Chapter 12
August 1927
She had risen with the song of the lark and even at that almost unbearably early hour it had been as warm as if it were noon. A sign that she remembered from summers that had no end out in the fields where the barley was so tall that she could well have shrouded herself within it. It was going to be another long, scorching-hot day. She retreated to the front room, still covered in shade without the curtains drawn, and managed to read for a while before William was up, gulping back water which the baby didn't much enjoy, wriggling its tiny limbs within her. It was not long past eight and she was already exhausted.
Today was not the day for a social occasion. She wished to ascend the stairs at her own leisurely pace and climb back into bed to while away the hours, but the logical part of her brain knew that she wouldn't have lasted more than a couple of minutes, tossing and turning.
Her pace throughout the morning continued to be sluggish. The simplest of tasks took her half-an-hour to perform. She would certainly be awful as a maid now, days or even weeks worth of work stacking up over her. William was patient and content, not minding a bit while his mama moved in slow-motion, toddling towards her on feet that still could be slightly unsteady to help things along in the best way he could. Anna thanked her stars that she had such a docile little boy, especially on days such as this. Of course, he had his da to amuse him too, and the pair of them were her saviours, now more than ever.
Leaving them as thick as thieves she went to change, some hours after she had got up, finding the one suitable dress that was smart enough to cater for the afternoon and cool enough to ensure that she didn't feel horribly constricted. She had been meaning to make at least another but the store with all of the best fabric was in Ripon and it seemed as far away as America in her current state. Once she had put up her hair into a low twist, she sat down at the kitchen table, placing her bare feet onto the cool tiles that heated up beneath her soles far too quickly. The baby was restless, preferring it if she kept active. Yet if she did so much as walk up and down the length of the kitchen a few times she would have had to bathe again, and then she'd have nothing but her nightgown to wear. What a sight that would have been.
William came dancing over the floor, holding her strapped shoes in his small hands.
"Ready, mumma!"
She smiled gratefully and just a touch tearfully at her darling boy, taking one of the shoes from his grasp and resting it against her thigh. Not on the table, that would be bad luck. It was too far along to hold with such superstition, but all the same she kept her other hand protectively over her incredible bump.
He toddled off just as quickly as he had came, leaving John to take the place of his retreated shadow, the partner shoe in his much larger palm.
"Learning from the best," she said, shifting her legs about.
Anna noted the small frown creasing her husband's brow, taking her joking remark with a degree of seriousness that she hadn't intended. Of course he wasn't ashamed of his career, though it hadn't been a conscious choice. With the way things were going there wouldn't be much call for valets by the time Will was of the right age, probably only for the most noble of royalty. Still their son idolised his father, wanting to do everything just as he did. John had pointed out that he adopted the funny habit of letting his right leg linger a few seconds behind his left when he tottered about. She had thought he was having her on, trying to prove he was right and she was wrong in a rare moment of tenacity about the point, but she noticed it for herself when she was watching Will play in the garden one sunny afternoon out of many and had to giggle at the endearing sight. It was likely learnt as simply as he was also picking up words at the rate of knots, and as he became more confident and unthinking of his steps he was already growing out of it.
As though recognising that she was scrutinising him from her chair he quickly brightened, his eyes softening the entirety of his face.
"You know that I am always happy to be your maid, m'lady," he remarked with a grin, "off the clock as well as when I should by rights be occupied elsewhere."
She saw him bending in front of her; before she could raise her voice to protest his good knee had met the floor, his other elevated in a position that proved comfortable. He closed a hand round one ankle, rubbing round the bone with the pad of his thumb and sweeping round to her heel, soothing the cracked skin. Her toes protested slightly at being squeezed into the shoes and she already anticipated the particular ache that would reside at her soles before they had even made it to their destination.
She winced a little at the tightness of the straps, though he had taken care to fix them on the loosest fitting.
"We should be heading off soon," he announced, polishing his pocket watch once he was back on his feet, giving her an empathetic smile. "A cup of tea and then we'll go. I'll round up Will first."
