Chapter 17
September 1928
"I know, sweet-pea, it's very exciting – "
"Yay!"
Their precious boy's face beamed up at her, his fair cheeks rosy with said excitement, and there was nothing else she could do other than smile back at him with just as much fervour.
As he stood with stockinged feet planted upon the floor, his hips doing a little wiggle as he expressed his glee at the day that was ahead, she noticed very plainly how tall he was getting to be and felt both a burst of pride – he most definitely would take after his father in that respect – and a pang of bittersweet sorrow, the latter seeming rather foolish to her but an emotion she embraced all the same.
Her darling baby was not really a baby any more.
She had these moments of realisation more often lately, and thankfully they did not cause her chest and stomach to ache in the same horrible way that the very first time had, catching her most unexpectedly and making her sob for days afterwards, frequently at the most inconvenient of times.
It was not too long after his first birthday, and John dropped gentle hints into the conversation. She had to say that she didn't care whether the curls that had appeared upon his head meant that he was mistaken for a girl by strangers in the village. She put it off and put it off, but when it started taking an inordinate amount of time to get his hair dry after his night-time bath – so much that sleeping time was eaten into in quite a manner, for all of them – she knew that the business of a haircut could be delayed no longer.
Unable to bear undertaking the task herself she headed into Thirsk, to the place where John had his hair tidied. The man there was very kind and spent a long time distracting William and getting him settled enough so that he could do the job with as little fuss as possible. She watched with hands clasped tight, her breath stole away in shock as one of the golden curls – which was incredibly small, too slight to have been lopped off in the first place – fell harshly to the floor. William's own sense of surprise was delayed but he caught up as his hair was smoothed over in preparation for the next snip, nose crinkling and mouth opening to let out a piercing wail. She gathered him fast to her, taking his place in the chair that was far too big for him, issuing soft hushes and whispers of apology as he continued to cry, flinching whenever the meek barber dared to even breathe nearer. Her heart shattering, so full of remorse for the terrible decision she had made.
She had struggled to keep the tears at bay even when they were back at the Abbey, Miss Baxter finishing the job that had barely begun. It had taken nearly two hours in total and she was wrung out completely by the end of it, though Will had quickly forgotten about his distress, falling asleep in her arms before they had even departed for home.
As always John was the one to comfort her, smiling softly as her tears fell.
"It will get easier," he had said, as she held onto him tighter, the mattress beneath them cushioning him as she was pillowed by his frame.
"I hope it will," she replied, her voice muffled against the worn fabric of his pyjama shirt.
That first sacrificed curl sat in a silver box in the bedside drawer at her side, and she could think of it fondly now, even if the guilt she felt would probably never fade away completely.
"But we'll never make it in time for the party if we don't get you dressed," she warned in a soft voice, unable to portray the authority that she should have shown, but was always reluctant to. William ruled the roost and she was sure that he was quite aware of the fact, but their darling boy never took advantage.
Instead, he had now taken to springing on the spot, whirling around and giggling in delight at it all.
Anna smiled and let out a little sigh, thinking that it didn't matter in the slightest about the several outfits she had picked out carefully, paying mind to the occasion. Will usually liked to have some say in what he would wear – the child of a valet and a lady's maid through and through - but today she would be lucky if she got a vaguely related word out of him.
"I go like this!"
He did a little twirl, letting out a glorious laugh that told her he knew very well about how cheeky he was being.
"William Bates," she shook her head, planting her hands on her hips in an exaggerated stance.
Two could play at this game, and she supposed that it was still early enough that there was time for a little horseplay, though the need to be punctual was ever-present in her mind.
Still, it was more than worth running a few minutes late to enjoy the happy moments with her wonderful, clever and handsome little boy, just the two of them.
"You know very well that you can't go to Master George's birthday wearing your pyjamas. Dear me, whatever would they say? I can't imagine if the word got back to the Dowager Countess, that a cheeky little boy was parading around the esteemed halls of Downton Abbey in his nightclothes, with not even the decency to wear a cap! We would be banished forever."
William wasn't put off in the least by that idea; indeed, he found it the most hilarious thing yet, giggling away like it was nobody's business. For as long as she lived she would never tire of hearing the sound.
Despite having left on good terms – very nearly two years ago, where had the time gone to? – and knowing that Lady Mary still thought highly of her, she was rather surprised when John had come home a couple of weeks ago and relayed the invitation that was extended to all of them to spend the afternoon at the house for Master George's party. It seemed to mean more than it would have done if she was still in service, when she would have thought of the offer as a mere courtesy. All that said, she did not fool herself into thinking that it meant that they were the best of friends.
