A/N: A warning for slight references to the events of S4 and mention of miscarriage in this chapter.
Chapter 15
March 1928
Spring had arrived most completely, heralded by a greater and prolonged amount of daylight. The sun fell in streams upon the floor of their front room, brightness ribboning its way up the walls steadily. John noted that the golden rays were the perfect complement to the figure of his wife as she went back and forth, moving as nimbly and gracefully as a dancer, her feet almost too quick to catch in any one spot for more than a few seconds at a time.
She could be heard huffing lightly as she darted from place to place, her hands wiping down the tops of cabinets and over the few ornaments that were on display, moving with brevity but not carelessness onto the task of smoothing down covers and plumping cushions. She plucked up one that was wider than her own frame with hardly any effort at all, throwing it onto the floor with a soft thud.
From his arms both of their daughters bobbed their heads at the whumping sound, two pairs of big blue eyes going wide in fascination and, after a moment or two of silent wonder, two little mouths opening to let a chorus of soft babbling emerge.
Three pairs of eyes watched as she continued on her mission, the force of a hurricane contained in such a petite frame, and John considered that it was only right that their girls should be just as taken with their mother as he was.
He did feel a little dizzy regarding her though, trying fervently to catch her eyes as she went around the room, powered by an unwavering sense of determination.
"I'm not sure whether there's a single speck of dust left to be discovered in here," he said, loud enough to rouse her attention but soft enough so as not to startle – either Anna or the babies that were nestled one in the crook of each arm.
His tone held a note of amusement too; it was not the first time they had received visitors to the cottage since their brood had increased, and whilst she was keen to keep on top of things and show a presentable as well as a happy home he had hardly known her to fuss to this degree before. It was almost as if the Dowager Countess herself had been invited for tea and he had not been privy to such sacred knowledge until this very moment.
She turned her face to him at long last – what with everything, seeing to the children as well as rising yet earlier in order to clean the house thoroughly, he had not had a good glimpse of her since the night before. She did appear to be somewhat perturbed but as usual he could not fail to notice her striking beauty, the aforementioned sunlight causing her hair to shine a more effervescent shade of gold and the colour up in her cheeks.
A soft but noticeable sigh fell from her lips as she wiped her hands on the apron that was tied to her waist. "A housemaid knows to look for these things. No matter how long you've been away and how many other things you've learnt in the meantime, your eyes never deceive you."
He watched her with a smile as her head twisted again, those eagle eyes of hers looking to every crevice and corner, checking for the countless time whether there was anything that she had missed. His own gaze trained upon the elegant slope of her neck, the pads of her fingers as they tapped against it.
"Do you really think that she will mind?"
Something seemed to occur to her in the moments after he had uttered the words; her hands stilled against herself and she moved the one that was resting against her neck down to join the other in front of her waist. A calm descended to lift the worry that was wrinkling her brow and a gentle smile curved the corners of her mouth as she looked towards him, her attention fully focused.
"No," she uttered, the smile deepening upon her features, "I don't suppose she will."
Her gaze went from his own to take in the two girls who were so keen for their mama's affection, and a warmth spread through John to see how delighted she was to behold them again.
"I want everything to look nice, though. The curtains are a bit musty; I really should have brought the lighter ones down from the attic."
John tilted his head in contemplation, unaware that to his right little Emma was imitating his pose.
"They look perfectly fine to me," was his acknowledgement. A smirk began on his lips as he considered that the fine day would surely only become more so as the hours progressed. "Anyway, there may be no need. If that sun continues to blaze then they will lighten all of their own accord."
Anna looked abhorred, her expression still flawlessly beautiful. "I should hope not, these are the only winter curtains we have! We can't have them bleaching out."
"Certainly not."
He raised his eyebrows and stifled a chuckle for all of a few seconds. After pretending to be not best pleased with his teasing Anna could not hold back either and giggled along with him, her shoulders sagging in relief.
"I wish that I could have done more to help," he said, shifting forward on the settee, as much as he could allow.
She shook her head softly, a strand of hair escaping from her loose braid. "You've been a help in the most wonderful way," she replied, signalling to their daughters who were very contented indeed propped up against their father. "Don't underestimate yourself, Mr Bates."
"I'll try not to. But I'm afraid that I'm not as nimble as a former housemaid." And he certainly wasn't as skilled at sprucing cushions to make them appear as plump and pristine as they were when they were first bought.
"You have many of your own skills," she returned with a smile, moving to scoop up one twin and then the other into her arms, both of them having perfected the art of carrying two babies at once. As the girls got comfortable being transferred from one parent to the other she caught sight of the clock from the corner of her eye. "But I'm afraid that timekeeping isn't one of them. You'd better get a move on."
