A/N: The reviews for this fic have been so kind. I'm so glad that people seem to be enjoying the continued journey into Bates family life, it's definitely rather lovely and fun to write.
Not as much John or William in this chapter (they are still there!), but it's a rather important one...
Chapter 5
September 1926
The click of her heels across the sturdy floor still echoing in her ears, even after she had ceased her steps, Anna inhaled deeply before she reached to tap upon the door that stood in front of her. She pulled back her hand quickly, knitting it with its partner and seeking out the reliably warm band of metal, the presence of which gave her reassurance and also reminded her precisely why she was doing this.
After a few interminably long seconds – long enough that she wondered whether she should knock again – the voice from within called out.
"Come in."
She smiled briefly to herself, remembering how foreign the same voice had sounded to her all that time ago when she was a teenager, nervous and uncertain and feeling as though she could easily run a million miles just to get away.
It was right; the time had come. She had known it in her heart for a good while before she admitted it to John before the light of dawn just over a month ago as they both stood, watching over the little one who had brought their dreams into true living daylight. She had said it to herself enough as she weighed up the options, and saying how she felt aloud was the first real step in putting the process into action.
Just as she had promised, she had asked Lady Mary the next day, still rather fuzzy-headed from lack of sleep. Asked rather than told, as she remained ever-aware of the societal difference between them and that she was in service, no matter of all the instances where she had traversed the lines of duty even if it had been at her mistress's requests. She stayed practical and thoughtful, knowing that Lady Mary would need the time in advance to find a new maid. A little selfishly she hoped that it wouldn't take too long – a month seemed more than enough to scout as well as to allow the idea of her leaving to settle. She wouldn't be going straightaway anyway, planning for the handing-over of duties which would let her scale back gradually. But Lady Mary was Lady Mary, and so it seemed wise to account for her whims.
As it was, it had gone easier than she had imagined. No longer a petulant girl on the verge of womanhood – though she still possessed the same qualities as she had back then – Lady Mary was accepting of the decision, wistful but wishing her the best for all that was to come. Though there was no immediate need for it, she offered thanks and deep gratitude and there were a few tears from Anna at the end of that morning – of sorrow and nostalgia, of relief that all had gone well.
Before she stepped over the threshold into the snug of the room, the thought struck her plain.
Perhaps it wasn't Lady Mary she had needed to worry about, rather unexpectedly. Perhaps it was Mrs Hughes who would prove the bigger challenge to her leaving.
She had found herself dressing with extra care that morning, pressing her dress diligently and fixing on the shoes that she had stayed a little later the previous evening to shine up until they looked as pristine as if they were newly-bought. Mr Carson was the one for appearances, inspecting every minute detail upon each of their persons. The men had it worse, being under his jurisdiction. Mrs Hughes had her standards, of course, but her keen eye fell towards the work that was carried out. She had the eyes of a hawk as she glided amongst the girls in the library and sitting room, in and out of all the many halls. Never overbearing; instead the smallest of huffs and the barest of glances would let you know that you were coming closer to the edge.
Once she was well-pressed she went over to the crib, her cheeks cracking as William lifted his arms up towards her. His legs wriggled as his small hands tugged at the air; he was already shuffling about on his tummy and crawling whenever he was placed on the floor of the sitting room, and she imagined it wouldn't be too long before he had a good go at climbing out of the crib for himself. Right now he still needed the help, and she was graced with a gummy grin as she brought him aloft.
Holding him close she sniffed at his hair, humming to herself as his pudgy fingers clung onto her shoulder, pulling at her dress.
She had done her best and stayed on, as she had initially promised, but the pull that was being exerted was too strong for her to resist. She needed to be with her son and nothing could change her mind on the matter.
His happy smile was brighter than a new ray of sun to her eyes, his gurgles turning more audibly each day into giggles, clearer than several bells.
"Well, it's a good job I don't have to answer to Mr Carson, else he'd think twice about allowing me to go if he saw my collar all creased."
She beamed a smile at her boy's handiwork, raising his arm and blowing a raspberry onto his softer-than-silk skin. It was definitely a laugh she heard escape him, rather than any other distinguishable noise, and her heart lifted to the ceiling to know that very soon she wouldn't miss anything as he got bigger and yet cleverer.
