Chapter 16

June 1928

Anna did not place a great deal of importance on material things. Growing up as she had, where bountiful harvests and long summer days were the greatest of riches, her opinions were not so much shaped as defined from the start. Happiness was the biggest prize of all, a conviction she had known since an early age but had become yet more certain of as the years had gone on.

The few possessions that she did prize were made so because they reflected her deepest joys in life. There was the band of gold sitting in its rightful place upon her left hand which gave her such euphoria whenever she happened to look down and catch a glimpse of it, growing more so when she touched her fingertips to the warm metal. It had been kissed many times, by both herself and John, and tears of sorrow as well as happiness had fallen upon it. To her eye it seemed to shine brighter now than when it had first been pushed gently over her knuckle, fitting perfectly.

There was the blanket which she had knitted over a number of months and which was at present folded neatly away into a drawer of the cupboard in their room, which had swaddled each of their children at some stage when they had been very small. Perhaps it did not fall quite into the category of a possession, given that it had not been gifted to her specifically, but she knew that if the worst should ever happen that she would fly to rescue it. It had been untouched and unwashed and if she were to take it out at any moment and press her nose to it she would instantly be able to discern the scent of each child, powerful enough individually but almost overwhelming in combination.

And then there was the photograph, held in its gilded frame, that showed her and John smiling on their wedding day. The most perfect moment captured for all eternity. She passed it a loving glance each day, polishing it carefully in its stance upon the mantel, remembering the times when she had lifted it from its denoted place, needing to cradle it closer while she sat in John's armchair or lay long nights alone in their bed. Most happily of all, those days were now a distant memory but she had not forgotten the strength that had been sought and assuringly provided over difficult days, the comfort that made the possession all the more significant to her.

The more she looked upon the photograph, by the light of the fireplace or as the sun streamed through into the room, the more she thought it would be very good if it had a partner. There was certainly space for another on the mantel, and though she was most lucky to look upon her beautiful family at close hand day after day she also wanted a lasting reminder, another token to hold dear to her heart. The children were growing so fast, the girls especially changing almost with every hour that passed, that it seemed vital to hold them in a moment. Of course they would always be perfect to her but there was no harm in catching such perfection to be held in high regard for the rest of time; it seemed almost a travesty not to do so.

The next day that she was in Ripon, running her everyday errands, she made some time to call into the photographer's shop to book in an appointment, making a note of the date that had been agreed upon onto the folded piece of paper that held that day's shopping list.


It was just as well that she had the foresight to write it down, as otherwise she may well have forgotten about the appointment entirely; it was only when she came to write out another list that she caught sight of the scribble and had a small panic on realising the date was only three days ahead.

Life was always busy with three young children but the last few weeks had been something of a whirlwind. No sooner had she dropped her head upon the pillow – only a matter of seconds, it would seem – then she would need to rise again, feeding the twins while she was still half asleep or soothing Will as he stumbled, still a little unsteady on his feet.

In addition John's duties at the Abbey had increased of late, even having been required to accompany his Lordship on a somewhat impromptu trip to London. She was glad that it had been a matter of business rather than anything to do with the Earl's health, yet at the same time she felt a touch aggrieved that it was her husband who was insisted upon to go such a way. She admonished herself for being selfish and quite preposterous; John was doing his job and he never failed in fulfilling his duty to the utmost degree. The two days he was away had been very long but their children did not fail to prolong the sunshine, shining yet brighter with their smiles and laughter, as if they realised exactly that they needed to be on their best behaviour with only their mama to see to their every need. The four of them managed to fill the time quite well indeed, but Anna preferred that the occasion would not become too much of a common occurrence.

So when the day came around she felt rather guilty that John would be spending a precious half-day away from the big house having his photograph taken, on her command. It would have been so much more beneficial for him to use the hours to rest – as much as either of them were able with six little hands prodding and poking them. At the very least he could have stayed at home in his shirt-sleeves and not have to worry about appearing how he so often was required to; staid and proper. If it was up to him then he would not pose for another portrait for the rest of his days.

