A/N: As my twin KristenAPA says, this chapter marks the end of an era - but the beginning of a new one! :) There are a couple of other youngsters making their appearance here too, and they were very fun to write. But of course, Baby Bates will always be my favourite little one.
Chapter 6
October 1926
A chorus of giggles could be heard coming from the nursery, predominately belonging to a little girl and a slightly younger little boy. Miss Sybbie and Master George were quite the pair when they were together, and indeed, it was rare that they were ever apart. Each day was a new adventure to the youngsters, some more exciting than others, and they reacted with the exuberance that they deemed only necessary.
They were a boisterous duo, especially within the comfort of their most well-known surroundings. When they were allowed to visit their fathers at work they conserved their build of energy to return to the Abbey like two miniature whirlwinds, leaving poor Nanny Fielding in a spin. Yet they had their quieter moments too, as though at such young ages they were acutely aware of the example they were required to set. Both missed the presence of their more docile cousin and companion, but in a kind of remembrance had taken on an equal share of her calm nature. On those more peaceful days it wasn't just Nanny Fielding who breathed a sigh of relief, but it was also such a charming sight to see. An honest Lord and Lady in the making, without any heavy responsibilities as yet; simply enjoying being able to play, as was only right for their ages.
And in the absence of Miss Marigold, they had acquired another playmate.
"Come over to me, William," Sybbie chimed, sounding curiously much like her mother and holding her arms out, "I have the bear."
George took a couple of small steps in front of his cousin, brandishing his prize in both fists.
"But I have the blanket," he announced, full with the truth of the matter. He cast a glance from the baby to Sybbie, squaring back his shoulders and waving the soft material slightly.
Sybbie might have been older, but the young Master was well aware of his authority.
"A bear's much better than a blanket, Georgie. You can win next time."
The boy pouted, not quite ready to concede defeat. "It's not fair that you always choose first, Sybbie. And you can't call me that. Mama doesn't like it." He puffed out his chest, rising further on the soles of his feet. "My name is Master George Crawley."
The girl giggled loudly, shaking her head of shiny chestnut-coloured hair. "But that sounds silly."
Amidst the squabbling, William had ceased his crawling across the floor to either of the two older children. They watched keenly as he gummed at his fist for a few moments, then sat himself squarely down inches away from them. He began to squeal at the coloured wooden alphabet blocks that were cast out upon the floor, prodding a few in turn and then picking up a yellow one which was emblazoned with the letter A.
"Clever boy, William!" Miss Sybbie was unable to contain her excitement, hopping on her feet as she went over to the little one. "That's what the affa'bet starts with."
Smiling widely and seconds later letting out a cheer, William passed the block from his chubby hand to Sybbie, and then swiftly turned his attention to choosing a second.
"I know; we can play school!" the little girl exclaimed, taking her cousin by the hand and pulling with the intention of getting him to sit, the same as William was. "I'll be the teacher, and you're both my pupils."
"I can be a teacher too," George countered from his place kneeling on the floor. "You're not that much older than me, Sybbie."
She was already busy arranging the items around her, not taking much notice of her cousin's pleas.
"There can't be two teachers, Georgie. It's my game, so I can choose."
Anna was amused to walk into the nursery while the two cousins were bickering, but couldn't fail to be charmed most of all. There had been many a time when she had come to feed or check on William to find one or both of them coddling her little boy, and it always warmed her heart to realise how keenly they had taken to him.
George got to his feet and ran over to her, stopping short of pulling upon her skirt.
"Mrs Bates, can you please tell my Mama that Sybbie isn't being fair to me?" he asked, very politely indeed.
She fought to hold back a grin, not wanting to make the boy further prone to sensitivity.
"That's not my place to say," she replied, bending to pick up William who was gurgling happily at the sight of her.
Anna cradled her son closely, her heart smiling to feel his weight once more and having his little arms vine about her shoulders.
"Perhaps you can say something to Mr Barrow later," she whispered to George before rising upright again, garnering a small smile from him.
Looking at the two bright faces standing at her feet, she was overcome by a peculiar mix of emotions. Most immediately, a sense of gratitude for everything she had and a certainty deep within that she had come to the right conclusion. The anticipation of the days that were to follow, spent with her boy and watching him grow to the same size – she hoped fervently that they wouldn't race by too fast – was waiting close by.
"I've come to take William home, a bit earlier than usual."
She looked from the rosy-cheeked grin of her son, one of the sights she held most dear, to the slightly fallen expressions upon Miss Sybbie and Master George.
"We've only just started playing, Mrs Bates," Sybbie stepped forward a little, one leg crossed in front of the other. "Can't he stay for a bit longer?"
Reaching to tug upon his cousin's cardigan, George gave a solemn shake of his head – almost as if he was realising something that was quite beyond his comprehension.
"Remember what Nanny Fielding said."
The little girl bowed her head, bringing her feet back side-by-side.
"I'm sorry," she uttered, in a mouse-like squeak.
