As always, thank you all for reading! Your enthusiasm makes this such a pleasure to write!


May 1920

The breakfast room was abuzz that morning, the servants nearly as excited about Lady Sybil's coming baby as the family. They were all tired from being awakened in the middle of the night when Lady Grantham had rung for Dr. Clarkson, and the hope that the baby might arrive.

Sipping her tea, thankful for its heat and fragrance, Anna couldn't help but wonder how many more sleepless nights were in front of them before the baby's birth. Last night had been a false alarm—would there be more of those? She, for one, would be glad when the baby was safely here.

Picking up the plates, Ivy remarked, "I think I'd rather be in the city if I were having a baby, where they've got all the modern inventions." She blushed faintly, but not as much as Anna would have at her age, talking about something so intimate at the breakfast table in front of all the other servants. Times were changing, definitely, and people spoke more freely than they used to. Mostly, Anna thought of that as a good thing.

"Far away from everyone you know and trust?" she asked. "I don't think I would."

Mrs. Patmore frowned at the kitchen maid. "What are you talkin' about havin' babies for, Ivy? Think we can leave that for a little further down the menu, thank you."

"It's always an idea to be prepared," Jimmy said. He smiled up at Ivy, and Anna wondered. That Ivy fancied Jimmy was evident—you could just look at him, really, to see why, although he was a bit brash and obvious for Anna's taste—but she'd never seen much sign of a return of the interest. No doubt Jimmy was keeping his options open. He had an eye out, that one.

Next to her, Thomas said, "I expect you're always prepared." He glanced at Jimmy, who smiled.

"I try to be, Mr. Barrow."

Mr. Carson, at last, looked up from the letter he was reading. "I don't like the direction this conversation is taking. Could we all begin the day's tasks, please?" Everyone stood up, and over the sound of scraping chairs, Mr. Carson raised his voice to add, "And remember—Lady Sybil is in a delicate condition, so no noise on the gallery."

"It's excitin', though, i'n't it? To have a baby in the house," Ivy said brightly.

As Miss O'Brien took Lady Grantham's tray for her, Daisy said, "It won't make much difference to you. Now get back in the kitchen and do as you're told." She disappeared into the kitchen herself.

Miss O'Brien turned to look at Ivy. "Well, I think that message got through."

As Anna made her way up the stairs with the others, she tried to put her finger on the faint hint of sorrow that lingered on her tongue. It was a happy day—Lady Sybil's baby would be here any time now, she was seeing John again in another couple of days, she had his letters to prove all was well between them again, even if she didn't know what had gone wrong for the past month … what was she so down in the depths for anyway?

The wrangling about the breakfast table usually amused her, the roundabout of Daisy and Alfred and Ivy and Jimmy. But … how much more interesting would it be with John here, the private smiles they had always shared, the warmth of his leg next to hers compared to the chilliness of Thomas, the chance to talk it all over together when next they met. She missed him so much.

But that, too, was nothing new. She had missed him for a year now. Over a year. Their anniversary had passed, with little more than a smile between them to mark the occasion, neither wanting to bring up memories of that all-too-brief period of happiness that they might never experience again. The anniversary of his incarceration had passed, marked by Anna with a storm of weeping in the privacy of her room.

If things had been different …

Anna stopped in the hallway, her hand stealing over her stomach. If things had been different, she might have been in Lady Sybil's shoes right now, preparing to deliver her first child, her husband at her side, talking over names and dreaming of the future. Hot tears welled up in her eyes at the mental image, the picture so sweet, so compelling … so almost certainly impossible.

Turning her face toward the wall so no one would see her weeping, Anna fought to get control of herself, and of the fierce, burning longing for all the things she might never have. If she wanted those things, she reminded herself, she had to keep fighting. Lady Sybil and Tom had fought. Their road hadn't been easy, but here they were, safe and comfortable and starting their lives as a family. It could work out for her and John, too.

It had to.