A/N: I'd hoped to have had this one up for a couple of weeks now. Unfortunately, I've actually had so many problems with this chapter. No matter what, it just doesn't sit right with me. I've written it. I've re-written it. And I've re-written the re-write. So now I've just had to leave it as it is.
Your thoughts would be appreciated here.
3. 1922
Anna groaned despairingly when she felt lips at the side of her neck, warm arms gently squeezing her in a loving embrace as she was brought back to the conscious world. John couldn't help but grin at the disagreeable sound that emerged from her throat.
"Mrs. Bates," he cooed in her ear as she attempted to pull out of his embrace so that she could throw the covers over her head in a bid to avoid him, "pretending I'm not here isn't going to make me disappear."
Another unintelligible grunt from the midst of their sheets, and John took it upon himself to playfully pull them away from her, exposing her body to the morning cold of the room. She shrieked in response as the air bit into her skin, fingers at once reaching out to yank the sheets back. John smirked and held fast, taking advantage of his superior strength to keep the sheets away from her. Anna was a vision in the mornings, even if she did have an abhorrent objection to early starts, and now was no exception. He enjoyed the sight of her naked body as she reached over to tug the sheets back, approving of the way that the pale sunlight accentuated her flawless skin. Finally, she succeeded in burrowing herself between the sheets again as his grip slackened, distracted by the way her rosy nipples peaked in the cold, pressing her chilled body against her husband's as punishment. He protested weakly as the cold seeped into his bones, but seemed unable to resist pulling her into his arms and showering her face in kisses. She pushed at his shoulders to keep him at bay.
"Mr. Bates," she said accusingly, "wasn't the reason for you waking me up to do with the fact that we're required at work soon?"
John was smirking cheekily at her, dipping his head to nuzzle at the shell of her ear. "Well, my love, it appears as if I've woken you early enough for us to enjoy a little leisure time as man and wife."
"You mean you woke me up when we don't have to get out of bed yet?"
"I'll make it up to you."
"And what if I want to go back to sleep until we have to get up?" She injected enough teasing into her expression to let him know that she was joking, tilting her head to the side to give him better access to the sensitive spot on her neck.
"Then I would be a perfect gentleman and let you." There was nothing at all gentlemanly about the way that his hand had found its way between her thighs. "Do you want me to stop?"
His fingers were seeking out the places that affected her the most, and an involuntary gasp escaping her lips. His eyebrow was raised as though he'd just asked her if she agreed that the weather would be warm.
"I think you know the answer to that," she groaned, shifting to allow him to stroke his fingers more deftly over her.
"You're right," he said, and the wickedness of his smirk should have prepared her for his next action as he promptly pulled his hand away from her and made to reach for his gown. "I'll let you rest a little longer."
Anna's arms were wrapped around his middle in an instant, her breasts pressed against his back as she knelt behind him. "Mr. Bates, what a cruel trick to play on your poor wife."
John feigned innocence as he turned his head. "I'm merely ensuring that you're getting enough rest, love. I promised to attend to your needs on the day we married and I intend to leave you to get the sleep that you require."
She was already pulling him backwards amongst the warm sheets, her hands sliding to his hips as he obliged. "And what about attending to my other needs?" Her hand boldly brushed lower, and he sucked in a breath. "Are you going to take care of those first?"
"I suppose I'd be seen as a bad husband if I didn't," he relented huskily, closing his eyes at her ministrations. He almost moaned when she bit his shoulder gently. When she flicked her tongue over the spot where she'd nipped him, he couldn't resist turning in her arms and pressing his body flush against hers. She grinned like a Cheshire cat at her achievement, loving the delicious feel of his weight against her.
He brushed an errant lock of hair from her face, bending in to kiss her. "Happy anniversary, darling."
She echoed him as he shifted above her, and those were the last coherent words that they spoke for a while.
In the end, despite their best efforts, John and Anna were late for work. Feeling flustered, they clattered into the servants' hall to the bemused stares of the rest of the staff.
"No one's rung yet, have they?" Anna panted as she placed her hat on the shelf just outside the door and shrugged her coat off quickly.
"Not yet, no," was Mrs. Hughes' amused reply. "What happened? You're never usually late."
"Misplaced the house key," supplied Bates.
"Woke up late," said Anna at the same time. Both blinked at each other before blushing and quickly turning away.
"My my," the housekeeper said drily amid smirks from many of the others, "you have had an eventful morning."
"That's one word for it," Thomas exhaled in a cloud of smoke to a sneering O'Brien.