But he would do anything for her, a fact she knew and completely adored.

Of course that same morning Charlotte was fussy and had no desire to be anywhere but in her crib, which meant that bathing the girls took longer than it usually would, much of the bathroom being covered with water in the process. Breakfast was delayed, toast rather than porridge made in haste, and she had moved like lightning to prevent William from smearing marmalade all down the front of his white shirt. It had barely gone nine o'clock and already she was exhausted, the thought of dressing in her own best an almost impossible task that loomed ahead of her.

While she did so John amused the children and arranged for a cab that would meet them in the village. Anna felt flustered enough, but going to the effort and extravagance of travelling into Ripon by car piled yet more concern upon her, even if it was necessary with the children being as small as they were. She thought herself incredibly silly for placing such insistence upon the event in the first place and wondered again why she hadn't made the trip on her own to offer her sincerest apologies for the waste of time and loss of business; there could be no thought of making a cancellation over the telephone, and she did not have the shop's number anyway.

Before they departed Downton John could see how perturbed she was and offered her a comforting look and a warm smile that filled out his cheeks and made the corners of his eyes crinkle, something which never failed to make her heart flutter as though it were comprised of a hundred or more butterfly wings.

Once again Will was beside himself with excitement to be travelling by car, getting onto his knees to peer out of the window, pointing and naming everything he could see as one scene faded steadily into another. The girls were less enthused, their age too tender to be concerned with all that was out in the world, but Anna had little doubt that it would be no time at all when they would be pressing their own little hands against the pane and there would be more than one voice chorusing at her, telling her of the sights to be seen.

The bell on the door of the shop tinkled as they made their way inside, causing Will even more delight as he shrieked with joy at the sound. He hopped in his shoes with their new leather scent and which made small squeaking sounds as the leather gave way, tugging upon the leg of John's trousers and declaring "again, again!" so loudly that it echoed in the otherwise empty shop.

Anna gave a soft "hush" whilst she cradled one of their daughters in her arms, hating to pour water onto their son's exuberance but being incredibly aware that they were not in their own surroundings and so could not indulge him in the ways that they were well used to. John came to the aid, crouching down and propping Charlotte on his good knee, gently prising the stuffed rabbit from her chubby hands to pass it instead to William's eager and outstretched ones.

"Benji has had quite the journey," he uttered in a soft and encouraging tone to their eldest child, directing Will's attention to a small padded stool in the centre of the room, "I think that he wouldn't mind being made comfortable and hearing a little story."

Will trotted off with Benji in tow, but no sooner had he sat them both down than he was calling for John.

"Da, you come too?"

"I reckon Benji would rather have it coming from you, son."

William nodded, his blue eyes wide as he hugged the rabbit to him. "You listen too!"

He shifted himself along to the edge of the stool, making room for John. Their son often made them grin with joy and Anna couldn't help smiling at his heartfelt consideration, knowing that her husband could rarely refuse the pleas of their little boy. Just as she would have predicted he made his way over to where Will was sitting, with Charlotte still held in his embrace, making a game of catching hold of her feet.

"Right, Will. Let me get myself comfortable and then you can fire away."

Anna paced the floor of the modest studio, keeping Emma held tight to her. When she had popped in to enquire about making an appointment she had been in a rush and so hadn't taken a proper look around. Taking closer, unhurried glances around she could see that not much about the place had changed. If she delved back far enough into the midsts of her mind she would recognise the little stool that their son was now sitting happily upon as he regaled his father, sister and stuffed rabbit with a story weaved from his own imagination. The same patterned curtains hung from the window, blocking out the light that would have been an intrusion to the photographic process. The same pictures in simple and unshowy frames, now joined by newer familiars, row upon row of them lining the walls.

It was only once she had got home and pulled out the crumpled shopping list from her pocket that she had realised. It hadn't been intentional, other than being quite certain that Ripon must have had at least one photographer in business. She recognised the name, written down with some haste alongside the address: Arthur Shuttleworth, 18 Brampton Road.

