Chapter 18

He was resigned to his fate, regardless of whether it was true or not that it had been twisted out of his control. If it had not been then, then no doubt it would have happened in another few weeks, perhaps in a less spectacular fashion. His Lordship had been very gracious about it all and he'd fought hard not to let his deep shame show through. Not hard enough, however.

As he waited for the Duke to be done with his farewells he kept his gaze fixed forward, not taking another glance towards the house. It's done with now. It was strange the degree to which he had become attached to the place. Perhaps because the remainder of his hopes had been pinned to it, which he realised was an utterly foolish thing for him to do.

He shifted his weight, being cautious not to make too much noise against the gravel with his cane. His knee still throbbed, the fall being worse than he had let on, not merely wounding his pride. The Duke was not in any great hurry to make a departure, leaving him with a tight expression which masked his pain – he could not be so discourteous as to openly grimace when His Lordship and Mr Carson were but metres away – and his thoughts to expand into realms he had thus tried to avoid.

Something'll turn up. He had said it to comfort her, stop her from feeling embarrassed when she had seen him red-eyed, ashen-faced and at such a low point, even if it was far from his lowest. In the moment he had believed it himself but the optimism dissipated once he had heard her footsteps depart from his door, at a little interval from whence he had closed it, the laden tray heavy in his hands.

His options were far from plenty and news had a habit of spreading fast. It was a shame that he did not possess any special talents, he considered briefly, although the cane might give him a small advantage amongst the other men with low voices and outstretched hands, hoping to appeal to one kind face in a hundred. He felt Mr Carson's stern gaze upon him as His Lordship exchanged words with the Duke, the look in the butler's eyes firmly chastising him for contemplating such a bleak outcome. It was very stupid of him indeed and he straightened his back, clenched his jaw in an attempt to deaden the burning around the joint of his knee. He could always go back to his mother's house, knowing that she would never see him on the streets, but then it meant that the need would be even greater. To fail as a son would be his greatest failure to date, and there had been so many that he was beginning to see himself as nothing but.

Why had he expected that this time would be any different?

He had tried as hard as he could, given his best, and nothing else could have been asked. Yet he still felt that he could have done more to prove that he was capable. He did not blame His Lordship or Mr Carson, or even Thomas. The man was young, prone to misguidance; he had similar moments in his own youth and he could only hope that Thomas would grow out of it in time. His fortune was down to him, and him alone. Really, he had been lucky to last as long as he had.

No point in dwelling or thinking of what might have been, it would not do him any good and certainly not contribute to adopting a more hopeful outlook, which is what he must do in the absence of having much else.

There was one bright spot, even if part of him regretted making such a promise. He had little choice on being confronted with her wide eyes and kind countenance, hardly deserving such empathy. Somehow the thought of her wanting to know how he was getting on gave an added impetus for him to find another position sooner rather than later. She would worry at his silence – that is, if life at the house did not overtake all of her thought and occupation, which he had little doubt that it would within a short time after his leaving – and he would not lower himself further by writing her a letter of fabrication. He could not possibly answer her innocence with lies, even well-meaning ones.

Someone would miss him, at least, and it meant that the whole thing had not been a waste of time.

The Duke moved past him and into the car – he paid him next to no attention, having seemed to forgotten the spectacle entirely. If only everyone had such short memories. His Lordship approached him, extending a hand. From behind his shoulder, Mr Carson was quietly aghast.

"Goodbye, Bates. And good luck."

It was incredibly foolish that there should be a lump rising steadily in his throat.

He shifted his cane to the opposite hand so that he could swiftly take that which the Earl (as he was no longer his master) had offered.

"Good luck to you, m'lord."

His knee nearly gave out on getting into the car, protesting against the prolonged pressure of standing in one spot. Thankfully he seated himself without a final indignance in front of the grand house. Pressed for time the chauffeur quickly started the engine, which left little time for regret – there would be more than enough time for that on the train journey.

