A/N: I am a hardcore Anna/Bates shipper. But I am absolutely fascinated by the dynamics between Vera and Bates. This was sort of born because of that. Not sure if it really works, but oh well.

Disclaimer: If I owned Downton Abbey, I wouldn't be writing fanfics about it...

So Be It

If he hadn't gone back to Downton, back to her, would she have stuck to their agreement?

A mystery that would never be solved now.

She sits in the waiting room outside the office of Sir Richard Carlisle, newspaper magnate and the potential author of her husband's (and his little floozy's) downfall. Because now that the agreement is broken, she can carry out what she's threatened to all along.

He should have stuck to their agreement.

Months before, when he'd determinedly approached her to state that he was no longer capable of putting up with their farce of a marriage, she'd been surprised that he'd even dared to speak to her like that. The John Bates of old would have had no qualms about throwing abuse her way, but this new John Bates seemed to be a man of sickening honour. Cracks had appeared in his armour when she'd arrived unexpectedly at Downton and he had almost snapped at her, but since his arrival in London with her, he'd barely opened his mouth at all. Oh, she had detected the yearning to spit all manner of insults at her, had seen it in the way that the muscles in his jaw worked, the way that he clenched his teeth, the way that he squeezed his eyes shut, all signs of physical restraint. And yet, not once had he lost control of his will and snapped at her. It was a concept that she had been unfamiliar with from her husband.

She hadn't even been able to coax him back into bed with her. It hadn't been for the lack of trying. Oh, she hadn't wanted him like that, not really, but she'd felt such a vindictive rush of pleasure at the mere thought of his precious little Anna sitting forlornly at Downton nursing her broken heart while the man she loved found release in his wife's body that it had been too hard to resist acting it out. She'd wanted him to feel that terrible guilt, to know that he had betrayed his innocent, trusting love in a moment of heated passion.

She'd done everything she could to lure him into his mother's bed with her. She'd worn all manner of provocative clothing. She'd touched him as many times as she could in the hope of breaking him, making sure she kneaded the muscles in his shoulders – they had always been particular points of weakness for him. She'd wondered if Anna Smith had discovered this for herself yet. She'd even tried to use his bad leg to her advantage by telling him that he'd sleep better in a comfortable bed if he gave in, but nothing had worked. He'd kept his eyes firmly averted whenever she'd tightened her corset to make her breasts spill over the top of her dress. He'd shied away from her whenever she'd brushed her fingers against him, teeth gritted in revulsion. Her coaxing to share the bed had fallen on deaf ears. Instead, he'd chosen to sleep in the sitting room all night, every night, with his leg propped up stiffly on a footstool as he huddled in the armchair. His unwavering loyalty to the little floozy had been sickening, and she'd been bitter in defeat.

But it had all failed to matter when he'd approached her with his agreement.

"I have proof that you've been unfaithful to me," he'd begun, standing several feet away, as though the mere thought of being any closer to her repulsed him. "I will push for divorce, and there is nothing that you can do to stop me."

"Isn't there?" she'd replied coolly, calm and collected, because she hadn't cared, hadn't felt any shame, just a malicious pleasure at the ugly fire in his eyes when he'd stumbled upon her reclining leisurely in another man's arms. "You seem very sure of yourself, Johnny boy. And you know what becomes of arrogant men."

They fall. The unspoken statement had hung in the air between them. John Bates had known all-too well how arrogant men fell, became crippled, useless.

He'd soon gathered himself again, eyes hard. "I'm leaving the house. The judge will see how it's broken the marriage. He will grant me the divorce. They won't expect me to live my life with an adulterous woman."

"But they expect that of a woman, isn't that right, dear husband?" Her tone had been light and dangerous. "I wonder how favourably they would look upon you knowing that while the wife is a cheat, the husband is as well? A pretty little blonde piece on the side will go a long way to mending a man's broken heart, after all."

He'd clenched his teeth. "Don't you dare speak of Anna in that way."