It was different for children, though. It had been a blessing that Master George had taken to William straight away when he had shared the children's nursery, as indeed had Miss Sybbie. Whenever they were in contact, far less frequently than they used to be, Lady Mary would mention how Master George missed having William as a playmate, even though he had a little brother of his own to be his companion. The notion did warm her heart, thinking of the two boys ensconced in an adventure with William as the younger child toddling behind Master George, so eager to keep up although the elder boy would not think to leave him behind.
Things would change, inevitably, as the years went on and the weight of social status would make itself felt. It was a natural state of affairs, nothing that could be helped. The world was progressing, and perhaps by the time the boys reached their adulthood it might have done so enough to mean that they stood a better chance. It did seem somewhat unlikely, even if both sides did what they could to encourage an ongoing friendship.
For now, as with every aspect, she cherished what William did have and would do everything she could to shield him from what many others would have considered to be harsh but necessary lessons in life.
A three year old should have the freedom to play and laugh, and view the world with nothing but joy and wonder; both her and John thought as much, knowing that their boy was in a more privileged position than either of them had been at his age.
All that being true, it was very much not appropriate for him to turn up to the future Earl of Grantham's birthday party in his underthings.
After a little deliberation on her part, and a deal of persuasion to get him to stay still, the task was done. She brushed his hair with great affection, smoothing down the curl that had sprouted at one side – a sign that a trip to Thirsk would be imminent – and revelling in the sensation that flooded her heart when his bright blue eyes looked up at her, looking ever so smart and more grown-up than she had ever seen him.
"Shall we go and show Da how splendid you look?"
Will nodded eagerly, placing his little hand into her own not a second after she had offered it.
She beamed with pride, bursting at the seams with love for both of the men in her life, Will grinning up at John as he was told how fine he looked. She would have lingered for longer, so utterly enchanted by the sight, but she had to get ready herself and with Will now occupied with keeping his father's attention it was the perfect chance for her to go unnoticed enough to do so. She looked in at the girls in their high-chairs, though they were close enough at hand for John to have his eyes upon them, before hurrying off, knowing that she could dress and fix her hair in little less than ten minutes.
On descending the staircase she was met with a round of applause, William's clapping very enthusiastic but not quite having the same impact as that of his father.
"What's all this for?" she chided, aware that she was flushing.
"Will and I wanted to show our appreciation for how marvellous you are," John replied, a wide smile filling his cheeks, his eyes twinkling.
"Pretty, mumma!" William exclaimed, jumping on the spot again, a veritable Jack-in-the-box going by a different name.
"Oh, shush," she waved away the attention, even if she was secretly pleased, "this dress is years old. It's just as well that Lady Mary won't be able to notice."
If she had more time she would have thought about going to one of the fabric shops in Ripon or even York to see what was available, but even if she had longer to prepare she knew that she wouldn't have gotten around to it, never mind finding the hours to actually put her hand to making something.
It didn't matter, of course.
"You look beautiful," John said low in her ear, causing her to shiver pleasantly, his hand nestled at the small of her back. "It's been too long since we went on a date."
"There are three very good reasons for that," she smiled up at him, happy to see his eyes alight with the most wonderful feeling they shared for their family.
It was her turn to sit downstairs, playing her best role as John went to spruce himself up. He'd already come back from the Abbey once today, having gone over earlier than he usually would to see to His Lordship and with enough time to spare to return. They were going as a family, with Lady Mary opening the doors of the nursery this time for Emma and Charlotte. It was too generous an offer to refuse, and it was also preferable to have the girls with them while they were spending most of the day there, though they were too small to really enjoy the occasion.
"All ready," John announced as he put on his jacket and overcoat, holding his pocket watch within his palm, "and with five minutes to spare."
"A victory, indeed," she replied, busying herself with getting the girls settled into their prams, Charlotte needing to be coaxed with the promise of a teddy bear waiting for her. "Though I hope that you're going to wear your hat. It seems only right, if you're not working."
"Of course, my love. I'm sure I left it on the table…"
They turned towards it almost in conjunction, both laughing when they saw that William had decided to try the bowler on for size. As they would have predicted if they knew he was going to do such a thing it was rather too big, falling over his eyes though he did his best to prop the brim up with his fingers.
