Chapter 13
September 1927
John never tired of the simple pleasure of lying in bed with his wife. Many times he had longed for the night to contain more hours than it did, so he would be able to revel in the sensation for the adequate time that it deserved. For someone prone to insomnia, such a wish was quite a curious one. He still felt that they were owed hours, for the periods whereby unfair circumstance had kept them apart and made their nights long and solitary.
After much shifting to and fro, Anna had found a position that was comfortable. She rested her cheek against his chest, with the greater part of her body turned away from his own, though his arm lay at an angle that allowed him to place his palm on top of her stomach. He would miss this in a couple of weeks time, though then there would be a different type of connection to cherish. A babe in their arms.
His wife's answer to the same question would be considerably different. He felt a great weight of responsibility for the frustration and discomfort she felt at the sharp end of her pregnancy, and would have done anything humanly possible to remove the troubles she experienced. He also knew that after everything, she would never give voice to them for any prolonged amount of time.
She huffed as they both read silently, discarding her book at the bedside.
"Causing you trouble?" he uttered softly, bringing his hands to her lower back as she sat forward for a few moments.
"No," she replied, cupping underneath the swell of her bump.
John could hear in the tenderness of her tone the love she had for their unborn child, the same as she had for William and himself; she couldn't bear to think of them being a nuisance in any way.
"I'm surprised you can still lie here with us taking up all of the space. I know the settee isn't ideal but you'd surely get a better night's sleep."
He chuckled, dropping his mouth to her shoulder briefly as she settled back onto him.
"I don't mind one bit. You two can take up all the space that you need."
His hand resumed its previous occupancy, rubbing gently over Anna's stomach. Watching the way that her body changed in the past few months had seemed like a miracle to him, made all the more fascinating given that she wasn't cloaked in black for most of the time this time around. Every glimpse he took in was enchanting, stealing his breath in absolute wonder.
When each night passed he was certain that he could never love her more, until the next morning came and he was proved soundly wrong.
He picked up the book again with his free hand, musing upon the words writ on the page before his half-drowsy eyes.
Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted
By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain
Cry, "Speak once more – thou lovest!" Who can fear
Too many stars, though each shall crown the year?
Say thou dost love me, love me, love me – toll
The silver iterance! – only minding, Dear,
To love me also in silence with thy soul.
Anna's hand had joined his own upon her body, her fingers sliding in the spaces between his; their child kept protected beneath the makeshift shield they had unthinkingly created.
"We should have had a telephone installed," he uttered; quite a departure from the deep and poetic notions Barrett Browning's phrases had evoked in him yet minutes previous.
Anna sniggered. "The traditionalist takes me by surprise."
"I wouldn't say I was that," he replied, somewhat taken aback. "Don't you think it's rather strange that the Carsons should have one when we don't? Mr Carson never lost his suspicion about the one at the Abbey. I think he imagined that foreign spies were listening in at the other end."
"The poor man. He preferred to have conversations face to face, nothing wrong with that."
"I'll say something to his Lordship. I don't think it will come across impudent. Not when the Tripps have had one for at least a year."
"They're the exception to the rule. You don't need to have come into contact with Mrs Tripp to know that she isn't a woman who takes gladly to being refused something she's after."
John laughed faintly; having come across Mrs Tripp and her whimsical moods on quite a few occasions – and having to smile politely as she accompanied his evening trips to collect firewood, complaining of something or other all the while - he could only imagine what his Lordship would have made of her.
"It would only be practical," he continued back to his original point, "if cutting it somewhat fine for our current predicament."
He found himself caught between two poles, knowing full well what he would have preferred, especially as Anna's due date came ever closer. Since the garden party he had been bothered by Thomas's insinuation that he wasn't pulling his weight, even when he knew the opposite to be true. September also brought the Crawleys' annual excursion away from Downton. Though their number was less these days and he had been excused from travelling with the party, on account of Anna being so heavily pregnant, preparations were still to be made. He was off to Thirsk one day, York the next; he was half-surprised that he hadn't been sent to London to track down a pair of braces or a particular style of shirt. Every moment that he spent out of reachable distance to be consulted about any changes in Anna's condition made him anxious to run along at a greater speed in order to return to his wife's side.
"Mr Chirk does have those pigeons that nestle in his yard. If things were desperate, I could send one of those over."
She could barely stifle her giggling, and at least it was a wonderful sound to hear, even if it did little to ease his worries.