He thought he was dreaming when the car came to an abrupt halt, preceded by a shouted command from the Earl. The door opened swiftly, his valise taken into the hand that he had shaken seconds previously.

"Get out, Bates."

He was completely stunned, but he could not go against the order which had been given. From the back seat the Duke complained about being late.

He could not get his hopes up. A month's grace to accompany the wages that had been promised would be entirely fair, and at least it would give him some time to make enquiries.

He'd stick to that thought, despite the look of contrition in the Earl's eyes.

"Get back inside and we'll say no more about it."


October 1928

Thus far he had treated the day the same as any other that had preceded it. Other than a passing thought and an acknowledgement to the strange melancholy that was bound to grow deeper as the hours went on first thing in the morning as he had got himself ready, he had been careful not to pay special attention.

If he really had put his mind to the many hours, weeks, days and months, examined their detail as he went about the business that was by now as commonplace for him as walking with his cane, then he would have come to a complete standstill.

Of course he hadn't got away without reminders here and there. Mrs Patmore was especially blatant in her actions, presenting him with a pot of marmalade and making double the amount of tea just for him at breakfast, which had earned sulks and dissatisfied sighs from the remaining footmen of the household. At luncheon he was surprised to find that she had prepared a plate's worth of bacon, sausage, tomatoes and both fried and scrambled eggs. He had shaken his head on sitting down in front of the feast, telling the cook that Anna would not be best pleased to know he was being so heavily indulged.

"Oh, give over," she had replied, not in the least bit guilty, "you know as well as I do that she'd back me up. Now enjoy. You've more than earned every mouthful."

It certainly withstood him for the rest of the afternoon, and he had enjoyed it. He went about the usual, polishing His Lordship's shoes and pressing his shirts, only regarding for a few seconds at a time that it would be the last time he would do each duty.

The evening came round quicker than it usually did, and when His Lordship's bell rang he felt the weight of several pairs of eyes upon him. He stood from that which had become his habitual chair in the servants' hall, unhooking his cane from the back of the seat and placing it firmly in his hand.

"Well, then," he uttered, feeling that he was expected to make some kind of acknowledgement, not that it was the most thoughtful or eloquent of offerings by any stretch. He was answered with silent smiles and cheering looks, although it did seem that Mrs Patmore was about to burst into tears.

Just as he was making his way out of the hall and upstairs, he was met by the butler, his dark glare the same as it had ever been.

It was something of a comfort to think that some things had never changed, and most likely would go on the same once he had gone.

Or perhaps not, given the level of disdain which had only ever been reserved for him.

"Mr Bates." Pursed lips spoke his name, dark eyes meeting with his after a few moments.

"Mr Barrow," he returned with a tone that betrayed little feeling.

The pair of them remained at the foot of the stairs in a kind of stand-off for a minute or more, and it would have amused John greatly if it didn't also strike him as deeply sad. He had made many attempts throughout the years to get past the barrier that existed between him and the younger man, but it seemed like some obstacles were unbreachable.

He's been waiting for this day for more than sixteen years; you'd think he'd crack a smile.

It wasn't fair to be bitter, not when they'd both got what they wanted. More than he could have ever imagined possible, in John's case.

He shifted his cane to the opposite hand, offering his out to the man who was, for all intents and purposes, for a few hours more, his superior.

Thomas's gaze lowered, the gesture going unobserved.

"You'll see the back of me soon enough," John said, humour in his tone. "No matter what you might think I've been glad to work beside you all of these years."

Though part of him was pained to admit it, he was telling the truth.

Perhaps he imagined it, but for a moment he was sure that he saw the younger man's mouth curve ever so subtly.

"There'll be time for that later," the butler returned, looking directly at John again, the almost invisible small smile wiped from his face. Perhaps it had been a figment of John's imagination. "You'd best go see to His Lordship now. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting, not today of all days."

John gave a nod, stepping aside to let the younger man past, and then continued on his way. His steps felt a little heavier than usual, but he imagined that it was all in his mind.