"Oh Will, sweet-pea," Anna exclaimed, doing her best to compose herself, "you look a picture."
"I'll say that you look very smart, my lad. Fine enough to be in the company of all the Earls and ladies in the land."
Will beamed gleefully at his father's compliment, even though it was only his mouth and cheeks on show that could tell them so.
"It's probably best if you wait a few years to grow into it, though."
It was strange to be at the Abbey as a guest, especially as one of Lady Mary, and no matter how much she tried she could not fully relax. As well as Lady Edith, Lord Pelham and Mr Branson there were a few of Lady Mary's acquaintances present, friends from childhood and nearby houses and even one or two from society who had since married and had children of their own. None of them knew, or furthermore cared much about who she was – although they were all perfectly nice – but she was quite certain that they were aware that she did not occupy the same world as they did. They smiled at her and made polite conversation, and complimented her on having such a well-behaved child. She knew that it was their own way of being friendly, from something of a distance, and did not think badly of them. She had no reason to do so; indeed, she felt just as uncomfortable as they did, even with Lady Mary's glances and polite smiles towards her which increased as the afternoon went on.
She felt a little easier after the children had had something to eat, and the party was taken outside. It reminded her of being in service, attending at the many garden parties that the Crawleys had held in the years gone by, and there was also the benefit of the fresh air making her feel less stifled.
The day was about the children and their enjoyment, and that was the thing she brought back to the front of her mind whenever she began to feel doubtful about her reasoning for being there. She focused her attention upon William and it was plain that he was having a wonderful time. Despite having been up since very early in the morning he was full of energy, staying close by the birthday boy's side and watchful of everything he did. Though Master George was the centre of attention he did well in not favouring any of the children over the others, and so she was very happy to know that William was not at any disadvantage.
They were all playing with Tia'a, who was very pleased to be showered with affection from all angles. Every so often William would run over to her, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear to let her know of all the fun he was having, before running back to take his turn in throwing the ball for an eager Tia'a to go and fetch.
She noticed that John had been in conversation with Mr Talbot for quite a time while they had been assembled outside. It was appropriate that the men were separated from the women, no matter that it seemed rather alien to her; though she was so used to having John as her closest confidante, she knew that it was likely not the case with all of the ladies and their husbands. However she would have thought that he would have spent the time talking with Mr Branson, considering that they knew each other better.
It was a little silly but she felt rather proud of her husband, making the effort to be social and better acquaint himself with the man of the house, as by all accounts that was who Mr Talbot was now.
He made his way over after a little while, Anna meeting him halfway across the lawn while the other women stayed in their half circle. She glanced over her shoulder every thirty seconds or so to check on Will, and smiled when she saw him running and laughing, colour high in his cheeks.
"I half expected you to be occupied until sundown," she teased her husband lightly. Neither man was known for being especially talkative, but she reasoned perhaps that was exactly why they had spent so long conversing, finding a kindred spirit. "Would I be intruding if I asked what kept you?"
A knowing smile kindled within John's eyes. She did not have to ask the question but it seemed only right to do so in the company of others, even if that company was otherwise diverted.
"Life," he answered, being consciously vague in a way that aptly complimented her own teasing. "Fatherhood."
His gaze lit up further, in the way she noticed it did whenever he was reminded specifically of the role that fit him so well, like she had been ever assured that it would do ever since she allowed herself to view him in that light.
"He told me about the business. It's going very well, by all accounts."
Having been without Lady Mary to give regular updates she had forgotten that Mr Talbot and Mr Branson had gone into partnership. Perhaps if they had been dealing with something other than cars she would have been more inclined to remember. John relayed a great amount of detail that had come from Mr Talbot to her, and while much of the technicality was lost upon her there was no doubting that Mr Talbot was incredibly enthusiastic about his profession. She was glad for him, and for Lady Mary; she recalled how her former mistress had fretted in the early days of her new marriage, and while Lady Mary was not the type to show her concern outwardly her mind would burn like a bonfire with her thoughts, especially upon the matter that many would consider the marriage to be greatly unequal.
"He offered to give me a tour one afternoon. Show me the ins and outs, as well as the range."
She failed in stifling a rather loud chuckle. "Don't tell me that he's persuaded you into getting a car."
He smiled at her amusement. "I'd need someone to drive it, first. Were you never inspired by Lady Edith's efforts?"
