Spoilers: S2.1
Summary: A new girl arrives; a valued man leaves.
A/N: what a paramount A/B episode! This part just goes on and on, because for all we saw, I realized there's so much we didn't see.
"You're here at last," Mrs. Hughes said as a greeting to Ethel, her mouth disapprovingly pursed as she spoke.
"Yes, ma'am," Ethel said with no remorse. "Me train was delayed."
"I see." The housekeeper narrowed her eyes but Ethel just glanced around the sitting room and gave a saucy grin to the other maid who was waiting patiently.
In fact, Ethel's train had been right on time, but she'd disembarked at Ripon rather than Downton village to get the lay of the land. God knows her first half day wouldn't be for weeks, and she'd not want to waste those few precious hours finding out what was to be had for a good time. Yorkshire wasn't much, but it was still closer to London's sophistication than her last post in the wilds of Northumberland. She'd heard that the Crawleys often went to London and surely they'd take their staff...London, with cinemas on every corner and supper clubs and so many men...
Mrs. Hughes was droning on. "Mrs. Buchanan said you show promise, so I have high hopes that you will give us good service."
What Ethel's former overseer, the cook at Halifax House, had said was, 'Mrs. Hughes is strict but fair. If she can't make something of you, no one can. I'm too old and tired to deal with your saucy ways.'
"There's no time to show you anything tonight," Mrs. Hughes said, "so Anna here will have to start right off in the morning."
The other maid gave a tight smile and extended her hand. "Anna's the head housemaid," the housekeeper said, "and you'll be sharing her room."
Ethel held in her disappointment. "I didn't—"
Mrs. Hughes went on without waiting for her to finish. "We're to have a charity concert for the Downton village hospital tomorrow evening, so you'll need to help with that as well as your normal duties."
"We'll get it done," Anna said crisply and Ethel rolled her eyes. The head housemaid must be one of those boot-licking types.
"Thank you, Anna," said Mrs. Hughes. "Well, off to bed then. It'll be dawn before you know it."
"Yes, Mrs. Hughes," said Anna. She told Ethel, "I'll show you to our room."
As they climbed the stairs, Anna tossed over her shoulder, "Did you have any supper on the train? We can get something from the kitchens—"
"Ta," said Ethel, dragging her carpet bag along. "But I had a cold pie with me."
Anna showed her the bedroom, and at least it was large, but she still didn't like the idea of sharing. She tossed her bag by one of the beds.
Leading her out of the room, Anna pointed out a door at the end of the passage. "Bath's in there, and the pot's under your bed. There's a posted schedule for bathing and whatever you do, don't take Miss O'Brien's time or you'll never hear the end of it."
"Where's that lead?" Ethel asked, nodding toward the furthest door.
"To the men's corridor," Anna said shortly.
"Oh, does it," Ethel said with interest.
Anna folded her arms. "Mrs. Hughes is the only one who can open it."
Ethel leaned close. "Truly?"
"Truly."
The bathroom door opened and Sarah O'Brien came out in her dressing gown, her hair covered with a rubber cap and her towel over her arm. She raised her eyebrows and waited for Anna to introduce Ethel.
"You're finally here," she said dryly. "We'd given up hope."
Ethel only shrugged.
O'Brien looked at the locked door. "So you're explaining the rules to Ethel?" she asked with a sly smile.
Anna's face set. "Yes, I am. Well, we'd best get to bed. It's a long day tomorrow with the concert." She herded Ethel back to their room, followed by a dry chuckle from O'Brien.
"She's a right Tatar, isn't she?" Ethel said loud enough to be heard before Anna closed the door.
Anna only sighed and removed her apron.
"Any jolly blokes among the male staff?" asked Ethel as she began to unpack. "And I don't mean no footmen or grooms. Only quality who have some money to spend on a girl."
"I wouldn't say that I've noticed," said Anna, continuing to undress.
Ethel made a face behind her back. "I suppose I'll just have to sus them out for myself then," she said with a toss of her head.
After she pulled her nightgown over her head, Anna cautioned the new maid. "Mrs. Hughes keeps a sharp eye on us girls, and will not tolerate any funny business."
"Oh, there's nothing funny in my ways," said Ethel as she found her own nightclothes in her bag. "I'm dead serious about it.'
