Summary: The wife is always the last to know; set before S2.1
The door on Margaret Bates' house was bright green, glowing like a fine jewel among the row of dull homes along Dudley Lane. Green for envy and jealousy, thought Vera as she mounted the stoop. She saw the world in colors now, and those shades were portents. Ma Bates had been jealous of her son's wife and envious of the younger woman's love of life. And where had that gotten her now? Black closing in around her…
Vera lifted the shiny brass door knocker. Bright as a wedding ring—
After his shock passed, the last thing she expected to see on her husband's pumpkin-shaped face was joy. But then he asked, "What are you doing here?" His bulk blocked the entry.
"Me mam is dying-"
"She's not your mother, Vera. And I want her last days to be peaceful."
She pushed past him; curtains were flicking up and down the street as one and all took in the show.
"If they aren't peaceful, it'll be your fault," she said airily.
Always before, he would have flared back at her like bacon fat spilled on the stove flame. This time, his gaze remained steady and his features unmoved. He only said, "She's sleeping now."
"I'll have some tea then," Vera said, entering the parlor and taking a seat, obviously expecting to be waited on. After a moment, he headed to the kitchen. While he was gone, she cataloged the contents of the room and their value. The elder Mrs. Bates had a number of fine things from the old country and they should sell well at auction.
He returned with a tea tray, his steps halting without the aid of his cane. She didn't bother to hide her disgust but again, his face remained unchanged.
Once she'd poured out two cups, he asked once more, "What are you doing here?"
"Can't I offer support to my husband in his time of need?"
He took a deep sip of his tea but did not shoot back with a caustic comeback as he would have in the past. Finally he spoke. "What I need is to move on with my life and I think you do too."
Now it was time for her to ask questions. "What does that mean?"
"You've made a life for yourself elsewhere, I assume," he said carefully. "And I have as well. I think it's time to make that permanent. Start fresh."
"At your age?" she sneered. "Powdering some Earl's bum is a new life for you, I suppose-"
"It suits me," he said levelly. "And you must have found something that's kept you well enough-"
"Oh, I've been here and there," she said, smiling into her teacup. "I've even gone into service myself. Your name opens doors."
His brow furrowed. "My name?"
"You work for a very important family, you know."
"They're just the family to me," he said with the most warmth she'd heard in his voice in a very long time.
She smiled again. "Like your own?"
He glanced up to the ceiling. "They are all I have now." He stood. "I'd better check on mam."
Vera allowed herself a little laugh after he left. Her information would come in very handy for certain. Rising, she went to inspect the rest of the ground floor's rooms.
John's dragging footfall was heavy on the stairs. He glanced at the empty table in the small dining room. Vera raised her eyebrows. He hadn't expected her to prepare supper?
Saying nothing, he sat heavily at the head of the table, his large hand ghosting over the gleaming mahogany. Usually Ma Bates had a lace tablecloth on it, but she hadn't been downstairs in weeks.
"Not long now," he said, gray tears on his words. His features shimmered, then his jaw tightened, holding his emotions in check.
This crippled and bent man who sat before her made Vera feel old and that wouldn't do at all. She recalled when he had been a tall lad with a brooding dark gaze and the sly smile had held such promise. The housemaid she was then had snatched up her shiny prize greedily, only to have him turn into this tarnished half penny. But she'd kept the winsome maid with her. At first she had been irritated by the voice in her head, but now she'd found that her past self was the best company she could find.
How pathetic he is. Don't be seen with him on the street. If anyone knew he was your husband it would be humiliating...
"So what do you want us to do?" she said, her words red-hot in the dim room.
He glanced at her quickly.
"When your mother's dead," she clarified, twisting her knife-sharp lips. The maid laughed but he just contracted his nostrils as though catching a whiff of some stench.
Finally, he exhaled. "I think we should divorce."
She shook her head violently. "I won't be seen as some-"
Slut. Whore.
He gave her a gentle smile. "You will just as you are now. Mrs. Bates, whose husband works far away. Just if you were to wish to marry again-"
"Who would have me? A divorced woman?"
"Say you're widowed."
She traced a random pattern in the tablecloth with her fork tines. White linen, like a shroud, for the truth. "What will I do for support?"
"You haven't needed my support these past five years-" He pulled himself up, that control back in place. Looking around the room as though seeing it for the first time, he said with determination, "I'll find a way."
She smiled. The maid smiled too. But she wanted more than money.
Vera rose from the table and cleared. When she returned, John was still seated, staring at the glowing coals on the grate. "Got a spot of something?" she said.
He spoke without looking up. "I think Mam has some whiskey somewhere..."
With that finely tuned sense, Vera searched and found a dusty bottle. When she went to fill the glass before him, he covered it with his hand.
Nancy boy. Too soft to even take his liquor.
He watched her drain the bottle, glass after glass. The last mouthful made her ill, but she swallowed it heartily. Her smile was slow. She looked him over.
"Are we in the front bedroom?"
His mouth pursed. "Don't, Vera."
She lolled her head back and fixed her gaze on him from under her eyelashes. "Did that shrapnel get ya' pecker along with your leg? You've not touched me in..." She tried to do the addition and gave up. "Years."
Bored, he said, "I don't fancy to catch the French pox from you."
She spat and he dodged with studied practice. "I'll be with my mother," he said, leaving her.
The maid laughed cruelly but Vera didn't know if it was at her or John.
The funeral was on a rainy day, giving Bates an opportunity to be as glum as possible. But to Vera, a rainbow of bright colors arched over the cemetery.