The look on her face was what always gave her away, even when she tried her hardest not to let it show. He stayed held to the spot, seeming content that William was going along fine at whatever he was doing.
Though she was simply at the mercy of her body and her moods, not much helped by the fact that she hadn't got a full night's sleep in what felt like months, the guilt at feeling such a way gnawed at her. She had no right to even think of complaining, not after all they'd been through, the long road that had been traversed until they reached the first happy and welcoming haven along the way. In the next moment she realised that she needed to be kinder to herself, the same as she treated others when they were grappling with such heavy odds. For a start, it had not been the height of the hottest summer for some years the last time she had been nearing eight months pregnant. She found herself longing for drizzle and cloud, if not the full force of winter.
Her shoulders slumped. "Do you think anyone would notice if we didn't turn up? We could go out to the fields, let him run riot."
John smirked, feigning shock at the suggestion.
"Anna May Bates, are you saying that you would be so impolite as to not refuse the Crawleys' invitation, but ignore it entirely?"
Even after such a time out of their employment, she was compelled not to make a promise of what she had said.
"No," she shook her head lightly to reaffirm her true meaning, glancing up at her husband like a scolded child. "I just wish that I was in a better state to enjoy it."
The sigh escaped her without her even realising, holding both hands over the protrusion of her stomach. It was another foolish thing to think about but she couldn't help but feel like an awful frump. John showered her with kisses each morning and night without her even needing to seek reassurance and she felt the strength of his love without asking selfishly after it. He seemed to find her more attractive in her current condition, and just as she counted the blessing of a good-natured child she cherished the good fortune she had to be wed to such a wonderful man.
"We needn't stay very long." He was always so keen to placate her. "Show our faces for an hour or two, let Will get some attention. Anyone would understand you being tired, and if they don't then they're not worth wasting our time on."
She stifled a laugh to see that he was really quite serious at what he said. She was used to being the more social out of the two of them, the one to gee him along when he would rather stay at home with their small but growing family.
"Let's see how we go," she said, easing herself out of the chair with the help of his steady hand in hers.
William was eager to get going when they set off, though he was less keen to walk the distance himself.
"Da, up!" he exclaimed, hair gleaming in the midday sunlight. His hands had raised above his head in anticipation. "Pwease."
John hesitated for all of a few seconds before he hooked his cane in the crook of his arm.
"Not all of the way," he warned. He did need to work on his stern tone when it came to their son. "Five minutes."
Will nodded his head in reply, seeming to count the steps as they went.
Anna ambled along at their side, handbag dangling from one of her wrists. John mapped out their path, and to her relief he had taken the way that cut across one of the fields, shaving some minutes from their journey. It still seemed to take a long time for them to make it up to the Abbey, the final stretch leading up to the grand house feeling particularly arduous. There was not the slightest of breezes in the air, the day proving to be still and utterly stifling.
John had slowed his pace deliberately to accommodate his wife, even as their son skipped forward. Every few yards he came to a stop, looking behind at his mumma and da and waiting for them patiently to catch up, until he galloped off a few more steps. Anna's breath was getting short and she waddled her way like a duck up the gravelled path, the stones crunching beneath her feet.
She felt John's hand touch her gently, offering out his arm for the last leg of the journey. She smiled up at him, hearing Will's excited shouts of 'Down'un Appy' float back towards them.
The house always looked magnificent, its splendour set against the bright and unspoiled blue sky.
John had informed her that Lady Mary insisted that they go through the front entrance when they arrived that afternoon for the garden party. At first she refused to think about it, remembering the only other time she had been granted the honourable chance. Thankfully this was a much happier occasion, with her husband by her side and her son in his arms – Will had grew suddenly hesitant in the face of such grandeur, his little head craning back to take in its impressive scale.
Lady Mary was not to be seen but there were two other familiar figures waiting to greet them. A wide smile split across Mrs Hughes' face, her eyes lighting up as she saw William approaching. He ran into a little jog recognising the kind countenance of the housekeeper, who had crouched down slightly to welcome the toddler.