It was the thought of bearing witness to so many wonderful moments that made her stay sure as she met Mrs Hughes's gaze in the housekeeper's room, smiling towards the elder woman as she took a seat on the other side of the little bureau. Her nerves were shot to pieces; somehow she felt more anxious than when she was a girl and had first come into contact with the rather stern-looking woman with a brace of iron keys in her grasp, unaware of the gentle heart that was underneath.
"How is the wee man this morning?" Mrs Hughes cooed, asking after William as she always did, a fond smile already gracing her face while she poured out tea straight from the pot.
"He's much cheerier today," Anna replied. "A couple of extra naps, and a few more cuddles than would be usual during the night, and he's as right as rain."
It had been a trying few days, since she had noticed whilst feeding him that he felt especially clammy. When John had changed him a little later he pointed out a faint rash brushed over William's stomach. Though John tried valiantly to stay calm for her sake, they were both frantic with worry, especially when William cried through most of the night instead of sleeping. A short wait at Doctor Clarkson's surgery put their fears at ease, all being much better if not completely resolved when the doctor confirmed that their boy had caught his first cold. Nothing to fret about, even if they had done the right thing in bringing him for a check-over.
She thought she had done terrifically well in not bursting into tears in front of Doctor Clarkson, saving it for when they got home to the cottage and the shelter of one another's embrace. After the chaos of the morning William took quickly to napping, his breathing reliable and soft.
"That's wonderful to hear." Mrs Hughes sounded almost as relieved as Anna had felt when she was reassured nothing worse was the matter. "Hopefully I might be able to have a cuddle in a couple of days, once he's all back to normal."
Anna smiled, the first genuine smile of the day since she had waved bye-bye to William and his big blue-eyed grin in the nursery.
"He would love that."
The housekeeper had been their first, and it seemed only choice to be William's godmother. They had both been present to ask the question of her, the three of them alone in an unusually-quiet servants' hall. It was rare that Mrs Hughes cried past letting a few tears glimmer at the edge of her eyes, but as she had embraced Anna after giving her affirmative answer the younger woman had distinctly felt a droplet – warmer than rain, and far more possible seeing as they were sheltered by several storeys above their heads – pass to her own cheek.
It had been more practical to offer the role of godfather to their former colleague, even now that he was in quite a different realm and had been for some time. There was the undeniable fact that Tom Branson was younger, and there was also the added security of his being a now-unmovable fixture within the Crawley family. If, God forbid, the worst should ever happen, then they would be able to rest peacefully knowing that their darling boy would always be well provided for, walking besides the flesh and blood of nobility and, not being that much younger, treated as their equal. John would never forget the part the younger man played in ensuring that Anna and William, before he was born, were safe and had a better-than fighting chance. Even as he argued modestly that he only did what anyone else would in the private knowledge of such a matter, it remained that John would forever be indebted to Tom Branson for his act on that night when he was only half-aware of something being wrong.
Her mouth had gone a little dry, despite the sips of tea she had took; her hands bunched in her lap. Mrs Hughes's head was tilted, eyes looking intently although not with interrogation. With Lady Mary already seen to, she could take her time.
Best to be out with it.
"William is why I wanted to speak with you. Well, part of the reason...I suppose mostly, but not all..."
Goodness, she was making a right mess of it. Years of serving under the housekeeper's watchful but simultaneously fond gaze came to meet her in a rush, thousands upon thousands of memories colliding. She supposed once – in a time that was too far gone to comprehend now – she imagined that she would be stepping into Mrs Hughes's shoes at some point, the brace of keys passed over to her, a weight of responsibility in her hands.
She took a deep breath, meeting the unswerving gaze firmly.
"I'd like to hand in my notice, Mrs Hughes. If you'd accept it."
The cavalcade of nerves whirring inside of her built to a crescendo, then came to a still with the appearance of the housekeeper's smile, kindling like gentle flame within the grate.
"Well, my girl, I don't say that I won't be sorry to see you go, after all this time." The pause that she left seemed to stretch on for the years that had passed by. "But of course, you have other responsibilities now. Ones that matter much more than everything that goes on within this old house."
