GETTING MARRIED

Chapter 9 The Honour

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor do I in any way profit from the use of, the characters, settings, implied plot lines, or ideas, drawn from Downton Abbey. These belong to Julian Fellowes.

A Surprise, Not a Secret

The Bateses liked to sit up for a bit at night when they got home. It wasn't a very practical thing to do, not when they worked such long days. But it helped them to feel that their cottage was more than a place where they slept, that it was their home and their refuge from the cares of Downton Abbey. Not that they were very successful in leaving those cares behind them. As different as they were in background and temperament, they shared an overweening sense of responsibility for the family members for whom they worked, and for almost everyone else besides.

"You're brooding tonight," Anna said, as she snuggled in beside her husband on the sofa, relishing the comfort of the powerful arm he immediately wound around her.

"I'm thinking," he corrected her. "There's a difference."

"Other people think," she persisted. "You brood. You don't just turn things over in your mind. You study them and worry them to a frazzle. That's brooding."

He gave her a sceptical look. "Then you're a brooder, too," he countered. "I've never seen anyone take someone else's concerns to heart the way you do."

"That's empathy." She was enjoying this word tussle with him. "Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

"And then you'll confess those secrets you've been keeping from me?"

She made an exasperated sound and poked him lightly in the ribs. "I will not. Now, tell me what you're thinking about."

He looked at her for a long moment, at her impudent little grin and her sparkling green eyes. They had been a very long time getting to this point of peace and contentment in their lives. She still wasn't well and truly contented, not while they remained childless. But he was, though she didn't believe him. There'd been too many obstacles in his life, too many wrong turns and near misses. He hadn't always been capable of contentment, but he was now. He'd learned, the hard way, to count his blessings.

"I've been thinking about the family's involvement in the wedding," he said, giving in a little. "They seem to be making quite a lot of fuss about Mr. Carson, and not so much about Mrs. Hughes. Why do you think that is?"

Anna frowned at him a little, almost as though she thought he was a little thick. "Mr. Carson and His Lordship are very close. You know that. And Mr. Carson and Lady Mary are even closer, and everyone knows that. What do you mean?"

"Only that Mrs. Hughes has worked at Downton for decades, too. Perhaps not as long as Mr. Carson, but long enough. It seems a little unbalanced to me."

Anna shrugged. "Lady Mary says that Mr. Carson is theirs, and Mrs. Hughes is downstairs." She grimaced a little at her husband's expression. "Well, that is what she says. And while Mr. Carson isn't exactly upstairs, he's not really downstairs either. While Mrs. Hughes is certainly downstairs. That's why His Lordship is going to be the best man and the downstairs women are going to have a party for Mrs. Hughes."

"Hmm."

John Bates was a man of few words at the best of times, so Anna had become an adept at parsing the fragments of speech he provided. "What are you thinking?" she demanded suspiciously.

He smiled at her. "Nothing."

She was not convinced and pulled away from him that she might sit up and look into his eyes, eyes now dancing with mischief.

"John! You said no more secrets!"

But he only maintained his enigmatic demeanour. "It isn't a secret," he said. "It's a surprise. And you'll have to wait and see."

She threw herself at him in an amused irritation and he obligingly wrapped his arms around her.

A Privilege and an Honour

He really wasn't one to go interfering in other people's lives and yet here he was, knocking on another door, preparing to do just that.

Mrs. Hughes sat at her desk, deep in the morning's correspondence. Her work had always absorbed her, but for the past few weeks, she'd been finding herself distracted. She knew from conversations with Mr. Carson that he was experiencing the same thing. It amused her a little that this agitated him. Mrs. Hughes was more accepting. They were, both of them, getting excited about their wedding, and these feelings were spilling over into other aspects of their lives. She had decided to enjoy the moment, confident that things would settle down again once they'd returned from their wedding trip. They would not be the same, but they would settle. Mr. Carson coped less effectively with the temporary tumult.

When she looked up to see Mr. Bates at her door, Mrs. Hughes was surprised, expecting to see Mr. Carson instead, but she was not disappointed. She welcomed him in and gestured for him to sit at her small table, getting up to join him there.

He closed the door before sitting down. It occurred to Mrs. Hughes that Mr. Bates was a man of many closed doors, he of the shuttered past and masked thoughts. Had he loved Anna less, his heart would have remained a mystery as well, but even he could not manage that. He'd also been one for secrets and Mrs. Hughes had been privy to one or two of them. But so far as she knew he had nothing to conceal at the moment, and so she could not explain his discretion. It did not occur to her that this irregular encounter might have something to do with her, rather than him.

"The house is full of wedding talk," he said, "upstairs and down."

"Far too much of it," Mrs. Hughes agreed, with a touch of asperity. "Upstairs and down." She liked the idea of a party because, contrary to impressions fostered by her position of authority, she liked a good time. But as much as she was looking forward to the wedding, she wasn't very comfortable with the idea of being the centre of attention. This was quite possibly the one thing that didn't bother Mr. Carson in the least. It appeared that his time on the halls had been good for something after all.

