A/N: from s01e05, their little talk on the road.
"I wish you'd just come out with it," Anna said, so exasperated with him that she stopped in the middle of the lane to demand an explanation.
"With what?" he asked. Bates was confused. Anna had taken a leap in the conversation that he didn't follow. Why was she so frustrated with him? Clearly she wasn't still talking about Mrs. Patmore. He thought about what he'd just said. "...nothing is harder to live with than false hope." Oh no. He had unconsciously been feeling sorry for himself. It was one of his bigger failings these days. His sense of honor reminded him constantly that his relationship with Anna had gone too far already and that he could not allow it to continue. There was nowhere it could go and there was no point in hoping for a happy ending. He just wasn't good at being stoic, despite having a lot to practice being stoic about. Anna knew him well enough to recognize when he was wallowing in self-pity, if not why.
"Whatever it is you're keepin' secret," she said, still aggravated with his obtuseness. Whatever it is keeping us apart, she plainly meant.
Bates winced inwardly. Secrets. Instinctively, he checked to see who was listening. No one's life was their own in the Crawley house. Someone was always watching, always listening, always gossiping. And he had secrets he had to keep. Many secrets. Anna couldn't know. No one could know. If Thomas or Ms. O'Brien or Carson found out he would lose his position and end up homeless and unemployable. But if Anna found out— He couldn't bear the thought of her pulling away from him. Of losing her friendship. Of her thinking less of him. Anna had once told him that her opinion wouldn't change no matter what she found out about him. Bates knew that couldn't be true and desperately did not want to put her to the test.
"I can't," he said sadly. Anna's face fell as he wouldn't answer even her direct appeal.
"You don't deny it then?" she asked.
Well, if she was brave enough to bring it up, he it was only fair that he be honest with her. Their relationship had been growing for quite some time and he had been toying with their feelings. He and Anna couldn't be more than friends. He had tried so hard to keep it there. Just being her friend was more than he had a right to expect, really. He knew long ago he should have backed away, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was a moral failing on his part that he hadn't, but he couldn't cut himself off from her unshakable kindness and loyalty. Now he was stuck. He couldn't move forward with her and he didn't want to go back to a life without her. He never should have let their relationship get this far, but he wasn't going to lie to her, or himself, and pretend that it hadn't. She did have a right to demand that he explain himself. Which didn't mean he had an answer for her.
"No, I don't deny it. And I don't deny you have a right to ask. But I can't." He paused, then tried to explain. "I'm not a free man."
She hesitated to state her obvious conclusion aloud. "Are you trying to tell me that you're married?" she asked.
He worded his answer carefully, knowing he shouldn't be so evasive about it, but unable to stop himself. "I have been married, yes, but that's not all of it." He would count himself lucky if that was the only thing keeping him from her.
"Because—," Anna started. Bates had no idea where she was going with this conversation now. Or why they were having it right then. Or how to deal with the aftermath. He watched as she struggled with what she wanted to say, then gathered herself up, and plunged ahead. "Because I love you, Mr. Bates."
What? Of all the things she might have said, that was not anywhere near what he was expecting. Years of hiding what he was thinking in the military, in prison and then in service served him well as he kept his face composed, despite his shock. Any hint of encouragement on his part, inadvertent or not, would be cruel.
"I know it's not lady-like to say it. But I'm not a lady and I don't pretend to be," she finished, almost defiantly. That defiance was undermined as she sighed and slumped her shoulders as she finished.
Bates berated himself for putting her in the position where she had to say these things. It should be him down on one knee, confessing his love to her, yet he had to stand there, mute, while both their hearts broke. He hardened his heart against blurting out everything he wanted to tell her and tried to find something appropriate to say.
"You are a lady to me, and I never knew a finer one," he replied as kindly as he could.
Bates could tell that wasn't what she wanted to hear and it certainly wasn't what he wanted to say, but it was the best he could do. It would have been wrong for him to say more and those feeble sentiments were as close as he could approach to his true feelings. There was no way this could go on. He had let this go too far. She had to let go of him. He had no idea how to get her to do that without breaking both their hearts though. He was almost relieved when the hay cart rolled up and interrupted them.
As they parted he tried to gently push her away. "I mustn't slow you down. I've done too much of that already." He gave her a hint of a smile, trying to get her to accept the truth of his words. She would be better off without him. She gave him a look that eloquently explained she understood his meaning and that the presence of the farmer was all that kept him from hearing how wrong she thought he was. He hopped up into the cart and, frustrated by the interruption and the presence of others, said nothing as he rode off.