Despite their huge differences in status, His Lordship and himself were of the same mind. There had often been a silent agreement between them, even when one of the two might have been expected to have a stronger opinion on a certain matter. Such like-mindedness had been integral to their working relationship and, were he to give a greater, more thoughtful consideration to the matter, John would have said without question that it had been a defining factor in his role lasting as long as it had, even given his shortcomings.

As such, they had silently agreed not to speak at great length about the occasion that had come upon them. There had been enough preamble as there was, in a manner of speaking, given that John had been ready to hand in his notice some eighteen months ago. If it hadn't been for Anna falling pregnant with the girls then this day would have been long in the past.

Life was full of surprises, indeed.

"M'lord."

He gave a small nod of acknowledgement to His Lordship before moving towards the wardrobe to remove the clothes he had pressed the day before, not wishing to linger.

"Bates," His Lordship responded, his tone upbeat. "It's been quite the day for you, I'm sure."

"Nothing out of the ordinary."

His Lordship seemed a little displeased with this. "That can't be right. Not even Mrs Patmore serving up something special?"

John gave a wry little smile as he swiped at the dinner jacket with the small brush that served such a purpose.

"She has been a little too accommodating, m'lord."

He let out a hearty laugh. "Do you think that she would notice if I said my birthday happened more than once a year?"

"Mrs Patmore might not, but I expect that Her Ladyship would."

"Ah, the flaw in my plan," His Lordship exhaled with a sigh, "Her Ladyship misses nothing."

They entered into the routine that they were both well-versed in, so much so that it could be achieved in slumber if it had been so necessary. John took a bit of extra care in ensuring that His Lordship looked immaculate with not the smallest speck to be found on his person, and additionally gave his dress shoes a final buff. There was not any special need, given that it was an ordinary evening with no guests visiting. It was a matter of pride for John; to do his job to the very best of his ability until the final moment of his employment, which was fast approaching.

He placed the brush upon the dresser, using the palms of his hands to give a final sweep of the jacket as it sat upon His Lordship's shoulders. Buying himself some time so that what he had to say – what he felt he really must convey – did not come out sounding stilted or hollow.

He cleared his throat before he began, failing to completely dispel the feeling of discomfort.

"I would like to say thank you, m'lord, for everything you've done and for keeping me on all of these years." His words came out a little shakily, somewhat overwhelmed suddenly. "I know it hasn't often been easy, and there certainly wasn't any obligation for you to do so. You've shown nothing other than the utmost kindness, and I can never appropriately express my gratitude."

John could see that His Lordship's expression was humbled, and rather lost for words in the reflection of the mirror. He turned around not a minute afterwards, looking all the more struck.

"My dear fellow, you have no need whatsoever. None at all."

He sounded a little like there was something lodged in his throat, and his eyes appeared glassier than usual.

They were both more refined than this, military men who were experts at keeping themselves in check. But every now and then, the occasion got the better of a man and there was certainly not an ounce of shame in revealing the true depth of feeling.

"By all means, I should be the one thanking you. You've always been impeccable as a valet, I could have asked for nothing more."

John found himself rather overcome by such an accolade, graciously accepting it by meeting His Lordship's gaze stoically.

"And more than that, you've gone far beyond by getting us all out of a couple of rather large scrapes."

"I'm not sure about that, m'lord, though I thank you for saying so."

His Lordship shook his head while John lowered his gaze to the floor. "If there is one thing I would change, it would be that you wouldn't underestimate yourself so much. But I suppose it is rather late in the day for that."

"Old habits die hard, m'lord," John said in agreement, "but I shall try to make improvements."

"As we all do."

There was more that he wanted to say, not least about the fact that His Lordship's act of benevolence – because no matter how the toss might have been argued, there was little doubt in John's mind that was the defining factor in the decision to consider an invalided man like himself for a position of such great importance – had utterly transformed his life, in every single respect. He could never have imagined in his wildest dreams that along with employment that would last far longer than he would have expected, if not hoped for, he would also find the love of his life, his soul renewed and the most precious blessings of his children.