"Thank you, Thomas," said Carson, looking pained at the train of conversation, and Anna and John flushed further.
Thankfully, Lord Grantham's bell rang at that moment, ending any awkwardness that might have sprung forth. John made a quick exit, not daring to spare his wife another glance, and Anna got to work on her chores while she waited for Lady Mary to ring, relieved to be away from the gossip that was surely taking place. Although the eldest Crawley daughter was married now, she was still living at home; Mr. Matthew had decided to move into Downton rather than upheave Lady Mary to Crawley House, stating that while it was a lovely house, there was more room for them at the abbey and he didn't think his wife would want to be squashed in with his mother. Lord and Lady Grantham had indulged their wishes, of course, as they always did when it came to their eldest daughter and the heir. Privately, Anna was thankful for it. It meant that she could still work in close quarters with her husband whilst retaining the same duties that she had done for Lady Mary for as long as she could remember; Lady Mary had made it clear that she wished for Anna to remain as her lady's maid no matter where they lived. This would mean that she'd see her husband even less if the future earl and countess chose to move out of Downton Abbey.
The morning passed quickly enough, and soon luncheon was upon them. Anna and John sat beside each other as they always did, determinedly avoiding each other's gaze. The other members of staff were still smirking at them. Anna hoped that they would forget it quickly – she did not like their professionalism being questioned; they had always been models of decorum. Even in the early days after John's release, when it had been difficult for them to keep their hands off of each other, they had forced themselves to keep their working relationship absolutely professional. Up until now, this had never once been questioned. Anna did not like being under such scrutiny. She could console herself that at least they hadn't been caught in a compromising position at work, and never would be. And gossip tended to move along quickly in a house such as Downton. Anna hoped fervently that something else would happen which would divert the attention away from them entirely. Sitting in silence on their anniversary certainly hadn't been something that she had been anticipating. She longed for the end of the day when she could to be alone with her husband, where they wouldn't feel as though the eyes of the world were upon them.
When lunch had been cleared, Anna set to work on some mending that she had been putting off. The servants' hall was relatively quiet; only Miss O'Brien sat in there with her, painstakingly stitching a missing button onto one of her ladyship's evening gowns.
Anna kept her head down, studiously avoiding the older woman's gaze as she worked. She knew that O'Brien would not dare mention their tardiness to her in case it ever got back to Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes, whose iron-clad way of keeping order below stairs ensured that no one ever really overstepped the mark, but the last thing that she wanted to see was O'Brien's knowing smirk. She could only imagine what satisfaction the lady's maid was getting from seeing her squirm – no doubt it was giving her some vindictive pleasure to know that Anna wasn't a complete saint, and that Mr. Bates wasn't as perfect as everyone seemed to think, despite his tarnished past.
At that moment, she discerned the familiar tap of a cane on the flagstones. O'Brien glanced up, then back down quickly, pretending to be absorbed in her work, as John entered the room. He smiled a little awkwardly, glancing around and realising that he wasn't alone with Anna.
"May I have a word?" he asked her, and she couldn't help but smile at his bashful tone.
"Don't mind me," said O'Brien as Anna started to stand.
Anna rolled her eyes. Everyone knew that the lady's maid had the habit of spreading any gossip she heard, and she and Thomas combined were a formidable force. No, Anna was not comfortable speaking intimately with John in front of O'Brien. And, judging by the look on his face, neither was he. Their business would be round the house in five minutes.
"Privately," he said meaningfully, limping towards them. She knew where he'd want them to speak: the courtyard. It was their special place, the place where they'd kissed for the first time, the place where he'd first told her that he loved her, the place where he'd made her the happiest person alive with his unconventional proposal, the place where he'd shattered her heart like feeble glass when he'd left her behind with nothing, the place where they'd tentatively mended each other's broken feelings. It always stank of cigarettes and was cluttered with crates and other rubbish that was not fit for the house, but it was theirs.
Once outside, John took her hand and led her as far away from the back door as possible, making sure that they were still in sight in case O'Brien should choose to poke her nose in, as she frequently chose to do – he would not have her telling everyone that they'd obviously disappeared in order to partake in more scandalous behaviour.
"What is it?" Anna asked him once she was sure that no one would be able to hear them. Now that she was alone with him, she felt the easiness that she usually felt around him slowly creeping back. He grinned at her, and she could tell that he felt the same.