He went to a lawyer's office, leaving her alone in his mother's house. She wandered from room to room, irritated and fidgety. She wasn't able to find any more alcohol.
Go on. Take the crystal paperweight. He's got no need for it.
After slipping it in her apron pocket, she sat in the parlor and picked the beads off a pillow until she heard the front door open. Turning the pillow over, she went to meet him.
He actually grinned at her. "Vera, I think I'm going to make you a happy woman at last."
He slowly explained that although he didn't have specific terms yet, there would be a settlement for her. The room glowed orange, wavering as grain at harvest.
"I must return to Downton," he said. "I'm needed there with the war on-"
Impatient, she railed, "That soft-handed toff can't button his own drawers without you?"
Taking a breath, John told her, "It's my job. If I give you my money, I will need to retain it."
"I don't care."
"I know you don't. But I do," he said evenly. "I'll write to you once I have specifics from the lawyer. Where shall I find you?"
She drew up.
He's tossing you out like trash.
Black with red shadows flickered across her vision but she managed to maintain control. "I'll be with my cousin, Molly Travers, in Ellis Mews. You can write to me there."
He nodded. "We should go then. Lock the house up," he said pointedly.
As he limped down the street in the direction of King's Cross, his bag swinging at his side, Vera went the opposite way, to the corner pub and its ladies' lounge. Once inside, she recognized a woman nursing a glass of sherry by the window from the funeral. After placing her order at the bar, she offered a smile to the woman and was rewarded with its return."Yer were at me mother's funeral," Vera said leadingly. "Thank you so much for your comfort in our time of need."
"I di'n't know Mrs. Bates had a daughter," said the woman, "she never mentioned on it."
"By marriage. Her boy is my man." Sitting, Vera sipped her port as soon as it was placed before her.
Doggedly, the woman said, "I di'n't know Mr. Bates was married."
"It's been a time since I could be around," said Vera. She wiped her gloved fingers on her skirt and offered her hand.
"Mrs. Bartlett."
The two women murmured pleasantries of greeting and the sadness of the occasion, then chatted easily with neighborhood gossip. Vera quickly saw a woman who enjoyed bringing bad news nearly as much as she did.
See what she knows.
"My Bates has to work way up north," Vera said with a catch in her voice, "but I'm hopin' he'll be able to come back to London once the estate is settled."
Mrs. Bartlett made a sound in her throat and nodded to the barmaid for another drink.
Vera saw deep green in the woman, brighter than Margaret Bates' door. "He's surprised me so at the prospects," she continued. "I can hardly believe it—"
"Yah, I 'spect there will be quite a bit," said Mrs. Bartlett with barely controlled fury. The barmaid refilled her glass and beat a retreat.
"Is there some dispute? I'd hate for Mr. Bates to find a shock at the probate."
"Nothing that can be done legally," grumbled Mrs. Bartlett. "But there's what's right. I cared for Mrs. Bates through her last illnesses, and she was always saying I would be rewarded."
"I haven't seen you around the house during the last," pointed out Vera before draining her drink and catching the barmaid's eye. The girl scurried over with a decanter to top off her glass.
"The sickness got to her mind. She wasn't herself there at the end. Ordered me out. Claimed I'd taken things—I had not!"
Vera was quite certain that Margaret Bates, even when confined to a bed, would know where every pin and bob was in her home; which was why she'd been unable to steal from her mother-in-law in the past. And still had been banned from the house while Bates was in prison.
Hope the Irish bitch shat herself like a lame dog and slept in it.
"The old do go wrong in the head," Vera said with sympathy. She noted the speculative gleam in Mrs. Bartlett's eye and felt she had to put a stop to it. "But I don't hold much sway with my husband, I'm afraid. He's a frightful man, with a great temper and a quick hand. Don't let the cane fool you. He'll use it on a lady just as easy."
Mrs. Bartlett gave some reassurances about a woman's lot in life and Vera allowed a few tears to form in the corner of her eyes. The neighbor leaned across the table and dropped her voice.
"Doesn't surprise me. That sort of man. And he's got another on the string."
"What?" Blazing white, to burn her pupils to charcoal.
"Some little lass came around about two year back. Mrs. Bates welcomed her into her home as though she were a real lady. Crowed about her at the market stalls, that she was a proper sweet girl, not like—" Mrs. Bartlett pulled herself up short. "But obviously she was no better than she ought to be if she's going about with a married man. A sign that Mrs. Bates' mind was going already, for she was a regular churchgoer and knew her commandments."
Vera could barely gasp out words, trying to drown out the maid's hysterical cackles at her humiliation. She grasped at something to retain her dignity. " I suppose she's a gimp too? Blind in one eye? Missing a hand?"
"Oh no! I saw her coming out a the house several times. Very pretty young lass. Blonde." Mrs. Bartlett glanced over Vera. "Perhaps she heard of the money. Had the name Anna Smith."
Vera could barely hear or see. The maid's cruel mirth was deafening and the waves of red, deep as blood, washed over her vision. Finally, she found her speech. "Anna, you say." She forced out an empty laugh. "That would be Mr. Bates' cousin from York. Came to check on his mother and assure she wasn't frittering away her fortune."
Holding the table for support, she managed to stand. "Very nice to chat with you, Mrs. Bartlett. But I must be going. I'll be traveling soon and need to prepare."
"A journey?"
"Yes, I am to join Mr. Bates in the north. We've been apart for too long."
~ end part 5