A/N: Greetings my lovies, pulled the original chapter 11 to split and flesh it out a bit. This is where things go mildly AU. I do not know what Fellowes was smoking. Anyway, sorry for the long time in between post health issues and holidays got a wee bit in the way.
As the weeks passed, things settled into a much more normal rhythm. Darkness came earlier each eve, the weather grew slowly colder, though it was still unseasonably warm. It seemed to Anna, when she heard the news, that it was always when life was beginning to feel something akin to normal that Lord Gillingham decided he simply must visit Downton Abbey.
"He'll be here again?" Anna tried to hold her tone even as she placed the finishing touches on Lady Mary's dark hair.
"You're right. I shouldn't encourage him, but I couldn't think what to say to persuade him not to." Anna retreated from Lady Mary's eyes, picked up the red gown that lay over the the footboard and carefully folded it.
"Do you think me very feeble?" Lady Mary's voice sounded far away. The fabric was richly textured under her fingertips. The beadwork satisfyingly pebbled. She worked her jaw, trying to find words, trying to ignore memories she never wanted in the first place, trying to tamp out the feeling of panic that sluiced down the back of her neck. Why now? When everything was going so very well?
"It's not that milady." She realized as soon as she said it that once again she had given herself away. Her reply begged the very response Mary gave, "Then what is it?"
She tried to think of an answer, a way to explain away her behavior. But her silence only concerned Mary more.
"Anna?"
"It's nothing to bother you with," she couldn't look at the younger woman.
"Please, bother me."
Anna wanted to. She wanted to tell her ever so badly. If she told her, maybe Lady Mary could stop Green from coming again. She looked up and met Mary's expectant eyes. She took a breath and stepped closer to the eldest Crawley daughter.
"If I did you'd have to promise to do nothing about it."
God, it felt for all the world like jumping off of a cliff. Exactly the feeling she experienced in her dreams of falling.
"But how does this concern Lord Gillingham?"
"It doesn't milady. It's nothing to do with Lord Gillingham himself."
"But then..."Lady Mary began to interrupt but Anna pushed forward. She would have to get this out in one go if she was to say it at all. "It's his man, milady, his servant, Mr. Green who travels with him."
She couldn't look at her, swallowed a sensation she didn't care to relive and tried to hold her face as still as she could. She glanced at Mary and could see the realization, the question in her eyes. It was all she could do to hold back her tears and give a small nod. Mary sank to her chair in horror.
"Oh my god ... but the police ought to..."
"No." Her voice quavered and was small, but she was firm. Mary tried another tack. "I must tell Lord Gillingham."
"No, milady, you promised." And then it occurred to her that she hadn't exactly waited for Mary to agree to the promise before spilling her secret, and she felt sick. She took a step forward, trying to swallow the now familiar panic as it rose in her throat, "Mr. Bates knows it's him, and has promised to do nothing, for my sake. But the more Mr. Green comes here, the more likely something will happen. Mr. Green has just acted so very cocksure and bold that I'm afraid. The more he is here, the more likely he is to instigate something. I'm frightened every time Mr. Green and Mr. Bates are in the same room. In a moment of fury, Mr. Bates could do something stupid. And when he does they'll hang him, or lock him up and throw away the key."
Lady Mary's dark eyes were filled with concern. "I'll telephone Lord Gillingham and tell him not to come or not to bring Mr. Green."
Anna nodded and prayed that she had not just made a terrible mistake.
She worried. She tried not to but she couldn't help it. It was hard enough swallowing her own rage and disgust and shame when Green appeared, bragging about adventures and events. Lying and peacocking about, tail feathers spread, snake tongued. She snorted then, at the image of a snake in peacock's feathers, at the ridiculousness of it. It sank in a few minutes later; she had laughed at him. Found him vulgar and ridiculous. She was still afraid of him. He was venomous, after all, and to be handled with care and caution at all times, but she now saw him for how pathetic he was. What sort of person, even piss drunk, does what he did to her, for any reason? A despicable, broken, pathetic person.
For the first time in a long time she felt strong. Powerful even. At least for a few minutes.
She wasn't sure she liked feeling strong because she realized he was weak; it felt wrong somehow. She needed to tell Mrs. Hughes about Lord Gillingham's return before they headed home to the cottage for the night and so sought the woman out. Mrs. Hughes had just locked up her sitting room and was headed upstairs for bed when Anna caught her. She shook off the maternal housekeeper's fretting, assured her that she and Mr. Bates would be fine, but that they might very well make themselves scarce during midday when her only duties included whatever cleaning and mending and polishing Lady Mary's wardrobe needed. Elsie Hughes had enthusiastically agreed that in this instance that would most definitely be a good idea, and bid her, bid them both a restful night. Anna thanked her but very much doubted that she and John would rest until Green was headed away again.
She walked into the boot room. Just another room. Let the sight of him in his apron and sleeves distract her; it accentuated how trim his waist really was - a fact disguised by his suit jacket and overcoat. She wanted to slide her arms around him and listen to his heart beating. To forget about Green. She would soon, at least for a little while.
