Here is chapter 2, first off I would like to apologize for the appalling grammar and spelling in chapter 1, I only spotted it all when I went for a look this morning. All I can say is that I was very tired when I wrote it, and didn't check thoroughly enough - so I am sorry for that, hopefully this one'll be a little better!

I hope you enjoy and please review - it's great to hear!

1943

Anna replaced the letter on the table, she smiled quietly to herself, willing herself not to cry. Crying would be silly – it was a happy letter, a nice letter from Ciaran, he had remembered her birthday – despite everything he had got a letter to her from Egypt, it hurt her to have her youngest son stationed so far away – but serving in Egypt had done something for him, it had helped him come to terms with not being allowed to run, he had seen the world and although he promised that he would come home, in her heart of hearts she knew he would stay out there for the duration. He had even met a girl, the daughter of some army captain, Ciaran had sent his parents a photograph of her, laughing as she tried to hold onto her hat in a harsh wind that whipped up the sand around her. Anna knew it was serious, she just hoped that her son would survive long enough for her to meet his, she hoped, future wife. At times like these her mind was filled with William Mason, that young footman from what seemed like a lifetime ago. Hearing a clatter-bang above her she raised her eyes to the heavens, the military had moved into Downton again, just as they had 24 years previously, although this time the house was being used as a full blown hospital, and the soldiers and the nurses were making themselves known, loudly.

"Penny for them." Said a soft Welsh voice behind her, Anna turned to see Ceri, she had now been at Downton for five years and had settled in admirably, John's fears of her being another Ethyl, she was an excellently diligent hard worker who, it transpired, had a unused talent in music hall singing.

"Oh it's just … just a letter from the boy. Ciaran. I miss him terribly and I worry about him. Just thinking about William …"

"William?"

"Oh umm a lad who used to be footman here, he was married to Mrs Mason."

"Mrs Mason our cook?"

"Mmm – she and he were married and then he died in the first war. It was terribly sad, and … and I worry about the same thing happening to our Ciaran."

"You mustn't worry Mrs Bates, you'll make yourself ill. And you've Patrick and Aoife to think about. When's Aoife's baby due?"

"A few more weeks now, it's a pity that her Michael's away lord knows where. But he'll be back by Christmas, which is a small blessing I'm sure. And Aoife's safe in Ripon."

"Yes – you see, small blessings!"

John stretched out on the sofa in the living room, the wireless whispered softly on the sideboard as it played the last strands of the Palm Court orchestra and got ready for the world service. He could hear the sound of Anna making a pot of tea in the kitchen and he smiled contentedly to himself, now that he was 63 he had long since come to terms with their marriage, whereas in the early days every aspect of their life together had worried and concerned them – now he was happy at last, and able to accept their life.

"Tea love?"

"Thank you, what did Ciaran have to say?"

"Oh not much, there's not much he's allowed to say I suppose – but he seems happy, and his Molly seems to be doing him the power of good."

"That's nice, it's nice that he remembered your 50th birthday … where's Aoife tonight?"

"I think she went out for some air, she's been so ill with the pregnancy. Was I that bad? I can't remember." She said as she settled down beside her husband, tucked under her arm as they had been sitting together in their cottage for over 20 years now.

"Neither can I, the last one was so long ago…"

"I know – 19 years, you know I can barely believe it, 19 years ago our little Ciaran was just a babe, and now he's away in North Africa, going to get married … it's odd how time goes."

"Odd – but good Anna, if time didn't move on, if they didn't grow then life wouldn't progress – we've a grandchild on the way … fancy that … a grand child – and if we can just get out of this war in one piece then …"

"If … that's the thing though isn't it, I mean I'm lucky of course – Ciaran in Egypt and it's not too bad over there right now, Aoife's healthy and our Paddy's fixing engines for the army up at Downton. But even so … I worry." John slipped an arm around his wife's waist and gave her a squeeze, he loved the feel of her – even after all these years together, he never forgot the first time he had held her in his arms.

"Well," He said, carefully kissing her on the forehead. "you mustn't. It isn't good for you …" he paused as there was a click as the door opened and closed – they could hear hushed voices in the kitchen and two sets of footsteps.

"Mam? Dad?" Called out Patrick's voice from the kitchen, now that he had reached the age of 22 he had filled out a little from his lanky teenage frame into a broad shouldered young man.

"In here love … who've you got with you Paddy?" called out Anna, with Ciaran away, every time she heard the front door go her heart skipped.

"Ummm - is Dad in there too Mam?"