John still kept the photograph in the drawer at his bedside. She could not begrudge him, though it was not a favourite likeness of hers. He had asked for a picture of her and she would not have thought to refuse. She could see her low spirits reflected in the distant look in her eyes and the fixed, unnatural shape of her mouth, unwilling to be coaxed into giving the smallest of smiles. If there had been any sense or justice she would have had her husband at her side, his hand upon her shoulder, the both of them smiling with pride and joy that was unabashed. She should not have been sitting alone, longing for him.

"Hello there," the quiet, unassuming voice took her a little by surprise, and she halted on the spot, Emma gurgling at the sudden stop in her steps. "I did hear the bell, but I just had to finish something in the back room."

Anna smiled at the older man, remembering his face instantly. She was sure that he would not recall her in comparison; not only as she looked considerably changed from some nine years ago, in her own opinion, but because he came into contact with so many customers, week in week out; he surely could not keep track of every face.

"We're ever so sorry for intruding," she said as he came further out to greet her, "we should have stayed outside until we could see that you were ready."

"Oh no," he replied warmly, "you're no bother. I prefer that my customers feel comfortable before I get to the business of things."

They had done that indeed, she thought to herself with a flush as she looked over to where most of her family had gathered upon the floor in the middle of the room.

He had shuffled behind the counter whilst her attention had been preoccupied, inspecting the pocket watch in his hand from behind his large spectacles.

"You must be the eleven o'clock," he uttered, glancing up at Anna from over the rims of the glasses.

"Yes," she answered, shoring Emma up in her arms, "Mrs Bates. The Bateses," she quickly corrected herself.

His eyes seemed to glimmer slightly, his mouth twitching into a smile which widened when John appeared behind Anna, his hand placed gently on her shoulder.

"Indeed," the photographer replied, slipping his watch back into one of his pockets. "It won't take more than a few ticks for me to set things up, and I've already put you out by pottering around too long."

"It's no trouble," John was quick to say, hoping to put the older man at ease. "I'm afraid that you might have quite the challenge on your hands."

The photographer chuckled heartily. "I've seen a lot in my time, young man. I doubt that these little cherubs will give me any trouble."

Anna was happy to see the glint in her husband's eyes, a smile that made him even more handsome than usual spreading across his face.

"I hope that you keep that on for the camera," she teased him with a grin of her own.

"Did you hear what he said? I can't recall the last time I was called 'young man'."

He looked inordinately pleased with himself; she might even say a little smug.

"Go away with you," she retorted, tapping his chest lightly with the back of her hand. "I'm sure it wasn't that long ago."

He leaned to her ear, the comfort of his breath tickling the back of her neck. "Perhaps you take the years off me, Mrs Bates."

It didn't take long at all for everything to be ready, two seats set up for Anna and William, who was happy to graduate from the stool. John would stand behind them and Anna would have both girls sitting in her lap.

"Mumma," Will piped up just as Mr Shuttleworth had settled behind the camera stand. "Benji be in it too."

Anna smiled fondly at their son, reaching to stroke his cheek before placing her hand upon one of the stuffed toy's arms, gently tugging it out of Will's grasp.

"I'm sorry, sweet pea. Benji can be in the next picture we have taken."

Will began to whine, although thankfully he did not burst into tears at the removal of his toy rabbit.

"Mumma!"

"Shush, Will," John bent to place a comforting hand upon their little boy's back, rubbing it soothingly. "Benji's very tired. You don't mind if he has a nap, do you?"

William shook his head, his pouting expression fading away. Anna smiled at him apologetically, thankful that John always knew the right thing to say and do.

He held his pose once more and Anna adjusted Charlotte back into the crook of her right arm, straightening her back against the chair. Mr Shuttleworth stepped to the side of the camera, giving them all a smile and nod as if to ask whether they were all ready.

"Righty oh," he said when Anna, John and Will smiled back at him. "On my count, I want to see your best faces. One, two..."

Before he could make it to three, Emma – who had been as quiet as a mouse up until now – erupted with the beginnings of a cry.

"Oh, dear," Anna murmured, dipping her head to the daughter on her left side, "what's the matter, Emmie?"

