Pete sat on the back porch, a glass of ale in his hand. It was a week since Anna had left, and he'd done this every day since. The ale was normal, but the sitting alone for hours and hours wasn't. Ida had given up trying to talk to him about it.

The older children charged out of the house and began running around the yard like mad things. Alec seemed to be holding something aloft that Eileen was trying to get hold of. They were running dangerously close to the garden.

"Get away from me strawberry patch!" yelled Pete.

Unperturbed, the kids ran in the other direction.

"Just give it back to her, Alec!" called Janet, stepping through the back door of her house.

"Kids today," grumbled her father-in-law.

"They don't listen, do they?" Janet agreed.

"No they do not."

The woman frowned, regarding Pete carefully. "You OK, Dad? You've been a bit quiet recently."

"I'm fine, thankyou."

"If something's bothering you, it's best to let it out somehow."

"Yeah, well I did that, and it only made it worse."

"There are ways of doing it."

"Do you think Anna's pregnant?"

Janet's eyes widened. "What?"

"Could that be why, do you think?"

"Why what?"

"Oh, never mind. I'm just trying to make sense of it."

"Why she married him, you mean?"

"Yeah. Maybe she had to."

"Usually people get married because they love each other."

"Yeah, I know, she said that. I'm trying to figure it out from his side too."

"From his side?"

"Yeah. I'd like to know what he wants from her."

"You could ask him."

"And if it's not a reasonable expectation, I'd like to tell him where he can shove it."

Janet rolled her eyes. "Why are you being so negative about it?"

"Because it's a negative thing!"

"If you take that attitude, she'll never speak to you again."

Pete fell silent again. If Janet didn't know him better, she would have sworn she could see his lip quivering.

"She never even said goodbye," he whispered.

...

Dear Mr Smith,

I write to express my sincerest apology. I know that there is no excuse for what I have done to your daughter and I do not ask for your forgiveness, but I do want you to know that I am sorry.

I had courted Anna for some time, so to us this is not sudden, but I understand why it seems so to you. I also know that I had no right to court her, given that I was married to somebody else at the time, but I assure you that I would not have done so had I not had a reasonable belief that I would soon be free to marry her.

I promise you I never did anything to compromise her honour.

I also promise you that I did not murder anyone.

I should have asked your permission. I am sorry. I can only protest that I intended to, but did not have the time to do so. But this argument does not stand up given the extraordinary length of our courtship. I have no excuse.

I love Anna more than any one, or any thing. Please believe me that I mean her no harm. If I ever get out of here, I will devote the rest of my life to her happiness and well-being. It is all I care about.

If I do not get out of here, I have a sum of money and a house in London which will be hers. She will want for nothing. It is the least I can do.

Yours sincerely,

John Bates

...

"How's Downton?" John's eyes twinkled the way they always did when he asked that question. He was living vicariously through it.

"Not bad. Not much has been happening, really."

"There must be something."

"Mr Carson's been complaining about the lack of footmen. He says the war's been over for nearly nine months now, so we no longer have an excuse for, in his words, 'sloppy presentation'."

"By which he means you serving dinner?"

"Well, it's mostly he and Thomas doing it now. He'd just like some help, I think."

"Ah, Thomas. I see."

"Do you think he's the sloppy presentation?" Anna giggled.

"I hope not! No, sloppy is not a word I would associate with Thomas."

"I think we should change the subject, what are we talking about Thomas for?"

"I don't mind, anything about Downton sounds nice to me."

There was a pause, as there often was between them, even more frequently now. There always had been, but Anna used to be able to lean her head on his shoulder or hold his hand during these pauses. Or they'd be in the servant's hall doing some mending, and their hands were busy. But in this place, there was nothing to fill the pauses except their own tortured thoughts. Anna couldn't even look around, because there would inevitably be some scary-looking prisoner staring at her, and she would rather not see his eyes.

"Have you heard from your parents?"

"From Mum, yes. She wrote a nice letter thanking me for coming to stay and saying how much she enjoyed meeting you."

John smiled. "I can see where you get it from."

"What?"

He shrugged. "Being so kind and understanding all the time."

"It's just being a reasonable person. It's not hard."

"Yes it is. For most people, it is."

"Most people I know are perfectly reasonable. Including you."

John chuckled. "I work at it. You don't, that's the difference."

"Oh, don't be silly – nobody's nice all the time, but being nice most of the time is not hard, for me or for you."

"Winning arguments with your wife, on the other hand, is quite difficult!"

Anna giggled.

"I wrote a letter to your dad."

"What? Why?"

"To apologise…and to reassure him that I mean you no harm."

"Why would you mean me harm?"

"Well I wouldn't, obviously, but he's never met me, he doesn't know that. But particularly, I needed to apologise for not asking his permission. That was a pretty big…"

"…faux pas?"

"Yes, which he was probably offended by."

"I still think it's silly."

"I know, but you are a modern twentieth century woman, and your father is a nineteenth century man."

"That's a good way of putting it, actually. Polar opposites, really."

"Absolutely."

"But aren't you a nineteenth century man?"

"In many ways, I am. But…" John looked up, thinking. "…I had to break a lot of rules to be with you, and I stopped caring after a while."

"That's the way. I never cared in the first place." Anna smiled slyly.

"Oh, is that how you managed to seduce me?"

The sly smile became a grin, which they shared for a moment, before Anna became serious. "We should stop talking about it like this, because when it comes to you and me, there is absolutely nothing wrong about it."

"No, there isn't."

"Look, my dad isn't much one for words and writings, so I don't know if you'll get a reply."

"That's fine. Just as long as he knows that I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."