Spoilers: Through S1.7

Mr. Carson welcomed Bates into his pantry and closed the door. Mrs. Hughes had given him an assignment, but he had decided that for once, he was not the best man for the job. No, it required a lighter touch. He offered Mr. Bates a glass of port. The valet declined and Carson winced at his stupidity, pouring tea instead.

"Dark days ahead," he rumbled, falling back on the main topic of conversation in the Abbey.

"Indeed," Bates said, sipping his tea.

"Not just for the nation, but in this house. We're going to lose nearly every footman and hallboy and God knows how many of the outside staff." Carson shook his head with regret.

"It has to be done," Bates said tonelessly.

Carson glanced up from studying his teacup's dregs to notice the former soldier's far-off stare. "Of course," he said soothingly and refilled their cups. "We all have our obligations though, no matter where we serve."

The valet remained silent but nodded decisively.

Carson had guessed right by appealing to Bates' sense of duty. Pleased, he continued, "But for the moment, it appears that an unfortunate situation has developed-"

Bates cleared his throat. "Mr. Carson, I can explain-"

Holding up a large hand, the butler stopped him. "It's not your own particular circumstance. It's Tom Branson."

"What's happened?"

"Mrs. Hughes is concerned that he's developed a tendre for Lady Sybil."

Bates didn't look surprised, making Carson clench his jaw. Had the manservant heard something from Anna, but they had kept it from he and Mrs. Hughes?

He answered the question before Carson could ask. "Young Branson is not one to hide his feelings," said Bates with a slight smile.

"I had not noticed this attachment," huffed Carson.

Bates' smile turned bittersweet. "Perhaps I just know the signs better than you."

This was just the opening for which Carson had been looking. "That's why I've asked you here."

"What can I do to help?" asked Bates.

"Have a chat with Branson."

"A chat?" The valet shifted in his chair, stretching his bad leg out.

"About the futility of his feelings."

Bates drained his cup and clanked it on the saucer with a sense of finality. "I'm sure he's aware of that."

Carson peaked his fingertips and glowered from under his heavy brow. "If he is, it's not stopping him. I need to you convince him. You realize that he can lose his position over this."

"Am I the right person?" Bates focused on his boot's tip as though it was the most fascinating thing in the room.

"I could do it, but it would be as hearing a lecture from the headmaster. Remember how we tuned those out?" said Carson.

Glancing at the butler, Bates nodded warily.

"Think of yourself as that favorite tutor with whom a lad could comfortably confide," suggested Carson, smiling convincingly.

"I can try-" Bates hauled himself up from the chair. "But I'm not making any promises."


Anna and Mrs. Hughes planned a small fete for Gwen leaving the Abbey, but it quickly expanded to include all the other staff members joining the services. As the housekeeper grimly pointed out, there would be little time and resources for parties in the future and they should take the opportunity in the present.

It was arranged for late in the day, after the Crawleys had an early supper and was set in the lower gardens so not to disturb the family. The Earl came down to say a few reassuring words to all the young men and few women preparing to leave. Matthew Crawley arrived from the village dressed in his new uniform to also give encouragement. He would leave for officer training soon as well. Mary did not join the gathering.

Tom Branson stayed on the periphery of the crowd. He had no interest in answering questions about how soon he was joining up and then to hear the reaction to his answer. Now John Bates was bearing down on him. That gentleman had always been willing to calmly discuss Branson's politics, not like Mr. Carson or Thomas; he had Irish blood in him after all, and although he'd attend the Church of England services with the other servants, had a St. Christopher's medal on his watchchain fob. But he was a former soldier-

"Good evening, Mr. Branson," Bates said.

"Evening," Tom said shortly.

"Going to stay for the fireworks?" the valet asked.

"My mate is putting them on. I offered to help; given my expertise," Branson said. Both men chuckled.

Bates nodded toward the great dark bulk of the Abbey on the dim horizon. "His lordship and Mr. Crawley have gone back to the big house. They'll miss the show."

"Right, they glad-handed everyone and cleared out," Tom said, still belligerent.

The older man only smiled at his cheek. "Which means we can have our fun now." He motioned toward the wooden platform lit by flickering lanterns. "Dancing is starting soon. You'll have to take a whirl."

Branson shrugged. "Not likely."

"Many a lovely maid," pointed out Bates.

Squinting at him, Tom said slowly, "I hadn't noticed."

"You're too young not to notice pretty girls anymore." Bates' friendly grin took any sting from his words.

Understanding dawned for Branson. "Just so long as it's not one particular pretty girl," he suggested grimly.

