John disposed of the mess in the bowl, cleaned it out, but left it in the bathroom rather than going back in to disturb Anna.

Quietly and with a heavy heart, he went back downstairs.

Hetty and Bill were sat in the kitchen, their faces white and drawn with worry. Hetty looked at John with new sympathy. He guessed Bill must have filled her in on some of the details.

"How is the poor dear?"

"Exhausted. She's asleep for now. I'm sorry if we frightened you."

"Don't you worry about me duck, you just look after that poor lamb. Never seen anyone so frightened."

"I'm right sorry John," Bill spoke for the first time.

"Bill it wasn't your..."

"I had no idea of the lad's name. I realised soon as it left his mouth what might come..."

"It's not your fault Bill. Any more than it's his. Or hers."

"Or yours."

The silence grew heavy as John battled against his own turmoil of emotions.

"Hetty lass, any chance of a brew?"

Bill laid a warm comforting hand on John's shoulder.

"Come on lad..."

"But your sheep..."

"Davis has it all in hand, he's forgotten more than I know about sheep. Come on now. Come on."

With a calm, firm step, Bill guided John to sit in the snug. Hetty brought over a tray with the tea pot and mugs.

"Thanks lass."

With a pointed look, Bill sent Hetty back to work. Hetty's pursed lips betrayed her displeasure, but she did as she was told.

Bill poured the tea, added sugar and milk, stirred the mug thoroughly. The calm, smooth, routine actions were a balm to John's shattered nerves.

"It wasn't, you know."

"Wasn't what?"

"Your fault."

"You don't know that Bill."

"Then tell me what I don't know."

Haltingly between sips of hot tea, John told the whole story, piece by piece. Bill sat, listened, and never said one word.

"So you blame yourself because you didn't go downstairs with her?"

"That's about the sum of it."

"Ah John. You had no way of knowing."

"But I should have!"

"How?"

"Because something was wrong for her. How could she endure that and I not know? She's my wife, I should have protected her!"

Bill sat quietly and let John's outburst run its course.

"John... you've protected her every day since. Stood by her. Dried her tears. Held her hand. Told lies against your own character to get her out of that hell hole of a jail. You brought her here. You've done everything you could have done."

"But I wasn't there."

"It's what you do after a tragedy that's more important."

"I find that hard to believe."

Bill reached for his pipe.

"Did William ever tell you much about us? His family?"

"He rarely spoke of home."

"Aye. That'll be right. He did keep things to 'imself."

"Was he an only child?"

"Of a sort."

John looked up at the odd response.

"We had several children John. All but William were dead when they were born."

The sadness in Bill's eyes was palpable.

"Oh Bill... I'm sorry..."

"Not your worry lad, I brought it up. My timing, my story," he lit his pipe and puffed away for a few seconds.

"The last one before William... I did everything I could to try and help Allie through her pregnancy. That were my wife, Allie. Oh, she were a bonny lass John y'd've liked her. Sense of humour as filthy as that mudpile out there, and a way about her that could draw yer thoughts, no matter what you were doing." He gave John a sly grin. "All in the hips. I'm sure you know what ah mean."

John smiled, despite himself, thinking of the way Anna walked.

"I couldn't have done more for her. I made her rest, put her feet up. That were when Hetty first came to work for us, scrap of a kitchen maid she were, did all the rough. Bit like young Daisy. But when it all came to it, it were for no'wt. Babe were dead before she could draw 'er first breath.

"Oh, I broke me 'eart John. It went to my soul that did. I carried that around wi' me for days. I'd tried so hard to save that poor mite. Allie were getting on and we didn't think she'd catch again.

"One day, I were standing out there, and suddenly it were all too much. Allie came and found me and I were wailing, lost. How could I 'ave let her down, put her through that, got 'er with child and there were no babe at the end of it. Again."

Bill blew out a long cloud of smoke, slow and steady, like a miniature steam train.

"And you know what she said to me?"

John shook his head.

"Aye, Bill. Because this is all about YOU isn't it?"

Bill gave a rough chuckle and shot John a look sharp as Hetty's knives.

"This sort of thing, the tragedies that women go through, it ain't about us John. It ain't at all."

John bridled.

"Now don't you go fighting back against me lad, you just sit and listen. This, everything that's happenin' with Anna, it's not about you. It's about her. Did it occur to you, that even if you had gone down with 'er, he'd have found another way?"

John felt cold on the inside.

"'Ow often were his lordship, that what's 'is name, Gilling?"

"Gillingham."

"Gillingham, aye. How often did 'e visit Downton? Pretty frequent for what you said. Didn't Lady Mary ask 'im to get rid of Green, because 'e were visitin' so often?"

"You're saying... it was inevitable?"

John felt angry even at the thought of his own dear Anna being destined for suffering.

"No. I'm sayin' … it weren't your fault. I'm sayin' that this bastard of a man - and I make no apology for me language there – 'e were to blame. It were 'is fault, this tragedy of 'is making, and you were not even part of it. And the more you berate and blame yourself for Anna's suffering, the less you see what she's actually going through. She fears to tell you about any of it, knowin' it'll cause you pain. She bottles it up and it explodes out of 'er like this, like a mortar shell, 'cause she can't keep it in any more. She knows you're hurting for your own failure as much as for her hurts, moreso I think sometimes.

"Don't forget what the tragedy really is here John. And it weren't your failure. It were Anna's foul and despicable luck to 'ave caught the attention of that bastard of a man. There were plenty of men there responsible for protecting Anna, John. Her boss, that Mr Carson. Lord Grantham, her employer, master of the very house where it 'appened. You all 'ad a responsibility to Anna, and every other woman under that roof, and 'e foxed all of you. Right fox in a coop, that's about it. Rodent."

John sat quietly, his senses reeling.

"Now... ah've said my piece. You jes' sit and think, drink yer tea, and when you're feeling a bit more collected and ready to listen to her, rather than apologising again, you take up a bit of tea and toast for her. Don't let her sleep too long, she won't sleep tonight, and she won't be able for much else until dinner time."

Bill hauled to his feet, gave John a nod and went back out to work.

John sat for a while, quiet and thoughtful. After a while, he got to his feet, and took all of Bill's excellent advice.