"Well, look who it is!" she exclaimed, smiling towards Anna and John as William hugged her about the legs. "My, you're almost as tall as your pa."
Will stood proud with his still-chubby fists held to his waist, and John ruffled his hair lightly.
"It's been too long since you've all been up here," Mrs Hughes continued, clearly displeased by the fact though her tone remained amiable. "We have to rectify that soon."
"Once this one decides to make an appearance," Anna answered, palm rubbing against her bump, "and Mr Bates sees fit to let me outside again."
John frowned faintly, soon settling when his wife smiled back at him.
"Oh, yes," Mrs Hughes looked on proudly, the glimmer of excitement at Anna's state shining in her eyes, "we're all so keen to meet the new bairn when he or she gets here. I bet you're over the moon about being a big brother, aren't you, my lad?"
William agreed happily, taking Mrs Hughes' hand as they wandered inside for a chat with the blessing coming from his parents, though it had hardly needed to be sought.
Thomas – it was still strange to think of him as Mr Barrow – stood with both hands clasped behind his back, borrowing a pose from Mr Carson and looking only slightly ill-at-ease stepping into the former butler's shadow.
"Mrs Bates," he uttered, "it's lovely to see you. You're looking well. 'Blooming' I suppose is the technical term."
"Thank you, Mr Barrow," she replied, amused and a touch unnerved at the gesture.
Her eyes kept watch as Thomas's gaze flickered to John, the younger man's lips pursing.
"And Mr Bates." Thomas extended his hand, which seemed rather strange. "Feels like a change to see you here as well."
The younger man smirked, hiding any greater malice behind his eyes.
"I'm wondering whether we should pay you as quite as much as we do, seeing as you're only really working part-time these days."
John shook his head, not sure why he should be in any disbelief.
"Well, that's his Lordship's decision, and I can't fault his generosity," he replied, perceiving Thomas's staid expression moving ever so slightly. "As I must provide for a growing family, he's shown the utmost kindness in lessening my duties. And I don't believe that you have complained in taking on the role of valet in my absence. It was something you got a little too used to, or so I hear."
They moved forward wearing polite smiles, Anna's arm linking into John's once more.
"I thought that he was better with you now?" she murmured, leaning against him as they walked through the hall.
John tilted his head to the side. "Most of the time. But a leopard still retains some of its old spots." His mouth moved into a smirk. "And I quite enjoy sparring with him every now and then. Keeps me young."
"I don't know if it's that that's keeping you young," Anna replied cheekily, nudging at his elbow. "And I have to say that I like you just how you are."
He stopped their tracks, sneaking a kiss from her lips at the corner of the room.
"I rather hope that you do a bit more than like me, Mrs Bates."
The sun shone bright and seemed more bearable as they got out into the gardens at the rear of the house, where the party had been arranged. It was a little different from the gatherings the Crawleys – or perhaps more accurately their staff – had put together so painstakingly in the past. It was not a lavish affair for the whole of Yorkshire's high society but more understated, relaxed, and just for a select group of well-known people. As well as the gazebos and seating areas, a small fair had been set up for the benefit of the children. There were a few little rides and stalls, as well as a mini petting-zoo with a selection of animals brought over from the farm. Miss Sybbie in particular was very taken with feeding a lamb from a small bottle, Mr Branson watching on with a proud grin as the one of the farmhands kept the animal steady.
Everything looked very lovely, though it was somewhat different to most of the parties both of them had been present at in the past. This time around the remaining servants were free to mingle and enjoy the afternoon as guests, given that their number was small and apparently decreasing by the month.
They greeted their former colleagues one-by-one, Anna exceedingly pleased to receive a glass of cool lemonade from a gleeful Mrs Patmore.
"Anna!" Lady Mary's voice rung out and she made her way across the lawn, wearing a long and flowing dress patterned with purple flowers, her youngest son held in her arms.
She smiled to see her former mistress, awkwardly receiving a kiss on the cheek as her stomach got in the way somewhat.
