A/N: I'm so pleased with the reaction to this fic! It's heartening to know that people are keen to know how the story would have continued to unfold for the Bateses :) (I'm missing DA airing, but I think it's far safer for all concerned that things progress this way rather than on-screen at Fellowes' mercies...)
Anyway, here's hoping this chapter is just as enjoyable.
Chapter 2
March 1926
Anna always did well with routine, and she was rather relieved with the way she had settled back into her duties. It was different, of course, and she had not been without her worries. She didn't mind so much about what people in the village might have thought of her – she had noticed the twitch of the curtain from the Tripps' cottage as she and John left each morning with the pram in tow. It was her life, and she had decided there would be enough space for both work and their cherished child. The '20s had brought a lot of change in society, especially for women, and it was also favourable that Downton Abbey was such a forward-thinking household.
William had turned out to do very well with routine, also. From the moment he was awake to when he took his last sleep each day – and indeed, for every second inbetween – she doted on him. In thought and wish, if not always in action. Most mornings he slept on the walk up to the house, swaddled in his blankets, but he would rouse once they were inside and really quite warm. She let their fellow servants fuss for a few minutes – the house had been used to children in the past few years, but it was another matter entirely to have a baby around downstairs so frequently – before she took him up to the nursery, settling him against her breast for his feed.
It was her favourite time of the day, that first nursing up at the house. The nursery so calm and peaceful, only the two of them basking in the closest comfort that could be known. She was used to the feeling now, but it still gave her the most wonderful happiness – to nourish and love her son so wholesomely, so utterly natural.
Nanny knew them like clockwork too, in only a matter of going on two months. Anna would hand him over, smoothing her hand against his fair baby hair and kissing him soundly upon his soft cheek. She wouldn't see him again until luncheon, though the afternoons were often freer for her, especially now that Lady Mary's pregnancy was progressing.
Sitting with her morning cup of tea in the servants' hall, she would watch the clock carefully, her legs restless beneath the table. She made herself wait for the bell to ring before she went up once more, though some mornings were more tempting than others. A minute here or there couldn't hurt, it would be fine to just have a little check to see that he was comfortable...
But she stayed resolute, every time. Routines were in place for a reason.
She gathered up the sewing she had finished, holding her head up as she walked the familiar corridors to Lady Mary's room. She was sure that she would be able to traverse the route blindfolded, and in her sleep.
It was a blessing that the nursery was situated in the other wing, and yet she could have sworn that she was able to hear William's little snuffles and contented sounds drifting out towards her. He hadn't begun to giggle yet, though it was only a matter of time. His smiles were already so bright, the lights in all of her days.
She knocked upon the door, as was customary, and waited for admittance. Most mornings, except for Sundays, Mr Talbot was occupied at the garage. If she did happen upon him in the room, he was always dressed and ready to make his departure. It was rather different from the times when she might encounter Mr Crawley sprawled out long after breakfast was finished. She recalled being too preoccupied with her own husband's predicament at the time to show her embarrassment outwardly. After giving birth in the very same bed some years later, she didn't imagine that anything else in terms of memory or future event could come close to making her face flush with heat in the same manner.
"Good morning, m'lady," she chimed as she went over to where Lady Mary was sitting on the edge of the bed, laying down the shawl she had mended. Anna noticed that the dark eyes of her mistress were somewhat heavy, for the second morning in a row. "Did you manage to sleep any better?"
"Not much," Lady Mary grumbled, shifting herself a little before bringing a hand up to rub her right eye. Her left went to the swell of her stomach in her nightgown. "As soon as darkness descends, this one decides that it's their time for a spot of rough and tumble."
Anna smiled fondly, remembering how William had been something of a night owl, always reserving his fiercest kicks for not too long after midnight. Sometimes she still registered a fluttering in the pit of her stomach at certain moments – an aftershock of sorts, she supposed – and it was the strangest and most reassuring sensation.
Even though she had an idea that it would be refused, she offered her hand out towards her mistress in the distance between the foot of the bed and the dressing table. Lady Mary did not need it, but her steps were getting just a touch more ambling each day.
At Easter the family, aside from the Dowager, were to take a trip to discover how Edith was settling in at Brancaster. Any later, and travelling was likely to be unsuitable for Lady Mary. Mr Talbot had his pick of cars to be able to get her back to Downton lest anything should happen but understandably, Lady Mary was less than keen. It was just over two weeks away, which meant that Anna would be well occupied up until their departure. Miss Baxter had maintained that she was more than happy to see to both her Ladyship and Lady Mary on the trip, but still Anna felt rather guilty that she wasn't able to do her job to all the lengths that were required. Perhaps when William was a little older it would be easier to take him along, although she didn't want to imagine what kind of scrapes he might get into once he was on his feet and toddling about.
"I must get a trim before I go," Lady Mary noted, adjusting her head as Anna combed out her bob, which had lengthened in the past few weeks. "I feel so neglectful of everything at the moment."
"You have good reason," Anna commented, feeling another pang of nostalgia. If only she would have enjoyed being pregnant as much as she had wanted to, rather than fretting quietly up until the last month or so. "But I can book something in for you, next time I'm in Ripon."