John moved quickly when he noticed the time himself, stopping in the doorway before he could pull on his coat and hat.
"Let me make you a cup of tea before I go. His Lordship won't be too put out if I'm five minutes late, and I'm quite sure that you have worked up a thirst."
Though her eyes looked ready to offer an argument her breath couldn't expel to dismiss such a generous offer. He ambled towards the kitchen with cane in hand, knowing that she had already washed and drained the best set of china, ready for use later.
"Don't fill up the pot," her voice called to him before he disappeared into the other room completely, "I should give it another going over in there."
By mid-morning there was no work left to do; if she dared to polish any more she was quite sure that she would have made a start on stripping the surfaces away. The girls were sleeping soundly in their cribs, William was happily occupied with his crayons and there was not a noise to be heard, other than the gentle ticking of the clock and the birds whose chirping came through the opened window.
There were moments during her days when having a breather, a quiet moment to herself, would have been greatly welcomed. Yet when they arrived – and in such a great quantity – she found them to be less of a respite and instead deeply unnerving.
The time of year always affected her; as much as she longed to forget, she found it impossible to do so. With each year that passed and with more distance to fill in the time things did get easier. But there remained a shadow, decreasing by inches but as pitch black as it ever had been, casting itself over the most hopeful and joyous of seasons. It made her mourn regularly; when the rest of the world was emerging out of the earth from the frosts of winter she yearned to hide away, cover herself and be rendered invisible until she could be assured that there would be no danger lurking in wait.
John knew when her mood was lowering and offered support in the best ways he knew how, whether it was to talk to her and lift her spirits or otherwise to leave her be until in her own time she made her way out of the fog. There were their children, the brightest rays of sunshine in her life. Their existence was testament to love being the most powerful force, the catalyst for survival and the best way of succeeding that she could think of.
She looked out of the window into the garden that would bring forth its blooms again soon, inhaling deeply, focusing on her breathing and the seconds that passed, marked audibly by the clock. It was just a feeling and it would fade away; nothing to be afraid of.
The thought had crossed her mind several times before today had arrived; perhaps it wasn't the best time for a visit and to act as cheerily as she could. Of course it was not her fault – when she had suggested the particular date she could not have possibly known. An excuse would have been easy enough to think of and to believe, especially with three young children to care for.
As swiftly as the impulses struck anew she pushed them away again. They had been planning this for such a long time and the prospect had given her something to look forward to, at a time when she needed it the most.
She watched a sparrow take flight from the branch of an overhanging tree, smiling at the speed at which it flitted away, and moved back into the front room, keen to see what her little boy was up to. As yet she hadn't quite got into the habit of not missing him even when she was absent from him for the smallest amount of time, the same being true for her two darling girls. They were taking after her, so she knew that it would be more trouble than it was worth to wake them early from their slumber.
"Someone looks very happy, indeed."
William looked up at her from his spot on the settee with a beaming grin, his chubby hands holding a crayon in one hand and one of John's books in the other, clutched to his chest.
"I draw!" he exclaimed, and it was only when he had announced his pursuit did she cast her eyes downward and, half-horrified, half-amused, see the fluttering of pages that had fallen across the floor in an artful arrangement.
"Can you let Mummy see, sweet pea?"
She tried her best not to over-react, hardly thinking that their son could be at fault when John was prone to leaving his volumes laying about in various places around the cottage. Will must have realised that he had done something wrong as he turned suddenly shy and had to be coaxed into lowering the book from where he held it against himself with the aid of Anna's gentle hand helping him from his side.
The words on the pages that remained fixed within the spine were now only half-readable, scribbled over with red and blue blotches.
She couldn't help smiling as her boy glanced up at her with big eyes, keen for her approval. If it wasn't too presumptuous or biased of her to say, she thought that he possessed quite the artistic talent. She was sure that John would agree, perhaps a little more readily if Will hadn't used one of his favourite books as a drawing pad.
"Well, that looks wonderful," she said, smoothing her hand against his silky hair before she kissed the top of his head, "and now we know what we can buy Da as a birthday present."
She watched as Will started another doodle and then bent down to gather the discarded loose pages from where they were scattered. It happened that she had been wrong, after all; when you had children there was always some work to be done, if you waited long enough.
Just as she had picked the last leaf up the knock came upon the door, echoing from the hallway and reaching her where she stood. For a second or two it shook her, coming rather unexpectedly, and she clutched her hands over her stomach until she glanced at the clock upon the wall and saw that it had gone midday.
