Spoilers: Set in S1 after the snuff box flap but before the wine whine.

The Earl shed his evening jacket for his valet. "How long has it been, Bates? A year now?" You've settled in well then?" he asked conversationally.

Bates draped the jacket over the wooden suit stand, brushing away a bit of lint from the shoulder. "Nearly two years, m'lord," he corrected gently. "And how I'm suiting would be for you to say. But I am quite happy in my position, yes."

"I'm glad to hear that," Robert said, popping the buttons on his waistcoat and tugging loose his tie.

There was companionable silence as Bates slipped the vest from his shoulders, then removed his cufflinks and shirt studs before taking off his starched collar.

"If you're feeling as though this may be a good situation for you, perhaps you should put down some roots," mused Robert.

"M'lord?"

"Your wife...What was her name?"

Bates started violently, then replied: "Vera, m'lord."

"Yes, that's right. Quite a vivacious woman."

"That she is," Bates said with a flat voice.

"Before we leave for the Season, I could check into getting you a cottage. You could bring her back from London and set up housekeeping." Robert felt very magnanimous. Nothing like a spot of domesticity to keep the servants happy.

But his valet said, "That won't be necessary, m'lord," as he smoothly slipped Robert's shirt off. There was an edge to Bates' voice that pulled him up short.

"Ah, I see." He unbuttoned his trousers and after they dropped, stepped out of them. "There's someone else."

Bates didn't reply as he retrieved the trousers, only taking extra care as he folded them on a hanger.

"It's a local girl and that would make things uncomfortable," surmised his lordship, shedding his undershirt and pulling on his pajamas. .

"Not exactly, m'lord. But it would certainly make things uncomfortable if Mrs. Bates were to come to Downton."

"Not exactly, and yet the two should not meet?"

With a sigh, Bates turned away from the cupboard and unhooked his cane from his forearm to lean upon. He explained: "That is to say, the local girl...It's not a situation which can go further than it has with Mrs. Bates still my legal wife."

Robert sat on the edge of the bed. He was intrigued. He always assumed that servants had greater freedom than their betters to take pleasure where need be. Before his marriage, he'd envied that presumed liberty.

"How far has it gone?" he asked carefully.

Gripping the cane's hook with both hands until his knuckles went white, Bates hung his head. "Further than it should."

"Will there be trouble, Bates? Should I be prepared for a father with his old muzzle-loader to show up?" Robert asked, only half in jest.

"No, nothing like that." Bates shook his head. "I can't allow it to go anywhere in that direction. It's just...Our hearts have gone too far, you may say."

"You always were more romantic than I ever could manage," his lordship lamented. "If only I'd had you to write my love letters when I was wooing her Ladyship."

Bates barked a rough laugh.

Robert allowed himself to think a bit more on this. "But you don't get out to the village much, and you're not one to hang about the tenant farms...A girl within the house?"

His valet turned back to the cupboard and straightened the already perfectly aligned clothing before selecting Robert's robe from a hanger.

"Let's see..." Robert began to catalog the maids and kitchen staff. He prided himself on knowing all his servants on sight and name. He had to tease a bit. "Not Miss O'Brien!"

Bates was having none of it. "No, m'lord."

As he ticked through the list of females available, his lordship looked up at the long-suffering man servant, to his sad eyes and drooping expression. It could not be. It simply could not. But there was no one else who fit the bill for a man with the intellect and tastes as John Bates.

Anna Smith had come to this house as a wide-eyed fourteen year old girl. She'd darted about with her scullery buckets and brushes, and was promoted to a housemaid within the year. She'd been the easy choice to serve his daughters. Robert Crawley had taken a paternal pride in Anna as an example in all that could be right about service. Her skin was clear, her hair clean, her teeth whole and strong, her eyes bright, her figure slim but not gaunt. She could hold an intelligent conversation with all, and yet was a soul of discretion. He had always joked that she had the best judgment of anyone in the house, excluding Mrs. Hughes.

His mouth fell open and his former batman's shoulders slumped in shame, acknowledging that he'd guessed right. "Why, you sly bastard!" he said with a grin.