She'd laughed, a short, hateful sound. "I will never consent to the divorce. I will never allow you to be free to marry again."

"I've told you time and time again that I will be generous and give you whatever you want."

"I bet the papers can offer me more than you can."

"They can't. They won't. Anything you want, it's yours." He'd been almost pleading by that point. Her lip had curled at how pathetic he'd sounded. He was barely a shadow of the man that she had once loved with a fiery passion. She'd calculated her ultimatum carefully for a moment. And then she'd spoken.

"Alright. I'll keep quiet about the scandal that would surely ruin your little harlot…but in return you're not to go anywhere near her again. I don't care if you leave the house, but I will find out if you get in contact with her. And then I'll bring shame down on her head."

He'd sounded desperate then. It made his pathetic whining multiply tenfold. "Please, Vera. Just agree to the divorce."

Her grin had been wicked. "I've named my terms. You can leave the house. I won't sell the story about how the great Lady Mary Crawley, daughter of Lord Grantham, is a wanton little whore and how her maid is an irrefutable liar who is no better than she is, but you keep away from your young woman. You know I'd take great pleasure in ruining her. Don't tempt me."

He'd been defeated then. Unable to think of any other way to persuade her, he'd packed up and left the house that very night. She'd been cunning enough to keep her ear the ground for news of Lord Grantham and his staff at the start, sure that if he was going to break the agreement then it would be at the beginning, but she'd not heard that Mr. John Bates had returned as his valet. She had even journeyed to Downton herself a couple of times, lurking in the village until she'd spotted Miss Anna Smith – always alone, always dejected – and had satisfied herself that her husband had indeed been keeping to his end of the agreement.

She'd thought about breaking her end of the bargain of course. Sometimes, she'd lain in bed at night, thinking of how delicious it would be to sell her story to the paper and let hell break loose without John Bates even realising what was happening until it was too late. It would have brought her so much satisfaction to know that she'd destroyed the foundations of their relationship before they had even realised what was happening.

And yet, somehow, she never had published it. It would have been so easy to.

But she'd refrained.

She doesn't know why. It's not as though she loves John Bates anymore.

She doesn't dwell on the shadowy reasons why.

And then everything had changed.

She'd still been in his mother's house in London when she'd received the letter detailing her husband's whereabouts. The only contact that she'd had from him was a package in the post containing enough of his earnings to keep her going until he got paid again. She had never tried to find out where he was working. She hadn't cared enough to, and she'd assumed that he was lying low somewhere, too much of a coward to take her on, plotting a way to push for divorce so that he could finally reunite with his sickening little lover. But she'd been ready for that. She'd been ready to fight him tooth and nail every step of the way. Oh, he'd thought he had her cornered with the evidence against her. But she'd wondered if he really was prepared to risk everything by pushing for it. She'd doubted that he would.

So she'd been shocked and furious to discover that instead of lying low, he'd run back to Downton, back to her, after all, despite her warning him not to and despite her believing that he was nowhere near Yorkshire. How had she been so foolish, so easily lulled into a false sense of security? According to the letter that she had received, they'd been holding hands in the village when they thought nobody was watching them, laughing and joking and flirting as though nothing had happened. As though she wasn't out there, their own personal demon, determined to tear them apart. She'd often wondered in the days up to her return to Downton what Miss S. O'Brien had against her husband, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that she'd spoken out, betrayed his location to her.