By tea time the next day, Ethel had had it right up to her chin with Anna Smith's superior manner. No matter how many times she'd made it clear the she was an experienced maid, the head housemaid continued to natter on with the proper way things were to be done at Downton Abbey.
She sat across the table from Anna and glared at the other woman all through their meal. Anna chatted with everyone present and didn't seem to notice.
Carson rose to answer the phone ringing in his pantry. He returned with news. "That was the station," he said, "Lady Mary's train was on time—"
Anna pushed back from the table. "I'll go out to wait for her then."
"And Mr. Bates was on the same train," he added, "he's riding with her."
She flashed him a blinding smile. "Thank you, Mr. Carson," she said, hurrying from the room.
Mrs. Hughes flattened against the wall to allow the swift maid to pass. "What's that about?" she asked the butler.
"Mr. Bates has returned," he said and he and the housekeeper exchanged smiles.
Ethel drained her tea cup. So that's what was up with the snotty housemaid. She couldn't wait to have a look at his lordship's valet after hearing everyone go on about him. Anna had behaved as though no servant was good enough for her, but one apparently was.
When Ethel did see him, she was gravely disappointed. He was old and lame. All she could think was that he had money. She'd found that a cripple would easily pay to have a girl unbutton her blouse and let him have a peek.
She gave Mr. Bates a wide smile. Anna acted too high and mighty to be giving this man more than a fluttering of her eyelashes. If the price was right, Ethel would surely be more entertaining.
But after being introduced, he ignored her, and his gaze sought Anna. The two of them murmured together, ignoring the rest of the staff swirling around them.
The bells jangled for their charges, and the valet and maid hurried off. Ethel went to follow them upstairs, but Mrs. Hughes called the maid into her sitting room.
"What is it, Mrs. Hughes?" Ethel asked impatiently. "I'll be wanted in the Great Hall to ready things for the performance."
"Just a moment of your time," the housekeeper said, closing the door.
Ethel straightened her spine. Only been at the Abbey a day and already having a closed door talking to.
"I noticed you flirting with the Dowager Countess' coachman—"
"I'm just friendly," protested Ethel.
"I believe in being clear with my girls from the start," Mrs. Hughes said, folding her hands at her waist. "You'll be asked to leave if you're a distraction. I won't have it, Mr. Carson won't, and the family won't tolerate it either."
Ethel opened her mouth to protest, seeing in her mind's eye Anna's bright face looking up at the valet's. But then she remembered Mrs. Hughes' tolerate smile watching the couple. Biting back her bitterness, she finally nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Right then," Mrs. Hughes said, considering the discussion over. "Get on with your duties."
"I'm so very happy to have you back," Robert said as Bates removed his uniform jacket.
"I'm very glad to be back as well," his valet said, a smile flitting across his face. "And as a batman again."
Robert frowned. "It's all just for show, Bates. We're not really back in the service."
"War is a young man's game," Bates said thoughtlessly and his master's face darkened.
"You're full of cheer," the Earl said peevishly, "considering that you're coming from your mother's funeral."
"The flowers you sent were lovely, my lord," Bates said, returning to a deferential manner again. "I thank you."
"Of course." Robert briefly clasped his servant's shoulder.
After offering his lordship his dress shirt, Bates confessed: "Despite my loss, I am feeling that life may be taking a turn for the better."
"Oh?" Robert lifted his chin for Bates to button up his shirt and attach the collar.
Next came the overall pants. As the valet stood back for his master to put them on, he said, "My wife arrived just before my mother died."
"I can't see that as a good thing." The Earl buttoned his pants, then accepted the waistcoat.
"But it is, my lord." Bates fetched the red Spencer jacket from wardrobe. "I advanced the topic of a divorce," he said after a deep breath.
"Was she set against it?"
"No," Bates said, a full grin covering his face. "There's money, my lord, and she does love money."
"I see," Robert said slowly. "So once you're divorced—"
"I hope that..." Bates' face fell. "But I can't even entertain the thought. To bring shame on a young woman with my situation—"
"You don't give yourself credit, Bates. Anna has stood by you for this long," Robert reminded him.
"I can't help but think that she's wasting her youth on me."
"It's not your decision to make for her, Bates. Don't try to be a papa to her. She won't thank you for it."
"But I will thank you for the advice."
"So you'll wed when you can," mused Robert, "but can't have you remaining in the bachelor and maid quarters afterwards."
Bates got an intense look in his eyes that made his lordship smile.
