Thank you all for reading!


August 1919

Bates was led from his cell to the visitors' room. It wasn't Anna's usual day, and his pulse beat wildly with alarm. Could something have happened? The trial date wasn't for months yet; his attorney kept pushing for longer, hoping to find some positive evidence that Vera had taken her own life. So an unexpected visitor must be to do with Anna. Had she finally come to her senses and determined that he wasn't worth waiting for, wasn't worth fighting for?

Deep down he knew that such thoughts were unfair to her, but that didn't keep him from having them.

He was startled to see the Earl of Grantham sitting at the cheap rough table in the visitors' room, looking completely out of place amidst the rough surroundings. His lordship got immediately to his feet when Bates was led in. "Good God, Bates! What have they done to you?"

"Incarceration isn't pretty, my lord. But I'm managing," he assured his employer. Was Lord Grantham still his employer? Perhaps that was the explanation for this unexpected visit, to tell him that his employment was being terminated. Surely the scandal must be in all the papers, rocking the family. Equally surely, Lady Cora must be pushing her husband to let go of someone whose association with Downton could, would, blacken the family name. Bates wouldn't blame his lordship in the least for giving in to those pressures—anyone in his position would.

"I've tried to see what I can do about getting them to let you out on my recognizance while you await trial, but … due to the nature of the crime …" Lord Grantham let his words trail away, looking embarrassed.

"Of course, my lord. It is generous of you to have made the attempt." They stood there looking at one another across the table for a few moments before Bates gestured. "Will you take a seat?" He couldn't sit in his lordship's presence, not while Lord Grantham stood. It wouldn't have been right.

"Yes. Yes, absolutely. Foolish of me." Lord Grantham sat down, gesturing for Bates to do the same. "How are you faring, Bates?"

"As well as can be expected." Bates couldn't hold the question back any longer. "How is Anna? Is everything— I mean, has anything … happened?"

His lordship frowned. "She's well. Busy. A bit tired, I think. Had she known I was coming, I'm sure she would have sent her … sent her love."

Bates breathed what he hoped was an imperceptible sigh of relief. So she hadn't sent his lordship to tell him she had had enough. Why she hadn't was another question, but that one he could mull over later alone in his cell as he had so many times before. "And everyone else at Downton?"

"Well enough. We hear from Sybil occasionally, she seems in good spirits. Mary is still insistent on marrying this Sir Richard, and while I could have wished someone … kinder, perhaps … she seems contented enough." Lord Grantham smiled. "Mama continues in good health and as—formidable as ever."

Bates felt a surprisingly natural smile come to his own lips. The Dowager was formidable, indeed. One could only hope to be as strong-willed and sharp-witted when one came to her age. Of course, the chance that he would survive to be the Dowager's age locked up in here was both unlikely and rather depressing, a thought that squashed the smile immediately.

Lord Grantham was looking at him now, really studying him. "I hate to see you in here, Bates."

"I hate to be in here, my lord," he answered dryly, knowing his old friend would understand and forgive the impertince.

"I'm sure you do." There was a silence between them, a weary silence that told Bates everything he had suspected about the pressures at home, the urgings of Lady Grantham to cut him loose and let him make his own way, the concern about the scandal of it all, the unsettledness at Downton generally because of this miserable, humiliating situation. Anna managed to cover the weight of those pressures on herself so that he rarely glimpsed them in her, but Lord Grantham, with his open, honest face, couldn't conceal that burden. "If I could … make this go faster, or go away …"

"My lord," Bates broke in, not wanting his old friend to embarrass himself. "What you have already done is so much beyond anything I could have expected—"

They looked at one another, each with the unmistakable sheen of tears in his eyes, and Bates thanked whatever gods might actually exist for having brought this open-hearted, generous, caring man into his life.

"It isn't nearly as much as I owe you, Bates." Lord Grantham hesitated. "I am sorry I haven't come before; there has been a sense that it is … unseemly, somehow, but that's nonsense."

Bates shook his head. "If the trial goes—badly, as it may well do, my lord—"

"No. Whatever happens with the trial, you are an innocent man, and I will not have anyone doubt my faith in you. Any innocent man would deserve as much at my hands, much less a man to whom I owe so much."

They looked at each other, the screams and the smell of blood from that long-ago day hanging between them.

"Whatever I can do, Bates. You have but to ask."

"Just … take care of Anna. Whatever happens, please see that she is looked after. That's all that matters, really."

"Of course. Always."

Their time was up, and they both stood, looking at one another across the table.

"I will be back, Bates."

"Thank you, my lord." Bates shuffled back to his cell with a full heart.