"You're a darling," Mary smiled into the mirror. "Though I'm sure it would be awfully frightful for everyone else, having me arrive like some kind of whale washed up on shore."
"Nonsense, m'lady. You're very neat."
Compared to her own bump at just going on six months, Lady Mary did indeed cut a considerably more elegant pregnant figure.
"Master George must be excited about the idea of a new brother or sister."
Occasionally Anna would catch the boy wandering out of the nursery, holding onto Nanny's hand loosely. He wasn't as forthright in his actions as his cousin Sybbie, but he was rather proficient in speaking up for himself. Very often he would have anyone who encountered him in pleats of laughter with his observations.
"Far more enthused by the prospect than I ever was," Lady Mary remarked wryly. "Though that may change when the baby can be both seen and heard."
Mr Talbot was a rather reserved character – not unlike someone else she knew very well indeed – but ever since the New Year had dawned he had seemed to have an added spring in his step whenever Anna came across him. He was nice enough to ask after William, his interest quite genuine, and Anna supposed it had a little to do with his peripheral involvement in their son's birth, as well of course as his own impending fatherhood.
"I know it's rather early to consider it," Lady Mary's tone was clipped, somewhat hesitant, as she applied some faintly scented cream to her hands, "but I imagine you must want to add to your number? Now that we know everything can go safely."
Anna coloured slightly, flustering with her hands. It was still somewhat strange to talk quite so intimately with Lady Mary, despite all the help she had given. Perhaps it wasn't the subject of children, but rather implying the aspect of marital life that produced them that made her feel uncomfortable.
In the glass of the mirror, a knowing smirk rose upon Lady Mary's lips.
"After all, we know that Bates is more than capable."
"M'lady!" Anna choked out a laugh, feeling a sense of déjà vu.
"Forgive me for being so plain," Lady Mary glanced upwards to meet Anna's eyes in the reflection, and the comment was already brushed aside. "I trust it's what you would like though."
Despite herself, she let out a small sigh. It could have been that her mistress was testing her boundaries, wishing to be assured of her loyalty. It was adaptable enough for her to carry on working with one child, but any more would prove something of a struggle.
She remembered something John had said once, about having children all around them. The image was one which she still held dear, but she couldn't envision that it was one which would be thoroughly true. She was not getting any younger, after all. She continued to thank God every day that their little boy had been delivered safely to them, and her mother did used to say that any child was a blessing from above, not to be taken for granted.
"We'll see, m'lady." She fought in vain to stop herself from sounding too sentimental, or worse, selfish. "Mr Bates and I are so lucky to have William. We just want to make the most of enjoying him at the moment."
Something in what she had said made her pause for a moment. She could not fail to enjoy her time with her darling son, who brought her such endless joy through the simple act of his breathing and being. Her second most favourite time of day was to scoop him up from Nanny's arms into her own embrace, speaking softly to him as he wriggled about, excited to see his mama again.
"Well, I'm sure things will turn out for the best."
"I think they always do, m'lady."
The two women shared a smile before Anna started on dressing Lady Mary for the day ahead. None of the maternity dresses were particular favourites of her mistress, but she settled on a midnight blue choice that was one of the newer ones purchased with a stylish silver-grey trim. Lady Mary favoured blue shades at the moment, and Anna allowed herself a silly superstitious wondering whether it could have been a motherly instinct as to what sex the baby would be. In her own experience, she found that all of the old wives' tales she recounted from friends of her mother and other sources had been entirely wrong.
"I'll make a start on the suitcases today, m'lady."
"Don't tire yourself out, Anna." Even now that she was back to her previous condition, Lady Mary didn't see anything wrong in being overly cautious. "I'm sure one of the footmen will be itching to prove their worth."
She smiled before she left the room, shaking her head. "More now than ever, I need to keep my energy up."
The direction to the attics were right, but Anna decided to turn left instead, almost skipping along to the north wing of the house. She had spent longer than usual in dressing Lady Mary, and it wouldn't hurt to check on her way...
Before she could make it inside the nursery, she made out the figure of her husband through the crack in the open door, hearing his deep timbre speaking gently to their son. The crafty beggar. How often did he sneak his way up here, while she was doing her very best to be the model of discipline?
"I'll see you later, son. Give me a kiss I can take to Mummy."
Her heart couldn't fail to soften, even if she was rather surprised.
When he emerged the grin dropped a little from his face, his cheeks flaring red from being caught in the act.
"Mr Bates," she whispered loudly and a little exaggeratedly. "Does Nanny let you do this often?"
The guilt faded from his expression the longer she looked at him, a sheepish smile blazing upon his lips.
"I came up on the off chance. Honestly. I was just on the way to fetch the cases for his Lordship, and I didn't see the harm in seeing how he was doing."
She knew when he was being careful with the truth, and at this point it was written plain upon his face. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.
Then again, she thought of another thing that her mother used to say: a trickster always knew their own tricks best.
Her routines weren't quite as fixed as she'd hoped them to be, but she wouldn't let on about that.