"I was speaking to Lord Grantham earlier," he told her, squeezing her hand gently. "He remembered that today was our wedding anniversary. And you know what he's like. He insisted that we finish early so that we can enjoy our evening together. Once we've dressed them for dinner, we're free to leave. I did want to surprise you later by taking you out for dinner, but I didn't think we'd have the time before we were needed to dress them for bed. But his lordship says Mr. Carson will take care of him and Mrs. Hughes will see to Lady Mary so Miss O'Brien can't complain about the extra workload."
Anna's eyes had widened comically. "Oh, John, are you sure they don't mind?"
John chuckled. "I doubt his lordship would have offered if he minded. But now this gives us time to get home and change before I treat my beautiful wife to dinner on our anniversary."
She wanted to throw her arms around his neck, but thought they'd compromised their professionalism enough today, so she settled instead for smiling brightly at him. "How wonderful!"
He nodded in agreement, about to say more before Mrs. Hughes interrupted them by saying that she needed Anna's help with sorting the linen cupboard.
"I'll see you later," John said, and Anna nodded, setting off towards Mrs. Hughes with a spring in her step. The housekeeper smiled knowingly at her. Although their romance had initially been a surprise to the household (the braver had exclaimed what everyone had secretly been thinking at the time – that Mr. Bates was far too old for the head housemaid), it had soon become apparent that the two adored each other. There could be no sneering at that, and Mrs. Hughes had always had a soft spot for the two of them. She found the whole thing endearing now. Despite the fact that the valet and the housemaid tried to maintain a sense of propriety at all times during their time at work, it was obvious to anyone who looked at them that that they were very much in love and content. It was clear in the way that they always sat side by side, hands brushing at all opportunities, wearing smiles that brightened whenever they glanced at each other. It was evident in the way that their voices softened to intimate whispers whenever they thought they were alone. And it was apparent in the way that they always departed the house holding hands, Anna matching her husband's every stilted step unfalteringly. If anyone deserved happiness after everything that they had endured, it was those two.
"Thank you for letting us go early," Anna said as they walked along together. "We both appreciate it so much."
"It's no trouble," replied Mrs. Hughes, and she meant it. "After all, it wouldn't be much of a wedding anniversary for you if you couldn't celebrate it, would it?"
"Anna, you must be almost ready now," John's amused tone tore her from her inspection of herself in the mirror. Squinting critically, she adjusted her hat one more time and turned to face him.
"Well, isn't a wife supposed to look nice for her husband?" she said teasingly, reaching up to straighten his tie.
"You'd look nice in anything," he told her. "Now can we please go? The pub will have closed before we make it to the village!"
"You can't rush perfection, John Bates," she replied, but followed him down the stairs. Glancing one last time into the old mirror by the door that Anna's parents had sent her as a gift for their new cottage, she went outside and waited while he locked up.
The walk to the village was peaceful. Anna and John held hands the entire way, laughing embarrassedly together as they recalled the faces of the servants as they'd burst into work late.
"You're a bad influence on me," Anna said. "I was always the model servant before you corrupted me."
"Rogue," he reminded her, throwing one of his delicious smirks in her direction. She felt the muscles in her stomach tighten, as they were prone to do whenever he looked at her like that.
"Hush, you," she said, smacking his shoulder playfully.
"That hurt, Anna," he said, pretending to be wounded. "You're so cruel to me. Why do I put up with this torment?"
God, she loved him when he was like that. This carefree attitude had taken a long time to surface within him. She had always known him to be reserved and quietly stoic, his moments of teasing brief and rare. But ever since his time spent in prison, John had become a different man. He bantered with her daily now that they were away from the confines of the house and he was able to speak freely with her, no longer a man tied to another woman. She liked seeing this side of his personality so often. His playfulness always ignited a frisson of heat low in her body, and she furtively glanced over her shoulder, wishing that they could forget about dinner and return home. Knowing that he wanted to treat her tonight, however, she kept her lascivious thoughts to herself. There would be plenty of time for that later, and it would be nice for them to have an evening out, something they didn't usually do because money was tight and time away from work was even tighter. They sometimes went out for tea on their half days off, and Lord Grantham typically gave them a few days every year to do as they wished (they normally tried to get to the seaside for a change of scenery), but other than that, it was rare for them to venture much further than York.
Still, she couldn't resist leaning up to breathe huskily into his ear, "perhaps you secretly enjoy the pain." She nipped at his earlobe to prove her point, then settled back to enjoy the way his eyes darkened – his earlobes were a particular Achilles heel for him, she'd found.
Dinner was going to be a long affair.