Bates drew himself up as tall as his leg would allow and glowered down on his master. "As I said, m'lord, nothing untoward has occurred. I would never-"

Robert held up his hand to slow the valet's wrath. "I meant that you were able to capture such a prize, that is all."

"Yes, m'lord. I cannot believe it myself," Bates said gloomily, the bland visage back in place.

"And if you haven't at least gotten a kiss, you're a damn fool."

"How could I?" Bates said, the passion returning to his voice. "To pull her into my adulterous ways-"

Standing to accept the offered satin bed robe, Robert rolled his eyes. "If she shares your feelings, that horse has well and truly run from the barn. You might as well get your kiss rather than trying to close the doors."

His valet's only response was: "Yes, m'lord. Will there be anything else?"

"Not for me. But you need to-" Robert started to say, but stopped when he wasn't quite sure what to suggest. With the first Mrs. Bates lurking out there somewhere, there was really little that his manservant could do if he chose to be honorable. And for all his joking about a kiss, he could not encourage Bates to seduce and ruin a fine young woman. Or to divorce-It was blasted difficult, and even then, not many women would marry a man with such a black mark beside his name.

"I'll be going then. Good evening." Bates dissolved from the room with quiet dignity

Tightening his robe's cord, Robert went into his wife's bedroom. Putting aside her magazine, she noticed his pensive expression right off.

"What has you so thoughtful?" she asked.

Shedding his robe, Robert flipped back to the covers on his side of the bed. "I've had some rather shocking news."

"Shocking? You have intrigued me, my dear." She curled onto his chest, but her eyes were still bright and questioning.

"Bates... Well, I don't know if I should tell."

She gave him a gentle swap. "Robert, you can't stop now."

He told himself that his wife was in charge of the house, particularly staff, thus must hear the news.

Draping an arm around Cora and drawing her closer, he told her: "Bates and Anna are in love."

"Anna who?"

"The girls' maid," he said, exasperated.

"Our Anna? And that..." Cora stopped herself as she felt Robert tense under her. "You must admit, my dear, he's not the first choice for such a young girl. O'Brien says-"

"First off, I don't give a damn what that woman says," he grumbled. "To your other point, Anna is Mary's age, and you're fretting that our daughter has been on the shelf much too long and are tossing her at a man older than myself!"

"Yes, but it's different with servants." She toyed with the buttons on his pajama top. "Will they marry? Will we lose her? That would be a shame. The girls adore her."

"No..." The tension was back in her husband, but it was not from anything she had said. "It can't go any further," he said, and there was distress in his voice.

She reached for her light. "Well, then-"

"It's very sad, now that I think of it," Robert said in the darkness. "I should have offered to help but I was too astonished."

"Help?"

"It's nothing, my dear," he said, rolling to kiss her and she soon forgot about servants' love lives.

After Robert left her bedroom the next morning to dress, Cora ruminated over her morning tea.

"O'Brien," she said to her maid, "how are things in the servants' hall since his lordship's snuff box has been found? I'm sure some were nervous."

At her vanity sorting necklaces in their box, O'Brien's back stiffened. "There's great relief," she said in her careful way.

"You had seemed so certain that it was Bates," Cora pointed out.

"Well, he who has access to remove it, has access to replace it," O'Brien said, turning next to aligning her mistress's cream jars on the vanity top.

Cora nibbled at her toast and watched her maid. "His lordship never accepted that it may be Bates."

O'Brien gave her a tight smile as she glided to the cupboard. "Men are men. Will stick together."

"True..." Cora found that she couldn't let this go. "Is there any other trouble with him below stairs?" She monitored her maid's expression carefully as O'Brien laid out the morning clothes for her. "With the maids?"

O'Brien's head shot up. Cora smiled encouragingly.

The lady's maid's features set in a grim mask. "I did see-"

"Yes?"

"He was at the women's corridor door one night."

"Trying to gain access?" Cora gasped.

"He didn't have to try. It was opened for him."

Her ladyship set her cup in its saucer with a clank. "By whom?"

"I'd like not to say," O'Brien said silkily but Cora was a step ahead. She wanted to assure that Bates was no Lothario, but just endangering one of the housemaids. "Anna?" she asked in that tone that broached none of O'Brien's evasions.

Her maid nodded, her mouth set primly.