"I think we'll have luck on our side with this one," Anna went on, having recovered herself, pulling their joined hands a little lower on her stomach. "Heaven knows that we're still owed quite a bit of it."
He smiled as Anna guided their hands in slow circles, catching the movement of a foot or the jut of an elbow in moments most wondrous.
"I wouldn't wish to burden her, but I suspect that she is our lucky charm."
Anna shifted her head to the crook of his shoulder to steal a glance up at him. He had resisted the temptation for some time, but now he found it impossible to give the child the name his heart truly believed it would be. His beloved had been right first time around, and he eagerly awaited knowing for certain whether he would take the pride on this occasion. It hardly mattered though; not when the promise of another healthy addition to their family filled his heart with a joy he found impossible to describe.
"I don't reckon it will be tomorrow at any rate," she murmured, words breathed against his form, "so if his Lordship decides on any more errands you can go on quite happily."
He let out a sigh, letting her know that it wasn't quite the way he would term it.
"They're away in less than a week. We can only hope that will be the end of it." He lowered his head as much as he was able with Anna held against him. "And that you may make your arrival in that window, mo ghra beag."
Anna snuffled as he kissed her, keen to show just as much affection to his wife as to the child that they awaited.
"If she's going to be a daddy's girl, then I'm sure she will take it on board, Mr Bates."
He smiled fondly again, only before imagining what it would be like to have a daughter to follow him around, climb into his lap and idolise him completely. He adored his boy and felt that William would only grow kinder and more thoughtful in having a small sister to help tutor and shower affection to. And then there was the thought of Anna with her own miniature, the love he had for her so marvellously multiplied.
After offering another kiss to his darling wife he picked up the book once more, leafing back through the pages and reciting the words aloud from one in particular as Anna breathed steadily.
"Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
And worth of acceptation. Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed:
And love is fire. And when I say at need
I love thee . . . mark! . . . I love thee-in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine..."
He had left a kiss upon Anna's cheek and the print of his hand over her expanded middle. With time running a little tight as it was, there was one more farewell he needed to make before he set off.
"See you this evening, my lad. Be the best boy for Mummy."
Two small but deceptively strong arms had wound themselves about his legs, making it impossible for him to move.
"Da!" William squealed, pressing his face against his father's legs too. "Go with."
Anna gave a chuckle where she stood, leaning upon the doorframe. "I know that it's boring being stuck inside, but I was hoping you'd want to play some games with me."
John crouched down at the knees, gently disentangling Will's hands and taking them into his much larger ones.
"You have to stay here with Mummy," he said softly to their boy's pouting expression. "You're her helper, remember? It's a very important job." He smoothed his hand at his son's shoulder, picking off a non-existent bit of dust. "Much, much more important than helping Lord Grantham is."
He fretted about leaving them both, anxious that seeing his mother in pain would prove distressing and confusing for William. Initially he wondered whether it would have been better if he did bring their boy up to the Abbey with him during the day; though it certainly wasn't ideal, Anna would be able to call upon their neighbours when the time came. In the end he had been convinced that it was for the best if Anna and Will stayed together; he was a clever and trustworthy boy and wouldn't need much guidance on what to do. What bothered John more was the question of who would look after him during Anna's labour, if it should start during the working hours. Mrs Tripp and Mrs Collins would likely end up battling it out for the honour and he worried that they might not be able to reclaim their son for some time after everything was done, with those two battleaxes in contention.
William looked at him with such a serious face, his blue eyes deeply earnest.
It was their own trouble for having such an adorable boy, making him so much in demand.
"I'll tell him that you asked to come, though. He'll be very pleased to know how eager you were."
He lifted his head, catching sight of Anna's full smile and meeting it with his own.
"If Lord Grantham sends me out anywhere, I'll see what I can bring you back as a treat. Does that sound like a deal?"
Will nodded his head, scurrying back to Anna's side.
"The moment anything feels different..." he uttered low to Anna's ear, standing at full height again.
"I know," she replied, tipping her chin down to look him in the eye. "I honestly don't think it'll be today."
He wouldn't be able to rest or go about things as normal until Baby Bates the second was safely in the world.
"Go on," she gave him a little push upon his arm, "else you'll end up staying later."
"I couldn't stay a second longer than I was required to."
She smiled at his remark, wrenching himself from beneath the canopy reluctantly.
Before he could be properly on his way, a tug on his trouser leg stopped him in his tracks.
"Piggies" William peered up towards him, wanting to make a fervent wish known and understood by his father "Hello, piggies."
