A/N: I may be taking some liberties with the post S1 and canon S2 timelines regarding what happens and when
When Bates went down to the servants' hall for breakfast two days' later, Anna was nowhere to be seen.
"I saw her going into the courtyard," Daisy answered hurriedly when he stopped her to ask if she had seen Anna –guessing, rightly, that she would be too busy to gossip about his question later. Hoping everything was alright, he made a beeline for their usual secluded spot. It took a while to find her –if she was outside, she had managed to find herself a spot well out of sight of the door –but eventually he caught sight of a slight figure in a print dress. Her back was facing him, with her head resting on the cold stone wall.
"Anna," he called quietly, not wanting to startle her. "Are you alright?" Even from where he was standing, he could see her stiffen, then relax as she recognised his voice.
"Oh, it's only you," she said, turning to face him. "For a second there I thought Mrs. Hughes had sent someone out to find me."
"I don't think she's noticed you're missing," he said, though he knew people would be noticing their absence as breakfast started. "Is everything alright?"
"Just a bit nauseous, that's all," Anna answered, wiping her face with a handkerchief. "Came out for a bit of fresh air."
As soon as Anna mentioned nausea, his face creased, worried at the thought that she wasn't feeling well and had a full day of work ahead of her. "Can I get you anything for it?"
"I'm not sure," she replied. "I know the sickness is normal, but I don't know what to take to ease it... I don't know anything about this."
Of course she wouldn't, Bates thought. Brought up by parents who had certainly never mentioned anything like this to her, Anna's only knowledge of such things most likely had come from novels –and he knew novels wouldn't give the details she needed at this point. Mrs. Hughes would probably have something to help, but they certainly couldn't ask her.
"Today's my half day," he said. "I can go into the village and see if I can find anything to ease it –don't worry, I'll be very careful what I get."
"Thank you," Anna smiled. "We should go back inside, shouldn't we?"
"I suppose so," he answered. "But do you feel well enough for it?"
"I'll have to," she retorted, taking deep breaths as they began to walk back. "As long as I'm not sick in front of anyone, I don't think they'll guess. Although I won't deny I'll be grateful when it passes."
Mrs. Hughes gave them a thoughtful look as they slipped back into the kitchen –Bates imagined she was taking in his flushed face –it was windy outside and they had walked briskly –and Anna's pale one and putting two and two together to make a very uncomfortable four. Hoping against hope that Anna could make it through breakfast, he kept his eyes on his plate, not daring to meet Mrs. Hughes or Miss O'Brien's eyes, and not ready to risk a quick glance at Anna, although he was conscious of each and every one of her movements next to him.
Her Ladyship's bell rang first, which meant his Lordship's bell wouldn't be far behind. As Miss O'Brien bustled out of the room in search of the breakfast tray, Anna stood up to go and check whether the young ladies were up and ready to be dressed yet.
"I don't know how she does it," Ethel yawned. "Head housemaid and waiting on the three girls too –although I suppose it's no wonder she's always looking so tired."
Bates had to suppress a glare –how dared Ethel comment? He hoped Mrs. Hughes wouldn't take her comment too seriously.
"She's a hard worker," Mrs. Hughes answered. "Which is more than I can say for some."
Although Ethel didn't appear to catch the snub, Bates did, and chuckled to himself as he left the room in response to His Lordship's bell. He would repeat the exchange to Anna –she'd be pleased at the thinly-veiled compliment Mrs. Hughes had given her.
True to his word, he spent a fair portion of his afternoon off wandering the village in search of sickness remedies for Anna. On his return to Downton, he dropped the small parcels onto Anna's mending tin when no one was looking.
"I got them," he whispered. "Some ginger –I figure since it works for most causes of upset stomachs, it can't hurt to try it –and I remember hearing my mother mention once that arrowroot helps, so I got you some of that to try."
"Thank you," Anna smiled, relieved that she had something to try. "I could go to Mrs. Hughes claiming an upset stomach, but probably only once before she'd smell a rat."
"Ideally you won't need to at all," Bates answered. The less direct contact Anna had with Mrs. Hughes the better, in his opinion –the housekeeper could ferret out secrets faster than anyone else he'd ever known, and he didn't want Anna inadvertently letting anything slip.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "You're frowning."
"Just thoughtful," he answered. "His Lordship is going on a trip to London and I'll have to go with him. I hate leaving you like this, but I was thinking I might look for Vera while I'm there. It's a long shot –she could be anywhere by now, but I could go to all her old haunts, just in case someone's heard anything lately."
"Would you ask her for a divorce?"
"Beg her, throw myself at her knees if I must-she'd love that."