"You'll have a cottage then. That is, if you don't plan on leaving," Robert added, his voice uncertain. "I'd hate to lose you, of course, but—"
"I can't speak for Anna, as you say, but I know for myself, I'm very well situated."
Shrewd, Robert eyed him. "But you won't want to stay here forever."
"This war...Who knows what the future will bring. First though, I must have my bride!"
Robert took a step back at his valet's emotional display, but then both men burst out with laughter.
"And you shall have her, I'm sure," promised Robert. "Tell her there's a cottage coming-" He suddenly pulled up short. "I say, not good form to be discussing this all before you've asked the lady. Not like I'm her father—"
"But I want to have things sorted," Bates said with a definite nod.
Robert doubted the young lady would be pleased to hear that her lover had told his intentions to their employer first—not very romantic, after all—but decided to remain silent. Bates obviously needed all his courage.
"You'll speak to her tonight?"
"Yes, I've already arranged it." Bates gathered up the soiled items for laundry. He looked Robert over, then put the things down and shot off a salute.
"Oh stop, you," Robert said, but he smiled in gratitude.
Mary accepted the handkerchief that Anna offered. "I'm being silly," she blubbered, still not in control of her voice.
"Not in the least, m'lady."
Mary suddenly, desperately wished for a true friend to confide in, but one did not exist. This realization only brought on a fresh fit of tears. But she thanked Anna for her support nonetheless.
"It's nothing," the maid said helplessly.
She had to shake herself out of this. "You must be pleased to have Bates back," she said after blowing her nose.
"I am." Anna fiddled with Mary's dressing gown, wringing it in her pale hands. "I think he may have news from London."
"What sort of news?"
"I don't know...But I've never seen him like this...Bubbly," she said with wonder.
Both women started giggling madly and when Mary recovered, she said, "Thank you, Anna. I needed that desperately."
"I'm glad to see a smile on you, m'lady. You'll need to put a brave face on to meet Mister Crawley so that he doesn't suspect you're not pleased for him," Anna advised.
"I'm sure Bates is happy to see you." Mary tried not to sound bitter. "Your company is a pleasure to him."
"I'm quite certain that Mr. Crawley will be very happy to see you again, my lady. He's just such a gentleman."
"My company tends to be a bit more work than yours is." Mary managed a watery laugh.
Anna glanced at the clock. "The performance will be starting soon," she said, anticipation high in her voice.
"Oh joy," Mary said flatly. Local talent and Matthew's new love of his life. All she needed would be for the wine to be off and her life would be complete.
"Joy for me," Anna said with another giggle.
"Surely you're not a secret fan of the parish chamber orchestra?"
The maid laughed again. "No, Mr. Bates has asked me to meet with him privately to hear this news—" She stopped and dropped her gaze.
"Do not worry," Mary said, rising from her vanity. "I shan't reveal the two of you to Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes. Go to your man—"
Anna bobbed a curtsy and was gone in a swirl of starched skirts. Mary lingered for a few moments more, the tears in her eyes now out of happiness for Anna.
Storming through the downstairs after her humiliation in the drawing room before the family, Ethel couldn't find the target of her fury, Miss O'Brien. Various hallboys and maids scurried out of her way, giggling.
"What's got you in a mood?" asked Mrs. Hughes, poking her head out of her sitting room.
"Where's Miss O'Brien?"
"She's upstairs waiting to assist her ladyship to ready for bed, of course," the housekeeper replied.
Before they could continue, the back door opened and Anna slipped in, her cheeks pink and eyes bright.
"Are you going up to Lady Mary?" called out Mrs. Hughes.
"Yes, I am," Anna said, lingering with them in the corridor. The outside door opened again and Mr. Bates entered. He stopped at the sight of the women and his pale complexion showed a red flush.
Mrs. Hughes looked back and forth between he and Anna. "Going up as well, Mr. Bates?" she asked knowingly.
"I was, Mrs. Hughes."
"I'll say good night then," the housekeeper said, corralling the maids like two errant sheep. "And have one last look around the Great Hall to assure everything is back in place."
"Good evening, ladies," he said as they passed.
"Good night, Mr. Bates," Ethel and Mrs. Hughes said in unison.
"Good night...John," Anna said quickly, blushing again. She clattered up the stairs before Mrs. Hughes could say anything but Ethel shot Bates a dirty look. The valet gripped the banister, watching Anna ascend, and didn't seem to notice Ethel.