If His Lordship had not deigned to afford him a second chance in making that apparently split-second decision, things would have been very different. Unthinkably so.

He had said enough as it was, but he was quite certain that His Lordship was aware of how much this job had meant to him.

The whole world; indeed, it had been the making of his world.

"Lots of exciting things on the horizon," His Lordship continued, which brought a happier expression to John's face.

"Indeed, there are. Whether I'm fully equipped for them remains to be seen, but I certainly hope so."

"I have unshakeable faith in you, Bates, as has always been the case."

"That's very kind of you, m'lord."

His Lordship gave him a smile as he moved to fasten the buttons upon the jacket of the dress suit. "At least one of us is moving upwards."

"M'lord…" John started, but before he could further protest His Lordship interjected.

"No, I can't grumble about it. Life is not how it used to be, and in many respects mine has been blessed. Downton still stands, and that is all I can ask for. That it outlasts my glory days, in whatever form, is my legacy."

"It's one to be very proud of, m'lord." They all shared a deep affection for the great house, John's perhaps stronger than others for the aforementioned reasons. "And I'm sure Master George will do you proud in the years to come. But not too soon."

His Lordship laughed. "Well, let's hope not. I should very much like to visit you, Bates, when everything is up and running."

"Oh, there'll be no need for that, m'lord. I wouldn't want you to go out of your way."

"Nonsense," His Lordship scoffed, "it would be the least I could do to repay you for all the years you've given to me. And I owe Her Ladyship a little break away."

"If you let me know when you would like to arrange it, I shall see to it that the best suite is reserved."

It seemed more than a little strange to be discussing the future that was yet to be in place so candidly with his employer, but at the same time it gave him great joy, especially as His Lordship was genuinely enthusiastic.

He found himself running out of tasks to perform; in fact, that had been the case some minutes ago.

His shoulders straightened, he presented a stance that Mr Carson would have surely been proud of if he had been under the roof to pay witness.

"Will that be all, m'lord?"

His Lordship gave a small, wistful smile, bobbing his head almost imperceptibly.

"I believe it will be, Bates."

Anna was waiting for him when he arrived back downstairs, the smile that was home to him issuing a comforting touch before she could reach him with her hands. She knew too well the emotions he was experiencing, the passage of two whole years seeming to shrink and disappear within the space of seconds.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him softly.

His mouth instinctively curved as her hand came to rest a couple of inches below his shoulder, rubbing soothingly at the arm of his jacket.

"I don't think it will sink in until the morning," he replied, his eyes meeting hers. He couldn't properly express what he was feeling, having been so expectant and also taken by surprise by the strange melancholy which had only set in within the last ten minutes or so.

Her absorbing gaze knew everything, of which he was greatly relieved.

"No tears," she uttered, her free hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. That hadn't surprised him; history dictated that it was not what happened. His tears were reserved for other occasions, which happily, were long in the past. "You're doing better than I did."

He smiled down at her fondly, the amber light of the hallway framing her with radiance.

He thinks for longer than a moment about how he would have given everything up for her a long time ago, if she would have asked and if he wouldn't have been so chivalrous or otherwise foolishly stubborn.

"I made a stop at the nursery." Her eyes turn alert, slightly concerned, and he moves to quickly dismiss her worries. "The girls are fine. They didn't so much as stir at the creak in the floorboards."

She visibly relaxed, her demeanour changing in front of his eyes and returning to as it had been. "That's good. And just as well, as we can't be on our way yet."

His eyes rolled despite himself and her half-amused smile.

"Oh, don't complain about it," she chided him teasingly, knowing full well of his desire to get back to the cottage with the least amount of delay as was possible.

"I'm not complaining," he answered. He would miss it all after the day was done, if not certain aspects completely immediately.

Her hand had slipped down his arm, fingers stroking at his wrist. He seized them mainly for his own good, though she smiled wide as he squeezed her dainty hand in his palm.