Despite her soft voice and soothing touch against the little back Emma started to wail louder, the piercing sounds bouncing upon the walls of the shop that was empty aside from them. John helpfully came forth to take Charlotte into his arms, allowing Anna to hold Emma close to her chest and shoulder, getting up from her seat to pace across the floor with the crying babe in her tight embrace.

A few minutes of gentle rocking and whispered hushes had not solved the matter, and Anna was faintly alarmed to feel the burning of their daughter's cheek against her neck.

"She might want feeding," she whispered to John, already unsettled on behalf of Mr Shuttleworth, who to his credit was leaving them to get on with things. "Could you keep them amused while I...?"

John nodded, and she realised that she hardly needed to ask him; she wouldn't in their usual circumstances. It simply seemed like the polite thing to do while they were not in their own surroundings.

"Excuse me," she turned her gaze to the elderly photographer, heat rising to her cheeks at having to ask an unassuming old man for such a favour, "is there somewhere quiet where I may nurse my daughter?"

"Of course," he replied without the least qualm, "you can use my back room, there's a comfortable chair. Though I'm afraid you'll have to excuse the mess."

"Thank you," she smiled in gratitude. All the while Emma still sobbed fiercely, burying her head against Anna's shoulder and clutching at her with small fists.

She didn't find the dim little room that cluttered, settling onto the high-backed chair and propping Emma against its arm as she unbuttoned her blouse. Emma had quieted a little, though she was still making pained whimpering sounds, each one cutting at Anna's heart.

"Hush, baby girl," she uttered softly, almost cooing while she nestled her daughter against her breast, stroking a hand against her downy fair hair, "there, there. No need for all this fuss."

Emma suckled lightly, not showing the usual fervour that accompanied hunger. Only a few moments passed until she pulled her head away, murmuring. Anna encouraged her again a couple of minutes later but to no avail.

"Well, you weren't as hungry as I thought you were," she said, keeping her voice soft and arranging herself back to as pristine as she could manage.

She rubbed her hand steadily against Emma's back, coaxing any wind that might have been the source of the discomfort to come forth. Emma kept on murmuring, not quite a sign of contentment but a vast improvement on before.

"Shall we go back and see Lottie, Will and Da?" she uttered in a near-whisper into the very small shell of Emma's ear. "We mustn't keep nice Mr Shuttleworth waiting, either."

Perhaps it was the addition of the unfamiliar name or going from the muted room back into the very bright one, but something set Emma off again, crying harder than she had done before.

It was perplexing as well as deeply distressing; Emma was the most placid of their children, the one who had been as good as gold all morning. If any of them were to cause a fuss she would have put money on it being Charlotte. Instead their other daughter was perfectly at ease in her father's arms, gumming at her fist and looking on curiously as her sister wailed at the top of her lungs.

Anna sat down with Emma in her embrace, stood up; walked around, took her into the fresh air whilst singing a lullaby in quiet tones. Her daughter's tears only seemed to subside for a minute at a time before they started afresh.

"I'm ever so sorry about this," she rushed to say, full of apology to the photographer as she came back inside, "perhaps it's best that we leave, we wouldn't want to take up any more of your time unnecessarily."

Mr Shuttleworth shook his head. "You're my only customers for today, so please don't worry. I can take as long as you want."

"We'll pay you extra then, for your troubles," Anna exclaimed, looking helplessly at John who simply smiled in agreement.

It was an unnecessary expense in the first place, especially when they were keeping an eye on the money they had, saving whatever they could both for the prospect of a rainy day and with the hope of fulfilling their long-held dream of owning a little inn somewhere along the line. She would just have to scrimp for a couple of months to compensate but that was not a great hardship, not as long as the children had everything they needed.

"You'll pay the rate I quoted," the photographer answered, and before either of them could move to argue he smiled wider and kinder than even in the previous moment, "certainly no more."

"That's very kind of you," John replied on behalf of them both, while Anna was occupied in doing all she could to soothe their upset daughter. He rubbed his hand upon his wife's back, earning a small smile from her, a welcome crumb of comfort.