"Certainly not," she scoffed. She had admired the middle Crawley daughter's ambitions of independence, but being in control of a vehicle was a feat she did not possess the least bit of desire to master. "And where would I ever find the time if I was?"
"Our enthusiastic neighbours would come to your aid, I'm sure."
It was his turn to rib, evidently. No; she had more than enough to occupy her with their three little ones, a career she was more than happy to pursue. She excused herself with a rub of her hand against his arm and a smile up into his face, continuing with the job she was never off-duty from and paying a visit to the nursery to give the girls their feed and dozens of cuddles that were as much for her benefit as their own.
The children at the party were still at play when she returned, some showing off to their watching mothers, and others – including Will – too enthralled in chasing and rolling upon the grass with Tia'a, who barked and wagged her tail in great joy. Anna half-regretted the decision to dress William in ivory, aware that it would likely take her until springtime to wash out the grass stains completely. The thought evaporated almost as soon as it had arrived, her mind already capturing the scene before her eyes and storing it away with all of the perfect and happy moments that their son had gifted her.
Later on, as they walked home in the still-fine evening weather with the girls asleep in their prams and Will holding sleepily onto her hand, John voiced the thought that had occurred to her while she had spent so long trying to pull their boy away from his first proper party.
"It's not a car you need to worry about," he uttered, the timbre of his voice a balm to her ears and pulsing temples, "more about him asking whether he might have a dog."
Even though it was really quite ludicrous at this moment in time, she couldn't help herself from smiling at the idea.
She remembered badgering her own father for a puppy, once upon a time, and felt as though if her darling Will were to wake the next morning and ask her, she would not have it in her to possibly refuse.
As it was, it remained a dream for a day quite distant.
The twins' first birthday followed a couple of weeks afterwards, and it was a distinctly different affair. Anna found the time to bake some fairy cakes the evening before and John was granted the day off, aside from the couple of hours he was required at the Abbey, which fitted well around the plans for the occasion.
Once their presents had been opened, with assistance from their big brother, the family headed out to the park where they met with Gwen and her boys, Philip and Daniel. The children had met once before, when the Bateses and the Hardings had arranged a trip to Whitby beach in the summer. Thankfully they got along just as well as their parents did, and it had delighted both mothers to see their sons playing so well together. Anna hoped that William would have firm friends for life in Philip and Daniel, as no doubt she would have had an even greater friendship with Gwen if they had known each other as children. The boys had a whale of a time kicking up the leaves that had just started to descend from the trees, while the girls watched happily from the knees of their mother and father, giving little shouts and clapping their tiny hands.
Gwen and the boys stopped by at the cottage for a little while; there was certainly no question of sending them away hungry, not when they'd all worked up such an appetite in play and there was plenty of cake to go around. Emma and Charlotte were fussed over, the three boys doing everything they could to entertain the birthday girls. William made a particularly fine rendition of The Grand Old Duke of York, a tune he had picked up from Master George singing it at his own party. He couldn't quite get a grasp on all of the words, but Anna much preferred her son's version of the song and led everyone in a fervent round of applause to which Will bowed happily.
It was different to the celebration that they had attended at the Abbey, but certainly no less special.
Not long after they had waved off Gwen and the junior Hardings at gone six, the remainder of the fairy cakes shared out between them in paper bags, were the girls put down for the evening, tired out from their big day. William followed fairly soon after, clutching Benji to his chest as his sandy head sunk upon his pillow. Such a day of fun called for a night of rest, filled with dreams that were made fantastic from all the wonderful things that had happened in the hours just gone by.
She'd had the foresight to make a stew alongside her baking, meaning that they had something more substantial than sandwiches to eat at the end of the day. They hadn't made it through one cup of tea until she was yawning, unable to go a full minute without doing so.
John smiled at her from over the table and his own cup. "It's been quite the day."
"I can't remember being so tired after Will's first birthday," she mused, grateful when John moved to gather the things away, "but then, I suppose that's hardly a surprise."
"There is that," he smiled over his shoulder as he rinsed out the cups, "and that two birthdays are twice the work."
She knew he was using the term loosely, and while it had been an effort it was for all the best reasons to see their daughters' smiling faces, precious pictures that she would cherish forever.
"It's funny, isn't it?" Her question was tinged with just a touch of melancholy. "They won't remember any of what happened today in years to come. We could have just carried on as normal and it wouldn't really have mattered."
As she pondered that very real possibility she felt John's hand landing upon her shoulder. His eyes were full of empathy as she turned her head to look up at him, any sorrow that she held washed away in the depth of his gaze.
