A/N: I'll say a brief (but very appreciated) thank you here for all of the response once again. There's a longer A/N at the bottom. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the others. Very near the end now.

Guest – thank you so much for reviewing again, I'm glad you liked the scene I wrote and thought that the bravery line was fitting. I was umm-ing and arg-ing at that line and whether to try and change it, so thank you, and I'm glad you think it's not too cheesy. That's the thing I struggle with most with in these chapters. I hope you continue to enjoy the rest of the story.


The Long and Winding Road

Chapter Eight

It was September now, and John had been granted the few weeks off whilst the family headed for their annual trip to Duneagle. Lord Grantham had been very accommodating to the plan, insisting that he take as much time as he needed – after all, he would have hated to have missed the birth of his daughters, even though he had been forced to leave and serve his duty in Africa not long after Sybil's first birthday and John knew from their days together that it had struck Robert hard.* Of course, a lot of the upper-class rarely saw their children at that age – John knew, or sensed, it had been the case with the Dowager Countess and Lord Grantham – but Robert had seemed different. Mr Carson was also very accommodating to the idea of John remaining at Downton throughout the trip, and a lot of the time he would insist that Mr Bates stay at the cottage (although both he and Anna assumed that was a lot down to Mrs Hughes and her ways with the old butler). He had been given various tasks to do whilst he was at the cottage, mostly mending and sorting through a lot of Lord Grantham's old clothes, and he would take a daily trip up to the house to bring them back to send away, as well as to report on Anna.

Anna had left service not even two weeks after the incident at the garden party in July. It had taken little to reason with her, and after Doctor Clarkson had encouraged her to begin taking things easier, she had accepted it. John had never been more pleased. Mrs Hughes certainly had no arguments against the idea, and she would still often come over to the cottage whenever she could spare a few moments, just in order to see for herself that Anna was coping fine and that she had no fears about the baby. Anna and John both suspected – or more or less knew – that Anna was some kind of daughter figure for Mrs Hughes, and should her own mother have still been alive, this would have been her role right now. Mrs Hughes never came to their cottage empty handed, often with a large basket of food that Mrs Patmore had rustled up for them, reasoning that Anna should not be on her feet cooking right now. John had argued light-heartedly – since at this time he had been home, His Lordship in Duneagle – that he could cook well enough, but Mrs Hughes had just shared a look with Anna before waving her hand away at him.

Needless to say, neither of them complained as they ate the delicious pie that night. Mrs Patmore seemed to have averted her full attention to the servants dinner now that most of the family, excluding Mr Branson and Miss Sybbie, were away because the meals Anna and John had started to receive (now when John returned home after making his daily trip up to the house to enquire about any work that needed doing, only to be shooed back just as quickly with a bundle of food) were quite the opposite to the stew that they had been used to before.

Lady Mary had not minded in the slightest either that Anna would leave her earlier than first arranged. Of course, she was sad to see her leave, the two having formed a close friendship – a close bond – over their years together, Anna becoming very much Lady Mary's confidant. But Lady Mary had a replacement already lined up, so in the end there was little fuss, except for her to make Anna promise to come and visit once the baby was born, and explaining that she might drop by after the family had settled back in after their trip, just to see how she was faring and whether the baby had been born.

Mrs Hughes was to be present with Anna during the birth. In the absence of her mother, Mrs Hughes had been her first instinct to ask for. Of course, the housekeeper had scolded Anna, saying that she would have been there whether Anna had asked or not. Anna could only laugh lightly as she stood in the housekeeper's little sitting room, a room she had spent many an hour in over the course of her life as a maid.

And now that life was over.

Anna stood in the doorway of the little converted nursery in their home, leaning against its frame as she watched John placing the last touches to the paint on the walls. Lizzy was there helping him too, it being a Saturday, and she laughed every so often as John would splash her with some of the pale, yellow paint that had been found in one of the store cupboards at Downton and given to them just the other week. The baby would be sleeping in their bedroom to start with, but when their child would grow older, it had been decided that they would share bedrooms with Lizzy. The little girl had not minded in the slightest, and since it was the only other available bedroom in the cottage, there was little choice in the matter anyhow.