John chuckled, gathering his son into his arms for a brief moment; another minute couldn't possibly hurt.
"I'm starting to think that you'd rather live with the piggies full time, my lad."
The departure of the Crawleys had not put a stop to his running errands. Mrs Patmore was laid low with a heavy cold, and he could not refuse to be useful and go into Ripon to collect her necessary supplies, especially as he was not fulfilling his standard duties. That said, he did decide to kill two birds with one stone and take his Lordship's riding boots to be repaired while he was there.
The trip took longer than he imagined it would. He supposed that he should have anticipated that the day was not to go well when he missed the bus to Ripon by mere seconds and had to wait over half an hour for the next to arrive. On getting there, he found the shoesmith away from his station, traipsing around the shops with a pair of surprisingly heavy boots in his grasp. He must have looked quite the picture, sitting with an array of edible goods at his feet whilst the returned shoesmith hammered steadily away at the worn soles, not willing to rush his important work.
He felt weary when he got back onto the well-trodden path up to the Abbey and a little shivery too, despite the fine autumn day. Perhaps the contagion had already begun, even though Mrs Patmore had bolted herself away – largely on the orders of Mrs Hughes.
John was rather surprised, then, to be met with the cook as he entered the house, clad in her heavy night-robe. Colour had returned to her cheeks as well as just rendering her nose a bright red, although he suspected it had more to do with her animated nature at the particular moment than of her being on the road to recovery.
"Oh, Mr Bates! Where in heaven's name have you been?"
He frowned, heart speeding up as she grabbed at his arm with such force that she nearly sent the groceries that were still bundled in bags scattering across the floor.
She spoke in such a breathless rush that it was almost hard for him to keep up.
"Wasn't long after you left...must have only been ten minutes, or less...Mrs Tripp on the phone...we were going to send one of the hall boys to run after you, but you would have been well on your way by then."
His whole body went into paralysis. Anna. The baby. He had woken with a certain feeling after being roused from sleep more than once that night, that the coming day was to be the day. He should never have left the cottage that morning.
He was left so stunned that he was unable to speak.
"Everything is fine, Mr Bates," Mrs Patmore spoke calmly – something of an effort for her – and relaxed her grip upon the arm of his coat. "Mrs Hughes left the moment after she had got the message to Doctor Clarkson. Mrs Tripp said that between herself and another of your neighbours they would look after young William. I can't imagine that Anna will be anything other than well taken care of."
John was still processing the news; as much as the situation had been imminent, it still came as a terrific bolt out of the blue. He had hoped and expected that he would have been better prepared this time around.
"There's one important thing missing, though."
The cook's voice shook him a little out of his stupor, her clammy hands taking the shopping from his own – and even giving him a bit of a shove.
"Be on your way," she commanded, with a grin lighting her face. "Good lord, if only most of the house wasn't away, Mr Adams could have brought you in the car."
"It's quite alright," he finally managed to respond, nodding to the cook before he turned sharply on his heels. "Thank you, Mrs Patmore."
He was nearly out of the door when he returned back to the kitchen again, lingering in the doorway.
"I bought some cream cakes for Anna...I suppose it's best to leave them here now."
Mrs Patmore shook her head, retrieving the box from on top of one of the bags. "She'll need a treat after all that hard work."
"Um, yes...of course."
Taking the sealed box into his hands, he dipped down to give the cook a hasty peck on the cheek.
"I'll let you know. Or Mrs Hughes will, I'm sure...yes, alright."
Once he had disappeared, almost fast enough to leave smoke billowing at his back if there had been any, Mrs Patmore stood, arms folded and chuckling to herself.
"Heavens to Betsy."
What a lucky, and very good man, Mr Bates was.
John arrived at the cottage as the afternoon was on the cusp of becoming evening, his breath a little short – more with anxiety than with the pace he had kept up – and sweat lying rather uncomfortably behind his collar.
He was greeted in the hallway by Doctor Clarkson, packing up his physician's satchel. A small smile on the other man's lips served to put John's racing mind at rest.
"All is well, Mr Bates. Mrs Bates did wonderfully."
"I'm relieved to hear it, Doctor," John replied, the slightest hint of a smile lighting his cheeks. "I just wish that I would have been here to help."
He wasn't sure how much help he would have been able to offer. His heart would have been torn in two to behold Anna in such agony – even if it was for the very best reason – but the fact that she had given birth in their home meant that there would have been no need for him to adhere to the ridiculous rule that forbade men to be in even the same room as their wives whilst the miracle of life was happening.
