This is really two chapters, but I will post them together because alone, they're both a little short. I have jotted down an outline for this story and decided that a major theme will be Anna healing and realizing that it's ok to be happy while John is in prison.

I hope you like this second chapter…I hope it doesn't ramble too much.

Part 1

Anna and Mr. Molesley settled into their compartment in the third class section of the train. They had caught the last train from Downton to London that evening, meaning they would travel through the night to reach the city. The first class passengers were provided sleeping quarters, but for the servants, an overnight trip meant making themselves as comfortable as they could in the seating area. Thankfully, the compartment was empty save for the two servants from the Abbey.

Mr. Molesley, Anna had discovered when he began as Mr. Crawley's valet, could sleep on top of a rock. He was leaned back and snoring within 30 minutes of the train pulling out of the station. Anna shook her head and envied his peace of mind.

Anna found her thoughts drifting to her husband as she watched the twilight of the Yorkshire landscape roll by. She had been to London only once since the last time they had traveled there together, with Mrs. Hughes to get the house where Mrs. Bates had lived ready for leasing. Mentally, she made a note to go by and see how the tenants were settling in while she was in London. She wondered if John would approve of the couple she had chosen. She never imagined she would be doing all of this without him.

Sighing, she opened her bag and took out a small packet of stationary. If she were going to think about him, she might as well write to him.

My dear Mr. Bates,

Anna smiled to herself at her choice of greetings. It was something of a melancholy game with them that the more formal the greeting, the more the body of the letter would be filled with longing reminders of their single precious night together and expressions of desire to repeat the night. Anna was quick to pocket any letter from her husband addressed to Mrs. John Bates. Those letters were meant to be read in private, lest anyone notice the delighted pink tinge on her cheeks that his words would bring.

Anna wrote for a few minutes, until the fading light made it hard for her to see. Tucking the letter into the book she had brought for the trip, Theodore Roosevelt's Letters to His Children, she leaned her head back against the train seat.

"I suppose that we'll have some free time during the day while we're away. Do you have anything in particular planned?" Mr. Molesley's voice came to her out of the darkness from the seat across from her.

"I have a few things to do while we're in London. And, I've never been to Paris, so I'm looking forward to exploring a new place." Anna drew a breath of heavy air and tamped down the urge to scream that this was wrong, she shouldn't be leaving her husband. She shouldn't be looking forward to an exciting month in Paris while her husband was still locked away for a crime he didn't commit.

She wiped silent tears from her cheeks and reminded herself that even if John were free, he would not be on this trip. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine him in a little cottage of their own, waiting for her to return. She was breezing through the doorway to that little cottage with a new hat from Paris perched on her head as John swept her up in his arms, kissing her with a frenzy when she drifted off to sleep, the rocking of the train soothing her tired body.

Part 2

During the season, the Crawley's London home bustled with activity. Preparing for balls, accepting and extending invitations for luncheon, tea, and dinner. There was always something happening and someone rushing about. Now, it was quite the opposite. On the off season, the housekeeper/cook was the only full time staff person. There were maids, to keep up the home, but they lived off premises, so, for the most part, Anna and Mr. Molesley were left on their own in the house.

They had planned a quiet first day in London as everyone was tired from the activity of the past days and their long trip. Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley "rested" after a simple luncheon in their en suite parlor, leaving their maid and valet time to themselves.

After a luncheon with Mr. Molesley and Mrs. Stratton, the London housekeeper, Anna dressed to go out and headed toward Mrs. Bates' house. Mrs. Bates' house. She mused as she turned the corner and viewed the modest brownstone. I suppose I should begin calling it my house. But it wasn't her house, and never would be, ownership papers notwithstanding. At one time, after Mrs. Bates' death and before Vera tore them apart for the first time, Anna had imagined herself living here. Maybe just for a short while, while they were readying it for sale or their hotel for opening. But once Vera had resided within those walls, especially after she had killed herself there, Anna could not imagine ever calling it home. It had been hard enough to spend the night here when she and Mrs. Hughes were cleaning it up earlier in the year.

Knocking on the front door, Anna was greeted by the couple to whom she had leased the house. Mr. and Mrs. Allen Johnson were newlyweds, having been married only weeks when they had first moved in. Mr. Johnson greeted Anna warmly, inviting her in for tea. Mrs. Johnson was in the parlor, the same parlor where Anna had taken tea with John's mother all those years ago. When Anna saw her, she had to force her smile to remain on her face. Softly rounding out her pretty smocked dress was the unmistakable evidence of a half completed pregnancy. Seeing their hopeful faces, married, starting a family together here in the house where John grew up was almost more than Anna could handle.

Her mother's words echoed in her mind from some long lost memory. You don't begrudge someone else a blessing just because that thing isn't happening for you.

Her mother had spoken those words during her childhood, when Anna's father was dying of the measles. They had prayed and prayed for his healing, but he met each day weaker than the one before. In contrast, their neighbor had been ill as well and was visibly stronger and healthier every time they saw him. Hardly 13, Anna had laid her head in her mother's lap one night, asking her bitterly why God wasn't healing her father the way He was healing Mr. McCarthy next door. Her father died not too long after that and Mr. McCarthy from next door was instrumental in helping the family to recuperate and keep their small farm running. Anna never forgot those words of wisdom from her mother during that trying time.

"You've never lived in this house, have you Mrs. Bates?" Mr. Johnson's question drew Anna from her ruminations.

"No," Anna answered quickly, "I've only ever spent a couple of nights here in fact. This was my husband's mother's home, before she died." Anna left out mention of Vera and her suicide. The last thing she needed was for her tenants to flee because of it. They would hear about it soon enough, from neighborhood gossip, if they hadn't already.

"The reason I asked," Mr. Johnson continued, "is that there seems to be a cupboard upstairs that has been papered over. I wondered there was a particular reason. Otherwise, I would like to uncover it to have storage for the nursery."

Anna was stunned, she thought she had been through this house with a fine tooth comb. "I'm not really sure. I will ask my husband the next time I see him, but that won't be for a few weeks, I'm afraid."

"It's alright Mrs. Bates, we have a few months still." Mrs. Johnson smiled, rubbing her stomach gently. Anna found a genuine smile coming to her face for the first time since her departure from Downton. Mrs. Bates would be happy that her home was nurturing this new little family, she was sure of that. Maybe their happiness was needed to wipe out the cloud of darkness that Vera had engulfed the house with.

Leaving the Johnson's, promising that she would call again on her way home if she was able, Anna made her way back to the Crawley's house, trying to remember what it had been like to walk with Mr. Bates down the streets of London. She had enjoyed strolling along the sidewalk, her arm tucked in his, his body warming her. Silently, she prayed that there would be positive responses to her inquiries waiting for her when she arrived home. They would walk these streets together, as man and wife, if it took her very last breath to make it happen.