The first half of this chapter comes from the deleted scenes for series 2 (I believe you can find it via Google), and is a scene I wish they'd left in. I love Mrs. Hughes. Thank you all for reading!
November 1916
For a long time after Vera left, Bates just sat there, stunned. His mind was empty—as though the same blow to the chest that had taken his breath away had also taken his thoughts. Slowly, feeling an ache in every muscle, he stood. His hand shook on the cane like a much older man's.
What to do? Not in the long term—he would accede to Vera's demands, as she had known he would. He owed Lord Grantham too much to allow his personal life to be the match that set fire to a scandal that would harm his lordship's family so grievously. But in the short term, should he tell his lordship immediately, or wait until later in the day? Bates couldn't even think of Anna. Even her name was painful to him when his thoughts brushed against it. That was too big to be dealt with straight away.
Belatedly, he remembered some shirts he had meant to take up to his lordship's room, and fetched them from the laundry, taking pleasure in carrying out his duties, even for what would doubtless be the last time. He was glad most people were busy now, and he ran into no one. He didn't know if he could have spoken. At the base of the stairs he paused, the enormity of what he was about to lose washing over him. Bates was hard put not to cry. His usual control was slipping from his grasp in the face of his damnable helplessness.
Bates was perilously close to losing the battle for control when he heard his name called and turned to see Mrs. Hughes coming down the hallway toward him. "Are you all right?" she asked.
He gritted his teeth against the impulse to unburden himself to this motherly woman he had come to respect. "Oh, yes," he said instead.
She came closer, speaking softly. "Because … there are plenty of people here who'd like to help you. That is, if you need help. You're very highly valued in this house, Mr. Bates. By all of us."
Her sympathy and support somehow made it easier to pull himself together and face what he needed to do. If he was valued, it was as the man he had chosen to be, and that man would do what was needed to spare those he cared about the pain that Vera had threatened to bring to them. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. If that is true, it will be of great comfort in the days to come."
They looked at each other for a long moment. Then he turned and looked up the stairs, resolutely beginning the climb. He left Mrs. Hughes looking after him, and regretted that he was unable to express what her words had truly meant to him.
In the end, he determined to wait until he was undressing his lordship after dinner to break the news. Perhaps it would have been better to have spoken earlier in the day … but he couldn't talk to Anna until the last possible minute. He couldn't bear to see her after he'd told her. And if he spoke to his lordship before nightfall, news would trickle down and Anna would hear of it from someone else, which Bates could not allow.
"My lord."
"Yes, Bates, what is it?"
"I … have some unfortunate news."
Lord Grantham turned his full attention on him, startled. "Of what sort?"
"My wife was here today. She has—Her situation has altered, and she requires me to go and live with her."
"What?"
Best to get it over quickly. "I will be leaving Downton with my wife in the morning. I am sorry, my lord."
"Sorry? Bates, when you first came here, I fought to keep you. Everyone was against me! Everyone. From her ladyship to Carson. They thought I was mad." He had rarely seen his lordship so angry … but even in the face of the anger, Bates couldn't see either telling Lord Grantham about Vera's threat, or allowing the threat to come to fruition. There was a sense of calm in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing. Lord Grantham continued, "But I said to them, 'after all that we've been through together, Bates and I, I owe him my loyalty'!"
"I appreciate that, my lord, but—"
"But what? But loyalty doesn't matter to you!"
That stung, when it was loyalty that drove his actions. His lordship didn't know that, however, and couldn't. "It does matter, my lord."
"Not enough to make you change your mind. Not even enough to make you stay until I've found a replacement."
"I can't."
"You won't take any more money from me," his lordship said savagely. "You leave empty-handed."
The old Bates, deep within, was spitefully glad of that. Less for Vera to get her hands on, then. "I don't want money, my lord." It was growing more difficult to keep his voice under control. He hated disappointing this man who had proven his own loyalty to Bates time and again. He'd been the best friend Bates had ever had, despite the difference in their stations.
They stared at each other for a moment, then Lord Grantham looked away. In a quieter tone, he said, "I'm sorry, Bates, that was a low shot. Of course you can have whatever is owing to you." He ripped off his vest, throwing it to the floor. "I thought we were friends, that's all." Bates pressed his lips together, trying to keep his composure. "I thought we'd crossed the 'great divide' successfully." He sighed. "Well, I've had my say. It's your life. But you've disappointed me, Bates. I cannot remember being more disappointed in any man."
That was the greatest pain of all, to know that not only did he have to leave behind this life he so loved—Anna, whispered his mind—but he had to burn this bridge, as well, and walk away knowing he had left the poorest possible impression on someone he respected and cared about as deeply as he ever had anyone. He accepted Lord Grantham's curt, unhappy dismissal and left his lordship's dressing room for the last time.
Later, there would be time to rail against fate, and Vera, and to weep for everything he was ripping himself away from. Now, he had to speak to Anna, and he would need every ounce of energy he had remaining to do so.
