"Why don't you open it?" Anna suggested, handing him the envelope. Although it was addressed to her, she was too nervous to open it herself. Bates took the letter from her and quickly tore it open. Sneaking a quick glance at the letter as he unfolded it, Anna caught sight of the letter's heading, My dear Anna, and relaxed slightly: a letter that began like that couldn't be so bad, surely? She didn't dare try and read any further, averting her gaze until she heard Bates' relieved laugh.

"It's alright, Anna," he laughed, almost giddy with relief. "It really is –Mother's more than happy for you to stay with her."

"Is she really?" Anna asked cautiously, although she couldn't catch any traces of deceit in either his voice or his face.

"Honestly," he smiled, handing her the letter. "Here, you should read it too." She skimmed it quickly, words and phrases jumping out at her.

My dear Anna

Of course you –and your child –can come and stay with me for as long as you need to. I can understand that you may feel awkward asking, but there is truly no need to. There is more than enough room here, and it will be lovely to have some company too. How are you finding the pregnancy? I hope John is taking care of you as best he can!

You'll be safe here, no one has to know your story. If you prefer, we could pass you off as a widowed niece, although that decision will be up to you. I imagine you will want to remain at Downton for as long as you can conceal your situation, but if the worst should happen and you need to leave in a hurry, come straight here –a room is made up for you, whether you need it in a few days' or a few weeks' time. I will also be writing to John shortly, but I felt I ought to contact you directly first to assure you that you will be most welcome here. I will look after you as if you were my own daughter.

Love,

Margaret Bates

"That's so kind of her," Anna said as she folded Mrs. Bates' letter back up.

"It's a weight off my mind, I'll admit," Bates said. "Knowing that you'll have somewhere to stay and someone to take care of you."

"It'll be strange, leaving Downton so furtively," Anna said. "And it'll be doubly strange to be without you."

"I'd leave with you right away if I could," Bates said, gently taking her face between his hands. "But I have to work."

"I know," Anna agreed. "But I'll miss you, that's all I mean."

"And I you," he concurred. "It won't be for long though –and I'll write to you, every day if you want me to. And before too long, we can start our new life, just the three of us." The specifics of their new life weren't clear to him yet: whether they would go to America, stay in London, move a couple of counties over –it depended too much on whether Vera would allow him to legally be free of her.

"And I'll write back," Anna promised. "Let you know how Baby Bates is doing." A smile crossed her face at the words and her hand dropped to her belly, quickly followed by Bates' hand.

"We won't need to write for very long, I hope," he said softly. "God willing, we'll be together again before very long."

"In the meantime," Anna continued for him in a low voice, "we'd better make the best of the time we have left here, hadn't we, Mr. Bates?"

"John," he corrected, laughing as he pulled her closer to him, his other hand still resting on hers. "You can't very well refer to me as Mr. Bates in front of my mother!" Anna joined in the laughter as she tried to imagine doing so.

"I won't," she laughed.

"All set, Mr. Bates," William nodded at the valet as he finished lugging the last of Lord Grantham's bags to the car and dashing forward to take Bates' carpet bag from him and adding it to the pile of luggage.

"Thank you, William," Bates smiled, once again thanking his lucky stars that Thomas was no longer at the Abbey. There was no way Thomas would have helped him drag the bags downstairs –no, Thomas would have watched and smiled as Bates had to make trip after trip up and down the stairs.

"You've got time to pop down and say your goodbyes, Mr. Bates," Tom Branson grinned as he walked round the car to check that the luggage was secure. "His Lordship won't be out until he's finished his luncheon, and Mr. Carson's stuck in the dining room with them."

Bates looked at him, puzzled, and Branson laughed.

"To Anna," he urged. "Doesn't take much to see that you two are sweet on each other."

Branson was more observant than most gave him credit for, Bates mused as he walked back into the house, coming across Anna on her way up the servants' staircase with a pile of linen.

"I was just coming to find you," he said. "To say goodbye."

