He straightened his tie and raised his hand to pull the bell. No one answered and his hand flexed over the bell cord again but he refrained. Removing his hat, he scratched his head a moment before working to replace the cloth securely around his forehead.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned, almost tripping over his suitcase to see who it was. The woman smiled, her mouth drawing back to crinkle her eyes in the barely contained giggle, and she covered her mouth with a hand to maintain her composure. With a cough she held up her hand, holding him in place without a second thought.

"I'm sorry I startled you but I thought it'd be better than you standing out here pulling on that cord when no one's going to come."

"Aren't there footman or butlers for a castle like this?"

"Cardiff Castle has them rightly enough but you could be jerking that cord forever and they still wouldn't bring you inside until the master is home."

"I have an appointment with the master." He jerked his thumb toward the door before removing a telegram from his inside pocket, passing it to her. "It's pretty clear."

Her eyes darted over it quickly, the whizzing of blue catching all his attention and holding him captive. After a moment she handed it back and he shook himself to take it. Tucking it back into his jacket he spread his arms in time with the shrug of his shoulders. "It's written in English so I know I understood it."

"By your accent I could tell you weren't native." She pointed to a sign, "And if it makes you feel better, I can't read Welsh either. I've been learning and I manage on all the basics but nothing like a newspaper."

"I haven't even tried and I speak Gaelic." He stepped off the stoop, half turning back to the house. "But if I was told to meet Colonel Crawly why wouldn't he be here? This is his house yes?"

"It is but Lord Grantham's not one to sit idly by when there's work to be done." She stopped, chewing her lip a moment before waving her hand to beckon him after her. "Here, I'll take you to him."

He grabbed his suitcase, hurrying to walk beside her on the pavement, and they aimed toward the center of town. "Are you sure it's wise to be escorting a man you only just met on a doorstep into town without a chaperone?"

"Considering it was on the doorstep of the Crawley's house I doubt anyone will think you're a vagrant or felon." She paused, "Unless you are Mister-"

"Bates, John Bates." John extended his hand and she shook it. "I'm neither so you've at least got a good enough eye to see that."

"And what are you then, Mr. Bates?"

"I'm here as a consultant, for the mine."

"Are you?"

"I am." John stopped, "Do you doubt my story?"

"I wasn't aware there was much mining in Ireland."

"More than you'd think. Though there I specialized in gold and silver extraction, not coal."

"There are few places that can coat the lungs with black the way we can here, Mr. Bates." She shrugged, "It's our Black God. Runs the docks, the shops, the town, and even the bleeding sun if it spews from enough chimneys."

"You don't sound too pleased with it."

"It's a necessary evil if people want to eat and since I'm someone who prefers the steady lull of a full stomach to the raw gnaw of the empty I'll take the torn trousers and ripped shirts that run my business."

"Then you're a seamstress miss-?"

"It's Smith, Anna Smith, and yes I am." Anna paused at a crossroad, "Do you sew, Mr. Bates?"

"I can mend a tear and reaffix a button but that's the extent of my skills."

"Then make sure to come to me and not go wandering off to Ms. Parks' shop when you need a repair." Anna wagged a finger at him, "I won't have my good graces be wasted on someone bound to betray my skills."

John laughed, holding up both hands in surrender, "I wouldn't dream of offending you so soon. Ever, if I can help it."

"Good man. This way."

They walked toward the docks and Anna led John into one of the buildings. She knocked at one of the doors and ushered John step back as it opened. When it opened a man with blonde hair stepped out. He eyed both people with furrows to his brow before nodding to Anna.

"I thought I was coming for the fitting tomorrow. Have I missed it?"

"No, Mr. Crawley, it's nothing like that and your wedding suit is already finished, just so you know." Anna gestured toward John, "I've brought the contractor, Mr. Bates, to see Lord Grantham."

"Mr. Bates?" Crawley's mouth pursed and then his eyes snapped wide. "Yes, the contractor."

He stepped forward, practically grabbing one of John's hands to shake vigorously before releasing it. "I apologize none of us were at the castle to meet you."

"I think it must've been my mistake."

"No, ours certainly. We didn't give nearly enough details in the telegram but it was made with some haste when we sent it." Crawley moved to hold the door open with his body, "Please come it. Robert and Tom are already discussing plans for the mine and they'll want to get you started straight away."

"I'm here to serve." John turned to Anna, offering her his hand. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Smith. I would've been lost in the streets without you."

"It's no more than I'd do for any other stranger." Anna took his hand, "But I did rather enjoy helping you more than most, if it's not to bold to say."