Unclenching her fingers and taking another deep breath she untied the apron that was still fixed upon her waist, folding and depositing it away quickly, taking a moment to glance at herself in the mirror before she went into the hallway, conscious to not leave it too long.
A moment of uncertainty almost stopped her in her tracks but she pushed through it, twisting the handle of the door before there was any more time to hesitate. The expected visitor stood upon the doorstep, the brim of her hat almost but not quite covering all of the flame-coloured hair that lay underneath. Her coat was light and her smile was wide as she raised it up towards Anna, who smiled just the same.
"Gwen," she exclaimed brightly, "it's so good to see you."
There was some tea left in the pot and biscuits on a plate but they were left to go respectively cold and uneaten as Gwen contented herself with cradling Emma, rocking her almost imperceptibly. Sitting opposite Anna held Charlotte and mused that it was handy to have another pair of arms to help.
Her old friend gazed down at her daughter, who was no doubt peering up at this person, completely new to her, with enquiring and slightly sleepy eyes. Gwen smiled and tilted her head as Emma murmured a little, a sign that she was comfortable.
"They're so lovely at this age," she commented, her voice sounding far off in reminiscence as she moved a hand to stroke Emma's soft and downy fair hair, "I'd almost forgotten."
Anna smiled towards the sight, glad that the pair of them had been acquainted well so quickly. She had felt a little embarrassed having to ask again how old Gwen's children were – spending the entirety of your days immersed in the lives of little ones had the consequence of turning your brain into mush – but her friend had not had the same qualms. Six and four, she provided. It seemed almost bizarre to think of for the both of them; Gwen hardly believing that such an amount of time had passed and she trying to imagine Will and the girls being the same ages, as they would be someday.
"Would you think of having another?" she enquired with only a touch of hesitancy. As they were both mothers it seemed fair to say that they had reached yet a greater level of understanding and such inquisitive notions were accepted naturally.
She noticed Gwen's eyes to be a little wistful as she raised her gaze upwards, looking not at her but into the distance for a moment or two. A sudden coldness and regret came over her, and she found herself fervently hoping that Gwen had not endured the same agonies that she had, of a child there in one minute and gone away in but a few moments more. It would be a step far too far, not something she would dare to ask in a thousand years.
Thankfully she soon brightened, any notion that had occurred disappearing into distant thought. In Anna's arms her other daughter wriggled, and she adjusted Charlotte, turning her warm weight around the other way to face her sister and Gwen.
"Everything seems so busy. I'm not really sure how it got that way, if truth be told. There are too many people in need of help, and I find I can't refuse." Gwen paused for a breath, the weight that she had let show through in an unguarded interlude becoming much clearer now. "I think perhaps it would be rather unfair."
Anna nodded in understanding, even though she felt herself to be quite separate in that particular regard. She held her own ambitions, of course, but they seemed incomparable to all that Gwen was doing. She was very proud of her friend's achievements, whilst at the same time finding them perplexing, but no less remarkable. The memory was brought to her mind and how foolish she had felt for it, being so awed by Gwen when she had turned up at the Abbey and had taken her coat quite unthinking and instinctively; this woman who looked the very same as the housemaid she had once shared a room with but was considerably changed. Despite their correspondence, less frequent than it had been in the earlier days since Gwen's departure, she found herself really quite astounded by the woman who had stood in front of her, as though she had transformed herself effortlessly into the class of someone they both used to wait upon.
Sitting here now she felt foolish indeed, but then at the time her mind had been somewhere else entirely. She thought of it fondly now, watching her son as he sat upon the rug between their chairs, moving one of his wooden trains back and forth.
"You never know what's around the corner," Anna added, thinking of her own situation and how she had once been so near to surrendering her hope completely. And then there had been William.
Gwen answered the hopeful statement with a smile. "That's true."
She looked down at Emma again, pursing her lips and then opening her mouth wide in a game designed to keep up the baby's amusement, which in turn amused both women.
"John was a wonderful help, especially when they were very little."
"That's a common trait amongst men who bear that name," Anna said with a quirking of her lips, catching a glowing glance from Gwen, who was just as tickled by the coincidence. At first she had consistently referred to her own John as Mr Harding, though she faltered a couple of times, until Anna could feel that it was rather uneasy and bid that she use the terms with which she was more comfortable. Perhaps it could have been argued that she was not paying heed to her own advice, given that she was still so used to addressing John as Mr Bates in the company of others; those who were not their children, anyway.