"Don't make it sound like it's permanent," Anna chided at his mournful tone. "You'll be back in a couple of days."

"I'm not comfortable leaving you, that's all," Bates defended himself.

"I'll be fine," Anna reassured him. "I feel fine, honestly." She meant it: the nausea had mostly subsided and she was, thankfully, no longer as tired as she had been a couple of weeks before. "You just concentrate on His Lordship –and on finding Vera."

"I'll send you a telegram if I make any progress with her," he promised. "But promise me you'll contact me if anything happens here." Bates wasn't quite convinced Anna would be "fine." Certainly, she was feeling well, but he was afraid that could change at any minute. The work of a housemaid was taxing after all, possibly too taxing for Anna in her condition.

"I will," Anna replied. Much as she would miss Mr. Bates –or John, as she had begun to call him in private and to herself –she had to admit it would be a relief to have things get back to normal in the servants' hall. He had been fussing and worrying about her entirely too much lately, even trying to cover Ethel's shirked duties so Anna wouldn't have to do them all herself, and she knew it wasn't going unnoticed. Miss O'Brien had even commented nastily that Mr. Bates was acting as though Anna were made of glass lately, a claim Anna had quickly denied, hoping that nobody else –especially not Mrs. Hughes or Mr. Carson –had heard the exchange. With Mr. Bates gone for a few days, she hoped it would be forgotten.

"Take care of yourself," Bates urged as he turned to return to the car, not daring to prolong the goodbye or make any physical contact in such a public space. "Of both of you," he added.

"Your daddy's worrying a bit too much about us," Anna whispered to the baby as she made her way up the stairs. It wasn't that she was irritated by his fussing –it was actually quite nice to have someone worry about her –but she was worried that he was overdoing it and that someone would start to suspect something. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like if she and John were actually married. There wouldn't be any need to hide the pregnancy: she could be open about it when she felt ill or tired, could talk about it openly instead of in snatched, secret moments in the courtyard. Most importantly, she wouldn't be living in fear of being found out: it wouldn't be shameful but something wonderful… it was only in the letters going between her and Mrs. Bates that she felt her baby was a blessing rather than a curse. Thank goodness for Mrs. Bates, she thought.

When Lord Grantham had left for his club meeting, Bates set out to find Vera. He had a clear 3 hours before His Lordship was due back –surely 3 hours was enough to find some trace of Vera? Her letters had dried up, but she couldn't have erased all traces of herself from London in just a few weeks.

His first stop was the last address he had for Vera. It was only a couple of streets away from the club, but a world away. It was a slum, no question about it: crowded, dank and smelling of rot and sewage. How had Vera fallen so low?

"I'm sorry, there's no Vera living here anymore," the young woman who answered Bates' knock told him. She had a crying baby balanced on one hip and another crawling child at her feet. "The last tenant here fell behind on the rent then did a moonlit flit. 'Fraid I can't tell you any more."

Bates thanked her and left, desperate to get away from the stench of desperation in the little tenement. As he walked towards the pubs –if anyone knew Vera, it would be the pub landlords –he couldn't quite place what it was about the young woman in the rented room that had so unsettled him. Was it merely pity for her? Suddenly it hit him: Anna! A vision of Anna, alone, disgraced and penniless, with a child to support, flashed into his mind and he had to pause to gather himself. Anna and their child could not end up like that, he vowed to himself. He wouldn't let that happen –but what if anything happened to him? Anna had no legal claim to him, and it sickened him to think of Vera getting all his money and belongings –not that he had much –while Anna was left with nothing. Whether or not he found Vera, while in London he would have to pay a visit to his mother's solicitor. Morbid as it was to think about his own death, he knew it was foolish not to consider it: he was no longer a young man, and he owed it to Anna and their child to ensure that they would be provided for. Even if Mr. Black assumed Anna was his mistress, it would be a small price to pay for peace of mind.

And it's all the more reason to find Vera and get that divorce.