. Because nothing had seemed certain in those months. There had always been the unwanted question of what would happen if Vera would not consent to a divorce. There had always been the fear of being torn apart, the uncertainty of what they would do if he couldn't ever be free for her. Despite her complete and utter joy at the shift in their relationship, she had been too practical to completely lose her head.
And then, of course, there had been the return of Vera and Mr. Bates' departure, and it had all seemed so hopeless, so doomed. It was as though Fate was laughing at her, jeering at her, mocking her for being stupid enough to believe that they could really make things work between them. Fate had, quite clearly, been telling her that they were certainly not destined to be together, so she should jolly well give up on the idea of a happily ever after.
But she hadn't.
When they had been reunited, it had only served to make her more determined. They were going to be together no matter what happened. Fate could dictate to her that she could not be with him, but she would not stop fighting for their rights until the last breath left her body. Whether it was written in the stars or not, she was going to be Mrs. Anna Bates, and she was going to have a long, happy life with him by her side.
She is still waiting for this to happen. Now, with her husband incarcerated for a crime that he hasn't committed, she is still fighting tooth and nail for that image of their future. Now that she has been promoted to Lady Mary's lady's maid, she has a little more free time on her hands. She does not have to spend the day cleaning whatever rooms need a real going over, merely has to ensure that all of Lady Mary's clothes are in perfect order. So instead of whiling away her hours dusting lampshades, she is able to throw herself into whatever she thinks might help to free her husband. Whether it is feverishly pursuing newspaper reports or doggedly asking anyone who might have the slightest idea of what might have happened, she is determined to be of service in such a vital time. She will not be defeated.
It is not a simple question of destiny, of right and wrong, of what is meant to be. It is a complex myriad of emotions, natural human nature. Why should she invest so much into cosmic superstition and God's will? Surely God won't slight her for choosing to fight for what she wants?
Anna has never believed that they were destined to be together. But that doesn't mean that she won't do everything in her power to make sure that they are.