"That's enough for one day, surely. You can finish them tomorrow." She flashed him a weary half smile as he put the shoes he was working on away, "Shall we walk back to the cottage? The others are gone to bed."
She had grown to both despise and find comfort in the sound of a boot brush at work.
"What were you saying to Mrs. Hughes?" He asked lazily.
"Just that Lord Gillingham's asked himself for the night again." Her voice sounded stilted.
"He can't stay away," his hazel eyes clouded with concern. She had told him once that looking into his eyes reminded her of looking closely at the weave of a brilliant tapestry that held every color imagineable. He had laughed, and answered that he had always just called them hazel. She tended to call them beautiful. Tonight she saw only his worry, how it mirrored her own.
"Yes, it's a bit of a tangle." In more ways than one.
"Do you think she's sweet on him?" He took off the apron and walked to her, unspoken questions written across his face.
"They're sweet on each other, but it's not as simple as that," she handed him his jacket. She enjoyed playing valet to the valet, liked to wait on him a bit, since he spent so much of his day waiting on his Lordship.
"Then there's Mr. Blake." She liked the solid weight of his clothes, the masculinity of it. All day long she touched dainty, gossamer, silken things.
"I thought she didn't like him."
"She didn't. Not at first," It pleased her to heft his wool overcoat off of its hook. "Anyway, they can sort it out between them."
It pleased her to hold the rough weight of it open to her husband, to feel that weight lift away from her as he shrugged it onto his shoulders. She held out his hat, liked the way he placed it on his head. He always looked striking in a hat. But his eyes were on her, all concern.
"And Mr. Green? He'll be coming back?" He took her hand and she glanced at him and set her jaw. He pulled her under his arm, mindful of her hat, and held her close to him for a moment. She nodded, her voice dropped to a whisper, "I can't believe I liked him; that I thought he was funny. That I fell for his act. I am usually so much better at reading people."
He nudged her as he held the door for her, his eyes smiling. "You were far too busy trying to make your poor old husband jealous."
She tugged his arm, tried to keep her voice low, to keep the horrified look off of her face. "Don't joke about that. Please. I still ..." But he wouldn't let her continue, interrupted her in a way that was unlike him.
"Anna, can I tell you something?" He fell into step next to her, leaning heavily on his cane to lengthen his stride.
"Of course."
"I'm almost ashamed to admit it due to the circumstances, but I was well aware of what you were on about. It was easy to see you were flattered by his flirting. He had no business acting as he did toward you, but I never once doubted you, or us. I'm so sorry for how I raised my voice at you in front of the others that night. I let him get under my skin, and I took my irritation out on you. Barely an hour before... I'll never forgive myself for treating you that way. I trust you absolutely, Anna. My dander was up, and l knew I had behaved badly."
His fingers snagged her hand, pullIng her to a gentle halt. She only flinched a little. She looked to his eyes, could see them glinting in the low moonlight. He leaned conspiratorily close to her, pretending as she had instructed him, not to notice her reflexively shy away from his touches. She could hear his smile. "I was planning on making it up to you later on that night, as well as planning on reminding you of who it was you married. You see, Mrs. Bates, for as much as you seemed to enjoy making me a touch jealous, I was rather looking forward to the assuaging of my bruised ego that I knew would soon follow." He flashed her a wolf's grin in the darkness, as they took to walking again, that she felt in the small of her back.
"Mr. Bates, I had no idea you were such a plotter."
"Didn't you, dear?" He squeezed her hand before letting it go as his toe caught a root. He had to pull his foot up quickly to avoid a full stumble, but managed. Her fingers slipped into the crook of his elbow as he steadied himself and they continued on together, towards the dark sanctuary of their cottage.
"Then perhaps," she said boldly into the night air, feeling the words lick through her, "Perhaps I have some belated assuaging to do upon arriving home tonight."
John chuckled and nudged her playfully, his voice taking "I can think of worse ways to while away an evening."
She smiled to herself the next day, trying to soothe away a blush she feared had crept to her cheeks while thinking of their bodies moving together in the lamplight the night before. Since resuming their intimacy during Green's last visit their lovemaking had been tender and gentle, rather than unbridled and urgent as it had so often been before. Not that she was complaining; they were still both so shy of each other, of what had happened. In some ways they were rediscovering one another, rediscovering their connection, their intimacy. As she descended the servants' stairwell, she found herself also shaking off the unsettled feeling that haunted her despite the vivid and ever so pleasant memories of the night before. She shook her head.
John was right - a turn about the grounds and tea in Ripon this afternoon would do her a world of good. He had solemnly promised her last night, and again this morning that he would in point of fact not do anything stupid. She believed him. To a degree. He would not seek Green out, but Green was a fool and she fully believed him capable of inciting and instigating John to the point of action.
The man made her skin crawl. To have to eat at the same table as him, while he carried on without a care in the world, as though he had not done unspeakable things to her mere months earlier. She did everything she could to hold her head defiantly high when looking at him, and keep her face smooth and emotionless.
She had finished her daily chores, seen to all of Lady Mary's needs and even carried down some seasonally warmer clothes from the attics to sort through and see if anything from the last season could be refashioned or only needed repair. When she headed down to meet him in the courtyard, she was feeling pleased with all she had accomplished.