Lizzy had exclaimed excitedly as to whether the three of them could paint the bedroom a new colour. The room was still the dingy grey that had been presented to them, although Lizzy had her possessions which certainly brought light and life to the room. Her growing pile of books in the corner would soon need a proper book shelf, and John had promised her that during his time off he would build her one.

Anna had not been allowed to paint, John fussing too much over her ability to work. She would probably never admit it, but she did enjoy being able to relax extensively for the first time in her life, lounging around until goodness knows when and for how long for. Her feet were beginning to ache even more, and her ankles had swelled because of the added weight.

Anna sighed now as she shifted on her feet, attempting to free herself of the pain.

John heard her then, and turned around.

"Should you be up here?" John frowned.

Anna rolled her eyes and stressed, "I can manage. I wanted to come up and see how you were doing."

John narrowed his eyes at her but smiled nevertheless. "We're almost finished now."

And they had. The room smelt, as it would for a few days, if not a week now – she would have to air the room properly later, she thought – but the walls were now a very lively colour, somewhere she could imagine Lizzy and the new baby sleeping in. She knew Lizzy hoped the baby would be a girl, so she could share her dolls with her and introduce her to all sorts of games with them. But of course, none of them minded, as long as they were healthy.

Anna felt herself smiling in giddy anticipation as she thought about the baby. Her hands came to rub her expanded stomach, feeling the baby wriggle around.

"Not sitting still?"

Anna looked up again to see John watching them both, his eyes warm and his smile radiant.

"Not at all," Anna laughed with a playful scowl. "He or she isn't giving me much peace today."

John chuckled, and was about to turn around and continue with the last of the painting when Anna let out a groan and a sigh. His eyes instantly widened, searching hers for some sign that she was all right and that he did not need to go running for Doctor Clarkson.

But once Anna had looked up and noticed his concern, she relieved him of his anxiety, "Nature calls… again. The sooner this baby is here, the better."

John heaved a sigh of relief, and watched as Anna turned around and left the room. He could not help his heart from aching in sheer joy as he watched her waddle – as she did now, and so elegantly as he would have to tell her – away, one hand resting on her huge belly. He could feel the anticipation rising between all of them as they awaited the birth of the baby, it being only three weeks away now.

Doctor Clarkson had told them, realistically, it could be any day now. This only heightened the anxiety John was feeling. He felt it every time their child kicked or moved and Anna would be taken by surprise at its sudden movement, when she sighed and left to go to the bathroom as she just had, and if he would wake in the middle of the night to find her not in their bed but sat beside the window on her dressing table chair, folding the endless supplies of suits for the baby that had either been made, bought or generously given, he would instantly think that the baby might be coming. Anna would reassure him that it was nothing, and that she just could not sleep.

Probably a sign of things to come, Anna would say slyly before being persuaded by her husband to come back to bed, his arms wrapping around her as he urged her to try and rest as much as possible.

It was all becoming too much for John to handle. He wanted the baby here with them.

He had been anxious over the last few months, in fact ever since Anna had told him about the pregnancy, about whether he would be a fit and able father. Of course, he would never be able to join in vigorous games with their child and Lizzy, that he had come to accept fairly quickly. But he often feared that he would never be good enough. What if their child did not like him? What if he could never settle their child, or tend to it as Anna would? What if the child hated him, and would grow to resent him?

Of course, Anna had driven away these fears every time she had managed to pry them out of him. She assuaged his fears with stories of him and Lizzy, and how he had very much become a father figure to her, even though both John and Anna regularly talked about her parents and how she felt. Lizzy had begun to overcome the worst stages of her grief a few months ago now, ever since they had planted the tree in the garden, it seemed to have brought some kind of peace for Lizzy. She would go out and sit there, taking a book with her often when she wanted to practice her reading, but she would rarely be upset and the nightmares had all but left her now. She only suffered from them every so often, and even those were often prompted by a bad day at school or a particular memory.