"Oh, I wouldn't curse yourself too much for that." The doctor clapped a hand briefly to his shoulder before passing by, heading towards the door. "My warmest congratulations to you both."
He rose to climb the staircase with the smile cracking his face. No sooner had he set one foot upon the first stair he removed it again, as Mrs Hughes was on her way down.
"Oh, Mr Bates," she cooed in her warmest tone. "Just you wait until you lay your eyes on them."
He felt himself growing more happily anxious by the second, eager to see and kiss Anna, giving her his eternal gratitude for all of her efforts, and of course to meet their new child.
"Thank you so much for coming over. Doctor Clarkson gave no indication that anything went awry."
"Och, no," Mrs Hughes exclaimed. "Anna was marvellous. I don't think she needed me there at all. I've never seen anything like it, and doubt I will again."
It was rather a peculiar thing to say, but John paid little attention to the housekeeper's statement.
"Still, I am very glad you were there." He raised his eyebrows in amusement. "First, Lady Mary, and now you. I think we shall have to pay tribute to you both in some way."
Mrs Hughes replied first off with a wry smile. "I won't give anything away," she said. "Now, you get up there and say hello. I'll pop round and let the wee lad know that his Mummy is well."
John gave a gracious nod to her as another way of thanks before, like the doctor before her, she also made her way out of the cottage.
Then, he couldn't ascend the stairs quickly enough.
He held himself on the threshold of the bedroom for a few moments, preparing himself in reverence to face his wife. A deep breath filled his lungs with air. He already knew that the vision of her would be most beautiful; ethereal, almost. And their newborn child. He delighted himself with imaginings of who they would favour most in appearance. It would take a few weeks to know who they were most like in personality. But all he knew, as in the space of time when they were still unknown to him, was that he loved them endlessly.
He could wait no longer, and pushed the half-open door with the palm of his hand to be fully so. The early evening light was the first thing that struck him, amber in its glow, filling the room and settling at the peak of the headboard, crowning Anna as the mother made new all over again.
Her tired eyes met his own; he saw something of the first time they had ever met in the look newly exchanged.
"Anna," he breathed instinctively.
She smiled towards him; a more wonderful smile he had never seen.
"John," she replied in kind, stuttering slightly with the wave of emotion that possessed them both.
He went closer towards the bed, moving as if in a trance.
Anna peered down for a moment, the smile imprinted upon her face.
"You have your daughter, Mr Bates," she spoke in a soft voice. In awe.
"Oh god, Anna."
She met his eyes again, her arms shifting slightly against the bedcovers.
"And you have another one, too."
As though on cue, one whimper of a faint cry followed another. How could he had not have taken notice? Propped against the bed and both of Anna's outstretched arms were two perfect, if slightly small, newborns.
Two of them.
"I..." Already overtaken by emotion, he struggled to find the words to express what he felt. He took his place next to his wife on the side of the bed, filled with even more admiration for her. "They're beautiful."
Both of them had their eyes shut, one waving her arms with tiny balled fists, whilst the other remained more serene.
John observed Anna looking from one to the other, a similar look of astonishment on her face, tempered with so much love.
"They are."
She moved as much as she was able, gesturing towards him to take one of their daughters. As he held the new warm weight in both arms he felt himself filling up, head to toe, the rush becoming stronger on seeing Anna fully cradle the other child, the one who wriggled about. Already they seemed to have such distinct personalities.
They stayed there for some time, taking everything in – though it was a lot to process.
John slowly took his gaze from the baby in his arms, smiling as she seemed incredibly settled and perfectly content.
"How...?" he asked the question, as ridiculous as it sounded.
"I suppose that's what they call 'a surprise'," Anna replied, looking from the child in her arms towards him. "Or a turn in the tides."
John smiled, holding one daughter against his chest while he reached a hand out to stroke the cheek of the other. It would prove to be double the work they had anticipated, more hours of lost sleep and fretting, even if they had gone through it before. He might have to give up work altogether, or otherwise they would need to call upon some help.
Things to worry about for later.
His breath held as he watched the squirming baby in Anna's arms catch hold of one of her fingers. She smiled in delight.
"Your tribe is not quite as small anymore, Mr Bates."
He took his time to gaze happily at the three of his girls, each in turn.
"And I couldn't feel better about it," he answered with the greatest certainty in his heart.
A/N: Well well, two for the price of one! (wasn't my original plan for this story, but it is something I headcanon so it worked out)
The two poems are parts of Sonnet 21 and Sonnet 10 from Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