He revelled in the peaceful, private moment spent with his wife, just the two of them in this quiet spot, before the realisation of the delay encroached upon his contented thoughts.

"Let's get it over with."

To their credit they had complied with his wishes for not too much of a fanfare to be made. William, who had been sitting with Andy while the footman folded pieces of paper to resemble aeroplanes, shrieked 'Da!' on the sight of John, doing what he could to scramble down from the seat that was too big for him. Both Anna and John were grateful for Andy's assistance in bringing their son safely to the ground, though he wasn't there for long until John scooped him up. The warm and wriggling weight of his boy in his arms made him feel a million times better, his small, soft head pressing against his shoulder adding to the joy that now possessed him.

On the table there were a couple of generously-sized bottles of ginger ale, which Mrs Hughes readily poured into glasses for all those that were assembled, and a Victoria sponge that was almost the size of a small house. Mrs Patmore beamed with pride at her work and encouraged John to make the first cut, as of course he was entitled to the biggest slice. Will's eyes lit up like beacons and he laid almost flat upon the table in anticipation before Anna pulled him back; just looking at the cake was enough to induce a sugar rush of fairly epic proportions. In the end he had a small sliver, determined by John, and – God only knows how – slept incredibly soundly that night.

There were reminiscences, a good deal of laughter and more than a few tears, coming from the two elder women of the household. The years condensed so quickly. As Anna placed a comforting arm around Mrs Patmore, Will hugged his arms around Mrs Hughes's legs, the spectacle making all of them smile.

John was encouraged to say a few words and being ill-prepared he spoke from the heart. It truly had been a privilege as well as a pleasure to work in this great house and to call so many fine people friends as well as colleagues. It had been the most unthinkable wonder to have his life set on such a different course than the one he anticipated to be put in place for him, and he would not change a single thing about it. Anna was aware that he was talking about her, and blushed prettily until the echo of applause reverberated from the walls.

Thomas was the one to come up to him, hand outstretched, moments before they left. John took the younger man's hand in his own with a degree of astonishment, being the first – and thinking that he was going to be the only out of the pair of them, until he was proved wrong at the very last moment – to smile.

He wasn't sure that the day had been entirely what he had expected, but he certainly had no complaints about it.

When quarter past five in the morning came around he found himself awake, with Anna curled at his side, her soft breath coming in little huffs against his neck. There came no other sound than that of the birds outside the window, Will and the girls making no noises to tell of any discontent. There were no expectations of him, no place that he needed to be other than right where he was.

His mind wandered to the thought he had kept at the back of it for more than sixteen years, no closer to having an answer now than he had been when it first occurred to him. He had considered asking His Lordship as the last button had been fastened, the question why did you change your mind? lying in wait to fly from his tongue. So many reasons, none of which would ever make much sense to him. In the end he refrained, thinking it not right, even at the time of his imminent leaving. His Lordship had bid no more to be said and he would not dare to go against the word, even with so much passed.

Next to him his wife murmured and shifted against the sheets. He turned onto his side, watching her settle once more after the briefest of interruptions, and smiled wide upon the pillow before he saw fit to gather her in his arms, keeping gentle as so not to wake her from her slumber.

Now was not the time to look back, and if she were awake she would tell him the very same thing.

From here, this very moment, there was nothing other than the future, unknowable and undoubtedly wonderful as it would surely be.


January 1929

"Thank you for taking the time to accompany us round."

John shook the older man's hand. He didn't seem to be expecting the gesture, judging by the expression on his face as well as the looseness of his grip, but he eventually reciprocated, his mouth moving into a somewhat ill-fitting smile.

"It was my utmost pleasure."

An unnerving and lengthy silence passed as the proprietor looked between John and Anna. He also offered a grin, which appeared yet more out of place, towards Will, who promptly hid behind Anna's legs.

"I apologise," John offered, "he's a little shy around people he doesn't know."

