Hello everyone. So, new day, new story... It all started with me wanting to rewrite cannon so that all the bad things that happened to Banna, well didn't. Then... one thing led to another, and... well I ended up wanting to change a lot of other things too. So, I think this is going to be my Herculean task, and I hope I'm not going to mess up too bad!
There will be some scenes and line taken from cannon, you'll know them of course. They belong to you-know-who.
Please, tell me what you think of this first chapter.
April 1912
John Bates felt quietly elated as he watched through the train window the dawn slowly breaking on the eastern horizon. In an hour or so, he'll be in Downton, ready to start a new page of his life. New, and hopefully happier. Leaving behind several years of suffering, about a decade in fact, since he'd come back wounded from the Boers war. He stretched his leg and moved his toes as he thought about the pain he'd been through. There had been a time when the surgeons had told him his leg was lost. They had almost cut it up. Then he had met his saviour, Dr Henderson, a young surgeon, who believed in rehabilitation, and against the opinion of his seniors, had given him his chance. After several gruelling surgeries to remove all the shrapnel bits that were stuck into the joint, and almost a year of brand new techniques of physiotherapy, he had been able to go home on his two feet. He had been very lucky that no infection had hindered his healing. Sadly, the home he had come back to when the rehab hospital had released him, was no longer a happy one. Too much time had passed, lives had taken different paths. Bitterness had seeped into both their hearts. So after a few years of struggle, and after losing his London job, he had decided that the time had come to take a bow. It was when he had found this advert, saying that Lord Grantham, from Downton Abbey, was hiring a new valet. Although he had had many jobs since, valet was his initial profession, and he had thought he'd like to go back to it, especially for his former army commander. Lord Grantham had been very glad to hear about him, and had hired him right away.
So on this crisp April morning, he felt hopeful and proud, when, standing on Downton's station platform, he picked up his suitcase and walked on with only the slightest of limps. There was only a little tightness in his throat at the thought of the little piece of his heart he had had to leave behind. He discreetly brought his hand to his chest and rested his palm against his inside breast pocket, gently caressing through the fabric the small picture safely tucked inside.
x x x x
Downton Abbey's dining-room
- Good morning everyone!, boomed Lord Grantham as he entered the dining-room for breakfast. Good morning Carson.
- Good morning Papa, chanted the three young ladies.
- Good morning Milord, respectfully replied the butler, who was waiting near the buffet, making sure everything was up to his standards.
- Bates is supposed to be coming in today, isn't he?, asked Lord Grantham.
- Indeed Milord, replied Carson.
- Good, good. You'll need show him everything. It'll be good if he can start tonight.
- Very well, Milord.
- I bet you'll be happy to go back to your usual duty and leave the valeting work to him.
- This is how it should be, Milord.
When Lord Grantham had sat in his usual chair, and tucked into his scrambled eggs, he turned back to Carson:
- Might I have the newspaper please?
- Of course Milord, said the butler, handing him the morning's paper.
He stayed silent for a moment as he scanned the frontpage. His next exclamation cut through his daughters' chatter.
- What in the name of heaven!
- What?!, asked Mary urgently.
- What is it, Papa?, asked Sybil too.
- Patrick, look at that, said Lord Grantham, ignoring them, but handing the paper to his young cousin and designated heir, who was quietly eating at his right-hand side.
- What is it, cousin Robert?, asked the young man in his turn.
- Just look!, urged Lord Grantham.
Patrick Crawley seized the paper and squinted on the front page. He gaped as he took in the headline, and his hand slowly rose up to cover his mouth.
- Oh bloody hell, he whispered in an almost inaudible voice.
- So, asked lord Grantham. How do you feel about having to postpone your trip now?!
- Papa, what happened?!, insisted Edith, worried by the look on Patrick's face.
- The Titanic's gone under, that's what happened!, exclaimed her father.
- What?!, reacted Mary. What do you mean, gone under?
- Sunk! Lost, bodies and souls!
- Oh sweet Lord, murmured Sybil.
- Not all of them, surely?, asked Mary.
- No, not all, said Lord Grantham, but many of them… Good Lord, there must have been some people we knew on that ship, he thought aloud. The Chisholms I think, and Frederick Turner… Do you know if there are any lists of survivors yet, Carson?
- Not that I know, Milord. It will be too soon, I gather. But they said most of the ladies and children were successfully rescued…
- The ladies in first class, you mean, commented Lord Grantham with a pout. God have mercy on the poor devils below deck…
- This is so unfair!, exclaimed Sybil. Because you're poor, you've got lesser chances of survival! Surely at sea, facing death, all lives should be equal.
- You're right, my dear cousin Sybil, agreed Patrick. But I'm afraid it won't have been the case in real life. May they rest in peace.
Edith was the only one who'd kept silent since the news had broken out. She was white as a sheet, motionless, her eyes locked on Patrick.
- Edith, are you alright dear?, asked Lord Grantham. You look as if you'd seen a ghost!
Tears shone in her eyes.
- Oh come on, Edith, teased Mary, there's no need to be so dramatic! You knew no one on that ship…
- But Patrick should have been on it…, she whispered in a hollow voice. He could have died at sea…
Patrick sent her a discreetly reassuring smile.