Both John and Anna had thought that over the coming weeks, when the anniversary of Rose's death would be upon them, Lizzy would become upset again, but the excitement over the baby seemed to have occupied her mind for most of the time. They had agreed that as a family, if everything had gone well with the birth and the baby was fit to go with them, that they would go and visit the grave for the anniversary and let Lizzy spend some time there alone. Lizzy had nodded her head and smiled at the idea and had said nothing more about it since, which husband and wife did not know if they found reassuring or alarming.

But Lizzy had given neither of them cause for concern, so they left it.

And as Anna would remind John during his worst times, Lizzy spoke to him often about her mother. Not that she disregarded Anna in that respect – they had spent many hours talking about Rose, and Anna's mother and Lizzy's grandmother – but when John needed the reassurance that he would be a good father, Anna would bring it up and use it to her advantage.

And after her reassurance, he could not contain his excitement. None of them could.

John turned and looked at the walls, smiling as Lizzy started to pile her books against a part of the wall that she had checked was dry first.

He could not wait to meet their baby.


Anna laughed with Lizzy as flour was sent bellowing up into the air, surrounding them and causing them to cough and splutter simultaneously.

Anna and Lizzy had decided to bake a cake together for John, for no particular reason other than they wanted to. He had gone into Ripon to collect some last minute items before the baby was to be born, and since Anna had exclaimed she was exhausted, her husband was only too happy to see her stay at home with Lizzy for company. She had started to feel slightly tired stood up at their kitchen counter, mixing the ingredients together for their cake, so she had sat down at the kitchen table with Lizzy instead.

"Can we ice it too?" Lizzy asked, some flour still smudged on her nose and cheeks.

Anna smiled and leaned across the table to wipe it away. "Of course we can, I think we still have some in the cupboard from the last time you made one."

The last time had been a cake for Anna on her birthday in June. She had come home to find that Lizzy had made her a cake with the help of Mrs Hatchet (it had been a weekend) and she had soon discovered that John had been the main orchestrator.

Lizzy squealed happily, clapping her hands together as Anna continued to prepare the mixture, occasionally passing it over to her niece to have a go.

"So, shall we think of a reason to give your Uncle John?" Anna knew he would scold them for making one without any reason, even if he would appreciate it all the same.

Lizzy seemed to contemplate this for a moment before coming up with the perfect excuse, "He built my bookcase last week. It can be a thank you cake."

Anna smiled warmly and nodded her head. "A perfect excuse. I know he will love it."

John had spent a long afternoon last weekend building Lizzy a bookcase. Well, it was a book shelf or two, but Lizzy was thrilled at its presence in her bedroom and would wrap her arms around John's legs and hug him as a thank you when she walked past him. Her books sat there now proudly, and she had even exclaimed that the baby could leave its books there when he or she was old enough to have them.

"Can we bake one for the baby too, when it comes?"

"We could," Anna started. "But they won't be able to eat cake for a while yet."

Lizzy seemed a little dejected at the response, and looked down at the table, focusing on the mixture.

"But we could make one anyway, to celebrate?" Anna intervened quickly. "I'm sure he or she will love it all the same. And we can bake one for their first birthday, too."

Lizzy looked up now and her face brightened as she nodded enthusiastically.

"Are you looking forward to being an older cousin?"

Lizzy nodded, smiling happily as she snuck some of the mixture from the edge of the bowl and licked it off her finger, earning a playful scold from her aunt. Anna watched as her face scrunched up a bit, meaning that she was thinking hard about something, before she asked the question on her mind, "Can I be more like a big sister? Because I do live here."

Lizzy asked the question quite timidly, and Anna could feel her heart warm with affection and love.

"I have no doubt the baby will look up to you as a big sister."

Lizzy seemed to brighten up at the idea before continuing to prepare the mixture, soon exclaiming that it was finished. As she and Anna carefully placed the cake into the oven to bake, Anna let one of her hands drift across her back, marvelling at the progress her little niece had made over the past year. She was very much part of their close family now, and she could not wait to meet the newest addition.