Bates only grinned at her words, recognizing bluster when he heard it. "Things appear to be running smoothly," he remarked.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't say that either. But the complications are, at least, becoming fewer."

"Weddings, formal weddings anyway, are not my strength. Both of mine were Registry Office affairs."

"I begin to see the virtue of the simpler approach," Mrs. Hughes said, although her bantering tone suggested otherwise.

"I know how things work, though," Bates went on. "That there are certain...elements that must be present. A best man, for instance."

She smiled. "I want to thank you for that, Mr. Bates. Between you and His Lordship, you got Mr. Carson to act, where I had failed completely."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "I had only to appeal to his commitment to doing things properly."

They shared a knowing look.

"Yes. That usually works."

Mr. Bates paused for a moment and Mrs. Hughes did not rush to fill the silence. He had come to see her for a reason and, whatever it was, she was content to let him get to it in his own time.

"My conversation with Mr. Carson got to me to thinking," he said, speaking in that deliberate way he had. "It occurred me to that there is a ...symmetry about a wedding - bride and groom, downstairs and upstairs, a place for everyone and everyone in his place."

This seemed a rather obscure digression to Mrs. Hughes, especially from Mr. Bates who she had always found so forthright. "I'm afraid I'm not quite following you," she said, her brow furrowing in slight bewilderment.

He rested his arm on the table and held his head high, his expression solemn but not without warmth. "I want to ask a favour of you, Mrs. Hughes," he said earnestly.

At her almost imperceptible nod of encouragement, he went on. "I am hoping that you might permit me to demonstrate my regard for you and for your position in our downstairs family by doing me the honour of allowing me to give you away in marriage."

His request was, by some accounts, both revolutionary and presumptuous. John Bates was not one to get involved in the personal affairs of another, and that he was seeking to do so here seemed out of character. With regard to Mrs. Hughes, their formal relationship within the hierarchical structure of service made this, at first glance, an inappropriate imposition. But beneath the surface of their day-to-day interaction in the servants' hall of Downton Abbey was a closer association that dispelled these initial assumptions.

They had not taken to each other immediately. As with most relationships, they had to grow into it. He had resisted it, as he resisted almost all personal connections. One of the things he liked about her was that she had resisted it, too. Neither of them gave their friendship easily.

But she'd won his respect early on when he'd made that futile and, in retrospect, stupid effort to "fix" his limp. He wasn't vain, but his lameness troubled him on his own account and in how it marred the way others looked at him. The brace caused excruciating pain and Mrs. Hughes had noticed, and inquired, and eventually put her foot down. And she hadn't pitied him. Instead, she'd offered him encouragement and perspective. "We all carry scars, Mr. Bates, inside and out, and we must all put up with them as best we can," she'd said. "You're no different to the rest of us. Remember that." And he had.*

He came to admire her level-headedness in other circumstances. They both observed how Thomas Barrow, then the senior footman, belittled and bullied William Mason. Bates had responded viscerally to Barrow's tormenting of the junior footman. He berated Thomas for it and then, one night, slammed him against the wall in a threatening way. It had been satisfying in the moment, but Barrow had more resilience than Bates had given him credit for and only smirked. And carried on. Mrs. Hughes took a different approach. Bates overheard her encouraging William to stand up for himself and to realize that Thomas's behaviour stemmed from a deep sense of inferiority. Bates had grudgingly to admit that helping William to stand on his own two feet trumped a protective intervention on his behalf. William wouldn't always have a Bates around to defend him.

And yet Mrs. Hughes was also scrupulously fair, a trait Bates admired because he shared it. They neither of them liked Thomas Barrow. But Mrs. Hughes was incensed by that incident with Jimmy Kent that threatened to see Barrow let go without a reference. She'd prised the story out of a reluctant Thomas and then spoken to Mr. Carson about it. Her efforts failed, but she'd made it possible for Bates to take action when his own sense of fair play was activated. He also liked the fact that Mrs. Hughes was as indifferent to Thomas's nature as he was, and as committed to the amelioration of an injustice.

And then there was Anna. The two women were very fond of each other. In the family dynamic of the downstairs at Downton Abbey, a mother-daughter relationship had developed between them. This alone would have won for Mrs. Hughes Bates's allegiance, had he not already been an admirer. She offered Anna stalwart support in the most trying of times - during his trial and false imprisonment for murder. Bates had never held her part in those events against Mrs. Hughes. He could never resent someone for telling the truth.

The housekeeper had proved herself again in the assault on Anna by Lord Gillingham's valet. Bates knew that he had put Mrs. Hughes in an impossible position over that. He was grateful to her both for keeping Anna's secret and also giving way to his pressure to reveal it. In doing so, she had protected Anna and then given him the means to help heal her.

Overall Bates felt that Mrs. Hughes was on his side and that meant something to a man like him. And that was only his part of the story. Mrs. Hughes was also the cornerstone of their downstairs family. They all looked to her for comfort, and as a confidant, and as a mediating force with Mr. Carson. Bates admired her for the way she mixed an unqualified respect for Mr. Carson with a commitment to fairness and compassion that sometimes set her at odds with the butler. They all owed her, the downstairs staff, and this was their moment to show it. His ties were the strongest. Knowing this, he felt the call of honour, grounded in a genuine affection, in making this request of her.