"It will always have mattered."
She nodded, leaning her head against him, smiling as he dipped to lay a kiss upon her hairline.
They headed up the stairs, John following her as he did every night. She checked on each of their children, owing them the same amount of time in gazing and whispered goodnight wishes before moving off to their own room where he had already drawn the curtains and lit the lamps at their bedsides. As exhausted as she was she felt it would be a little while before they were both able to drop off to sleep, both having stubborn body clocks and being perhaps over-alert to their children's needs.
"I think they'll remember more than we realise," John said once they were both changed and settling themselves into bed, "Will certainly knows which presents he got for his first birthday. And the girls have the benefit of having each other's memory to rely on."
Maybe he was simply trying to make her feel better rather than believing in any fact of science or nature, but it did the trick as she closed her eyes, smiling contentedly.
"I suppose we'll have to wait and see."
She lay there, eyes closed but not sleeping, for some time, images of their children in her mind. Smiling, laughing. Not just from today nor just a couple of weeks ago. She heard John's even breathing, aware that he wasn't asleep either. Most likely reading.
There was little else that could affect her senses to make her feel as much at peace as she was now.
"I've been thinking."
John's voice broke the silence.
"That isn't unusual," she replied, smiling again as she said so.
He didn't laugh or say anything further, which made her open her eyes. He looked so earnest, which was not out of the ordinary, but there was another level of conviction in his gaze.
"More so of late," he eventually continued, the deep breath that he had exhaled beforehand running into his words. "It's not one thing in particular, just…well, I suppose a feeling. But I didn't want to barge in with it, and make you think…well, it has to be something that we agree upon. And perhaps now is not the best time to talk about it."
Something in her heart fluttered at hearing him stumble slightly, and as endearing as she found it she couldn't allow him to go on feeling as though he was doing something wrong, when he wasn't at all.
"You're thinking about the hotel," she said, feeling the palpable relief come from him when he no longer had to try and explain himself.
He smiled from his eyes, tired from the day but radiating warmth in abundance.
"Mrs Bates, how is it that you know my mind better than I do?"
"It's one of my secrets," she replied with a beaming smile.
He put the book he was holding down against the covers, moving to take her hands into his.
"To tell the truth, I've been thinking about it too."
It seemed a long time since they had last been venturing towards the dream they had held for years. Indeed it was the very same day that they had discovered she was pregnant with the girls. Since then it had gone to the back of their heads, although it remained held deep within their hearts. Whenever they had come to the mutual decision of moving forward something had always got in the way, but at least of late it had been for good reasons.
The smile that spread over John's face reached straight to Anna's heart, and she clasped her hands tighter in his.
"Listening to Mr Talbot talk about the business, having something to build upon…that's all I've ever wanted for us. A place that is truly our own, for all of us."
Tears of happiness sprung to her eyes as he went on, bringing the most wonderful of images to her mind. She could see the children so happy, free and thriving. John at her side for the best part of each and every day, rather than only the hours of early morning and later evening. She wanted him to be there for every one of the children's birthdays and not have to disappear. Of course there would still be work to be done, but it would be so much different if they could do it together, with the children easily within reach too. It would make life much easier and make much more sense.
Above all it would make it happier for all of them.
It had been all she had wanted and dreamt of, for the longest time.
"You don't think it's too soon, do you?" he asked, a sudden look of panic washing over his face.
"John, it's been twelve years since we first talked about it," she exclaimed delightedly, "so no, I don't think so."
They both broke into laughter, and she could see the tears gleaming in his own eyes.
"I just mean, with the girls," he clarified, "if you don't think it would be unsettling for them."
"They're one now, so it feels better." Somehow their first birthday was a landmark, not just for the twins. "And I think that if they're happy here, they'll be happy somewhere else. They're happy because of who they're around, not where they live. The same goes for Will."
She hoped that they would remember Downton, of course, and have fond memories of the first place they lived. Who knows; they need not move very far away, and they could still make day trips over as the children grew, strengthening it in their minds.
"And you think we could manage?"
She nodded, wearing the same smile she had worn on only a number of occasions before.
"We always do."
"Oh, my love."
He brought one of his hands to her face while the other remained entwined with hers, and their lips met more than once, sealing the promise they had made.
It certainly had been a long time coming, but now was the time for the dream to come to life, most fittingly at the time of the day when the threads of dreams were woven the strongest.