Mrs Hughes's face lit up further, as it had done when William was still curled up within her and she was the size of a house. Both John and Lady Mary had been fiercely protective – sometimes to the point of being overbearing – but Mrs Hughes had shown nothing but pure joy towards her expectant state, since the moment she had her suspicions confirmed. Perhaps because she had borne her share of worry and fear for her young charge in the past, and afterward had wanted nothing other than to look to the brighter side.
The wiser eyes turned hesitant, and dare she think a touch embarrassed, for a moment or two. "I thought it was that you were going to say, or otherwise it would be a bit of not too distant history repeating."
Anna's cheeks flushed. "Not yet. I'd like a little bit of peace first."
In the past couple of months, she felt more optimistic about the prospect of another child but remained foremost wanting to take the time to be with William, devoting her time and efforts to him.
"I'm not sure you'll get much peace for a good long while yet."
Both women chuckled. Those memories that had been held in her head now seemed to be in the air, settling around them in the room.
"I've not taken the decision lightly," Anna announced. "It's been my life here, for so long. And you've always been there to see it unfold." She stopped, before it overwhelmed her. "I wanted to grant you this, and to say that I'm ever so grateful for everything you've done for me."
It pained her that certain moments came to the surface more easily than others, but perhaps it was because she could never say enough for those.
"Och," the housekeeper shook her head, her roots becoming more visible in her tone, "there's no need for that. I was only ever keeping watch. Everything you did here you did by yourself."
She was too modest, so very rarely taking her time to step into the light.
"And I've no doubt whatsoever that you will continue on that way," she continued. "With Mr Bates, and the wee one. I always knew..."
Her voice broke off, and Anna had to blink back her tears. Mrs Hughes rose abruptly, instead of letting her own fall again, rounding the table to clasp her hands around Anna's arms.
"It's been a long time in coming," the older woman noted, with a little triumph. Anna returned the statement with a watery smile, having stood in the same spot many times before, and often feeling like the moment had been so far out of her reach. "I wish you the very best, my girl. And all of the happiness in the world."
They finished their tea and dried their eyes, and before too long Anna departed, closing the door behind her to give Mrs Hughes some peace before the day wore on and became increasingly hectic.
Another cup of freshly-brewed tea was waiting for her when she got to her seat at the table in the hall, as well as a smiling face. She would drink the tea, even if she no longer had a thirst for it, but the sight of her husband – cane hooked over the back of the chair he sat in – was the welcome she craved the most.
"Did it go well?" His voice was laced with concern; he had been drawn instantly to the red rims around her eyes.
She touched her hand to his, reassuring him before uttering a word.
"We couldn't escape completely unscathed," she laughed, "it has been a while." And now the clock was ticking down – she hadn't noticed it so keenly before. "I'll work out another month, and then that'll be me."
"I hope there won't be too many more tears," he uttered softly, leaning in to almost whisper to her whilst some of the others started to mill in and out.
"I can't promise there'll be none."
She smiled wider to compensate now, her eye drawn to the piece of paper he was holding between his hands upon the table.
"What's this, then? Are you trying to keep a secret from me, Mr Bates?" Her voice was lightly teasing; they were quite far past needing to be solemn about such matters.
"Ah," he replied, the corners of his lips tugging upwards as he glanced down, suddenly remembering about the scrap himself. "I might have done a bit of investigating while I was in Ripon yesterday."
He unfurled his fingers tantalisingly slowly; she could just make out the words 'FOR SALE' printed above a picture of what appeared to be a village inn.
"I didn't think it would hurt, to start looking, anyway."
After a few seconds she burst out into a fit of giggles, much to her husband's bemusement.
"Anna?" he questioned. "If it's not what you want..."
Once more, she grasped the fingers of his hand with her much smaller one, eyes gleaming.
"You silly beggar," she chimed, her heart lightened after the burden she had carried throughout the morning. "I just never thought I'd see the day when it was you who took the first step."
His face moved from being solemn to amused, with more than a hint of mischief glimmering in his gaze. Out of the sight of the housemaids who were lingering, he raised her hand to his lips, imprinting her palm with a long, slow kiss.
"I always aim to surprise, my darling."