They chatted more, and did indulge in a few more biscuits between them, finding the ones that were half-covered in chocolate especially irresistible. The girls started to nap again, falling asleep within seconds of each other and were settled into their cribs to see out the remainder of the afternoon, Anna smiling at how slowly and carefully Gwen placed Emma down against her blankets, almost as though she was made of the most delicately blown glass. She supposed that it was customary to take extra precautions with other people's children, thinking of her own behaviour with Master George when he had been tiny and Nanny had been not in the vicinity. In the time that had since passed she had known herself to be far more considerate with her flesh and blood, never taking for granted just how precious each of them were.
The thought remained on her mind, drifting in and out with varying degrees of strength that she felt as a physical swell in her chest and making her friend's next utterance all the more poignant, if very happily so.
"Could you have ever imagined that this would have been the way our lives would have gone?"
There was a sincere wondering in Gwen's tone – almost as though she hadn't dared to consider the enormity until now – which caused her to smile, growing wider as the seconds passed. It didn't seem so hard to go back to all those years ago when they had confided and occasionally commiserated, staying up too late once their duties had been done, dreaming of what may have filled their futures. Everything had seemed so simplistic then and Anna held a certain fondness as well as exasperation for her old outlook, which at the time she had believed to be advanced for her years.
"Well, the stork didn't bring us husbands," she said, remembering one particular exchange with a smirk shared by her friend, "but it did see fit to visit us both eventually."
She recalled the letters that she had read over cups of tea at the Abbey, the strange mix of joy and sorrow that had struck her when she took in the news in Gwen's neat hand that she was expecting for the first time. She had longed to have a glimpse of the future, just so that she could be certain that the same fate would be in store for her. Thinking back she was rather glad that such an option had not been available.
"I always knew that it would turn out like this for you," Gwen uttered, her eyes glancing around the cottage with its modest but well-kept furnishings. "At least, I always hoped. After Mr Bates came along, anyway."
Anna felt her cheeks and her neck flush warm, her head filled with such a cavalcade of memories.
"It wasn't smooth sailing, but we got there in the end."
In many respects the years had gone by in something of a blur, and if she had listened to the story of their life as if it had been happening to someone else she might have wavered on the certainty of a happy ending. Looking into the depths of her heart she knew that there had never been any doubts, and looking at her friend she was more than happy to be assured that others shared her own powerful beliefs.
"I haven't forgotten the ways that you helped." She hoped that Gwen was able to read the meaning in her eyes, the gratitude that she would always owe her for being such a valued friend.
"I didn't really help that much," Gwen answered, as humble as she had always been, "but it was the very least I could do. I swear that Mrs Hughes didn't believe me when I said that the bus must have arrived late, though. She gave me such a look at every dinner for a month afterwards."
Anna couldn't stop herself from giggling. "It wasn't just you. We should have known even then that nothing gets past Mrs Hughes."
"I was so scared of her at first."
"I remember," Anna said, her mind casting back yet further, "you wouldn't say so much as your name and 'yes, Mrs Hughes' for six months or more."
Gwen appeared a little ashamed and then laughed heartily. "I can't believe how silly I was. Then again, I can't believe that she and Mr Carson actually got married. It seems so strange to think of."
"The signs were there," Anna mused, "but I think they were rather better at hiding their affections. Or, in Mr Carson's case, ignoring them altogether for too long."
Gwen's eyes lit up as a crafty smile crept onto her face. "At least Mrs Hughes knows by now that there definitely isn't a stork. It'd put itself out with carrying Mr Carson!"
The pair of them laughed and laughed, feeling a touch guilty but relieved for the most part that they weren't under charge any longer where Mrs Hughes in one of her more formidable moments would catch them giggling like schoolgirls and scold them thoroughly with a cutting glare.
"Mumma!" Anna felt a tugging on her skirt, and two pairs of eyes looked down to see the most adorable little boy peering up at his mother. "Play, outside?"
The sun had moved from where it had been in the morning, taking up residence at the back of the cottage instead, but there was still a fine hour or two to be had.
With her hands free she had little trouble in hoisting Will from the floor, greeting him with a wide smile as she settled him high in her arms.
"I don't see why not," she answered him brightly. "Would you mind if Gwen joined us too?"
He looked at Gwen shyly for a moment before hiding his face in the crook of Anna's neck. Thankfully she didn't take offence, laughing lightly.
"Like a completely different little boy," Anna said by way of explanation, "he just has to get used to you. Where has my happy-go-lucky Will gone?" She looked around the room as if to provide answer to her question, and then pressed her lips to the crown of Will's head as she swayed her hips from side to side.