The proprietor brushed the rejection off quickly enough. "If you require a second viewing at any time…"

"We have your number," Anna interjected, taking a step forward so that she could shield Will. "We'll be in touch as soon as we've had a chance to think."

"Very well. I hope you have a safe and pleasant journey."

They nodded almost in tandem before walking down the steps that led from the front of the hotel, being careful not to go too hastily. The wind blew with some force, nearly enough to take the hats from off their heads, but it came as a blessed relief after the last interminable hour.

Before they could get too far along the promenade, John turned to Anna, taking her hand into his.

"I am so sorry, my love. I had not the least idea it was going to be so…"

He was trawling for the right word to convey his horror at the latest viewing they had embarked on in their search, whilst still feeling the need to be respectful.

"…utterly and completely awful?" Anna supplied.

Her expression thus far had remained impassive, but she could no longer prevent herself from bursting into laughter. John found himself relieved that she had found it so amusing; he was still reeling from the encounter, which had been amongst the most awkward of his life. To have to smile through gritted teeth and nod in approval at the decrepit, near-crumbling building – even if he was doing so with no more than a series of hums – had been incredibly painful.

A gloved hand was at her mouth to stifle the giggles which were now unstoppable. "I feel terrible for not telling the man outright that we won't be returning in a million years. But I suppose it's only good courtesy to show some consideration, at least."

"I promise that it didn't sound half as bad on the phone." As well as feeling ashamed he was quietly bubbling with a certain anger that the older man had been less than honest with him about the state of the establishment, wasting all of their time. "If I'd known what it was really like, I never would have dragged us here."

She gave him a look that said buck up, while the smile on her face remained as kind and understanding as it always was.

"It's not the end of the world. One more to cross off the list, that's something worth knowing."

He gave a weak smile, one which was much less than what she deserved. She was right, of course, but the knowledge did nothing to stop him from feeling dejected. It had been three months since they'd began looking in earnest for the little hotel that would be the realisation of their long-held dream. He had been fastidious about the search, keeping his eyes and ears primed for any properties that were within the range of distance they were willing to travel, being in agreement that they wanted to stay in Yorkshire. In that time they had gone to see all that was on offer most immediately, and in some circumstances – such as today's disastrous encounter – had gone further afield. There had been one, perhaps two, that they had classified as being worthy enough of a second visit, but after some thought on both occasions had decided the property wasn't right for them after all. It was better than realising they'd made a mistake too late, Anna had reasoned.

Whenever he got too down about what he saw as his abject failure to come through on the promise he had made to his family, his Anna was there with comforting words and tender touches, cups of tea galore and more than the occasional offer of a hot bath, which he was more than happy to take her up on. When the children were sleeping she would sit beside the tub, drenching water from a sponge over the knots in his neck and shoulders, reminding him of one of her father's sayings – he hadn't seemed to have quite as many as her mother, but what he had said held infinite wisdom.

"What's for you," she said, reaching to dunk the sponge back down into the bath, holding gaze with him as she did so, "won't pass you by."

He just hoped that another couple full of wild hopes and dreams – with perhaps more money than they had to spare – hadn't got to what was for them before they'd had the chance to even know about it.

And when Anna had other tasks to see to which prevented her from indulging him in his selfish woes, Will, Emma and Charlotte gave him more than a million reasons in combination to delight and not regret for one second his decision to resign from service. Each smile and laugh, word spoken and step taken, even the tears or wails of passing sorrow were precious reminders that he had made entirely the right choice. There was little more he loved in life than being a father, dedicating himself to his son and daughters now he was blessed with the time to do so most wholly and thoroughly. Every call of 'Da' and 'Dada' warmed his heart so much that he felt quite easily he could live to a hundred years or more.

The four of them, the most beloved figures in his life, made him all the more determined to strive harder, even in the height of winter – which he admitted to himself was not the ideal time to see the best of businesses that thrived in the summer months.

Anna had crouched down to bundle the scarf tighter around Will's face, and in turn John saw to it that she was well wrapped up too, smiling as she giggled at the inadvertent tickle of his fingertips. Will joined in with his parents' laughter, even though he wasn't aware of what had caused it.