The valet leaned on his cane but still loomed over the shorter man. "There are rules of service," he said patiently, "and one is you can notice, but never show that you have."

Tom crossed his arms tightly. "Has Lord Grantham put you on me?"

"If his lordship had any sniff of this, the three of us would be going for a long walk down a dark lane," Bates said, his tone gentle and it took a moment for his meaning to sink in for Tom. "But as it is, I'm speaking to you now, man to man..." His smile became self-deprecating. "Let me just say that I'm offering you the benefit of my hard-earned experience."

The tension eased from Tom's stance. "You fallen for an upper stairs girl, Mr. Bates?"

"God, no." His dignified shudder suggested that he found the idea preposterous. "They're too much much work by half. Can't even buckle their own shoes."

Tom bit back a reply. The dancers had taken to the tiny platform and their stamping feet shook the timbers. Bates turned to face him. "But I can tell you this. If you truly hold a woman in great esteem, you would be willing to do anything for her-"

"Of course," insisted Tom.

Bates started watching the dancers. His voice became rough. "And that means to give her up if necessary. Sacrifice all your feelings and dreams for her future."

Fighting his protests, Tom looked at the revelry too. Mrs. Patmore pranced with a brave and hearty gardener. Daisy, barely reaching William's shirt's middle button, was doing a dignified jig. Anna spun in the arms of the head groom, a strapping fellow with curly black hair. But her gaze found the two men standing off to the side and her smile widened.

Tom saw that Bates was returning the smile, causing his own grin to form. But when the older man glanced his way, he schooled his features to disinterest.

"But what if her future should include you?" Branson argued.

Rocking on his feet, Bates said, "I was a young man once myself. Thought that I was in love. She was a dark lass such as Lady Sybil, laughed at my every word, and it all seemed so simple."

"Did you marry her?" Branson asked, surprised at the depth of emotion in the valet's usually controlled manner.

"Yes." Bates was watching the dancers again. Anna was passing from hand to hand of hallboys in an improvised reel.

Tearing himself away, he pinned Tom with his intense gaze. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Branson admitted his confusion with a shrug.

Clearing his throat, Bates stated: "As I said, I was a young man once... With a young man's needs."

Branson flushed. "Mr. Bates, I admire Lady Sybil greatly. It's not about needs."

Bates gave an uncomfortable sigh. "Good," he finally said.

"Fireworks are going to start soon," Branson said, changing the topic quickly. "I better head over to give Gregory a hand with that." His relieved smile flashed in the darkness.

"Good evening then," said Bates, his voice distant. "I think I'll head to bed."


Joseph Moseley waited at the edge of the dance floor as Anna and Gwen finished foxtrotting together, then collapsed in giggles. A waltz was struck up by the rag-tag orchestra.

"May I have this dance?" he asked Anna.

She and Gwen exchanged smiles, but she accepted his hand. As they moved around the floor, a prescribed six inches between their bodies, she chatted pleasantly about the party and weather, but he could never turn the conversation to a more personal bend.

He'd been watching her all evening and she'd never given any chap more than one dance. The beau that Mr. Bates seemed to know about had not made an appearance. Joseph had been thinking on this since his conversation with the valet during the garden party. Without a public understanding, it seemed to him that Anna Smith was still available. After all, just because a bloke was keen on a girl didn't mean she reciprocated those feelings. He certainly knew that from experience.

He was feeling well settled in the Crawley household and the Dowager Countess had assumed him that he would not be called up. Perhaps this man interested in Anna would leave for the war, giving him an open field...

As the music ended, Anna thanked him for the dance but she was already looking around as if seeking another partner.

"It's such warm evening," he garbled. "Would you care for some punch?"

"Oh, no thank you-" Before he could think of what to say next, she'd slipped into the crowd. She exchanged greetings with friends, but seemed to have a purpose as she left the party-makers behind and strode across the lush lawn toward the folly, a black form against the night sky.

After a moment's hesitation, he followed, keeping his distance. He had no definite plan to confront her lover. He just simply wanted to know who it was and would then decide if pursuing Anna was worth a shot.

A boom of a fireworks burst over the pond, lighting the water bright red. Anna's pace quickened. She was approaching a large figure in the shadow of a willow at the water's edge.

Moseley stopped, sinking deeper into the shadows himself. Years of service had taught him how to stand completely still and silent, to the point where his betters forgot he was there. He used that skill now.

"Mr. Bates, why are you off here by yourself?" asked Anna.

The valet started. "Thought I'd head back to the house," he replied. "Can't dance, after all."

