Mrs. Hughes knocked on the door to John Bates' room, waiting until she heard the soft "come in", not from the man itself, but from Anna, who had been at his side for quite a while now.
She walked in, a sentence already on the tip of her tongue, "I'm sorry Anna, but it's time. You need to -"
And she stopped, for she wasn't expecting the scene before her. Anna was sat on a chair near her husband's bed, a bowl of water precariously set on her lap, her back to the door. What shocked Mrs. Hughes the most, was the state Mr. Bates was in. When she had helped him to his room early in the day, he had been tired yes, a bit pale, but nothing that compared to how he looked at this moment.
She could hear his ragged breathing, and there were beads of sweat on his face that Anna was carefully wiping away with her cloth. His skin was white as a sheet, but for the flush on his cheeks, but the most worrisome of it all was how still he was. There was nothing but his harsh breaths to indicate that he was still amongst them.
Anna turned to her then, and there was no mistaking the panic in her eyes. "He's been like this for almost an hour. Nothing seems to work. I don't know what to do, Mrs. Hughes."
"Dr. Clarkson has his hands full at the hospital, but he's coming tomorrow to check on us, I'll make sure he sees Mr. Bates as soon as he's done with her Ladyship and Miss Swire." Anna nodded and turned back her gaze to Mr. Bates. He still hadn't moved an inch. "In the meantime, why don't you give him some cinnamon and milk, and aspirin? It certainly wouldn't hurt, and it's what the doctor prescribed for the others."
The young woman acquiesced. It was better than nothing, and if it could help him even the slightest, then she would still consider it a victory. She was reluctant to leave him, however, even for the few minutes it would take her to fetch it all downstairs.
"Would you mind staying with him? Please, Mrs. Hughes, I won't be long, I promise."
It was not a difficult request to agree to, and soon Mrs. Hughes had taken Anna's seat in the chair next to the bed. She waited until the door was closed behind her, to really turn her attention to the sick man.
"Well well, Mr. Bates. Look at what you make me do. A woman staying in a married man's bedroom. How scandalous."
She patted his hand, but he was still unresponsive.
"I sure hope that you do not plan on letting this disease have the better of you. And you're not fighting alone this time, not anymore. Anna is besides herself, but his Lordship worries too. He already asked twice about you since this morning."
She fiddled with the sheets covering him, not sure what to do with herself, and ended up tucking it tightly under the mattress.
"It is strange to think of how wary of you we were when you arrived, and how now it is inconceivable to imagine Downton without you. What is it that you kept saying? 'I can manage.' You have proved it many times, and now we need you to do it once again. It is indeed a terrible foe you're facing. But I have heard stories from the war in Africa, and from the state Lord Grantham was when he came home, I would say that you have faced worse odds than that."
She didn't know what to add then. A thought came back to her, of a promise he once made to her, an eternity ago it seemed, when his morale had hit a record low. It was now time for another. She was about to speak again when Anna came back into the room with the needed supplies.
"I have everything I need, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you for staying here."
"It's all right, I didn't mind in the slightest." She thought about the promise, and waiting for Anna to wake him up so that she could make sure he gave his word, but it all sounded ridiculous now. So, she got up, and made to leave. "I came here to tell you to go back to your room, that I was going to lock the door," she saw Anna was about to protest, so she raised her hand to stop her, "but I can see now that Mr. Bates needs someone to be with him at all times, so I will allow it for tonight. Those are exceptional circumstances."
Anna sighed with relief. Obviously, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind that she wouldn't be allowed to stay in her husband's bedroom. The cottage promised by Lord Grantham wasn't ready yet, and having two servants, even married, sharing the same room under this roof was unthinkable at best.
"At least, my girl, please use the second bed. I don't want to find you tomorrow morning still sitting on that chair and having stayed up all night. You need rest too."
"I will. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you so much."
The housekeeper smiled and nodded, and with one last look at the patient, she quietly closed the door behind her, leaving the couple alone once again.
"Alright, Mr. Bates. It's time to wake up."
