Chapter 10
April 1927
His hand was in hers, helping her from the platform up onto the train – though at this stage she was hardly changed, at least by outward appearance. She gave him a smile once she was on board, a little amused by her elevated station whilst he remained, momentarily, on the flat.
With one hand shielding their precious cargo – at the moment it seemed to be her default position, a habit of protection she was almost superstitious to keep up – she extended her other to assist him on board, a returning of the favour that was a simple, unthinking act of love between them.
"I can manage."
His near-whispered words returned as a distant echo, and she found herself going back further than his arrival, recalling the first time she had been one of the travelling party when even as a rather lowly housemaid she was considered important enough to accompany the family on a trip to the seaside. There hadn't been many servants invited along, and a couple of the other maids had resented her enough as it was for how Lady Mary chose to speak to her but none of the rest of them. But it was hardly of any matter. She forgot about their snide words and withering looks, and instead rejoiced in the feel of the sea breeze upon her face, the swish of the lighter cotton dress around her ankles. She had picked up an unusual-looking and large shell on her exploration of the shore, and though she had never seen its kind before in her life seemed to know the instinct for nestling it against her ear and hearing the calling of the sea, the strange but enchanting and instantly soothing sounds that she imagined were songs from the creatures beneath, singing in that moment only for her.
John had rounded the words as he spoke them this time with a smile, telling her that he had chosen the phrase purposefully. She had never been in doubt of his abilities – and indeed she was thankful for his way of moving through steadily, his quiet and yet steadfast strength in the face of adversity – but she had always wanted to offer a hand to him, out of courtesy but more because she was compelled. To touch him, to recognise him, to acknowledge the connection running deep and strong as the currents that fuelled the greatest ocean that had existed between them from their first meeting, but was all the more powerful for the moments they had shared, the bonds they had forged.
The lives they had created.
They had the compartment to themselves, at least until very near London. John placed his hand in hers as they sat down, only breaking their contact to take out and unwrap the sandwiches he had made for the journey. She noticed how warm it was, the slight roughness of the inside of his palm comforting as it caressed her own.
Her mind couldn't help but drift, even in the incomparable safety she felt surrounding her.
"Do you think we should have brought him with us?" Her tone was momentarily mournful, regret sitting deep within her. It did feel like a piece of her was missing, a portion of her heart left behind in the place they hadn't yet departed. It was unbelievably strange not to have him fixed to her hip, his soft head resting on her shoulder and his little arms sturdily anchored around her neck.
"He'll be fine." She couldn't not believe John's words when he said them, his voice draping over her like a blanket. "It might do him good to have a bit of independence."
The thought horrified her. She didn't want to imagine him ever not needing her, especially not when he was still a baby.
His other arm circled about her, resting gently near to the flat of her stomach, still partly covered by her coat.
"He is too young," she sighed, repeating the reasoning that they had both come up with for leaving their son behind on this occasion. "For a trip like this. I wouldn't want him to be frightened..."
Her voice trailed off as she fought with all her might to stave off tears. It was true; she wouldn't be out of bed for two days after the procedure, at least not if John had any say in the matter. William was getting to be so active, he would be content to sit peacefully for not longer than ten minutes before his limbs, never mind just his feet, would get figuratively itchy. Mama simply would have to play with him, not lie there watching him as he had all the fun.
It made perfect sense, but it did not stop the pang from clawing at her heart. She had only been at the most a few hours away from her boy and she missed him terribly. They hadn't even left Downton yet, and already she was pining.
Her head pillowed upon John in much the same way that William's dark blonde head often lay upon her. The hush and hum of his breath against her temple lulled her as the heavy wheels they rested upon set themselves in motion, and for the first half-hour she clung to him with pinching fingers, though he did not complain.
Instead he only whispered in her ear, holding her close regardless of her need for him to do so.
"I know, my darling," he said, her emotion clear and mirrored in his voice. "I know."