- I am perfectly fine, I assure you, Lady Edith, he said in a gentle voice.
- Yes, she breathed nervously, but you could have…
- He's fine!, interrupted Mary with annoyance. Stop being such a whiny…
- You don't understand anything, barked Edith back at her sister.
She threw her napkin on the table and got up to storm out of the dining-room. Her father rolled his eyes, but Sybil frowned at Mary:
- You shouldn't pick on her that way… It's not kind.
- But she's always such a fuss! She looks as if Patrick's dead, when he's safe and sound in front of her!
- Please, girls!, scolded the patriarch. Might we end our breakfast in peace? I must go up and see your mother to tell her the news.
x x x x
Servants' Hall
Anna, Gwen and Miss O'Brien were coming down the stairs, discussing the news of the sinking, when they found themselves face to face with a large and broad-shouldered man, shifting uneasily on his feet, a suitcase resting on the floor near him. O'Brien shot him an inquisitive look.
- Hello, he said quietly. I've been waiting at the back door. I knocked, but no one came.
- So you pushed in?
- I'm John Bates, the new valet.
- The new valet?
- That's right.
O'Brien studied him up and down with a sharp glance, and added:
- You're early.
- Came up with the milk train. Thought I'd use the day to get to know the place, start tonight.
As O'Brien kept looking at him coldly, the young blond girl who stood behind her skirted around her and held out a friendly hand:
- I'm Anna, the head housemaid.
He took her hand and politely shook it.
- How do you do?
She seemed to be nice, at least, he thought to himself, if the other looked rather stiff.
- And I'm Miss O'Brien, her Ladyship's maid.
- Pleased to meet you, he said, trying to be friendly.
Then he looked to the sheepish ginger girl who stood at the back, who seemed to be the youngest of the three women.
- I… I'm Gwen, she said hastily. One of the maids.
- Nice to meet you Gwen, he replied politely.
- So, you'd better come along with us then, said O'Brien, turning away to walk to the servants' Hall. It's breakfast time.
As they all made their way to follow the lady's maid, his eyes crossed Anna's, who were bluer than the see on a sunny day. She bit her lower lip slightly, but she wasn't able to prevent a small smile from crossing her lips as she turned away.
- Ah, Mr Bates, there you are, said Carson when he saw him enter the servants' Hall, tailing O'Brien. Welcome to Downton! I see you've met Miss O'Brien, Anna, and Gwen. This is Mrs Hughes, my wife, and the Housekeeper, he added, gesturing to the stern woman standing next to him.
- Good to meet you Mrs Hughes, said Bates with a nod.
Mrs Hughes answered with a nod and a courteous smile.
- This is Thomas Barrow, Mr Patrick Crawley's valet, continued Carson, with a gesture towards Thomas. You will know that Mr Crawley is his Lordship's heir, I think?
- Yes, nodded Bates. Hello Mr Barrow.
Thomas nodded curtly at Bates. Then Carson took a circular look around the table and concluded:
- Well, you'll get to know the rest of the staff as you do. Let's have breakfast. We have a lot to do today so that you can start tonight. Take your seat, Mr Bates.
- Thank you Mr Carson, replied Bates.
He went to take the remaining free seat, who happened to be next to the young blond maid, Anna, was her name? As they tucked into their plates, she started making friendly conversation.
- So, you've come all the way from London?
- That's right.
- Didn't you find any job down there? That'll be a big change for you from city life…
- Oh, I don't mind. I fancied a bit of fresh air…, he said with a smile. Sometimes one needs new surroundings, he added evasively.
- I can understand that, she said. I hope you'll find yourself comfortable here. If there's anything I can do to help you settle in, I'll be happy to help.
- That's very kind of you, thank you.
The smile she flashed at him lit up something warm deep in his chest.
x x x x
Downton Abbey's park
- Oh Patrick, must you really go?, said Edith, tightly holding Patrick's arm as they walked through the park, out of view from the house. I'm so worried about you. That awful accident…
- My dear Edith, said the young man soothingly. Yes, I must go, but please, rest yourself. It is not everyday that a transatlantic ship sinks! It is really a rare occurrence.
- I know but… I'll miss you so much… Couldn't you just settle whatever you need to settle by mail?
- I'm afraid not. My father's agent is telling me that since he died, his associates in his building company are plotting to rob me of my fair share in the business. I must go to New-York and see for myself. I must make things right. It'll only take a few weeks, my dear.
Patrick stopped walking and turned to face Edith. He took her gloved hand and lifted it to his mouth.
- And when I'm back, he went on, I'll ask your father for your hand.
Edith blushed and smiled sheepishly.
- And he will be so very disappointed that you're asking for my hand, and not Mary's…
- Mary doesn't want to marry me, and it so happens that I don't want to marry her either. Why should we both make ourselves unhappy? It is you I want to be with.
- Oh, Patrick, said Edith, blushing some more.
- I love you, Edith.
- I love you too, Patrick, she said, looking up at him and offering him her lips, that he kissed gently.