It certainly looked as though the righteous Anna was giving the John Bates more than a few sweet looks and Mrs Hughes wasn't going to do a thing about it, while Ethel had been called to the carpet for a smile at a couchman. She fumed inside at the indignity of it all.
"Are you feeling better, m'lady?" Anna asked Lady Mary as she helped her out of her gown. "If you don't mind me asking."
"No, I don't mind. Despite an evening of everyone walking on eggshells with me and my feelings," Mary said. "But you're the only person who really wants to know."
The corner of Anna's mouth quirked but she remained silent.
"I'm better, now that I've met Livinia. She's a lovely girl."
"She is quite pretty and well-mannered," admitted Anna but she remained unenthusiastic.
"I want Matthew to be happy. And I'm not certain I could make him happy." Mary took a deep breath. Her emotions were close to the surface again.
"I don't know about that, m'lady. If your happiness comes from making him happy, I think it would sort itself out." Anna took the evening frock to the wardrobe and returned with Mary's dressing gown.
Mary had to change the subject. "Speaking of which, what was Bates' news? The news that made him so bubbly?"
"I don't want to go on about my silly—"
Mary accepted her gown and then turned to pin Anna with her gaze. "What did he have to say?" she demanded to know.
"He...He wants to marry me."
"Oh Anna!" Mary clapped her hands together and was surprised to find that she was unreservedly pleased, despite how much she would miss her maid.
"Yes, I'm very...happy." The word died on Anna's lips.
"Don't you dare hide your joy because of me." Mary sat at the vanity and stared at herself critically in the mirror. "I won't have it."
Taking up the silver-backed hairbrush, Anna began to brush her hair. "Very well then, m'lady. I shall be deliriously happy and grin like a fool."
"That's better," Mary said with a definite nod.
The next day, Anna and Mrs. Hughes stayed at the servants' table after everyone had finished breakfast and went on with their duties. The young maid shared her news.
"I see, Anna," said Mrs. Hughes, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. "Well, thank you for telling me."
"Nothing's definite, Mrs. Hughes," Anna said as she rose from the table. "But I didn't want to spring our news on you later and have you be upset with us."
"Of course not. I'm very happy for you." But the older woman's face showed no joy for the maid.
"I'd better get back to work then," Anna said uncertainly, stepping from the room.
Mrs. Patimore watched her go. "Is it some bad news?" she asked her friend, shrewdly reading Mrs. Hughes' expression.
"No. No, not at all," Elsie said, trying to shake herself out of her distress.
The cook sat at the table and scooted the chair closer to her.
"Anna and Mr. Bates hope to marry," she said.
"Oh my," said Mrs. Patimore, her eyebrows rising to her cap's ruffle. "That is some news!"
"And I truly am very happy for them," Elsie repeated more to herself than to the cook. "It's just—"
"Yes." The cook nodded with understanding.
"I had expected Anna to take over for me someday. She's so very bright and competent."
"If anyone could have stepped into your shoes," agreed Mrs. Patimore, "it would have been she."
"I suppose though, we don't know how much longer this way of life will go on," Elsie said, looking around the hall. "It's probably wise for the younger ones to start making other plans."
"Aren't you a cheery soul," Mrs. Patimore said, but with good-humor. "I can't see Daisy going anywhere at least."
The young woman, who'd been lingering around the corner eavesdropping, frowned. William approached her and before he could speak, she grabbed his arm and dragged him away to spread her gossip.
He was astonished. A pretty thing like Anna? She was certainly out of the range for the likes of him, but he would expect her to reach a bit higher, for a man who could support her properly. Then again, Mr. Bates was not one to share his business with all and sundry; perhaps he had money squirreled away. That was one of things that William liked about the senior valet. He was a very good listener and not much of a talker. As the footman looked down at Daisy's animated face as she prattled on about romance and love under the stairs, William decided he needed to have a chat with Mr. Bates at once.
"What is it, William?" the valet asked when William found him outside cleaning boots and asked if he may have his ear for a moment.
"I thought perhaps...You could have some advice for me."
"Me? I don't know if I can advise any young man on the proper way to lead his life," Bates said with a rueful smile. "I made a pretty bad muck of my youth."
"It's the benefit of your experience that I need."
Bates put down the riding boot he'd been polishing and waited.