He let her be silent and knew when to distract her, idly talking to take her mind off immediate concerns. He never thought he was much good at such chatter but it seemed to come perfectly natural to him when they were together, and he did it just as well with Will, conversing near enough all the time at the moment to encourage their boy's expanding vocabulary.
It was nice for them to go to London, she thought. She couldn't remember the last time they had gone, just the two of them without being part of a band of servants, however small. The novelty of it was not lost on her, even if the circumstances were not quite the ideal. John jokingly mentioned that they should drop in on the new tenants of his mother's house to see how they were finding things. It wasn't a bad thought – she was keen to know a little more about the couple who had taken the house on, and wondered if they might become friends from afar – but it would certainly need to wait for another time. She wasn't exactly sure when that would be; not any time soon, when they would have two young children to guard and care for and love more than anything else in life.
The gentle chug of the carriage settled her for the most part and she cast her eyes to the window as the rolling hills and scenery of the countryside blended together, earth meeting sky as if both had been painted in a perfect harmony. She was struck by the contrast of the previous trip that had been taken, anything but calm, dashing against the ever-falling darkness and fearing more with every breath she had managed to take. Her former mistress sitting by her side as a helpless and worried passenger, rather than her husband.
She held the two distinct pictures in her mind, finding comfort in the difference, particularly as John continued to hold her hand delicately, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the band of pure gold sitting at home upon her finger.
She was aware of the faint ache, very low down in her abdomen, and knew that it was a phantom. Her palm pressed there with the very same delicate manner John showed to her, doing her duty and feeling better on the instant for it. Still, she knew she wouldn't be able to breathe easily until a little less than forty eight hours had passed.
Their hotel was a short cab ride from Harley Street, a neat town-house that worried John with the narrow width of its stairs though he was quite content with the twin beds furnishing their room. Anna was not as satisfied with that fact, and wondered whether they might push them together for the first night at least. Four nights in a hotel in the centre of London was awfully extravagant, but she kept telling herself that money did not matter, nowhere near as much as ensuring that their baby was safe. She would give all the money she had and more besides to be reassured of that. John commented that they wouldn't be charging as much once they had somewhere of their own, though he did wonder if it may be somewhere to consider in the quite distant future. It was very pretty, Anna had to admit, and the beds were very comfortable.
The journey had tired her more than she cared to admit, largely down to the anticipation of the days ahead. She reached for him, her hands falling upon the forearms that were uncovered by the sleeves of his undershirt, and kissed his cheek. It rasped slightly against her skin; he would need to shave again in the morning.
"Goodnight," she uttered, still rather overwhelmed that he was here with her, giving her the confidence she needed. One of her arms lowered, and she sensed John's smile upon her as she stretched the fabric of her nightgown. "And goodnight to you, little one."
Stay safe, she thought and prayed. Just a little while longer.
She slept longer than she had expected to into the next morning, startled to find the sunlight streaming through the curtains, delightfully warm upon her face. Glancing to the left side of her she found John sitting bolt upright in his bed, book open in front of him.
"I hardly slept a wink," he confessed. I doubt it will be any different tonight."
He was more nervous than she as they arrived at the surgery. It was a far cry from Doctor Clarkson's little rooms, the ceiling rising up high over their heads. She could understand his intimidation; she had felt some of the same way when she had first come with Lady Mary. Her feelings had been a very heady mixture that day. She was rather used to the place and all its relative grandeur by now, and associated it with protection – just as she did the man sitting next to her.
"It's not unusual for men to be here," she leaned toward him in her chair, her hand covering over his. "Do you know, Lady Mary told me that Mr Crawley had been, once."
John nodded and smiled a little weakly, and it was with the recollection of Mr Crawley that she was overcome with emotions, relief and gratitude being the primary. The hand of misfortune had touched them, and at times it was as though its grasp would never be lifted. How very lucky she was to have her husband, a thriving little boy and a baby growing steadily within her. Yes, there were hurdles to overcome, but when they were placed against the pitfalls that had befallen others close to them they seemed incredibly small.