- Don't you think your father will come round about it?, he asked when they had parted.
- I don't know. He might, in the end, when he understands he won't have it his way. But there might be some… discussion first.
- Well. Discuss we will then, if we have to. And when he will understand that me marrying Mary isn't an option, I guess he'll prefer I marry one of his daughters, than none.
- I do hope so, said Edith with a smile. Although Mary will never forgive me for inheriting the title and the estate instead of her…
- We'll see what the future brings, said Patrick evasively.
In truth, he had no desire to become an English Earl, and to run Downton Abbey. To him, this was the old world. He felt much more attracted to New-York and running his late father's building business there. This was were the future was, in his opinion. This was where money could be made. But he hadn't yet voiced this to Edith. He dreaded her reaction. Would she want to follow him to America? Could he even refuse to become the next Earl of Grantham?
x x x x
Backyard
- So, what do you make of him?, asked O'Brien, pulling on her cigarette.
- Not much, replied Barrow dismissively. Why should I care? If he's not making trouble for me, I'll not be making any for him.
- Don't you think you should be the one to be His Lordship's valet?
- I'm already Mr Patrick's. Why should they take me away from him. Anyway, I don't mind. It's less bother to wait on the heir than on the actual Earl. He's less fussy about things. And with him I get to go to America next week, for at least two months, and from what he told me, there might be more trips in the future. Maybe one day I won't come back, he stated, his eyes shining with dreams of an American life.
Maybe things were simpler there, for people like him.
- Oh really, said O'Brien, with a raised eyebrow.
- Yeah, maybe. So please don't bother me with your petty schemes. I've had enough.
He let his cigarette butt fall on the floor, and made his way back in, leaving a disgruntled O'Brien behind.
x x x x
Lord Grantham's dressing-room
- So, my dear fellow, how are you settling in?, kindly asked Lord Grantham.
- Pretty well, I think, replied Bates deferentially. Except if your Lordship might think otherwise?
- No, no, I've got no complaint, said the Earl. Has Carson showed you how everything is done in the house?
- Yes he has been most patient.
- And did the other welcome you kindly?
- Everybody was rather civil, said Bates.
- Even O'Brien?, asked Lord Grantham with a crooked smile and a raised eyebrow.
- Well, I can't say she's been exactly friendly, but… I guess we can't be friends with everyone.
- True. Still, you'd be well inspired to keep away from her. I can't see why my dear wife insists on keeping her, I've never cared for her. I think she's a hypocrite. But her Ladyship likes her, so.
- I'll keep that in mind. Will that be all, Milord?
- Yes, thank you Bates.
As he walked out of the room, and started walking down the hallway to get back to the servants' Hall, a tide of sadness washed over Bates, and tears rushed to his eyes. It had been a few weeks now, and he'd taken his marks, and settled in this new life, but some days were still harder than others. Some days he missed her so much. A fierce longing filled his heart, and he felt a harsh need to go up to his room, be alone and look at his precious pictures. But if he did that, he'd be late for the servants dinner. He wasn't that hungry anyway, but he couldn't miss dinner without telling anyone. As he hesitated on the stairs' landing, he bumped into Mrs Hughes who was going downstairs too. She noticed his red eyes, and asked:
- Oh, Mr Bates, are you quite alright?
- I'm fine, Mrs Hughes, though I must say I am rather tired. You know, long days and everything.
- Yes, some days can be a lot to take.
- Do you think Mr Carson would mind if I skipped dinner and went to rest in my room instead?
- Oh I don't think so. I'll tell him, don't worry.
- Thank you Mrs Hughes.
x x x x
- What are you doing, Anna?, asked Mrs Hughes, when she saw her holding a tray full of food.
- Well, I heard about Mr Bates not coming down to dinner, so I thought I'd bring him a tray. So that he doesn't go hungry…
- Oh, alright. That's kind of you.
Anna turned around and went up the stairs. As she entered the menservant's quarters, she slowly approached Bates's door, which was ajar. Her heart sunk as she heard sobs. She came discreetly closer, and saw him, facing away from the door. He was looking at a small picture, and crying over it. Not wanting to embarrass him, she took a few steps back, and called out loudly:
- Mr Bates? Are you there?
Inside the small room, Bates quickly put the picture back into his bedside table, and wiped his eyes on his towel. He opened the door wider, to reveal Anna holding her tray.
- I brought you something, in case you were hungry.
- That's very kind, he said, with a forced smile.
His eyes were still red and puffy, and Anna noticed.
- Are you having a hard time? Has someone been making trouble for you? You should report them if so.
- No, no one's been making any trouble, thank you Anna, he said. It's just… memories coming back from the past. I'll be alright.
- I do hope so, she said with an encouraging smile. It's making me sad to see you sad.
He smiled, more genuinely this time.
- Well. We can't have that. Thank you very much for the tray, he said, taking it from her hands. You shouldn't have bothered. Now I'm feeling bad for having given you extra-work.
- Oh, nonsense, said Anna. It's not work, when it's for a friend.
And she flashed him one of her special smiles, before turning back. Once again, that particular smile made him feel quickly better.