"It's about..." William gulped. "Women. Or rather, a girl."
"I see." Bates chuckled. "Another place I've made a mess of my life."
"Not at all," William protested.
"So word's gotten around?"
"Was it a secret?"
Bates picked up the remaining boot. "I prefer to keep my life private," he said carefully.
"Is anything kept private in this house?" pointed out the footman.
Bates grinned ruefully. "A girl...?" he prompted.
"Yes, Mr. Bates. I don't seem to be getting anywhere with Daisy."
The older man was silent for a few moments and William held his breath. Then he said, "Does she return your affections?"
"I know she likes me—"
"As a friend?"
"Of course we're friends," but even as he said this, William's heart sank.
Standing, Bates put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.
"Anna is your friend, isn't she?" protested William.
"My very dearest friend, yes," Bates said quietly. "But...We're also more to each other. We have passion for each other as well," he explained, a bit uncomfortable.
William looked crestfallen.
"Daisy is still a young girl. She may need time for those feelings to develop," suggested Bates.
"That's true," William said, grasping at any hope.
"But I understand. At times of war, a man wants to marry." Bates fell deep in thought.
"My father still won't let me join up," grumbled William.
"He won't be the one making the decision much longer."
"Good," the young man said, indignant.
"I felt the same way once. And made an imprudent marriage in my haste," Bates told him.
William stared agog. Bates nodded.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bates," he finally said lamely.
"We live with our mistakes for the rest of our lives, William," he was warned.
Before the young man could find a response, Mr. Bates murmured that he had to return to his duties, and left William with much to contemplate.
Ethel was coming from the privy, her steps slow. She'd overheard Mrs. Hughes telling one of the scullery maids to have Ethel help to load the coal buckets in preparation for the morning fires. No need to hurry to that duty; she could always claim tummy upset if asked what had taken so long.
She took the route back by the wood sheds in case Mrs. Hughes was checking the courtyard for her—and her steps froze when she heard the unmistakable sounds of a couple doing something that the housekeeper would disapprove even more heartily than slacking off. The rustle of starched skirts, the wet movement of mouths moving across bare skin, the sighs of contentment.
"I've missed you," a male voice rasped. "Missed—this..."
The female response was lost, muffled in the soft sound of a long kiss.
Mr. Bates' voice and his companion must be Anna. He was a sly one, that lame valet. No wonder he'd turned Ethel aside without even a smile. He already had a girl willing to engage in a bit of slap and tickle in the sheds.
She stormed back to the house, its bright lights like lighthouse beacons leading her to shore. But as soon as she came through the door, Mrs. Hughes was there in the corridor, arms crossed.
"Ethel, wherever have you been? Madge has been expecting your help with the coal buckets."
A hour later, after scrubbing the coal dust from her hands, Ethel flounced into the servants hall. The two lovebirds were sitting as close as possible at the table, heads together. Slapping down her gazette without any regard for their privacy, Ethel scraped a chair back to sit on, making the sound as loud as a scold.
Going about her morning duties, Ethel was startled by a dark figure at the open back door. With the light behind her, the woman shimmered like a shadow, before stepping forward and a sharp-featured face came into focus. She was lady of a certain age with a fine, if tightly corseted figure.
Ethel looked around but she was the only staff member present. "May I help you?" she said uncertainly.
"Yes," the woman said in a rich voice. "I'm here to see John Bates. I'm his wife."
Wife. Ethel's mouth fell open, then curved into a smile. "Why don't you come this way and have a seat while I see if I can find him."
"Thank you ever so much," Mrs. Bates said, sweeping forward with a grand manner. Of course this would be the wife of the imperious valet, Ethel thought with a smirk. Not a bright little sparrow, but a dark raven.
She snagged Billy, one of the hall boys, and hissed at him to find Mr. Bates now, and tell him that his wife was here. After that, she showed the older woman to a chair.
"And you are?" Mrs. Bates said coolly, looking Ethel over and she realized that this woman was wondering if she was the one.
"Ethel, ma'am," she said promptly.
"There's another maid, Anna?"
"Yes, ma'am. Head housemaid." Ethel wondered if this humiliation would cause Anna to leave, creating a vacant position. She smiled again.
"I was a housemaid myself at once time," Mrs. Bates said, "but more recently, I've been a lady's maid. It's more suited to my talents," she added with a smug turn of her lips.