"Oh, I'm so glad you could come. Bates was saying that he wasn't sure whether you would be up to it, but I did hope that you would stop by."
"Well, you know Mr Bates," Anna said, looking over to where John had been held up by an especially chatty Mr Molesley, "things wouldn't be right if he wasn't fussing."
"Indeed," Lady Mary smiled, hoisting young Edward up in her grasp and shielding his eyes from the sun. "It can't be very long now."
Anna shook her head, both hands bracing her bump. "Just over a month, m'lady."
She noticed the amused expression upon Lady Mary's face.
"You are allowed to call me 'Mary' now. It seems rather strange that you wouldn't."
"It would feel strange to me if I did."
Lady Mary smiled, not moving to argue any further.
"You look splendid. Far better than I did at that stage."
"Thank you, m'lady," Anna gracefully accepted the compliment, "though I'm sure you looked perfectly elegant."
Which was not how she felt at this moment in time, sweat already gathering along her spine and under her arms.
"You know, things go much easier with the second one." Lady Mary looked at her youngest child, who shared her colouring, smoothing the wispy hair upon his head whilst he gummed at a fist. "Your feet are so much more secure on the ground. It's not what I would call a piece of cake, but it does feel different all the same."
She glanced in the opposite direction for a second or two.
"Though, I don't think I could say that was the case for poor Mama with Edith. She was such a difficult, clingy child. Not that she's changed all that much."
"Well, William is as good as gold, most of the time," Anna answered, hoping to change the subject somewhat. "If this one follows his lead or happens to excel it then I shall be very lucky, indeed."
Lady Mary swivelled her head back towards her former maid, looking much more serene.
"Quite," she smiled.
Tom Branson wandered over to join them, with Sybbie, George and Marigold in tow, and John also managed to break away from Mr Molesley, holding William's hand as he toddled along.
"I was thinking that I might take the children over to the farm, properly," Tom announced. "Sybbie says that she wants to meet the little lamb's brothers and sisters and all his family, and it would give you all a break for a little while."
He smiled towards Anna, offering her reassurance that he could be relied upon to take on Will as well as the others.
"Would you mind if I joined you?" John asked the younger man. "I have to admit, I feel like a bit of a spare part if I'm not working while I'm here."
"Sure you can," Tom nodded with a smile. "It might save my sanity to have the company of another adult."
Anna and Lady Mary watched while the men and children wandered off, and little Edward whimpered, aware of something that he was missing out on but not quite old enough to understand what it was. Before they were small enough to be specks on the landscape William turned back, halting John as he did so, and waved towards where his mama was standing. Anna blew her son a kiss that travelled on the breezeless air, her heart contracting with love. The baby flipped about inside of her and while the lurching movement was always rather unsettling, at this moment she could ask for no greater comfort.
She exhaled a small sigh, wearing a dignified smile as Lady Grantham and Lady Edith came over to join them, Lady Edith moving slower than she normally would. Her stomach was rounded in the unmistakable manner, though in comparison she was hardly noticeable.
"Your Ladyship," Anna bowed her head, not quite curtseying. "Lady Hexham."
Edith gave a funny sort of laugh, which made Mary cast daggers toward her.
"Please, it's Edith amongst friends."
Whilst Lady Mary took great offence on her behalf, Anna did not. She knew that nothing was meant in it; it had just been Lady Edith's nature, sounding slightly off-kilter and not quite fitting her situation. There was little denying that she had come a long way since her days as an uncertain young woman, trapped in the shadows of her sisters who were considered more favourable for their different reasons. She appeared much more at ease in her own skin now, flourishing away from the glare of attention of Downton, but their respective condition was prone to causing a great deal of delicacy in a woman.
"You must sit down, Anna," Lady Grantham interjected, a well-meaning look in her eyes. "There are more than enough seats, and we don't bother with reservations any longer. God knows we don't have so many of those kind of guests anymore to take them up."
She smiled politely, feeling somewhat awkward for the family's decline – though it was not apparently unusual, and indeed they were still in a more preferable position than many of their peers, given what news John had fed back to her.