She thanked God for her blessings once more, and in the midst of doing so Doctor Ryder had descended the stairs.
"Mrs Bates, it's very good to see you again," he said warmly. "And Mr Bates, it's a pleasure."
To Anna's surprise, John had got to his feet, standing straight as a rod. A vision she couldn't have known confronted her, of John in his army days, only missing his uniform but possessing the same sense of honour and urgency.
"I hope it won't alarm you to hear me say it, but thank you, Doctor. For everything."
Anna couldn't prevent herself from smiling widely at the sight of her gracious husband, being as forthcoming with praise as she had almost ever seen him, standing in front of a rather flustered Doctor Ryder.
"That's very kind of you to say, Mr Bates, but I am simply providing a small intervention in what is entirely natural."
They shared a glance, Anna noticing how John's cheeks had coloured faintly red, even as the doctor spoke plainly in his professional manner.
"Mrs Bates, we shall see how everything is proceeding today. If all is well, and I have no reason to suspect that it would not be, then the stitch can be placed tomorrow as scheduled."
She nodded, rising from her seat. For a moment she felt John's hand upon her shoulder, and turned before she proceeded to follow the doctor.
"Anna," her name left his lips softly, the concern written upon his face.
"There's no need to worry, Mr Bates," Doctor Ryder interjected, as Anna continued to smile to him, speaking her own assurances in their own silent, secret language. "Mrs Bates is very capable. One of the strongest I've seen."
She kept her gaze upon her husband as he smiled, exhaling a small sigh.
"I have no doubt of that, Doctor." His smile widened as he gazed toward her, his eyes shining. "Absolutely no doubt at all."
There was only one living memory she had of sleeping in the afternoon, the occurrence being so infrequent that it could not even be called rare – as that would make it appear much more than a mere fragment. She had been very young, not more than three or four, and a stomach ache had brought her back to bed while it was still light outside. By her side, her father had propped himself and she did her utmost to stop her eyes from drooping shut as he read aloud to her, his voice taking on different guises. From below her mother made hushing sounds as her work in the small kitchen was interrupted, her sister wailing as babes in arms were wont to do. Her father stopped for a moment or two, telling her everything was well as she shuffled closer to his chest. Jenny's cries did fade away after a while, and she never could remember the end of that one story, succumbing to the pull of sleep. When she woke up just in time for supper she felt well enough for a bowl of soup and some bread, laughing as her younger sibling eyed the spoils enviously, not old enough yet for such delights.
She was fresher today, the hour-long nap being just enough to repurpose her senses. Yesterday she had been drowsy enough to temporarily forget that she was away from home. She pulled herself up a little, keeping one hand upon the mattress as she stretched her limbs, a little cautiously. She couldn't feel much at all, except a little tenderness at the lowest point, but it was hardly anything. It wouldn't be noticeable until she was up and about properly, yet the times she had got out of bed thus far had proved more than promising.
The faint sounds of the world outside brought everything to life once more, a smile spreading across her face as she listened. After a little while of worrying – worrying that had been easier to contend with this time around – she figured she was entitled to smiling.
John opened the door without making the slightest bit of noise, clearly anxious not to disturb her if she was still asleep. When she turned her head on the pillow toward him, his gaze brightened.
"How is London?" she asked him, hardly having seen much of it herself on this trip.
"The usual," he replied with a softness that complimented her recently woken state. "Raining."
He had not brought an umbrella with him but he didn't seem to be too affected. Anna imagined that he hadn't gone far, and the weather was not an excuse. He had hardly strayed from her side since she had emerged from one of Doctor Ryder's treatment rooms, bending at the knees and wrapping a steady arm higher than her middle, there for her to lean on. Making up for time, though there was not the least bit that he needed to. She loved it though; the feeling of being cared for, so thoroughly. John equally relished his role as protector and provider, everything seeming to him just as it was meant to be. She almost mourned that she had taken the chance away from him before, but it had been preferable at the time. If there was something she couldn't have borne should it cause both of their hearts to break irreversibly, it was false hope.