John noticed Anna was starting to look extremely tired. She was probably only a few days from giving birth – Doctor Clarkson had expressed once more that Anna could quite literally go into labour any day now – and the extra weight was beginning to take its effect on her feet especially. She had been forced to adjust a lot of her dresses too to accommodate for her large bump and she would often complain that her back was aching. John would massage it for her at night, rubbing the knots away as Anna let out huge sighs of relief.

But one night, he decided he wanted to spoil her. To surprise her.

He planned with Mrs Lewis, a younger woman who was married to one of the workers who helped on the Grantham farmland, for Anna to go around for a cup of tea and a talk. She had children of her own, twin girls who were just a couple of years younger than Lizzy, and John knew that Anna loved to spend time with them. It would do her good, he thought as he put his plan into action, and he also needed her out of the cottage for at least an hour, maybe more.

Anna knew he was planning something for her, but she had no idea what it was.

John had wanted to come around to the cottage to collect her, but Anna had insisted that he was being ridiculous and that she could walk two doors down. Therefore, just a bit before nine at night (John had told her she could come back after nine, and Mrs Lewis had been all too happy to oblige) she was walking – or waddling – across to their cottage, her curiosity piqued.

She pushed open the front door and locked it behind her before making her way through the cottage, calling out to her husband.

"Just a moment, love." She heard him call from upstairs, before she heard shuffling and the distinct sound of her husband's footsteps coming down the stairs.

He appeared at the bottom of the staircase, a silly, excited grin across his lips.

"Did you have a nice time?" John asked, moving to kiss her on the cheek.

"I did, it was nice of you and Mrs Lewis to arrange it."

"It was our pleasure."

"And now you know I want to know what you've been up to."

John smirked knowingly before offering her his arm, which she took. He led her upstairs wordlessly, walking her to the bathroom before he stopped outside the closed door and gestured for her to step forward and open it.

Anna scrunched up her face in confusion but moved forward, pushing the door open.

She gasped.

Her husband – her perfect, perfect husband – had lit so many candles around the bathroom, creating a beautiful, peaceful glow and had run her a nice, hot bath. She could tell it was still hot, the water still steaming a little. By the looks of it, he had also bought some more of her favourite bath salts and soaps because those were lined up on the floor beside the tub. He had brought a small stool into the bathroom, which had on it a small, poetry book that they had planned to start reading, along with a small glass of wine and some cheese which he had chopped into small pieces.

Anna felt her husband come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, letting his hands rest upon her stomach.

"You have felt so tired lately," John murmured into her neck. "You deserve a night to relax."

"John…"

She was speechless.

He was perfect. Her husband was perfect.

"Come on," he beckoned her. "The water will get cold."

Anna let him lead her fully into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. They remained silent as he began to undress her, unbuttoning her dress in a most different way than he usually would in their bedroom. This time it was completely chaste. His main aim was for her to relax.

When he had undressed her completely, he took her hand and helped her into the bath slowly, smiling as she let out a long, content moan as the water enveloped her tired, swollen body.

"This is lovely," Anna murmured.

Her head was resting against the edge of the bath, her eyes closing as she luxuriated in the hot water against her skin. When she opened them and turned her head, she noticed that John had lowered himself to the floor, his chin resting on the side of the bath as he watched her carefully.

He smiled, and the wrinkles around his eyes appeared.

"You look beautiful."

Anna was set to argue and tease that she needed his help to get in and out of this bath, as she usually would, but somehow his eyes begged her not to.

From his point of view, she was a staggering beauty. Her hair was still up as she kept it from getting wet, her skin was glistening because of the water, the candles were casting a glow across her skin that John would never be able to describe, and her large, baby bump was partly above the water, proof of their love and their lives together.

He smiled, rubbing a hand over her stomach as he felt their child move.

A comfortable silence settled between them as their lips moved and connected – a soft kiss; one that did not last long, but still meant so much. When Anna pulled back she smiled at him appreciatively, pulling one of her hands from the water and fixing some of the hair that had fallen across his forehead.

"Here," John gestured to the cheese and the small glass of wine, passing it to Anna who took a sip of the wine before giving it back, taking more of the cheese. She grinned at him. She watched as he picked up the book and began to open it to one of the first pages. "I thought I would read to you for a little while."