"I'm quite well, but I must thank you, your Ladyship."
"Go in the shade, at least? Goodness, I remember being nearly at full-term with Lady Edith, and it was unbearably hot. I felt as though I was losing my mind."
Anna braced her hands over the swell. "I think this one rather likes the sun. They get a little tetchy when I'm out of it."
Lady Edith mirrored her actions, perhaps subconsciously, smoothing the coral silk of her dress tight to her form. "You'll have to give me some advice on how to cope, Anna."
She was fairly certain that the truth about Miss Marigold was no longer a secret, but being out of the immediate loop of the household made her yet more conscious of pretending she had not the slightest clue of the family's private affairs. Her Ladyship was wearing a rather pained smile, while Lady Mary could barely disguise her deep lack of interest, keeping watch over her baby son as he crawled on the ground, snatching at fistfuls of grass.
"If you think it's necessary, m'lady," she responded, hoping her answer didn't sound impertinent or too revealing. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."
The conversation carried on at an easier pace, thankfully, with the women exchanging familiar stories – Anna inordinately happy that she was able to contribute, without feeling as though she may run the risk of jinxing herself. Lady Edith took most of the spotlight, and Anna thought that she must have felt rather relieved to be out in the open too. Despite Anna being content to let the younger woman shine, Lady Mary was keen to intervene at several points, asking more after her former maid than of her own flesh and blood. Her behaviour surprised none of them, somewhat sadly.
Anna began to get rather restless, not wanting to spoil the fun but missing the other parts of her, off away having a fine time at the farm. They must have heard her private complaints, as within a few minutes the merry band of explorers, including William and John, came trundling back.
Will bounded towards her at a pace that had her half-terrified in case he should fall flat upon his face, but he stayed upright. She saw that his tiny fists were full and she beamed a natural smile, all of her aches and pains and exasperation receding into the distance.
"Mumma, mumma!" he squealed happily.
She could no longer bend even the slightest bit to receive him, so John held him up level to her height.
"Hello again, sweet pea. Did you have fun at the farm?"
Will nodded eagerly, John smiling between the both of them.
"We did, indeed," the elder Bates man affirmed. "Tell Mummy what you saw, Will."
His little face lit up as he reeled off a list of animals he had encountered. "Piggies! And seeps, and ducks..."
Anna could have burst with joy, rubbing her fingers against her son's sun-blushed cheek. "And what noise do the ducks make?"
"Quack, QUACK!" He shouted so loudly that they attracted a fair few stares, all of them thankfully fond.
"Yes, that's right," she replied, dropping a kiss onto his head and eyeing John carefully. They'd have quite the time settling him down to sleep this evening with all the excitement he had experienced. "You'll have to say 'thank you' to Mr Branson for bringing you both along."
"Already taken care of," John answered with a grin.
She could no longer pretend to be unaware of the bounty in Will's grasp, smiling brightly as he held the wildflowers aloft.
"Mumma," he uttered again in his adorable tone, "for you."
John looked as pleased as punch as he helped their son hand them over. "He insisted on you having a souvenir."
"Thank you, my darling," she exclaimed, raising the bluebell to her nose. "Next time I will go and see the piggies and sheep and ducks with you, I promise."
They enjoyed a few moments of quiet family time, able to slip into the feeling with ease. The other children, particularly Sybbie and George, were enthused by being reacquainted with their playmate and ran about Anna and John in circles.
"Why don't you two go off and make the most of this beautiful day for a bit," the friendly voice of Tom Branson returned, softly encroaching. "I'll keep guard and make sure they don't get him into trouble."
John placed Will down onto the soft grass, smiling as Miss Sybbie took up their son's hand almost immediately. He sought Anna's hand with his own.
"Shall we go for a little walk?"
"As slow as these feet will carry me," she replied, entwining her fingers with his larger ones.
She felt a tingling run through her as John brought their joined hands to his mouth, brushing his lips against the curve of her thumb.