She'd been greeted by the two of them in that housekeeper's sitting room when she'd arrived back at the big house. A united front. The sheer ridiculousness of it had made her lip curl distastefully. Short and fair, the young floozy she had been passed over for had glared at her with eyes filled with hate. A hatred that would have wilted her if she was anyone else. But she wasn't. She was his wife. She had more claim on him than the girl ever would, and she was determined to make that as public as possible. She'd been furious that John had defied her so stubbornly, had run straight back into his floozy's arms. But now he'd broken their agreement, and it would bring her such spiteful pleasure to know that she could destroy Miss Anna Smith's life. It would be good to humiliate the pair of them, to shame them and have them cast out of the house and out of society. Let them think that they could survive on love alone. She'd show them how foolish they were. Because although she knew nothing of Miss Anna Smith beyond the fact that she was young and pretty and tenaciously in love with a married man, she knew Mr. John Bates too well. She knew the man that existed behind the honourable façade. She knew him better than anyone else in the world – much better than Miss Anna Smith could ever hope to know him. She knew him intimately well – in a way that Miss Anna Smith could only ever dream of. She'd been sure to remind them of that fact when they'd followed her out, still sickeningly united. But they'd shown in the past that their ranks were easily broken. Hadn't she forced them apart so easily almost two years ago when she'd returned and dragged him away from her like a pathetic little puppy?

So now she sits outside Sir Richard Carlisle's office, waiting to destroy them for good. She remembers the looks upon the faces of the staff at Downton as she'd walked through their midst with her head held high; tightening their ranks and protecting two of their most beloved friends from harm. Those looks that had been on their faces…they'd been looks of disgust. Hatred. Defiance. As though she is the other woman who has dared to seduce a married man away. As though she is the one who has tried to steal another's love.

Anna Smith might be smug in the knowledge that she holds her husband's heart in her hands, but she won't be smug for much longer. Not when she loses her position at Downton Abbey. Not when she loses the respect of her fellow servants. Not when she loses the man she loves all over again.

You're angry because I'm happy.

Vera Bates wonders if it's true. She supposes it is, to a certain extent. If he was out there now, the man she remembers from the past, face-down in a drunken stupor and cavorting numbly with women nightly, then she doubts that she would care at all. She'd feel nothing but contempt, wouldn't be consumed with this desire to ruin his life. The love in their relationship died a long time ago, and seeing him unhappy had been enough for her. Hadn't she taken perverse pleasure in knowing that he was pining for the woman he had fallen in love with? Hadn't she relished the dimming light in his eyes as he'd spent his days in their London home, listless and angry?

She supposes it is the main reason, then. How does it make her feel, knowing that he is making plans for a future with Miss Anna Smith? How does it make her feel, knowing that they'll get married if she allows the divorce to come to pass, that they'll marry happily? How does it make her feel, knowing that he will take her to bed, kiss her softly, move within her slowly (because how can the saintly Anna Smith be anything else but a lovely virginal creature?), make her cry out softly or bite her lip against the rush of gratification? How does it make her feel, knowing that he'll be free to cradle her afterwards, perhaps with her head over his heart, his arms holding her protectively, keeping her feeling safe and secure? How does it make her feel, knowing that he will help her to raise children, all-too perfect, just like their mother?

It makes her feel such anger. Such –

–No. She won't finish that thought.

She had loved him at one time. Oh, she had hated him in equal measures, too, but they had been good together in the beginning. Their mutual passion and zest for life had helped to keep things exciting whenever they'd rolled around in the sheets together, and she had always enjoyed the way that he was so eager to please before the African war. The arguments and the fights had been bitterly fought, but they had made a handsome pair. In another life, as other people, they would have been perfect together.

Much like her husband seems to be perfect with Miss Anna Smith.

Vera Bates refuses to acknowledge the fact that she might be jealous of the way that Miss Anna Smith has managed to enamour her husband so completely in a way that she never could.

There is no love lost between her and John Bates.

"Mrs. Bates? Sir Richard Carlisle will see you now."

She nods, stands confidently, moves towards the office.

But still.

If I hadn't gone back to Downton, back to Anna, would you have stuck to our agreement?

A question that neither of them will ever know the answer to.

A/N: I will be writing a longer Vera/Bates 'fic detailing their lives together while I'm MIA these next couple of weeks. But since it'll be following canon, Anna/Bates will feature too! It'll be fun writing it from Vera's perspective! :')

Since I've never written Vera before, I'd be interested to know what you think. :)