Another rocket exploded and the sky went green and blue. He trembled and Anna grabbed his hand. "What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Seems to be something." She stroked his dark sleeve, still holding his hand.

"I'm just being silly," he grumbled.

When another flare went off, she dared to tug him closer. "Not at all," she said soothingly.

"You should get back to the others." He motioned to the bright lights by the refreshments' tables. "Enjoy the show."

"I can see it here," she said.

"I'm not fun though," he lamented.

"Let me be the judge of that."

After a long moment of silence, Bates lifted her pale fingers to his lips, brushing them lightly. "Thank you," he murmured.

She breathed: "You know that I would do anything for you—"

He placed her hand gently at her side and stepped back. "No, Anna, it's not right. I'm a married man. I shouldn't be sullying you in this way—"

Moseley gasped, but the couple was too focused on each other to notice.

Anna placed her hands on her hips and glared up at Bates. "It pleases me to be in your company. I need to be with you; you're not sullying me—"

Of all things, he laughed and she looked more furious. "Don't you mock me, Mr. Bates—"

He held up his hands. "No, no; I'm laughing at myself. Just a bit ago, I was trying to convince someone that I'm a mature man who's left any such needs behind—"

She folded her arms and tossed her head back, her good humor returned. "Perhaps you have, Mr. Bates, but I haven't."

He met her challenge with a wide grin; such an open expression as Moseley had never seen him give.

"I will not make that mistake again."

"What mistake is that?"

"To forget your needs," he said, low.

Her defiance dissolved and she dropped her face, a shy girl again. Bates stepped closer, and the maid's bright light, all pale skin and glowing hair, was swallowed in his dark bulk. Moseley breathing felt trapped in his throat.

Bates was shuddering and it wasn't from the pounding fireworks. Grasping one of his hands again, Anna clutched it close.

"We can't..." Bates whispered urgently, even though he didn't seem aware of the other man's presence.

"Can't what?" Anna murmured, her usually gentle voice rough-edged. "Kiss each other?"

"No we cannot!" Moseley was surprised to hear the usually unflappable Bates overwrought.

She hummed and lifted his hand, skimming her body with his knuckles as she brought it upward. He curled his fingers into a fist, like a turtle retracting into its shell. She tucked it under her chin, nestling his hand at her pulse. "Kissing does show adulterous intent, that's true," she said, breathless. "But if...I were to...Say kiss your hand, it's not us engaging in sinful activity. After all, you kissed mine earlier. Just a Continental way of parting."

Her face tipped up to meet Bates' pleading gaze and her clear features were lit rose-red by the explosions. He seemed frozen. She lifted his large hand, still tightly clutched, the final inches to her mouth and pressed her lips to his palm at his thumb.

When she peeked up at him, her cheeks now bright with a blush, he managed a smile. "Such a naughty girl," he rasped, "looking for a way around the rules. What would Reverend Travis say if he were here?"

"He's not," she pointed out, an edge to her words.

Bates' smile quirked, finally free of his pain. His fist unfurled so that he could stroke her cheek. Her fingers were still tangled with his, and he bent to trace his mouth along the inside of her wrist.

She gasped, "I don't know if that's quite right, though, Mr. Bates. Do the French kiss each other there?"

Bates' smile became a roguish grin. Moseley took a step toward them, believing he may have to defend Anna's honor.

Bates dropped his heavy head toward Anna's and there was a flash of pink as she quickly licked her lips, but instead of a kiss on the mouth, he grazed the lightest of kisses on her knuckles. "I'm so very sorry, m'lady. I will endeavor to give satisfaction in the future."

Anna swayed toward him. "Promise?"

His smile disappeared, replacing by a painful yearning. Leaning over her so that Moseley couldn't see Anna's face anymore, he spoke too low to be heard. But the slump of her shoulders telegraphed what she was being told.

The finale of the fireworks suddenly erupted, turning the sky bright and deafening Moseley. He shrank back against the tree in case they could see him in the light, but Mr. Bates was already walking away. Anna strode back to the other revealers, passing just a few feet away. He thought about reaching out to give her some comfort, but didn't.

He felt as though he'd been just been to one of those tents that set up at the back of the fair. Men would pay ten pence, and each would stand at a hole in the canvas to watch a couple inside. They would snuggle and kiss briefly, all in an exaggerated manner that suggested something much more racy was about to happen, exciting the viewers. But before they could even just kiss properly, a curtain would drop, ending the show.

It was as when he hurried away from the tent-ashamed and yet unsatisfied. And as though he should tell no one what had just occurred.

~ end, Part Four