In the end, they decided on the Grantham Arms; Downton village did not really have much to offer, so they were soon seated comfortably in a corner of the pub, steadily making their way through plates of pie and vegetables. They were far from being alone, but the sound of the men's raucous laughter over at the bar was simply muffled in the background; they only had eyes for each other, their world ensconced into the table that they shared. Frequently they found their hands brushing over their meal as they reached for their glasses, their fingers lingering as they gazed at each other heatedly, remembering their exchange from earlier. Anna found that she couldn't bolt down her meal quick enough, hastened by the glow in her husband's eyes, a glow that she could recognise anywhere now after almost a whole year of living by his side properly as his wife. He himself, however, seemed to be eating agonisingly slowly, chewing each mouthful carefully and swallowing leisurely. It cost her every inch of her self-restraint to sit demurely across from him, the picture of a good wife. Oh, if only the others in the room could read the thoughts in her head. She'd be sneered at and condemned and shunned by society. A lady wasn't supposed to have such sullied thoughts. Luckily, Mr. Bates was completely enthusiastic about those sullied thoughts, which certainly helped to fuel the passion in their lovemaking.
One side of his mouth quirked upwards as he regarded her watching him. "Can I help you with something, Mrs. Bates?"
She propped her chin on her hand and lowered her eyelids. "You might be able to, kind sir, although I'm not sure we can discuss such matters here."
John fumbled for his water, so suddenly and easily undone, the temperature in the room spiralling out of control. The look of subtle desire on his wife's face would never cease to affect him. Attention captured, she purposefully reached across the table to steal a crust of pie from his plate, and he watched enraptured as she brought it to her mouth, chewing thoughtfully, knowing she had him close to breaking point. When she placed her finger to her lips to lick off the gravy, he stood abruptly. She pretended to look at him in surprise. He motioned for her to stand.
"I think it's time that you and I went home," he said, and his growl sent shivers down her spine.
"Why?" she asked innocently, stretching; his eyes followed the line of her spine. "I was rather hoping that we might enjoy a walk around the village before we go back."
She could tell that he was fighting with himself to remain gentlemanly, but in the end his gentlemanly side won out: John Bates would never deny his wife her wishes.
"Of course. Shall we?" He offered her his arm. She took it. They made a stop at the bar to pay the bill, then stepped outside. The air was cold. It felt good against their flushed skin; John hoped that it would help to cool his ardour.
They began to walk down the street. The tap of John's cane echoed. Anna regretted her choice of teasing. It was as much torture for her as it was for him. She wanted to be at home, away from prying eyes, left quite insensible by the musk of their lovemaking and the feel of her husband's hands on her body. Not going for an unhurried stroll.
Swallowing her pride, she stopped them as he made to turn down the path towards the little park. He raised an eyebrow in question.
"I may have changed my mind about the walk," she said, staring at some point just above his shoulder. She didn't want to see the progression of that slow smirk of triumph crawling across his features.
"And why would that be?" he said. She could imagine it now, deliberately crossing his mouth. She felt a twinge low in her body.
She shrugged, tilting her head to the side. "I'm feeling a little tired, Mr. Bates."
"Tired?" Oh, how she wished she could kiss that smirk away. "Well, we can't have that."
She couldn't stop herself from flashing a grin of her own at him. It promised that sleeping was the last thing that she was intending to do once they got home.
They made it home in a heady rush of desire. Once the front door had clicked shut behind them, John grabbed Anna in a crushing embrace, his cane clattering from his hands as he wrapped her in his arms. Her mouth was hard against his own, her fingers making quick work of his jacket, pushing it from his broad shoulders so that she could cling to the clothed warmth of his shirt. His own hands were resting perilously low, and she moaned deep in her throat as he began to stroke them over the curve of her hip. Dragging her mouth away from his, she gently grabbed at his forearms and pulled them away from her.
"Not here," she said in answer to his confused expression. "Upstairs. Give me two minutes."
His eyes darkened as he nodded and watched her make her way up the staircase. She threw him a flirty glance over her shoulder as she disappeared from sight. John took a deep breath, attempting to control himself. Which was difficult when he could hear Anna moving about above his head, no doubt stripping herself of her clothing. He tried to content himself with bending down to collect his jacket and cane, desperately trying not to think of the way that her clothes would probably be hitting the floor. Hanging the jacket on one of the hooks by the front door, he decided that enough time had passed. Gripping his cane more firmly, he heaved himself upstairs. Pausing for one more moment, he took a deep breath and pushed open the bedroom door.
