Chapter 12

John began to discover Anna. He knew her, he knew he loved her, but now that he had embraced it, he was discovering her. He wasn't sure it made sense if he would try to explain it to her, this knowledge discovery business, but in the dark and quiet of the night it was perfectly clear.

John never tried to define what it was about Anna he loved; he simply loved her, selflessly for who she was and selfishly for how she made him feel. Part of that bundle of feelings was desperate desire to keep her safe, especially after her mention of her mother not encouraging her dreams.

That troubled John, but he didn't press Anna. Their agreement seemed to be each would tell the other in their own time, knowing understanding and compassion waited if needed. John was curious though how anyone could not have encouraged a young Anna. He had never thought much about her past; he had hoped she'd had a happy childhood as he had, but once he thought about it he realized she probably didn't grow up dreaming to be head housemaid in a large country house. John needed to know more.

It came out the night after Gwen left for her new life. The staff had a small party for Gwen her last night. Mrs. Patmore made a cake, William played the piano and Mr. Branson brought the whiskey. John wished Gwen well, smiled at Anna, and retired. Usually they met outside at the end of the day, but he knew they would want a final night to talk. John was worried about Anna losing her confidant. She needed someone nearly her equal to talk to, to share things with she wouldn't share with him. John was afraid (he smiled at his ceiling, for he was on his back on his bed waiting for morning remembering) that in this new situation they found themselves in there would be things she would need to talk about with someone other than him.

John noticed Anna was her cheerful self when Gwen left, giving her a firm hug and making her promise to write and in turn promising to visit. He hoped they'd follow through, but it was so easy to make a parting promise in good faith and then lose it in the excitement of a new life. John would have helped Anna make the beds, but the Earl kept him busy obsessing about getting uniforms out of storage and seeing which ones still fit and which needed to be remade. John was glad he was well paid. He didn't catch up with Anna again until dinner. He noticed she was quiet. He debated putting his hand on her knee. Thomas was being especially foul to him. Anna put her hand on his knee while he responded, exercising his sharp tongue. It was something he needed to do now and again.

They met in the kitchen courtyard after most everyone was in bed, as had become their habit. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they sat watching the night, sometimes they wandered out of sight. John's only real fear was of being locked out. He took to propping the door a certain way so Mr. Carson would know it wasn't safe to lock up, and that he'd do it later.

Anna was already sitting on a bench when John arrived. She looked pensive. He smiled as he took his place at her side, resting his hands and chin on his cane. Anna turned her eyes to him and offered a small smile. John wondered what it was, and how he could draw it out of her.

"Such a pleasant night, after such a humid day. There's a hint of autumn to the air."

"Oh, yes."

"It was a long day."

"Very."

They sat in silence. John was torn. He needed to know what was bothering Anna and how he could fix it, but as someone who was not naturally open, he deeply respected her desire for privacy. He took a chance.

"It was an exciting day for Gwen. The start of a new life, hope, promise. Fulfilled dreams. But I know you'll miss her."

"Mr. Bates, would it make me a bad friend to say I envied Gwen a little?"

Anna jealous?

"No, but envy how? You could learn to type and get an office job if you wanted to. That's certainly not outside your capabilities."

"I don't want a different job." She sighed, and looked at the sky. John looked at her. That crease was back on her forehead. He'd kiss it away, but it didn't seem right just now. "I envy Gwen for getting to follow her dreams."

"Because your mother didn't encourage you to do so?"

She smiled into her lap. Her hands were there. "My mother didn't encourage me in much of anything. I was unexpected: I arrived eight years after my brother, and money was tight. My father loved me, but he died suddenly when I was eleven."

John felt a tension in his chest. The low grumble of rage. Anna had not had that happy childhood he'd hoped for for her.

"I was clever in school, and my teacher said if I worked hard, I could get a scholarship to a teacher program. My father saved all the extra money for me to have books and I never had to do any chores. He saw me as the village schoolmistress, and if he could save for me to have lessons in French and fancy sewing, he saw me teaching at the boarding school near Keighley. I spent all my time reading or playing on the moors."

She shifted on the bench. All were in bed now. The cat came out from behind a barrel, looking for his dinner.

"After my father died, my mother made it clear I was nothing but a burden. She used the money he'd saved to pay for his funeral, and one day when I came home from school she'd sold my books. My brother was working on a farm and sent his wages home. She told me it was time to get the nonsense out of my head, and put me to work scrubbing laundry after school. I tried to keep up, but I was too tired. I fell behind."

John hated the woman. He could see Anna in charge of a group of young people, patient, sympathetic, strict but kind. She was a natural teacher. The cat swatted an insect.

"I left school when I was fourteen. My mother sent me out scrubbing in the houses around Haworth. She said it was high time I started earning my keep. She kept my wages."

John wanted to pull her onto his lap and wrap himself around her.

"I got a position as under housemaid at a grand house on the moors. The housekeeper was kind, and the lady's maid taught me fancy sewing. There was a farm hand with a promise of his father's farm who fancied me. I didn't think much of him, but he was a diversion. I was curious."

John wondered just how curious. He hoped this farm hand was at least decent. He didn't want to have to track him down and hurt him. But he would. Anna's eyes kept shifting between her hands and the sky. John's stayed on her.

"We kissed a few times. It was horrible and fast and he smelled of manure and sweat and beer. His hands were sweaty and his teeth were bad and he was so rough, so forceful. He made me an offer and I refused. I made the mistake of telling my mother. She said I was a disappointment, and not a grand lady who could turn down marriage proposals. She reminded me my only other option was this life. I took it, rather than be dependant on some man like that. My mother died soon before you came here, and my money's my own. My brother doesn't write."

Her tone changed. "I like it here; I'm respected and I'll likely take over for Mrs. Hughes in time. But I certainly never dreamt of cleaning someone else's grand house or helping ladies dress. I didn't dream of being a teacher either, really, but I liked the idea that it might be an option."

Finally Anna leaned against him.

"I envy Gwen that she had a choice. She took a chance, and had support to follow what she wanted. She wasn't trapped in a life she wouldn't have chosen for herself."

John let his left arm glide around her waist as she rested her head on his shoulder. The best response he could make was to hold her, to sit with her watching the night intertwined with thoughts. His need to keep her safe grew.