Anna sat back on the chair, and arranged the class of milk, and the aspiring, on the nightstand. She called for him, and shook his shoulder lightly, several times. It took quite a bit of coaxing, but finally his eyelids opened. He looked confused at first, before he turned his head towards his wife, and even managed a small smile.
"Hey," his voice was hoarse, and it barely came louder than a whisper.
"Hey yourself. How do you feel?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she inwardly rolled her eyes. The answer to that question was obvious enough.
"Pretty awful."
She smiled. "At least you're not in denial anymore, that's good." She took the pillow from the second bed, intent on making him comfortable enough to take the medicine. "Do you think you can sit up?"
In the end, she had to support him with an arm around his back so that he could lean forward long enough for her to put the pillow behind him. It frightened her, how weak he had become in such a small amount of time. She put the aspirin pill directly in his mouth, and had to help him to wash it down with a few sips of water. Her hand on his, she guided the drink to his mouth. The action was then repeated with the milk, she was glad when he finished the whole glass.
"You seem to be breathing a bit easier like that, I think you shouldn't completely lie down again."
He agreed, and so she started to fuss with the pillows to arrange them to his liking, though he barely said a word, he just let her do as she wished. She put her her hand on his forehead, and frowned. "You're still burning up. Thank God Doctor Clarkson is coming to see you in the morning."
John was struggling to stay awake now. She moved her hand from his forehead to his sweat-drenched hair, it was quite a sight, very messy, with the few lone strands she loved that almost fell over his eyes. He leaned into her touch, and closed his eyes in contentment.
"You're staying?" he whispered between two still harsh breaths. It broke her heart to see him like this.
"And where else would I go, you silly man?" she tried to put some humor in her words, but she hadn't been very successful. "Of course I'm staying here. Don't worry, I'm not leaving you."
She couldn't resist it then, and she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. It was a high risk, and not a very intelligent one, but she needed it as much as he did. It didn't take him long to fall asleep after that, leaving Anna alone with her somber thoughts.
He could smell the smoke and the burnt bodies all around him. The blood too, but that one he was so used to he barely noticed it anymore. He couldn't decide if the worst was that a lot of it wasn't his, or that his wound was bleeding so much it felt like water cascading down his skin. It hurt. It really, really hurt. There was some in his mouth. He was probably screaming, though that too, he wasn't sure about.
Someone was calling his name. Maybe. Or was he dreaming? It was hard to tell. Everything was so blurry in his mind. The heat was unbearable. It was scorching his skin and weighting on his lungs. He was burning alive, surely. That would explain the smell. And the smoke. And, the pain.
His name again. He tried to focus. It was hard to even think. Feeling, however, that he could. He didn't want to feel. Too many sensations, too much happening at once, and he was exhausted. The pain, always the pain. It overwhelmed everything else. He was terrified at the idea of opening his eyes. On a battlefield, and in hell. Hell, yes, though he was still alive.
A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder, and he flinched at the unexpected touch. Urging him to open his eyes. He didn't want to.
"John!"
And just like that, he wasn't on the battlefield anymore. He felt a thin mattress underneath him, but most worryingly, belts across his arms and chest. They constricted his lungs, his struggles to get a breath of air intensifying as panic overtook him. There were so many voices around him, too many. He couldn't understand what they were saying.
It was the feel of cold metal on his skin that stilled him to a desperate level. A blade, on his thigh. Sharp, very sharp, he could already feel it cutting into his skin. Death would be too sweet a conclusion.
"John!"
The voice was pulling him away. He was saying something too, but he didn't know what it was. Not likely screaming though, he was far beyond that point.
"John!"
That was it. He opened his eyes. It wasn't dark like he would have expected, but lit with a warm glow coming from the lamp on his bedside.
"Oh, thank God", he heard from his left side, a tone full of concern and relief. There she was, the voice that opened a door away from the hell he was trapped in. Her face was blurry, everything was blurry, and he didn't know why.
He felt her hand brushing on his cheeks, her touch so tender it made him shiver, and not from the fever. "You were crying in your sleep."
"Is it gone?" his throat felt raw, and it hurt to speak.
"Is what gone?"