She was a little darling – the daughter of her mother and father in equal measure.
"That's alright," Anna said, quick to reassure her. Bouncing William in her arms, she smiled to both children. "You can play more very soon, I promise."
She wasn't sure of how much the children knew, but if their sudden seriousness was to go by they must have known that their playmate wouldn't be back in the nursery as usual the next day.
"I know William would like that very much. He has so much fun playing with the both of you."
Miss Sybbie looked rather puzzled. "But he can't talk yet."
Anna smiled once more. "He's always very happy, though."
As she lowered her arms for William to say 'bye' to them both, the little girl came forward again, giving him a kiss upon the cheek. William squealed joyfully.
"Bye bye, William. See you soon," she said, in a softer voice.
It was Master George's turn to step up, both of his hands holding two small and delicately painted figures.
"They're for William to play with when me and Sybbie aren't there."
Anna nodded as she took the toy soldiers into the palm of one hand, placing them carefully into the pocket of her dress. "I'll keep them safe for now, until he's a little older. Thank you for being so kind."
George smiled up at Anna, a little shyly. "Edward is asleep, so I will say goodbye for him."
Anna walked the few steps to the crib, peering over to see the sleeping baby inside. It hadn't been all that long since William was just as small; a mere matter of months. She had a distant vision of the two boys being friends – perhaps not as firm as they might have been if William would have continued to occupy the nursery each day, but given their closeness in age it seemed more inevitable. At least, she hoped that would be the case.
The hush was broken by the stamp of Sybbie's footsteps, her words barely being heard as she rushed past and out of the door.
"Miss Sybbie," Anna exclaimed, picking up her pace as she followed, with Master George in tow - thankfully he was not running along the corridor. "Be careful."
"Tia'a has to say bye, too!" the girl hurried to say as she stopped still for a few seconds. "We have to go and see her!"
She waited long enough to hold onto Anna's hand as they went the rest of the way, descending the staircase in a line formation.
William had only been introduced to the dog fairly recently, given that he was not yet able to walk, never mind play and give the attention that she craved. Though lively, Tia'a was also perceptive and recognised the need to be different around a younger child, compared to the more resilient Miss Sybbie and Master George. She had been trained well – mainly down to the influence of Mr Branson, who she had almost as much affection for as her master.
She was circling his feet now as he was pouring over a newspaper in the sitting room, enjoying a peaceful moment – one which was cut short by the arrival of their merry band.
"Daddy!" Sybbie bounded towards him, causing Tia'a to start jumping and offering the odd bark at the sudden commotion.
"Hello, my darling. This is quite a surprise." As Sybbie jostled into his lap, Tia'a nudged her head against his shins. Mr Branson was quite in demand. "What do I need to apologise to Nanny Fielding for this time?"
"Mrs Bates and William are saying goodbye," the little girl explained earnestly, reaching one hand down to stroke the dog's head enthusiastically. "And I knew Tia'a would want to say bye as well."
On hearing her name Tia'a gave a yelp, before she padded over to where Anna was standing, sniffing at her ankles.
Mr Branson smiled as he stood, placing Sybbie onto the settee where she was soon joined by George and Tia'a, who was happy to go wherever she was most wished.
"The day's finally here, then," he said, his voice warm with a touch of nostalgia. "How are you feeling?"
"Excited," Anna replied, adjusting William in her hold. "A bit strange, I suppose. I'll have to keep reminding myself when I get up that I'm not meant to be here. Though, it won't be hard, after a few minutes."
He chuckled, holding his hand out to stroke William's cheek.
"It won't be the same without you. Lady Mary doesn't want to say as much, but she knows it'll be different."
Anna smiled a little wistfully. She had spent the last weeks being shadowed by her replacement, Miss Daniels, who was only a couple of years younger than her. She was a diligent and an experienced lady's maid, and Anna felt that she couldn't be leaving things in better hands.
"She's more of your ilk than Lord Grantham's, which is a blessing."
"Don't let him hear you say that," he joked.
"Maybe it's best that I'm going, then."
William batted his hand out, attempting to catch onto one of Mr Branson's fingers as he waved them back and forth.
"It's not just her that will feel it. I'll always remember how welcoming you were to me, and how good you were when I didn't know where I belonged. You're part of this house to me, and it'll be strange not to have you here."
She had the urge to thank him as Tom – his demeanour had mellowed over the years, but he had never really changed – but instead she refrained, still aware of the distinctions between them.
"You're very kind, Mr Branson."
He shook his head fiercely; perhaps she should have used his first name after all.
"I can't say it'll always be easy," he added, shaking hands by the way of one finger held in William's fist. "But I promise you'll enjoy every minute."
They exchanged a smile, while Anna felt a surge of sadness in thinking of Lady Sybil and what she would have been like now. Just as lovely, just the same as they once knew her.
The smaller image of the youngest Crawley daughter made her way over, with Tia'a following loyally behind.
"Can I have a slice of cake now, Daddy?" Sybbie's brown eyes were wide, extra hopeful.