Mr. Bates wanted to give her away in marriage.

Mr. Bates's request stunned Mrs. Hughes as something that had never crossed her mind. She knew as well as he or anyone else did the components of a formal wedding. And when she had urged Mr. Carson to settle the matter of the best man, she had been a little unsettled by this lack of - as Mr. Bates had so aptly put it - symmetry on her part. But unlike Mr. Carson, she had no obvious options, and so had put it out of her mind as something she could do nothing about.

And now there was Mr. Bates's offer before her.

She liked John Bates, liked him as a co-worker, and liked him very much as a man. She had been sceptical at first, swayed in the moment by his physical disability which too easily blinded observers to the strengths and virtues that lay within. But she'd been easily won over, following Anna's lead, and became, in short order, the valet's strongest advocate at Downton.

Mrs. Hughes respected his professional behaviour. He knew his business and did his work well. He treated everyone with consideration, as polite to Daisy and William as he was to His Lordship. And he put up with a lot from the co-conspirators Thomas Barrow and Sarah O'Brien, Her Ladyship's longstanding lady's maid. His conduct in the underground war between them was exemplary - he never complained, he fought his own battles, and he never told tales, as he proved in the incidents of the stolen snuff box and the wine. Mrs. Hughes admired his style. There were not many like John Bates.

But the episode with the leg brace won her over completely. Everyone concealed their vulnerabilities. Mrs. Hughes did so herself. The exposure of his weakness, which was painful both physically and emotionally, showed her the man within well before she saw him through Anna's eyes, and she liked what she saw.

She esteemed him as well for his intolerance of injustice. He had no reason or obligation to come to Thomas Barrow's aid in that incident with Jimmy Kent. Indeed, Mr. Barrow's departure would have brought a measure of relief to Bates, to whom Barrow had given no quarter. But like her, he could not stand by and watch as a man lost his career and his reputation over a trifle. Mrs. Hughes had been frustrated in her own efforts to save Thomas, but Mr. Bates, once apprised by her of the situation, had found a way - she didn't know how - and Barrow was saved. She was, incidentally, impressed by Mr. Bates's complacency in the matter of Thomas's nature. They were both, she and Mr. Bates, of the school of thought that preached live and let live.

And then there was his love for Anna. Mrs. Hughes loved Anna and Anna loved Mr. Bates, a simple equation in securing the housekeeper's affections, had she not already been predisposed in his favour by the time their relationship blossomed. She watched their love grow and was happy for both of them.

The episode with the valet - that terrible, evil incident - had, in Mrs. Hughes's view, put Mr. Bates's strengths and vulnerabilities on parade. She didn't like how he pushed her into breaking Anna's confidence, although she had believed he had the right to know and had told Anna so. The depths of his anguish moved her. She saw it in his eyes, in his whole demeanour, as she told him the story, and she heard it in the heart-rending sobs that overtook him in the passage outside her door.

He had alarmed her with the malevolence he conveyed to her toward the insidious valet and she worried that he would be driven to revenge. But when she thought he had killed the man, she was ready to stand by him, to the point of concealing evidence, unwilling to condemn a man who would avenge his wife. Then she was even more impressed that he had not done so, admiring his forbearance on the grounds that he would not risk Anna's emotional well-being by putting her through all that again.

Having, as she thought, no other recourse, she had intended to walk down the aisle alone and rationalized it on the grounds that, at her age, she did not need giving away. There would be the flower girls, of course, but she believed she had the wherewithal to flout tradition and would have done it. But now there was Mr. Bates's proposal.

His words brought tears to her eyes, a manifestation of that heightened emotional state that was distracting her from her work and weakening all her carefully constructed personal barriers. In making the offer, he was doing her a favour, and yet he had, in a gentlemanlike manner, framed it as an honour she might bestow upon him. His gentle reference to their downstairs family warmed her heart. And she saw, as he did, the compelling symmetry with regards to the wedding ceremony itself, and more importantly still of all having their place in the proceedings. And now that it was put to her, she realized that she did want Mr. Bates in his place.

"Mr. Bates," she said, in a voice full of emotion and yet clear for all that, "there is no one I would be prouder to have stand up with me than you."

It occurred to neither of them that as a man with a limp he might somehow mar the visual perfection of that critical part of the wedding journey. They were who they were and both of them were proud of that and of each other, too.

Bates's solemn expression, appropriate to the moment of the question asked and answered, gave way to a little grin. "Thank you," he said, persisting in the interpretation that would have her confer this honour upon him. "If I could impose on you in one regard in this," he went on.

Mrs. Hughes only smiled at him. At this point there was nothing she would deny him.

"If we might keep this a secret until the day itself," he said. "Only I'd like to surprise Anna."

Mrs. Hughes understood. The anomaly of John Bates putting himself forward for such a public role and for someone of whom the two Bateses were so fond, would delight Anna.

"Oh, I think we could manage it," Mrs. Hughes agreed.

And they both laughed.

*A/N1. The italicized text is taken verbatim from Season One, Episode 3.