" … Yes … why? Patrick Bates – what's going on?" There was a brief pause before Patrick stepped through into the doorway looking uneasy holding his hand stood a young woman, with dark hair curled off her face and her fathers green-blue eyes.

"Lady Emma? What are you doing here?" Said Anna, quickly getting to her feet and pulling her skirt straight, acutely aware that she hadn't swept the floor that day.

"Mam I uhhh …" Patrick faltered, looking over at Emma Crawley before turning back to his parents, "Emma and I are going to get married … Mam – Dad. We've booked ourselves into Ripon registry office tomorrow morning first thing, the first of the day at nine o'clock. We haven't told his lordship …"

"He'll never allow it Mrs Bates!" began Emma, she gripped Patrick's hand a little tighter. "My father's liberal enough but he still has his principles – he'd never allow me to marry Patrick. Please – we just need somewhere to stay tonight so that tomorrow we can go over to Ripon …"

"Please Mam … Dad, you know how I've always felt about Emma. This is our chance for happiness, you've got to understand – with the war on – we have to grab every day as though it's our last! Please …"

"Anna – are you getting a sense of déjà vu here?" Said John, getting slowly to his feet with a raised eyebrow at Anna, he continued. "Patrick – be sensible – we can't … you CAN'T do this, it's madness! You work with the army at the house, you can't marry the daughter in secret and then just turn up for work the next day. And if you do a runner, the army'll be on your back, her Ladyship'll be on Emma's and his Lordship'll be on ours for letting our son run off with their daughter. This is not going to end well."

"But Dad you don't understand."

"I do Paddy, trust me, your Mam and I really do understand. But …"

"Look Dad, we're twenty two, we can marry legally – we're just asking for your help." Turning to Anna again John sighed, he had been just as headstrong at Patrick's age, he would probably have done the same some 45 years before. But that didn't make his position any easier, he had a job as Patrick's father to stop him doing something stupid. Although – John wondered – was this really something that was that stupid? He looked to Anna for some guidance in this point, but he could see she was as lost as him.

"What do we do John?" Asked Anna, as she sat on the edge of their bed to unlace her shoes,

"Oh lord I don't know Anna …" replied John, carefully unbuttoning his waistcoat. "We can't stop them marrying! I mean we've always said that … well that there might be something there, but we always dismissed it."

"I know I know! But … we can't keep this hidden from her ladyship until … well until they see fit to inform the world. Which will be another mess in itself – we could loose our jobs John! Does that sound selfish?"

"Not at all Anna, it sounds very sensible … we're comfortably off – but we couldn't survive unemployed. And now … I mean at my age, with my leg we'll never get employment – and with Aoife's baby on the way, if anything happened to her Michael … we have to think about this logically, if a little selfishly – we are parents with children to support. We can't risk our jobs … and don't forget Paddy'd lose his too, with no reference to get another." He gently lowered himself down into the bed, and stretched out, pulling his wife in for a hug beside him. "But at the same time – if they don't marry, what are we going to do to him, drive him away and make him miserable … and besides, marrying a girl I oughtn't to have worked out pretty well for me!"

"I think we should let them."

"You've changed your tune!"

"Yes – but I was just thinking about Tom Branson and Sybil … they did everything wrong – I mean they were vilified when they married, but they've come though it alright, and happy, I mean so much happier than they might have been other whys. And who are we to stop happiness?"

"And our jobs, his job?"

"… That I don't know John – but I know we can't deny them happiness … or a shot at happiness at least."

"Do you suppose they will be happy Anna? You don't worry that it's just … the taboo that's floating Emma's boat?"

"Do you think it is?"

"I don't know – I suppose it depends how long this has all been going on …"

"Remind me again Anna – why we ever thought that raising children would be easy? Do you remember when Aoife was teething and Ciaran had colic, and we were both exhausted – and you said to me: 'Just think John – once they reach 16 they'll be their own people, we wont have to baby them – we can just watch them grow and evolve!' do you remember that Anna?"

"I do, God I was an idiot!" John laughed, a rich throaty laugh as he pulled Anna in a little tighter and she settled her arms around him. He laughed because he had believed it too, that once they were 16 and working, and marrying and having their own babies, that his and Anna's roles as parents would simple be to watch their children grow and admire their handiwork – how wrong they had been.

I would like to promise you all that the symmetry between Paddy and Emma, and Lady Sybil and Branson are entirely co-incidental! I only realized half way though and then sort of had to mention it - other whys it would just be a big literary elephant in the room!