She moved to sit down again, in one of the chairs that was set up in front of the camera. As she sang quietly, barely heard over Emma's rasping cries, she felt another small hand tugging upon her skirt.

Her gaze settled upon the sandy head of their son, his blue eyes as big as she'd ever seen them; almost big enough to fill his face. In both of his hands he held the rabbit, covered in soft grey fur which was wearing in patches where it had been cuddled and squeezed, shown so much love and care by its affectionate owner.

"Emmie have Benji," he offered in a gentle voice, one which was enough to make his mother's heart break with sweetness.

"Oh, sweet-pea," Anna said when she could manage not to be overcome with emotion, thanks to two of her children. She caressed William's cheek, taking the stuffed toy from his proffered hands and bobbing it in front of Emma's face, rubbing the fur upon Benji's ear against her too-hot cheek.

Emma enjoyed Benji's presence for a few moments, and Anna was ready to exhale a deep sigh of relief in thinking that the soft rabbit had finally done the trick. Alas, she would have done so too soon.

Her mother's instinct faltered, her fear taking over instead. There must be something wrong, was all she could think; Emma had never cried this much and for so long before. Her mind spoke so loudly and desperately that John could hear it instantly, his cane tapping softly upon the hard-wood floor which was covered by a large rug.

"I don't know what the matter is," she said, worry heavy in her voice as she leaned into him, "there must be...oh, John, I don't want to think..."

"Come here," he brought her as close to him as he was able while they cradled one daughter each in their arms, "I won't have you getting upset as well, that won't solve anything."

"I suppose not," she replied, her words wavering less than they had seconds before, a sense of peace flowing through her body as she looked into John's eyes, his gaze unwavering.

He shifted slightly, adjusting a silent Charlotte in his hold.

"Here, why don't we swap for a little while? You need a break, love."

A smile of both love and gratitude came onto her face, tempered a little by the thought that had crossed her mind.

"And in the next moment, something will start Charlotte off."

He shook his head, the fond look remaining in his eyes, and they switched daughters relatively easily, even with Emma's arms flailing about her as she sobbed anew.

"Now then, Emmie girl, will you tell your old Da what the fuss is about?" John's voice held a deep but soothing tone as he spoke, holding Emma snug against his frame. "No? Alright then, you don't need to tell me now. Maybe you'd like a story instead. You know, your brother told me a very good one just before. Let me see if I can remember how it goes..."

Anna stood with a still quiet Charlotte in her arms, somewhat amazed as John began to recount the story in his rich burr. It was not immediate but gradually Emma's wailing came to a stop and instead she let out a series of softer snuffling sounds, listening intently as John continued on with the tale. The furrowed brow that Anna had sported for the last forty minutes or more smoothed and she found herself letting out a small laugh – of sheer joy as well as a definite relief – as she was held similarly captivated, rocking Charlotte in her arms and watching Emma, who was surely completely exhausted by now, rest her head upon John's broad shoulder.

John caught her eye while he went on, smiling and then ceasing to speak when he saw that Emma had fallen asleep.

Anna held her breath for a moment or two, convinced that Emma would wake and begin crying again without the sound of John's voice to cradle her. She mirrored her husband's smile when she saw that Emma was unmoved, her little limbs flopped against John's frame.

"I'll have to finish the story some other time," he said, keeping his body as still as he was able.

"Thank God," Anna said, her voice barely above a whisper. While she continued to hold onto Charlotte, William scooted to her side, circling one of his arms around her leg. "She'll probably be out for a while."

"I'd say so," John replied, tipping his chin down ever so to glimpse their sleeping daughter, the picture of serenity.

"If you don't mind me saying," Mr Shuttleworth interjected, "I think you all make quite the picture."

A wide smile spread across his face and Anna felt a surge of pride overcome her, quite unbidden.

"Perhaps I should rearrange my equipment," he uttered, his feet shuffling upon the floor.

"Oh no, please," Anna was quick to say, moving swiftly to where the original scene had been set, "we've caused you quite enough trouble today."