"I like boldness," John winked, bringing her knuckles to just brush his lips, and smiled at the faint bloom of red that graced her cheeks in response. "I'm Irish and we burn a little hotter than most."

"I'll take care not to singe myself." Anna slowly withdrew her hand caressing it in the grip of her other. "Though, if you happen to have any reason to see the town, my shop is near the Old Arcade. If you happen to like a pint yourself you might take the time to wave."

"What if it's too far from my lodgings?"

"It's a good stretch of the legs, Mr. Bates." Anna nodded toward Crawley, "I'm sure Mr. Crawley here wants you near enough to the castle for the time being so you'll be staying at the Rummer's Inn and that's just a short jaunt."

"She's right." Crawley risked a look into the office, "But, unfortunately Ms. Smith, I'll need to steal him back for business."

"Of course, pardon me." Anna nodded at John, "Good morning, Mr. Bates."

"Good morning Ms. Smith."

With a quick look back, John followed Crawley into the office and immediately felt the hearty handshake of a man about his height, with much grayer hair, and a bright smile. "Bates, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Less gray than yourself, Colonel."

"Ha!" The Colonel barked, "You'd look like me as well if you had three daughters clawing at one another from the day they were old enough to know what possession is."

"I probably would sir."

"Enough of that Bates, we're not in the Army anymore." The Colonel batted Bates's form of address away. "Though we barely survived our time in India."

"We survived it well enough."

"Only because of you." The Colonel dragged John by his gripped hand to show off to Crawley and the other man in the office. "This man pushed me out of the line of fire from a determined group of Sikh's near Bengal and then carried me on his back for ten miles to reach our lines."

"It must be the Irish in him." The as-yet-unnamed man stepped forward to take John's unoccupied hand. "Please to meet you Mr. Bates. I'm Tom Branson."

"Tom and Matthew here," The Colonel wagged his finger between Crawley and Branson, "Are my sons-in-law."

"Matthew's not there just yet." Branson nudged Matthew with his shoulder. "But that's this weekend."

"Congratulations." John extricated his hand from the Colonel's punishing grip to shake Matthew's hand again. Lowering his voice he spoke toward Matthew's ears, "Or do I wish condolences?"

"I'll tell you which depending on the day." Matthew drew back, thrusting his hand toward the Colonel. "But Robert here told us you're just the man we need for this."

"I hope so." John shifted his jaw, "Though my expertise is more with metal mining than coal so I don't know the level of aid I can truly offer you. From what I hear you've got your operation well in hand."

"It's not the operation that worries us." Branson clasped his hands behind his back, "Lord Grantham here needs you to fulfill your duties more in the capacity of your service in Bengal."

"As military police?" John frowned, "Don't you have a constabulary here in Cardiff?"

"We do, and they're fine chaps." Lord Grantham soothed John's worries, "What we need is more along the lines of an investigation."

"Investigation? Into what?"

Matthew cleared his throat, "You're not entirely unfamiliar with the trouble we've had in the past, in regards to mine riots and uprisings are you?"

"I've read about them. Had to deal with a few myself when I was foreman and manager." John paused, "Are you afraid they'll be another one here?"

"We've got more than enough malcontents across the city breeding their own brand of troubles when they drown their sorrows in their drinks." Lord Grantham huffed, "They've made some veiled threats in the past."

"And you worried about them unveiling them, sir?" John shook his head, "Milord?"

"That's what we need you to work out for us." Branson shuffled in place, "Lord Grantham, Matthew, and I are well known around here. We go sniffing in the pubs then all the talk quiets down. We need someone they'll see as being on their side, not ours."

"The first thing I did when I came here was come straight to you. I don't see how they'll see me as one of them after that."

"All new hires have to so it won't be that unusual." Matthew added quickly, "More to it, you won't be a frequent guest at the castle so no one'll suspect a thing."

John sucked the insides of his cheeks, "And you'll take me on, to them, as a consultant?"

"We'd take you on a foreman or manager but that'd set too many teeth on edge and make you too many enemies at the start." Lord Grantham winced, "Mr. Barrow'd be mortified if we took away his job."

"Not as though he doesn't have enough reasons to lose it." Branson muttered but Matthew held up a hand to calm him.

"Barrow's a key player in all of this. We need him to be as ignorant as all the rest if we really want to suss him out." Matthew turned to John, "What we need is our own mole in the mine."

John gave a little laugh, "Then a sacrifice to the Black God I'll be. When do I start?"