We're almost at the end of this story now, and I can't wait to write the conclusions. This chapter is more of a set up and rather fluffy rather than naughty, but I hope you enjoy reading it.
Chapter 10 will definitely be M rated. Just saying...
For the next few days, John was no longer short on things to occupy his time. Every spare minute when he wasn't needed at the house, he laboured down at the cottage, shifting out the old furniture, cleaning out the floor and making a start on painting the walls. Lord Grantham graciously agreed to arrange to transport the unusable broken pieces away and arranged to have some things transferred from another cottage further out on the edge of the estate, which was also vacant and unlikely to be filled for some time.
Anna came down to help as often as she could, anxious to have the place ready to move into. Between them, they discussed what they would need and found that little offers of help materialised throughout the servant's quarters. Old curtains, some mismatched blankets, one or two rugs, slightly squashed cushions and various knickknacks appeared out of Mrs Hughes' cupboards. A selection of plates and crockery and a partial set of cutlery appeared from Mr Carson's store room. In vain he apologised to Anna for the missing bullion spoons and fish forks, which had rendered the set unusable in the dining room any more. Anna swallowed her giggles manfully, and accepted the set which was already far superior to their needs.
Mrs Patmore set Daisy and Ivy to sorting out the cupboards and found old pots and pans for them to use, along with a couple of baking dishes and a kettle. On the last day, John went into Ripon with a list he and Anna had made of things that they wanted, including new linens for the bed and new pillows, while Anna packed up their things and moved them down to the cottage.
Unbeknownst to Anna, John added some small extras to their shopping list, after a bold conversation with Lord Grantham, who was only too eager to play his part in the surprise John had planned.
While, unbeknownst to John, Anna added some to their packing.
...
That evening, as Mrs Patmore's stew simmered in the oven, John waited for Anna to be released from her duties. He had offered to walk up and meet her from the house, but Anna encouraged him to go home, to set everything to rights for their first evening together. She would follow as soon as her duties were done. Lady Mary, with unusual levels of tact, had promised her the evening off once she was dressed for dinner, making do with sharing Madge's help with Edith since there was no company for dinner that night.
Looking round anxiously, John decided that it was all set up as well as it could be. The fire burned brightly in the grate, the curtains were drawn snug and warm across the window and the food's fragrance was just beginning to seep out of the oven. All of his preparations were set and ready, now he just needed his wife.
His Wife.
For the millionth time that week, John closed his eyes in silent prayer, thanking whatever benevolent God which had allowed him to have this experience in his life. He was married to the woman he truly loved, employed in a job where he was valued and respected, surrounded by friends and allies, and finally installed in a home of his own with the woman he loved. How much had his life changed in the last two months? Enough to make anyone believe in the blessings of providence.
"I'm home..."
The sound of Anna's voice saying those two short sweet words was momentarily too much for John, who blinked his eyes rapidly to remove the moisture that gathered there and turned to greet her with a beaming smile.
He was rewarded for his evening's efforts with a gasp and expression of delight.
"Oh my goodness... John, where did you get those? They are beautiful... "
The table was set for dinner, but in the middle stood a china vase, filled with a dozen red roses. Alongside them, stood two graceful and delicate glasses, and a small silver bucket, filled with ice, the golden neck of a bottle protruding from it.
"Is that...?"
"Yes. It is. Champagne."
"John, how did you afford..."
"Come here..."
John smiled, warmly, almost seductively, holding out his hand to Anna, who hadn't even taken off her coat in her shock at such extravagance. Pulling her into his arms, John indulged in the one thing he had desired most all through this interminable day, a long and slow kiss with his wife.
"Don't think you can get round me with romance John Bates," teased Anna, "How did you manage to afford that?"
"First, my dear, it's not a full bottle. It's a quarter sized one, just enough for one glass each. As you know, I prefer not to drink and only accept a glass when it would be unacceptably rude to refuse, and I know you're not used to it after living at Downton so long where Mr Carson has such things under a tight control. However, I wanted to mark this night in the most glorious way possible, as the highest in the land might do."
"How did you know where to find one?"
"I asked Lord Grantham. He was able to suggest a good supplier in Ripon, and even arranged the credit for it. It's a small amount to add to his order list, which will be paid back at a shilling per week out of my wages. He was willing to supply a larger bottle from the Abbey's own cellars, but I thought that might be imprudent and rather wasteful. After all, we might not like it."
As he spoke, John had removed the small bottle with a tea cloth, and was in the process of wiping it down, unwrapping the foil and removing the wire cage.
"Are you sure we can aff..."
"My darling wife," John interrupted her gently. "I have been longing for this moment for months. At times in the last two years, I doubted it would ever happen at all. Please..." He twisted the bottle expertly, capturing the cork in the cloth with not a drip spilled, pouring it gently into the waiting glasses. "Allow me to spoil you, and let us celebrate in style that the Crawleys would envy."
He passed a glass to Anna, half filled with delicious smelling golden wine, the bubbles fizzing enticingly.
"I've never had champagne before."
"Me neither. So this is another new thing we can try together."
He raised his glass and gently 'tinged' it against hers.
"To us," he saluted.
"To us," echoed Anna with a smile, taking a sip. The bubbles tickled her nose. The sharp taste took a second to accustom her tongue to, but the scent of flowers and luxury was wonderful and the strength of it was heady, far more potent than the red wine that Mr Carson served on New Year's Eves.
"Mr Bates, are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Do I need to?" grinned John wickedly, as he set his glass down and went to retrieve dinner.
"You should know better than that after all those notes..."
"Let's eat then. And then we can go to bed."
Anna felt a warm flood of desire and happiness fill her very being, right down to her toes. That sounded like an excellent plan to her.
...
No stew had ever tasted so good. No chairs had ever been so comfortable, and no meal they had ever shared had been so filled with laughter and affection. As the fire burned low and the last scraps were eaten, and the glasses of delicious Champagne were finally emptied, it was time for bed.
"Shall we?"
John was on his feet, his hand held out. Anna kissed him on the cheek.
"You go up," she said warmly. "I won't be long, I just want to wash the grime off while there's some warm water left."
"Alright... but don't be long, or I will come looking for you."
"I won't be, I promise."
Once he was safely upstairs, Anna hastened over to the bag she had smuggled in and left just inside the door. He had given her his surprise. Now it was time for hers...
Shaking out the contents, suppressing a giggle of nostalgia and wicked anticipation, she hurried through her wash at the kitchen sink and hastened to get ready for bed.