Anna smiled, took another piece of cheese and rested her head back, closing her eyes as she began to listen to the voice of her husband as he read to her. It was such a simple routine, but one that she had always enjoyed. They had read together as friends, as courting lovers, as fiancés and now as husband and wife.

It was a mixture of poetry. There was some Dickinson, Hardy, Shakespeare, Burns, Blake, Byron… she enjoyed it all as she listened to John, his voice lulling her into a tranquil mood. She closed her eyes, feeling herself falling asleep when –

"Oh," Anna let out a rather surprised yelp. Her hands went to her stomach instantly as she felt the baby move and kick from inside her. She turned and watched John's reaction from the side of the bath as her lips twitched into a wide grin. "It seems he or she likes the sound of their daddy's voice."

John smiled widely.

"Why don't you join me in here? The hot water will do your knee good, and you know there is enough room."

John opened his mouth to argue but soon found that he had no argument worth hearing. Wordlessly, he slipped out of his clothes, ignoring as Anna feasted her eyes upon his body before she edged forward and he slipped into the water behind her. There was enough room in the bath tub to stretch his legs around her, and when he tapped her on the shoulder she moved back a little, her back coming to rest against his chest as they both sunk lower into the water.

"Read to me a little more," Anna pleaded as her head lulled back against shoulder.

"What if the book gets wet?"

"Then I will buy you another. Besides, the baby likes to hear you read as much as I do."

Anna grinned as her husband fell silent, knowing she had successfully persuaded him. Her suspicions were confirmed as she felt him lean across; wipe his hands briefly on a towel and then pick up the book he had read from before.

She felt him move back, his lips brushing against her ear, "Already you both have me wrapped around your little fingers."

Anna giggled.

"However will you deny us anything in the future?"

John smiled, drawing one of his hands around to rest upon her large bump in reply. The truth was he knew he would never be able to resist the pleas of his child, be it a daughter or a son. Although he somehow knew that should Anna and he be blessed with a daughter, she would have him wrapped around her little finger, and he would never be able to resist her pleas. Heaven help him, if their child was anything like Anna, determined to get her way with him, then he would have no chance whatsoever. Even when Lizzy pleaded him for anything, most of the time another page of the story at night, he would give in.

It seemed John Bates had no control over any of the women in his life.

He began to read to her again, this time another Byron poem. Only this time, she would not be prevented from falling asleep. The baby still moved inside her, probably spurred on by the sound of John's voice. His hand was softly stroking the large swell, easing her into a peaceful sleep.

"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies."

John steered his head to look at Anna, watching as she continued to flutter her eyes closed.

"One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place."

He kissed her temple as her breathing became even. He knew he would have to wake her eventually, but now he simply let her sleep.

"And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!"


A/N (2): *I read somewhere that Sybil was born in 1898, and will be going with the idea that Robert and John both joined the war almost instantly upon its starting in 1899. Although I am no expert on the Boer War.

Thank you once again to testship as always you're awesome.

I didn't want to write the birth of their child. I wrote that sort of scene in my other story so without making the birth highly dramatic – which I didn't want to do – I don't think there's much I can really gain by writing it. I feel quite awkward writing those scenes anyway. I hope this was a nice chapter though, I wanted to write about the three of them spending time together alone before the birth, and this seemed like the ideal opportunity.

The poem is She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron, no real significance except I really like the poem and wanted to include it. Plus, thinking about it read in Brendan's voice makes me feel warm inside. I really want to listen to him read poetry.

This is the second to last chapter. Well, the last chapter. There will be an epilogue posted over the next week or so. Baby Bates will be included in that one. Thank you so much for all the response to this story, it's been overwhelming to me and I've been so happy to see what you guys all think about it. I have lots of ideas floating around my head for new stories, so hopefully it won't be too long before I can post something new. I will be posting a Valentine's fic up here soon as well, it was a prompt on Tumblr for the 'Banna Valentine's Extravaganza' and I'm very excited to finish writing it.