"It's quite alright," Gwen uttered, "I don't mind. I'll have to come around more often, if that would be well with you, William?"
Cautiously, she reached a hand out to brush against William's arm and was rewarded at first with a little look upwards and then a spark of a smile which grew far quicker than either of them expected.
With some people it didn't take very long for Will's shyness to fade at all.
The hours went by in a flash, until she found herself with one very overtired toddler on her hands. Will's head lay heavy upon her shoulder as she stood by the door, bidding a prolonged goodbye to the friend she hadn't realised she had missed so much.
"I feel awful that it's taken me so long to come and visit you."
Anna shook her head as fiercely as she was able at Gwen's lament, not wanting to disturb the sleeping Will. "I'm as much to blame. We both have a lot on our plates."
"Well, we won't leave it so long the next time," Gwen replied with a smile. "I'd love to have you over to our house. Perhaps we could have a day out when the weather gets better still, it'd be nice for the children to all meet one another."
The idea was a very good one, and she beamed a smile. "That would be lovely."
Gwen nodded before stepping forward to kiss Anna's cheek and stroke a gentle hand against one of Will's flopping arms.
"I'll see you soon, then."
She walked backwards a few steps down the cottage's pathway but didn't get very far until she stumbled into John, who was arriving home just as she was departing. From the spot where she stood Anna could see the fluster upon Gwen's face at hitting her husband with her back square in the chest and chewed on her bottom lip to stifle her smile.
"Oh, Mr Bates, I'm so sorry!"
"No harm done," he replied, his warm timbre reaching Anna from halfway down the path, "it's good to see you, Gwen. I thought I'd stay a little bit longer at the house to give you ladies some time to yourself."
"Oh, you shouldn't have done that. I wouldn't want to keep you out of your own home."
John smiled towards Gwen, telling her that it was no trouble at all. "I'm sure you had lots to catch up on, I didn't want to be in the way."
"Yes...I mean, we did, not that...it was lovely." Poor Gwen was tying herself in knots, her cheeks having turned almost the same shade as her hair. "I was only just saying to Anna that...well, she'd be best placed to tell you herself. I really should be on my way."
"I could see you back, if you'd like?"
"No, no," Gwen hurried to say, "I'm meeting Mr Harding at the tea-shop in the village so it'll be quite fine. Thank you anyway, Mr Bates."
"You're welcome," John answered, though he wasn't quite sure for what. With a swift wave of her hand and a longer look back towards Anna on the doorstep, Gwen headed off.
"That was a bit strange," he said, greeting her with a kiss to her other cheek and lifting Will from her arms before he even made it fully through the door, "I trust that she was fine with you?"
"Perfectly," Anna replied with a wry smile, watching her husband's back as he made his way into the front room and she trailed him.
Many topics of conversation had passed between them that afternoon, particularly in the spirit of reminiscence. It was hardly a surprise to Anna that Gwen confessed to having had a small fancy for Mr Bates back in the day, though she was hasty to explain that it was only because he was so kind and considerate towards her when she had been facing opposition, and she had never expected anything to come from it, not when he had clearly been so taken with Anna. Indeed there may as well have been nobody else in the room or the whole of the house when she was around as far as he was concerned, a quotation that made her feel pleasantly jittery inside.
"I suppose it's not only Mr Carson who can't see past his nose," she murmured as she started to tidy away the tea things.
"What was that?" John said, looking up at her once he had made sure that Will was comfortable curled on the settee.
"Nothing," she replied, though the twinkle in her eyes surely gave her away.
She dipped down to pull a blanket over and then plant a kiss upon Will as he slept peacefully, knowing that the girls would be up again soon enough, and rubbed a hand at John's back before he took his residence in the armchair and she picked up the tea tray.
"I'll help you," he said, moving to get out of the chair less than a minute after he had sat down, but Anna shook her head at his offer.
"It's fine. I put a stew in the oven before Gwen came; I thought that it would be easier. There's hardly anything to be done."
"My darling," he said with a smile that warmed her heart, "you think of everything."
"I try my best."
She realised too late that she hadn't quite thought of everything; once she had rinsed the cups and saucers and placed the pot of stew onto the stove to warm through, she arrived back into the front room to find a puzzled John picking up the book that lay upon the arm of the chair, watching a fair few of the pages as they escaped and floated down to the floor, landing around his feet.
"Oh yes," she began, yet another smile barely restraining itself upon her lips, "you might want to choose a different one to read tonight."
A/N: I have wanted to write a 'Gwen visits the cottage' chapter ever since 6.4.