"No," Anna shook her head. "The more desperate she thinks you are, the more she'll enjoy denying you." Bates had to concede she was right –if Vera even suspected why he suddenly needed a divorce so badly, much less that time was of the essence for him, the more perverse pleasure she would take in clinging to her married status. Deep down he knew that appealing to Vera's good nature would be futile: the only thing keeping her going was her hatred of John... dimly he wondered whether bribing her would help, but he immediately dismissed the thought: all the money he had saved up was for Anna and the baby, not to line Vera's pockets.
"Remember this," Anna went on softly. "Whatever Vera says or does, you and I will be together in the end, I know it. Keep that in mind and you won't seem desperate to her." She had a point: maybe if he presented the divorce to her as a win-win situation, he had a chance of success.
"And I'll be right here when you get back," Anna concluded. "I'll be fine until you're back."
Mr. Carson walked in with a sheaf of letters in his hand, and Bates immediately sat up straighter. If his mother had replied on the same day she received his and Anna's letter, there was a good chance that her reply might have arrived in that afternoon's post –but maybe she hadn't replied immediately. Maybe she had needed time to think about his revelation, maybe it had shocked her so much that she hadn't wanted to reply. For all his assurances to Anna that his mother would willingly help them out, he was now starting to have doubts about it. Beside him, Anna was watching Mr. Carson just as eagerly.
"Is there anything for me, Mr. Carson?" Bates couldn't help asking.
"I'm afraid not,"the butler answered as he sorted through his handful of envelopes. "There's one for William," he said, handing a thick envelope to the footman. "And one for you, Anna."
Bates leaned back in his chair, dejected. Assuming the letter was from Anna's family, he didn't even bother asking her about it, but Anna took it curiously. She wasn't expecting any letters –she had only just received one last week, and it would be most unlike her parents to write again so soon.
"It's from London," she said to Bates in an undertone, and that was enough to pique his interest.
"That's my mother's handwriting," he said wonderingly.
"Why would she be writing directly to me?" Anna asked, looking slightly worried. After looking at it for a few moments, she picked it up and slipped it into her apron pocket.
"Let's not open it now," she suggested. "Let's wait till we're alone." Bates could guess exactly what she meant: if it wasn't the reply they had been hoping to receive, they might need some time to compose themselves after reading it, and time to re-think and discuss their next step.
"Tonight then?" he asked, and Anna nodded her agreement.
All through the servants' dinner, Anna couldn't stop thinking about Mrs. Bates' letter. That morning's nausea had subsided, but she was afraid she might now be sick with anticipation.
"Don't worry," Mr. Bates whispered to her as he left to respond to his Lordship's bell. While Anna waited for one of the young ladies to ring for her, she tried to work on one of the bookmarks she was embroidering to send to her sisters as Christmas gifts. It suddenly dawned on her that maybe she ought to start knitting things for her baby, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She might be able to pass them off as things she was knitting for a relative's baby, but perhaps she oughtn't to put the idea of babies into Mrs. Hughes' brain.
The bell connected to Lady Mary's room rang and she hurried upstairs, where she found all three Crawley siblings arguing –nothing new there. Thinking once again that her role was more that of peace-maker than personal maid, she attempted to soothe the frayed tempers, noting that for a change, Lady Mary and Lady Edith appeared to be united against Lady Sybil, of all people. As she dressed the trio and did their hair, she managed to gather the source of the row: Lady Sybil had decided to leave Downton to train as a nurse.
"Papa's not going to be pleased," Lady Mary, the last to leave, muttered to Anna as she left the room.
"That he won't," Anna agreed, and wished she could eavesdrop on the conversation that was sure to erupt over the dinner table that evening. Mr. Carson would definitely not allow it, so all she could do was hope that William would report the conversation back to those waiting in the servants' hall. For the first time since the idea had been broached, she wished Mr. Carson hadn't been so averse to the idea of maids serving in the dining room –she would have given anything to watch the sparks fly in person.
"You'll never guess what Lady Sybil's gone and done," Bates said when he joined her some hours later in the servants' hall.
"Going to nursing school," Anna answered. "Her sisters aren't too pleased about it either."
"'Not pleased' is an understatement when it comes to His Lordship's reaction," Bates smiled wryly. "Apoplectic would be more like it." He had just come from twenty minutes of Lord Grantham ranting about Lady Sybil and the madcap ideas Mrs. Crawley was filling her head with.
"They've got their problems, we've got ours," Anna murmured. From where she was standing, the Grantham's dismay over Lady Sybil's decision –a very brave one, in Anna's opinion –seemed like child's play compared to the difficulties she and Mr. Bates were facing: those brought about by the prospect of an illegitimate child.
Bates immediately sobered. "You're right," he said seriously. "The letter?"