It struck her that she hadn't ever walked around the estate with John; she hardly had much chance to do so at all while she had been employed at the house, and it made for a novel change. They were conscious not to go too far, due to both her tiring easily and not wanting to leave Will for too long, even though he was being well looked after.
They stopped at a particular spot, the soft rushing of the water coming from a lower level soothing to her ears.
"It's cooler out here," John uttered gently, his hand steady upon her almost-disappeared waist, "even if the lake isn't that big, you can tell the difference."
Anna nodded her agreement, her eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. If the water had been closer to get to without the barrier of the bank, and if she wouldn't have made such an ungraceful picture in doing so, she would have sat herself down and kicked off her shoes so that she could dip her feet in. Instead she leant against her husband's sturdy, strong figure, feeling him tense only very slightly as the small waves lapped against one another.
She remembered when he told her about the so-called 'limp corrector', a couple of months after they began their married life in earnest. Looking back she had known there was something to do at the time. She struggled to comprehend why he should try such a device when it ultimately would bring nothing but pain, and especially when she liked him – more than liked him – perfectly well exactly the way he was. He had smiled a half-infuriating but ultimately irresistible smile over from his armchair to her spot on the settee, and argued that she would say that now they were married and had such an arduous courtship behind them. She moved to argue back, but accepted – however wrongly on his part – that he had his own share of insecurities and uncertainties, thinking himself less attractive but, significantly, far less able to prove her equal if not her protector.
Unforeseen, she had come to better understand his feelings, even if she had been so wretched to think that there was no superficial thing she could own that would 'fix' her. If only it had been that simple.
There was no price, or indeed worth, that could be placed on the power of undying love.
"It's funny," she murmured, happy to feel the warmth sitting within his chest and the thud of his heart lying at the back of her neck, "we come back here together, and it's like going back some years."
So little had seemed to have changed in the occupants of the house, even if the climate around them had done so quite significantly.
He hummed low in his throat, his palm coming to cover and instinctively shield her stomach. It wasn't the whisper of a more noticeable wind that she felt kiss her.
"We should leave soon then," he said into her ear, "as I rather like where we are at the present."
She smiled, what felt like to herself given that he was unable to see it, bringing her hand up to rub at his forearm and enjoying the cooler air resting upon her face.
"Not before you win me something on the fair," she replied with a flourish. "Mr Molesley can't be seen to take all the credit."
Another smile crossed her lips as she recalled lying in bed, confessing poor Molesley's unrequited crush of times previous. It tickled her to this day that a copy of Elizabeth and Her German Garden sat on a shelf in the cottage, having been purchased by John not long after she had divulged that particular proposition, but as far as she was aware it had remained untouched.
When they arrived back at the party, arm in arm and walking at a steady pace, they were somewhat surprised to find Mr Barrow without his jacket and his waistcoat only half-buttoned, his cheeks coloured as he galloped about, Miss Marigold hoisted on his back and cheering her delight. The other children, including William, laughed and followed the 'horse' as he made his way over the grass, rearing up after a good couple of minutes.
"The esteemed Mr Barrow," John scoffed, "whoever would have thought. He does have a heart after all."
Anna looked on fondly, clutching onto her husband's arm, and thinking on the butler's own troubles, which he had done well to keep so hidden.
"If only he would show it openly more often."
Settling a happy Miss Marigold back onto the ground, Thomas looked about for the next jockey in line. Miss Sybbie and Master George ran eagerly towards him, scrambling for the butler's attention. He smiled down at them, but looked instead to the child that had turned suddenly shy. Stepping forward, he offered his hand out.
"Come on, young Bates," he said, feigning ambivalence in his gaze but flashing a smile that seemed rare in its warmth to little Will, crouching down to his height and keeping his voice low in confidence, "we can't let Master Crawley get away with being a greedy guts, can we?"
Anna and John watched on, half in astonishment, as their son climbed upon the back of a former foe, smiling and giggling as Thomas went well, geeing up at the right moments and even allowing Will a longer turn than the Crawley children had had.
It seemed a great many things could change, and for the better.