She didn't know. How could she not know? He had to check for himself. He struggled to sit up, but he did it before she had the time to react. It was still here. He let out a shaky breath of relief. It was still here.
"What are you -" and then she caught on, and followed his gaze to the end of the bed. "Yes, John, your leg is fine. It's not gone, they didn't take it." She came to sit next to him on the bed, and the dam broke, her presence next to him, his Anna, was unwavering as ever, and he leaned against her, she was his anchor to reality.
He didn't even know why he was sobbing in her embrace. It was a mix of relief, the adrenaline going down, and the fear that was still present at the back of his confused mind. He recognized now the tainted memories of pain and blood that his brain had conjured in his sleep.
"It was just a nightmare, my love, nothing more. I promise." He knew that now. But it was hard to come back to reality. And, it wasn't just a nightmare. Still, he needed to control himself. Slowly, with long breaths, he managed to calm himself down, and Anna let him go a little, though not completely. She was the one holding onto him.
That's when he noticed the grey bags under her eyes, and his old friend named guilt came back to him in waves. Her face was pale and drawn, and it became obvious to him that she had spent the night, and most of the day before that, looking after him.
"You need to sleep, Anna. Take care of yourself, I don't want you falling sick as well. You're already risking it enough by staying with me."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Even if it robs me of my precious sleep." He smiled, but it didn't make him feel any better.
It wasn't that she regretted staying up all night. She would do it again, and was probably going to tonight as well. The problem was, that her eyes stinged, and she made mistake after mistake. Mrs. Hughes was very understanding of course, but there would be a point, in the very near future, when even the kind matron would snap.
She did try to sleep for an hour or two, but her worry for the man in the twin bed next to her overwhelmed all the exhaustion she was feeling, and she hadn't managed to keep her eyes closed for more than a few minutes at once.
One more distraction added to her busy mind was the fact that Dr. Clarkson was currently visiting the many patients of the Abbey, and her eyes kept wandering to the ceiling, curious about whether or not the man had already been to see John or not. Most likely not, she thought, her mind far away from the mending she was doing in one of Lady Edith's dresses, the good doctor would have seen to her Ladyship first and then Miss Swire, there were also Mr. Carson and a maid, the odds were that her husband would be one of the last ones on the long list.
"Anna, are you still not done? I told you 10 minutes ago I needed help with the flowers in the library."
Mrs. Hughes' voice brought her back from her reverie in a startle, and she brought her pricked finger to her mouth. "I'm almost done, Mrs. Hughes. I'm sorry, I'll be here in a moment."
The older woman sighed, "you're of no use in that state, girl, and there's enough bedridden staff to add distracted maids to the lot, thank you very much."
Anna was about to answer, to again apologize for her behavior, but Mrs. Hughes beat her to the punch. "Why don't you go outside for a minute or two? Breathe a bit and clear your mind? I know you can't help but to worry, but there is nothing to be done at least until Dr. Clarkson finishes his round, and it may not be for a while yet."
She wanted to protest, she really did, but in the end, she kept her stubborn thoughts to herself, and went to do as the housekeeper had said. She thanked her, and went outside in the backyard, where many things had happened in the last few years. She sat on one of the ever present crates, decided that she wouldn't take more than a couple of minutes, then go back to work and forget about everything but what was asked of her; She was ashamed enough already of how remiss in her work she had been, to keep on going that way. It was all going to be alright.
By luck, she was still upstairs in the library when she heard Dr. Clarkson's voice coming down the main staircase, with Lady Edith at his side. Lady Mary soon joined them, and soon many were gathered to hear what the news were.
"Please doctor, how are they? We're all anxious to know," Lady Mary took over, and for that Anna was thankful. She needed answers herself, and her Lady was not known for her patience.
"Well, both Carson and Miss Swire seem to have escaped the worst of it. Not that they shouldn't be looked after carefully, but they are in the green zone I would dare say. Her Ladyship on the other hand is not faring as well, she is doing much worse than during my last visit, someone needs to be with her at all times, I would have sent a nurse to stay here, but I can't spare even one person from the hospital."
"Wouldn't it be better for her to stay there then? We can drive her ourselves in the car."