"I suppose she feels sorry for him," Cora said, sinking back into her pillows. "Nothing more dangerous to a woman than a man who needs her." She gave a self-deprecating laugh, looking around the magnificent bedroom. She'd met a man once who'd needed her.

O'Brien was seeing an opportunity here. "It is worrisome, m'lady. Anna is usually a sensible enough girl," she said grudgingly. "To be led astray by this man-"

"Did he enter the women's corridor?"

"No, m'lady. He gave Anna a dinner tray. It was when she was ill. Complete with a little bouquet of flowers," she finished with contempt.

She turned away to retrieve a pair of shoes and didn't see Cora's pitying expression. Her ladyship reflected that there was a difference between a virgin and a spinster and her lady's maid was it. As unsure as Cora was about her husband's valet, she could see nothing but kindness in his gesture and as she feared, it was a sign that their feelings were more than mere lust. Love was much more difficult to manage with servants. She may have to appeal to a higher authority for guidance.

The Dowager Countess lowered her teacup to its saucer and furrowed her brow in confusion. "Who's Bates?"

"He's Robert's valet!" explained Cora. "He's been here for two years!"

Violet thought more. "That tall man with the stick?"

"Yes!" Cora said, exasperated.

"How much trouble can he be then? Anna's a strapping country girl, even if she's small. If he gets fresh, she can just kick that cane out from under him." The matter was settled for the Dowager. She turned her attention to the cakes' tray that Thomas had thoughtfully placed on the table beside her before being dismissed by the Countess.

Cora tried to clarify her concern: "It seems she shares his affections."

"Ah, that's the servants for you. They believe in love." Violet focused piercingly on Cora who recalled that her mother-in-law disapproved of being in love even if was between her son and his wife.

"I'm concerned that she'll be a poor influence on the girls-"

Swallowing a bite from a tasty cake, the Dowager reacted with outrage. "Such as our virtuous Mary? Or Edith with her own old man? Or Sybil with her modern ideas? If anything, we should be trying to protect Anna from them!"

Cora slumped on the sofa. This woman was of no help. "I just wonder that she's filling the girls' heads with ideas about romantic love and pining for the unattainable," she stressed.

"Anna a good girl," the older woman said knowingly. "She won't overstep her place."

"I suppose," Cora said with a sigh.

"Don't be surprised if they don't just run off though, no matter how sensible they seem to be," warned the Dowager. "We had a coachman; faithful as a dog. Then he took a fancy to the governess, and poof!" She flung her hands in the air. "Gone one night, leaving us completely helpless! No one to drive us or to teach the children! I say that's why Rosemund still can't conjugate French verbs. Took us forever to replace that woman."

"Yes, there's that worry." Cora said. "Robert simply adores that man; don't ask me why-"

Violet shrugged. "Men claim women are mysterious, but it is they who are. No idea why they do anything that they do, set in their ways, resistant to change..."

Cora bit hard on her retort. Finally, she said, "We'll just have to see what happens. I don't dare embarrass Mrs. Hughes and Carson by bringing this to their attention. They'd be mortified if they realized what two of their own were up to-"

Outside the drawing room door, Thomas lurked by the crack that he'd left it open as he'd left. It was a particular talent he'd acquired over the years, to pull the door shut so it made a distinct latching noise, but then quickly push back as to leave it ajar.

"What are they on about?" O'Brien murmured at his shoulder. Despite her low tone, he still started.

"This thing with Anna and Mr. Bates," he whispered back.

"I tried to give her the idea that they may be acting dishonorably, but she didn't seem to take my meaning," the maid grumbled, "sometimes m'lady can be a vague cow."

Thomas stepped away, drawing her with him. "I was thinking...We can use this. If Bates marries her, they'll both have to leave-"

"You believe that?" O'Brien gave him a thin smile. "More likely, his lordship will strew rose petals on the way to a tenant cottage for them."

Thomas thought about what he'd just overheard the Countess and Dowager discussing. His hope died. "Damn," he growled.

The lady's maid nodded. "I say we continue with the stolen wine plan. That's sure to work. Carson cares much more about that wine than any old snuffbox. He'll fight for it."

Exchanging a smirk, the conspirators melted away from the drawing room, intent on their plotting.

~ end Part Three