It took her a less than a moment to take her seat, propping Charlotte onto her lap as she adjusted the pins in her hair. She extended an arm as William made to clamber up onto the chair at her side but she needn't have bothered, as he managed it all by himself.

Mr Shuttleworth resumed his position behind the camera, adjusting the lens and screwing the flashbulb tighter. Anna glanced over her shoulder and up, finding John standing directly behind her, Emma still sleeping soundly in the crook of his neck.

For a few seconds she worried, wanted to ask the photographer if it was possible to take their picture without causing the bulb to shatter, but she quickly realised that it would be out of the question.

"Righty oh," he repeated the same rallying cry, "if we're all ready."

Anna gave a small nod, being assured that John was doing the same behind her.

"Best faces on, and one, two, three..."


It took a few weeks until the portrait was ready. John took William up to the Abbey with him for the morning and the girls were left with Mrs Collins, allowing Anna to take the bus into Ripon.

Mr Shuttleworth was not in the shop when she got there; instead his younger assistant met her at the counter. She enquired after the photographer, though she didn't want to sound like she was prying. He was quite well, the assistant informed her; in fact, he was visiting his son and daughter-in-law in Scarborough on his annual summer holiday. Of course, it was that time of year. She was glad that he had the chance for a break, and that it was with family.

Having picked up what she was after – in a rather grand-looking box – she left the shop and made the most of having a couple of hours to herself in Ripon, lingering for a little but not too long in a few shops here and there.

It was lovely to indulge, but she was eager most of all to get back home and see the finished product.

She picked up the girls from Mrs Collins, timing it just so for when they were due for their lunchtime feed. Not long after that was done they were ready for a nap and she made sure that they were comfortable and settled before she made her way to the sitting room, the box held poised in her hands.

She lifted the paper that covered it, her breath holding as she did so. The first thing that she noticed was that it had been put into a beautiful gold-gilt frame with flowers edging it on its four corners. It looked exquisite, like something that would have belonged to the Crawleys.

Yet it was not the most wonderful thing. Anna smiled instantly upon seeing the portrait, tears of joy springing to her eyes. Half of her had wondered whether she would ever bear witness to such a thing in her life. Her family, including herself, stared back at her out of the frame and they all looked ever-so-handsome. Charlotte was a little poppet with wide eyes that reflected so much, even if she wasn't smiling. John's fine figure was captured wonderfully and she felt her heart beating faster simply to look upon him. Emma, bless her little heart, was fast asleep, but she looked simply adorable.

William seemed older than two and a half, sitting up so straight with his held high. It made Anna quite emotional, thinking properly about how fast time was going. She had to smile when she saw that another member of the Bates tribe had made it onto the photograph, after all; she had been too flustered with all that had preceded to notice at the time. In Will's lap, much like Charlotte had been sitting in hers, was Benji, one of his ears flopping over while the other stood up as straight as a rod.

As for her own image, well, she supposed that she didn't scrub up too badly.

Despite the day not going quite to plan she was more than pleased with the end result. She would need to write a thank-you note to Mr Shuttleworth and moved to John's writing desk to fetch some paper and an envelope while she thought on.

It was only when she made to move the photograph back into its box that she noticed the small piece of paper that accompanied it. It was headed with Mr Shuttleworth's distinctive brand and she smiled to see it, thinking that the old man was very sweet.

When she read it, however, the tears sprung to her eyes anew.

I might be advancing in my years, but I never forget a face. You have a very beautiful family and I am delighted that everything turned out right for you, Mrs Bates. I hoped that it would.

I hope you might visit again in future; I would be more than glad to take your snap again (if your little girl wouldn't be too afraid of it).

With my very best wishes and all the best for the future,
Arthur


A/N: With the little matter of a Downton movie being filmed as we speak, I envisage this little series will be four more chapters at most - it's my aim to have it complete before the movie is released, so hopefully that means the gap between updates won't be quite so long from now on.

Also if there is anything in particular that you're desperate to see covered in the Bateses family life please do let me know and I'll do my best to include it in one of the remaining chapters.