"At least the rain is holding off," John said, casting a glance to the grey sky that painted a rather gloomy landscape of the Scarborough seaside, "although I don't know whether it will last until the train is due." He issued a heavy sigh. "I really am…"

"John Bates, if you dare to say you're sorry again, then I won't be responsible for my actions." Her eyes were wide, although they did not hold the least bit of exasperation or annoyance, only affection. "Despite what you may think the day has been far from wasted. We're at the seaside."

"In the middle of a very cold January," he added, with only the intention of presenting the situation as it was.

She held back on shaking her head at him, the smile filling her face.

"Well, perhaps we can't go for a stroll on the beach, but we can go for fish and chips."

It was an idea that was met with approval by Will, who cheered and clapped his hands in eagerness.

She only ever saw the possibilities, and it was a trait he would forever be thankful for.

They boarded the train back to Downton a little over an hour and a half later, with full bellies and a very sleepy little boy in tow. Luckily they had a compartment to themselves which allowed Will to occupy one of the seats on his own, sleeping until they arrived home. Anna was rather tired too, resting her head against John's shoulder and neglecting to pay much attention to the book she had brought with her for the journey.

"Maybe I'm looking at places that are too big for us. Subconsciously." Everything that they had gone to view so far had at least eight bedrooms, he had suddenly realised. There was no rule that said a successful business had to be a minimum size. If anything it may be more achievable for them to manage a smaller inn.

"Hmmm," Anna mumbled at his side.

"I'll give it the weekend, and then go back to the drawing board. There must be a few places that I've discounted offhand, thinking that they were too small."

He perceived her even, audible breathing, stopping his rambling when he saw that she had dozed off. He took the book from her hands, dipping to place a soft kiss at her crown before leaning back where he sat. From the window the world outside moved at a leisurely pace and he couldn't help but think about a time long ago when he had been on another train, travelling towards the same destination but without half of his family by his side.

Back then he had told himself that he had to keep moving, even though most hours – never mind days – it was near impossible to do without feeling as though he was sacrificing some unknown but important part of himself. Of course, moving to Downton had been one of the best decisions, as well as the hardest, he had ever made.

As he watched the sky meet the land, moving onwards, he was filled with a renewed sense of determination.

No matter if it took a month or another year, he would do everything in his power to bring his family to the life they not only dreamed of, but that which they so thoroughly deserved to live.


It was a stroke of luck that he should have been in the post office to hear the clerk discussing the fate of The Swallow Bank Inn with the customers that were in line before him that morning. A lovely place, by all accounts; somewhere that was highly recommended by locals to out-of-towners, and was even suitable for the same locals when they wanted to go not too far away for a weekend, as it was barely two miles away from Downton.

John had to wonder how he had not heard of it before in his exhaustive search; perhaps it was a very well-kept secret.

Anyhow, he was very glad to know about it now, trying to contain the smile that was brimming upon his face as he moved closer to the counter, as the clerk seemed very sombre about the prospect.

"It's such a shame they're selling. You couldn't possibly meet a nicer couple. But life changes, I suppose…I'm surprised that it hasn't been bought yet, but I expect anyone around here is too fearful that they couldn't live up to the same standards. And they'd be right."

I wouldn't speak too soon, he thought to himself.

After a little further enquiry – and an exaggerated display of charm on his part – he procured the details of the highly-praised Swallow Bank Inn, along with a telephone number for the owners, whose ears were surely burning with all the compliments that had been bestowed upon them.

He wouldn't have dared to be so bold years back, but when it came to the future happiness of his family he had decided quite some time ago that there was nothing that would stand in his way.

He had all but ran home – if his leg would have allowed him the free movement, he would have done so without question.

As the afternoon wore into the evening habitual doubts began to cloud the outlook that had been clear. He sensed Anna and the positive thoughts she cast outwards to counteract his own foolish ones before she placed her hands upon his shoulders, his head craning as he sat in the chair to meet her gaze.