"In any other scenario I would have said yes, my Lady. However to be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure the hospital can provide better care than here where she is at home. You have Lady Sybil as well, who I must say is more than qualified to take over. Should her state become too unstable, then by all means call me."
He took a deep breath then, knowing that he wasn't reassuring this group of people standing around him, but it was inevitable. He himself could do with a bit of reassuring, but it was not to be.
"You have to understand, Lady Mary, that the Spanish Flu is nothing like we've seen before. Sometimes it kills in a matter of hours, even the most healthy of young people. It spreads so quickly that quarantines barely have any effect in slowing it down. In fact, there are a certain number of security measures that you would do well to apply to the letter. This household is amongst the most lucky ones I've seen so far, in regards to your number of ills, so let's try not to change that."
Doctor Clarkson then went on on those said measures, sometimes repeating himself to make sure everything was well understood and would be relayed to the other people in the house. Anna tried to listen as best as could and memorize them, but inside she was frenetic. She had to know.
Soon enough, the doctor made to leave, and as some of the others began to walk away, Anna stepped forward. She cleared her throat, "excuse me, doctor Clarkson?"
"Yes?" He turned around to face her, and his features softened. "My apologies, Anna. In my haste I forgot to tell you about my examination of Mr. Bates." He took a deep breath then, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I fear Mr. Bates is in a similar state as her Ladyship. Our best bet right now is to reduce the symptoms and try to make him as comfortable as possible while his body fights off the disease."
The only thing she got out of this was that doctor Clarkson didn't know much more than her about what do to, and that there was no cure, nothing but household remedies and prayers.
For a little while, as he tried to get his brain working again, John thought his fingers and toes had gone numb from the cold, though in one of his very few moments of lucidity he realized that there hadn't been any consequent drop in temperature in the last couple of hours. There wasn't any frost on the window frame like it was prone to do in winter, the last rays of the sun shining through the glass, in fact, the day had seemed quite beautiful from what little he could see, his head too heavy to lift from the pillow to investigate any more. No, the problem was coming from within.
He knew he was sweating and shaking at the same time, and he wasn't too far gone yet to not realize what was happening to him. He could almost still feel doctor Clarkson's fingers on his throat, as well as the metal of the stethoscope on the bare skin of his chest. He was exhausted and yet he hadn't done anything but lay lifeless as he was examined. He had been given instructions, he seemed to recall, but his tired and foggy mind had barely been able to understand them, let alone remember. The hammer in his head was making too much of a commotion for him to be focusing on anything.
His eyes were dropping shut again at the rhythm of the funny noises his lungs were making at every intake of breath, when he heard footsteps outside his room, before there was a faint squeak and the door opened. Had there even been a knock? He didn't know.
"You awake, Mr. Bates?"
Certainly not the sweet voice of his wife, or the Scottish accent of Mrs. Hughes. He turned his head very slowly, feeling his damp hair rub on the pillow. Indeed here he was, Thomas, who had a tray on his arm, which he quickly set down on the small table next to him.
"Wha…" his throat was so parched he couldn't let out more than a weak whisper, if only the glass of water wasn't as far as it was, he would have reached for it, so he satisfied himself with clearing his throat, wincing at the pain it elicited, "what are you doing here, Thomas?"
"As pleasant as ever, Mr. Bates, I'm happy to see you're still yourself. Good evening to you too." His eyes seemed to be scrutinising him and a frown began to form on the young face, John could only imagine what he must look like at the moment, but he was way beyond caring.
He was tired, so tired, the cold was coming from his very bones, he just wanted to sleep, his eyelids were already halfway closed, but he struggled to push through, one last time, "Where's Anna? Is... she a'right?"
"Upset, angry, but fine. She's resting, now. Mrs. Hughes forbid her to come back here until tomorrow." Oh, how he longed for her presence at his side. Only her could soothe him, only her could help him fight back against what was ailing him. But it wasn't to be for now, and dwelling on it now would be far too taxing.
And so, the last thing John saw before he fell into unconsciousness was Thomas' blurry, but smirking face right above him. "Guess who's going to be your nurse for the night, Mr. Bates?"