"I'd like to be a lady's maid someday," Ethel said, even though she had no such plan. Head housemaid would suit her just fine.
"It's a grand sort of work. The things you're privy to," cackled Mrs. Bates. "For example, I heard the most unbelievable tale recently. And of all people, Lady Mary was very much part of the story, I can tell you. You see, I worked for Lady Flintshire—"
Ethel tried to attend, even as her mind whirled about how Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson would react to this news of their pets. And who would see this woman first; Anna or Mr. Bates?
It was Anna who arrived first. She called Ethel away and was in the middle of one of her scolds when Ethel pulled her up short with exactly who their visitor was. Rather than flee, Anna strode back into the servants' hall and stared Mrs. Bates down. Chin up, she did not cry, her voice did not even waver.
And in that moment, Ethel finally learned something useful from Anna Smith; how to retain your pride in the face of public humiliation.
"May I see you, Mr. Carson?" asked Bates, his voice strained. He stepped into the butler's pantry and saw Mrs. Hughes in the corner. "Ah good, you're here as well." He gave a shattered sigh.
"What is it?" asked Mr. Carson, his mind on the wine he'd serve after dinner.
Bates closed the door, getting the senior staff's attention. "I am to give my resignation to his lordship tonight, effective immediately. I must leave tomorrow morning for London with my wife," he said tonelessly.
Mr. Carson's mouth fell open with shock, but when he glanced at Mrs. Hughes, she did not look that surprised at all. Her mouth was pursed in anger though, and her eyes were hot and accusatory.
"You've spoken to Anna?" she said tightly.
"Not yet." Bates seemed to be having trouble catching his breath.
"I hope you will make it clear that it's nothing she's done," said Mrs. Hughes.
"Of course," he rasped.
Carson was still trying to understand. He'd heard from a hallboy that a woman had appeared, saying she was Bates' wife, but he'd dismissed that as yet more downstairs gossip. "What in the world is going on?" he asked.
There was a rap on his door. Daisy stuck her head in before she could be denied. Not noticing the tense mood, she called out to Mrs. Hughes with excitement. "Lady Sybil is to present her cake to the family in the drawing room with their tea and wine. Her ladyship wishes for you to be there!"
Mrs. Hughes looked at the two men. "I can't—"
Carson, who'd been rooted to the floor, came to life. "Blast! I haven't taken up the port and sherry yet!"
He swept past Bates. "I'll speak to you later," he hissed. "Come along, Mrs. Hughes," he ordered, and she reluctantly joined him, giving the valet one more quelling glare.
"What in the world was that about?" Cora asked as her husband stormed into her bedroom, yanking his robe tie with jerky motions. "I could hear you yelling at Bates right through the door; had he lost your favorite cufflinks?"
Robert kicked off his slippers. "He's leaving."
Cora's mouth fell open. "What? Surely the army isn't taking him—"
"No. He's given notice. He leaves in the morning."
She couldn't help the sense of relief. The whole situation with a lame valet had never made her comfortable. Every new guest asked about the curiosity and all these suggestions of thievery—
"And worse, it means he's dropped Anna flat. That poor girl—"
"That's right," Cora said slowly. "Anna had an attachment to him—"
"He wanted to marry her."
"My goodness. But he's just leaving her here? He hasn't—"
"Not anything like that...Or at least I hope not." Robert jerked off his robe and tossed back the bedding. Cora scooted over to give him plenty of room as he climbed into her bed.
He passed a hand across his eyes. "That would just be the final straw if he did get her in trouble...But Anna's too smart—"
"She fell in love with a bounder, so I have to wonder," Cora pointed out.
Robert started to protest and then his shoulders slumped. "Just when it looked as though he was going to be free from his wife—"
"What?" screeched Cora. "He was married?"
"Yes," confessed Robert. "He came back from London convinced she would grant him a divorce and he and Anna could finally be together—"
"This is simply unacceptable," fumed his wife. "Why didn't you tell me that he was married? I would have put a stop to this thing with Anna right away. If you had insisted on keeping Bates, then I would have sent her away where she could be safe and found a better prospect."
"Cora—"
"I'm serious, Robert! Just by being married, he was compromising her! If word got around that she was keeping company with him, her virtue would be in question!"
"He would never—"
"But he did," she pointed out. She carefully folded the sheet over the coverlet and smoothed the linen. "This is all for the best. Why, even if he'd received a divorce, I should hope that Anna wouldn't have married him. Disgraceful..."