The children continued to play contentedly on the rug in front of them, Charlotte crawling around while Emma sat and fixedly watched her older brother.

"I shouldn't get our hopes up," he sighed, already looking on the black side. It would save the disappointment from being too bitter later on. "Not until we've seen it for ourselves."

"If I bear them for the both of us, will that be better?"

The smile was clear to be heard in her voice but even more radiant upon her face.

"All we can do is go along and see what it's like." Her hand smoothed across the now-wrinkled fabric of his shirt in a soothing motion. "It certainly has glowing reviews."

"From one person, who may well be a close relative for all we know."

"Mr Bates."

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth at hearing her address him by his title.

"I don't want to let you down," he uttered, reaching for the hand that lay upon his right shoulder, struck by the silk softness of her fingers. "God knows there's been enough of that."

Her expression turned harder momentarily, though her eyes were brighter than seconds before. "Do you think any of this is letting me down? You're incapable of that."

He smiled, bringing her fingers to his lips.

"That was silly of me."

She tutted, dismissing his self-pity. "I tell you what will be silly; if you don't ring first thing in the morning to make an appointment."

His eyebrows raised but hardly in any kind of surprise; his dearest wife was most definitely headstrong. It was from her that he had inherited a great degree of his boldness, cultivated over the years.

"Aye aye, captain."

She shook her head, stifling laughter.

"We have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Just remember that."

His darling wife was also blessed with an unending store of wisdom.

"These tinkers are overdue for their bathtime."

On hearing the voice of their mama, both Emma and Charlotte turned their heads towards Anna, displaying gummy smiles.

"I'll come and help you."

"No, you stay there. I'll shout down if I need the troops, but I think we'll be alright."

He insisted on going upstairs with her, as she couldn't make the trip in one go with both girls.

"I can draw one for you when we're finished."

He shook his head, looking down at her with pure love. "It's getting late."

"Well, the offer was there." He noted the twinkle in her eye before she turned away. "I might do one for myself, then."

As he made his way downstairs a step at a time, he supposed that he could be persuaded, especially when it meant making the most of their precious alone time.

On being back in the sitting room he was kept away from resuming his place in the armchair by the sight of their son happily at play on the floor. So engrossed was he that he didn't look up from his ardent task when John bent down to his height.

His knee would hate him for this in the morning but there was not a single doubt that it was worth it.

In the time that he had been upstairs helping Anna with the girls Will had constructed quite the scene with his coloured and wooden bricks. Stretching almost the full length of the rug a city landscape was being formed, complete with a space for the toy trains to make their way through.

"That looks wonderful, son," he commented, beaming and full of pride.

After placing a few more bricks down Will grinned back happily. When John pointed to various structures and asked which each was he gave the answers without hesitation.

Doc'or, baker, seet shop.

All very valuable establishments, indeed.

Then there came a rather grand looking structure, not at risk of toppling over though it had been built to a considerable height.

"And what's this?" John enquired, watching as Will brought the train he was skimming over the rug to a stop in front of the 'building'.

" 'o'tel!" Will exclaimed, placing both his arms into the air, completely triumphant.

John couldn't stop himself from smiling just as wide. He had wondered how much their boy had really taken in on the few trips they had brought him along on; it seemed that he hadn't missed a single moment.

When he told Anna that night she was similarly joyful, and as it was they couldn't bring themselves to clear away the bricks, even if they did cause something of an obstruction, not at least until they had visited The Swallow Bank Inn for their appointment, which John secured the next morning. Thankfully, the man on the other end of the telephone couldn't have been more different than the previous proprietor they had encountered.

He hadn't really been one for lucky charms, but then he considered that one had featured in his life for going on seventeen years.

You had to keep moving, and he could not have better companions in his onward journey.


A/N: I had this written before the full film trailer came out, somewhat luckily...can't wait until September to see how wrong I've been about everything, whoops.