The room was bathed in warm candlelight. Clothes – Anna's clothes (he'd been right earlier) – were strewn around the room as though they'd been discarded in a great frenzy. Her dress was by the window. Her stockings were on the floor beside the bed. Her corset was tossed over the chair in the corner. And there she was, reclining casually in the middle of their bed, wearing nothing but her wedding ring. Her blonde hair tumbled down over her breasts to preserve some of her modesty, although her wicked smirk belied any play at innocence. John's breath caught in his throat. She was stunning. A true goddess. He knew she would never cease to take his breath away.
She spoke into the quiet of the room. "Come here, John."
It was as though she'd broken the spell that she had cast over him. At once he was upon her, growling his appreciation at the feel of her completely naked skin beneath his clothed body. Her hands made quick work of his waistcoat, flinging it across the room, where it fell to lie in a sorry state next to her undergarments.
His thoughts were hazy, and he gripped at her hips as she slipped from under him to rid him of his shirt, sliding her legs either side of his lap.
"Relax, Mr. Bates," she purred as she bent in to nuzzle at his chest hair, "I promise this won't hurt a bit."
Their harsh pants rent the air in two as they attempted to gather themselves after their exertion. Anna hadn't even managed to drag herself away from her husband's chest, where she had slid bonelessly after making love to him. Her weight against the length of his body was a comfortable one, and he sighed in pure contentment as his hand came up to lazily stroke her sticky back. She hummed a little, turning her head slightly so that she could press her lips over his heart.
"I love you," she heard him murmur, and she squeezed him lightly. She would never tire of hearing that declaration. After years of denying his feelings for her, it seemed that now he would not waste one opportunity where he could announce his love to the world. More often than not he would pant it into her ear as he made love to her; it was always enough to finish her.
"I love you too," she replied, then found the strength to sit up slightly. His eyes opened as she shifted, and he regarded her curiously as she reached across him to the little drawer that stood at her side of the bed.
"What are you doing, Anna?" he asked her quizzically, but she shushed him as she withdrew a bulky square package from below a pile of stockings.
"It wouldn't be an anniversary without gifts," she said in answer to his questioning look. A slow grin spread across his face at that.
"Quite right," he agreed, sliding her from her comfortable position atop him so that he could sit up too. Reaching across to his own bedside drawer, he pulled out a little box.
"Happy anniversary, my love," he said, pressing the package into her hands and a kiss against her mouth.
She grinned brightly at him, inquisitively shaking it before pulling the lid from the box. She gasped sharply, gently removing the necklace from its resting place. The pretty blue stone looked almost purple in the flickering candlelight.
"Oh, John, it's so beautiful," she said, then her tone turned accusing. "How much did it cost? You shouldn't have!"
John chuckled. "I saw it in Ripon about six months ago. I knew then that it would be perfect for you, so I started saving a bit of my wages every month in order to afford it."
"I'm afraid my gift can't compare to yours," Anna sighed as John took the necklace from her and fastened the clasp around her neck. It fell elegantly into the valley between her breasts, and she shivered as he rubbed a thumb over it.
"Your gift will be perfect," he reassured her, laying a kiss against her shoulder. He took the present in hand and slowly unwrapped the newspaper which had lovingly ben tied around it. Pulling the paper away, he was greeted with the sight of a heavy volume, embossed with golden letters and bound together with a handsome leather cover.
"Oh, Anna," he breathed, running his fingers over the spine. "It's perfect." He hadn't seen the entire Shakespeare collection since the days he'd spent living in London after his first stint in prison, when he had spent his time browsing the shelves in the local bookstore, breathing in the scent of new pages as a tonic to his alcohol abuse. He had coveted Shakespeare's entire collection for years, but had never found the time to purchase it for himself. It was as though Anna had read his mind.
She shifted uncomfortably, resting her head on his shoulder. "I thought we might read it together. We used to discuss books all the time before the war, and I've never really read Shakespeare. We could take it in turns."
John kissed her to show his appreciation, slipping his arm around her shoulder and drawing her closer to his side. "It would be an honour. I've never had a more perfect gift."
Anna grinned at him glowingly, clearly pleased. "I'm glad," she said simply.
He placed the volume carefully on the bedside cabinet. "We'll start it tomorrow," he decided.
"Perhaps there will be a few scenes we could re-enact," was her cheeky response, and he chuckled, pulling her back down into the comforting warmth of their sheets.
The last year of his life had been the happiest that John had ever known. With Anna permanently by his side, each day seemed brighter. He felt like he could tackle anything with her in his life. And he hoped that the years to come would prove as blissful as this last one had.
A/N: The next chapter is bugging me even more than this one is, but I'm hoping that it will be ready in about a month's time.