"She loved him," Robert said, sliding down under the covers, the fight gone for him. "And he loved her."
Mrs. Hughes paced the corridor by the back door. She'd seen Anna slip out to the courtyard earlier, her face worried. Surely Mr. Bates had asked the girl to meet him there and she was receiving the devastating news at the moment.
But it was he who returned first, his face stained with tears.
"Mr. Bates—"
"There's nothing that can be said," he ground out, brushing past her, his limp more marked than it had been in years.
She hurried through the door and searched the dark courtyard until she found the huddled form of Anna sobbing on a packing crate. Gathering the girl in her arms, she clung onto her shaking form as though pulling her to safety from an undertow.
"It's all for the best," she found herself saying.
Anna made a painful gasp of protest, unable to form words in her raw throat.
"He's not a free man, my dear."
Anna straightened up and scrubbed her eyes like a small child. "I told him we should go away together. I did not need marriage—"
Mrs. Hughes gasped. She'd failed her charge indeed if she had not seen how serious had become. All these years, she'd looking the other way as they'd been meeting secretly... "You haven't—"
"Not yet, more the pity. I need to be with him—" Despite its uncontrolled quivering, Anna held her chin up defiantly.
The housekeeper took a relieved breath. "He's made the right decision, Anna. If his wife will not divorce him, he won't ruin you for his own base pleasures—"
"It's not base! Our love is pure, and I'm not going to hang onto my virtue for want of a piece of paper."
Mrs. Hughes head spun at the horror of what the normally sensible girl was saying. "Now listen—"
"No, it is he who must listen." Anna struggled to her feet.
Mrs. Hughes held onto her arm with all her strength, hoping no one came along to find the two women wrestling in such an undignified fashion. "No! You must understand. He's protecting you. She knows, Anna! She knows about the Turkish gentlemen and your role—"
Instead of being pleased that Mr. Bates was saving her honor, Anna shocked the housekeeper even more by cursing.
"Damn him!" she ranted. "I knew he was being noble! I don't need to be protected!"
"But the family does," Mrs. Hughes reminded her. "Lady Mary is in a delicate position with her prospects since she refused Mr. Crawley—"
Anna slumped against her, the fight spent.
"Come along, child," coaxed Mrs. Hughes, leading her back to the house.
As if in a trance, Anna put one foot before the other, allowing herself to be taken up the stairs and into the women's corridor. Outside her bedroom door, she came back to life.
"Open the men's door for me, Mrs. Hughes," she demanded, her deep eyes startling the older woman with their intensity.
"I will not!" hissed Mrs. Hughes, her gaze darting up and down the passage to see if they were being heard.
Anna began to undo her uniform's buttons. "If I go to him, he cannot refuse me. And once he's lain with me, he will not leave me," she explained with a frightening calmness.
"I won't allow this, young lady," whispered Mrs. Hughes, "you will do no such thing!"
She pushed Anna toward her door. "I will lock you in if I have to," she warned. "Do I have your promise that you'll do nothing rash?"
Anna clung to the doorjamb, dry sobs wracking her body. Overcome with sympathy again, Mrs. Hughes rubbed her back. Calmer, she urged the maid, "Go on now. Get to bed. Don't worry about helping Lady Sybil in the morning. I'll take your place."
Nodding wordlessly, Anna turned the doorknob with a shaking hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Hughes," she murmured, her voice still thick with tears.
When the door finally closed, Mrs. Hughes pressed her own trembling hands together, regaining control. She looked from Anna's door to the men's corridor door. Hating that she couldn't trust her most honest charge, she went to the door and took down the key for that night.
Anna stumbled toward her bed in the dark.
"Shall I light a candle?" Ethel asked, unsure.
"No. I'm fine," came the pained reply.
Ethel started to say several different things, then finally said the most sincere words she'd uttered since arriving at Downton: "I'm so very sorry, Anna."
"Thank you," Anna replied and there was true gratitude there. Ethel knew she'd made a friend by saying the most trite of expressions. She burrowed down in her bed, wondering what the future would bring for them now.
~ end, Part Six
E/N: Hmmm...At this point, everyone pretty much knows, so I suppose that I can move onto everyone finding out that they're married! Or another story...Hmmm...Hate when stories sort of peter out, but it's not like I had a plot to start with!