She heard the scuffle before she fully opened the door. Recognized her husband's grunt before her eyes had a chance to adjust to the brightness outside. She screamed out loud when her mind made sense of the jumble of limbs that was her husband and Green.
"John!"
She raced down the steps, casting desperately about for something to beat the man off of her husband. Her gaze fell on wood, and she scrambled over and snatched John's cane from where it lay forgotten on the cobblestones. She used her momentum and all of her weight to swing it into Green's side. The crack that resounded up the cane stung her arms but she held tight to it as he yelped and collapsed. John raised his fist, but she pushed frantically in between the two of them, her back to him. Eyes never leaving Green, cane held tightly in her fists, poised to lash out again. She called to her husband over her shoulder.
"John! He's not worth it."
Green stood. Staggered backwards. Clutched at his side where wood had connected with bone, pulled his hand away to check for gore. "Bloody bitch! Come to protect your old cripple?"
Behind her John made a noise that made her afraid for him.
"Mr. Bates!" Her tone was low and calm and matter of fact. She turned her full attention to Green and tried to pull herself as tall as she could. She used the same calm tone as she began to address Green. "Actually, I'm come to keep him from killing you, because let me tell you, in a fair fight he would win. But then again, you don't know about fighting fair."
Then her composure broke and a wild rage she didn't know she possessed bubbled up and she swung the cane at him again, though, this time he ducked out of its path. "I weigh all of seven stone, you bastard! Does it make you feel the big man? To be able the beat and rape and drag about a woman half your size?"
She was shaking now, screaming as loudly as she had the night of the concert but from a fierce place that was deep in her belly. "How dare you? And how dare you come back here!?"
Green looked uncomfortable and kept glancing behind her. She motioned at her husband over her shoulder.
"This, this is what a real man looks like. This is what honor looks like. You're no man. You're a sad excuse; filth and falseness, who has to hurt and steal to try to make yourself feel half a man."
She felt a fire inside of her, felt like the shattered, frightened shell of herself was burning away. She had no idea she could shout so loudly. Wondered briefly who might have heard, couldn't bring herself to care just yet. She had a job to do, and she would be damned if she would let this happen. She had kept John safe this long, she wouldn't let all that be thrown away now. She thought she knew now what it felt like to ignite.
"How dare you come back here?! What did you think? I would just keep quiet and cower and let you do it again?" She swung again at him, connecting with his head, but he grabbed the cane and twisted it from her hands, lifted it threateningly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood her ground. "Go ahead and try, see what happens," she planted her feet and cocked her head toward her husband, who she couldn't see, but whom she knew was most likely drawn to his full height, puffed out and glowering imposingly behind her.
"Not such a big man now, are you?" She spat at him.
"You mad whore! You were practically begging for it," he sneered, looking from one to the other, but let the cane drop. She could almost audibly hear John snap, was not surprised when he pushed past her, hands clenched white at his sides and loomed over Green.
"You want to leave this house. You want to leave this house and never return," it was barely audible, but the threat it held was cold, hard, and unmistakeable. Even that night at the pub in Kirbymoorside he hadn't sounded like this.
"Or what?" Green sounded snide and cocky but was creeping backwards.
She stepped back in between her husband and Green, subtly forcing John to take a step back. She found a calm confidence standing between the two of them. "Or I will walk into Mr. Carson's office and telephone the police, right now," she stated with cold defiance.
The bastard actually had the audacity to snort. "And who would believe your word? Not after I told the jury how you threw yourself at me. With that old cripple for a husband, who would believe you wouldn't want a bit on the side? What proof do you have?"
"She has me to corroborate her story." Mrs. Hughes stated with a fierceness Anna had never heard from her as she strode purposely out from behind them. "I noticed you come back to the concert not quite a half hour after Mrs. Bates left. Other servants will easily be able to confirm that and the time you left the concert."
"Other servants will also readily volunteer to act as character witnesses to testify to how devoted she is to Mr. Bates," it was Jimmy; who had never quite warmed to Mr. Bates after he gave him a hard time for reporting Thomas. Anna turned, Green momentarily forgotten, to stare at the growing crowd of fellow servants, horrified to have her private business being addressed, but touched at the same time.
Mrs. Patmore was standing next to Mrs. Hughes now, looking right threatening with a large rolling pin. She noticed Tom Branson only when he stepped forward, "She has a house full of character references, not just servants. All of whom have noticed a change in her since the concert." She wondered absently what he was doing downstairs. Even Mr. Molesly joined the growing crowd, looking terrified and furious, and utterly determined when he walked up to her husband, "If you would kindly escort Anna inside, Mr. Bates, we will gladly take care of this garbage in a manner you would certainly approve of."
It was an odd straw, but proved to be the final one. Green took off running like a shot.
"Oh, no you don't Mr. Green." It was Jimmy's voice and the slapping of shoes across the cobblestones.
Then Molesly and Branson were rushing past them after Jimmy and Green and she was protesting loudly, after them. They mustn't hurt him. He would find a way turn it onto John.