"Erm...in a little while, love."
Anna giggled at how flustered Mr Branson had become, giving Tia'a a pat before leaving and lowering William briefly to let him do the same. The young dog ran about, barking her goodbyes in their wake and taking a little while to calm down.
As she went away from the grander rooms she cradled her son's head, holding him as her own comfort as he hugged to her frame, his soft blanket draped over her shoulder. She had handed over her three black dresses, wearing one of her own frocks now, and bid her goodbyes in turn. The day was fast drawing to a close, as was her tenure at the house.
William's legs moved against her sides as he sought to get comfortable, and she halted her steps for a few moments, smiling against his feathery hair.
"Nearly time to go," she whispered into the tiny shell of his ear. "You'll have to make sure Mummy doesn't make herself look silly."
She took a steady breath, chasing away the few tears that lingered. Her memories would be held dear, the closing chapter perhaps a little longer than she had anticipated.
John was there, waiting, when they reached the foot of the stairs. In the flurry of farewells she felt as though she had not seen him since they arrived that morning, and the sight of his secret smile soothed her aching limbs.
"It's been a long day," he started, moving forwards so that he could kiss her cheek lightly.
She murmured her agreement. "I'm looking forward to home." Her arms shifted, though didn't fault an inch. "I know this one is."
He chuckled, his large hand covering their boy's head.
"I didn't breathe a word," he spoke low into her ear, supporting her with the span of his palm as they moved in tandem, a carefully arranged silence standing in substitute for the absence of a closed door.
"Surprise!"
Their fellow servants sung in chorus, faces both smiling and quietly sorrowful. She was a little startled, though not as much as William who let out a disgruntled wail at being disturbed from his nearing sleep. Sympathetic coos rose up for the babe, Anna smiling as she welcomed each figure who came to offer their good wishes, of which there were many. All the while John remained close at her back, taking their son into his arms to allow her to enjoy the modest party, arranged especially for her.
It was suddenly a feat to take in the crowd of familiar faces, ones whom she had seen every day for some years and others more recently known. Miss Baxter was full of warmth and excitement as she offered an embrace, Mr Molesley standing next to her – his appearance was heartening, seeing as he was no longer a permanent fixture at the house. Andy had poured out a small glass from the bottle of Veuve Clicquot - of which another had been loaned for the celebration -, jesting that they ought to start up on For She's A Jolly Good Fellow whilst the piano remained untouched.
"It's going to be ever so strange not seeing you," Daisy commented, rummaging in the front-pocket of her apron and producing a silver teaspoon – the very one which oft rested by the side of her cup each morning. "Take this with you. Something to remember us by."
"Heavens – she'll be half an hour away, not on the other side of the world, you daft thing!" Mrs Patmore bellowed, turning her charge rather sheepish.
A tall figure moved tentatively forward from the background, his head bowed ever-so-slightly and tight lips unpursing.
"Before you go, there's something I should say." He looked uncomfortable, the effort to even consider the words huge. Yet she could see sincerity in his eyes, long before he moved to speak. "I'm sorry, for making things difficult for you when I ought to have kept quiet."
Though he remained silent, she could hear the heaviness of John's sigh inside him, not finding it so easy to forgive.
"It's alright, Thomas," she said with a soft edge of regret that things couldn't have always been as peaceable between them. "It's been a new start for both of us, this year."
Accepting absolution, the butler went back into the throng, hardly noticeable as he pinned himself to the wall – though a rare smile came up on his face, listening to old stories that were shared amongst them all.
Though the hour was drawing late, laughter flowed along with the champagne. Anna's hearty giggles could be easily drawn out, the sound of John's fond amusement just as noticeable. Evenings such as this were the exception and they took the time to enjoy the seconds as they passed, their pride and joy equally as alert since a little while had passed, letting out happy laughs.
"Excuse me," Mrs Hughes's distinctive tones rung out along the clink of cutlery against her glass. "My husband has a few things he would like to say, in honour of our dear departing Anna."
Anna was silenced and humbled as Mr Carson appeared, casting a somewhat uncustomary sentimental gaze toward her. His speech would seem indistinguishable to her until a few days afterwards when its true depth of meaning sunk in, as she was standing at the kitchen sink of all places. She would hold back the tears as she took the weight from her feet, letting herself curl against John's solid and supporting frame, their son sleeping soundly against him too as the fire roared in their cosy sitting room, being reassured by the fact that there was no need to rush or to worry, after so much had stacked up against her in the past. There was so much time now, all of it precious and entirely her own.
She could no longer call herself a lady's maid. She was a mother, and a wife, and there were no titles that she could ever wish to exchange her dearest professions for.
She would close her eyes slowly, watching the golden embers flicker down, keeping the three of them warm. As she succumbed to sleep, she would hear words from some time ago, when most of her dreams had remained such. It had taken some time, and a fair bit of tribulation, but now those same words were wholly true.
I know only that I am now who I was meant to be.