His smile grew deeper, and yet also had the hint of lightness to it. "I brought something back for you."
From behind his back he produced a medium-sized bar of chocolate, as elegant as anything she had seen in its pink and gold wrapping.
She smacked her lips together, her mouth already watering in anticipation. "And that will do for supper?"
He chuckled, carefully prising the bright packaging apart, breaking off a chunk. It tasted richer than she was expecting, utterly lovely as it melted upon her tongue.
"I'll order up something of greater substance in a while," he replied, taking the tiniest piece for himself and leaving her with the spoils. "But I want them to be accustomed. A sweet tooth, just like their mother and brother."
Her heart fluttered while she lay calm and still. "You spoil us, Mr Bates."
He turned for the slightest moment, retrieving two volumes out of the bag they had been escorted from the bookstore in. Anna gasped at the copy of Sonnets from the Portuguese he handed to her with an almost coy smile; it had long been a favourite of hers, and she did own a battered, well-thumbed copy, but this one was encased in embossed leather with gold-leaf edging the pages. It smelt even better than the chocolate, something she hadn't thought possible, and she cradled it against her chest.
"John," she exclaimed, "this is beautiful. It must have cost you a small fortune."
Shaking his head, he held the other book purchased out in both hands for her to examine.
"I know he has enough already, but I couldn't see anything else that he might enjoy as much."
Anna beamed, nodding in agreement. Their Will was truly his father's son, loving each book that was read to him better than the last. She edged the cover with her fingers, tracing the title and smiling at the appropriateness of it. The Velveteen Rabbit. Benji was becoming a little dog-eared already with the love he was constantly shown by their affectionate little boy.
The emotion caught in her throat again, unable to be restrained for the moment.
"I miss him," she confided to the one heart able to relate. "Whatever did we do without him?"
Even a few months ago the same question would have been far more bittersweet, edged not with doubts that had passed with the joy of his arrival but the reminder of the pains they had endured before he had came, a light in both his appearance and nature but much, much more in meaning.
While that resonance remained, new life gave even greater hope.
His lips pressed against her hair, the shape of them staying long after he pulled back. "We'll be back soon enough. Enough to count the minutes, if you'd prefer."
The reassurance he gave made her feel further at peace, the look held within his eyes wrapping comfort around her. She missed his arms though, the warmth of his chest as she rested her back upon it; his embrace that made her at home even if she was a million miles away.
"Scoot nearer," she urged, staring at the chair he sat upon as if she somehow possessed the power to move it closer with the sheer force of her will. With only a moment of hesitation, he did as she asked, the volume of poetry back in his hands. "Could you try and move your bed over tonight?"
"Would it be alright?" he said, the words lying on the surface of his tongue. "I'll take the doctor's words about not needing to change our routines, but isn't it too soon? I don't want to do anything to...upset."
She sighed, half in loving frustration at his caution.
"I'll be more upset if you don't," she replied, smiling so that she didn't offend his nature. "Obviously we can't be...intimate, not in that way. But I just want to be near you, lay my head on your chest to hear your heart beating." It was the most simple but most wonderful of the pleasures afforded to her as a wife, one which she never underestimated. "I've missed you, too."
She was more than happy to see him smile, his mouth leaving a kiss upon the back of her hand while her other rested beneath the covers. In a few hours time it would be replaced by his larger one, keeping up his protective role as they both slumbered.
"Let me rest for a little while first," he said, his tone hiding a hint of mischief that she was beyond joyful to detect. She watched him as he opened up the book, relaxing his shoulders and leaning so she was able to rest her head into their crook.
He read sonnet after sonnet, page after page to her until late into the night, and she absorbed every word, eyes wide open and heart full of wonder for the months that lay ahead.
A/N: I'm sure I'm not alone in wanting a scene where John accompanies Anna on her trip to London to get the cerclage. Can you imagine how fussy and lovely he'd be? *happy sigh*
