Yorkshire, England – Reality

He pulled his car onto the gravel and parked it. Leaning over the steering wheel, he peeked toward the top of the house and huffed out a breath. In another moment he had his bag in his hand and pushed from his car to walk the winding gravel path through well-kempt flowerbeds to knock on the front door.

As he waited, turning on the spot to appreciate the scenery surrounding the house, the door opened and he spun on his heel to greet the woman standing there. Her brow furrowed, bringing a perfectly manicured eyebrow to raise at the sight of him before her imposing cheekbones reflected her utter lack of impression at his presence. The attention she paid him in intense study was more invasive than if she stripped him naked on the drive… And twice as embarrassing. Swallowing, the intimidation of someone a third his size utterly bewildering, he extended a hand.

"John Bates, I'm the-"

"The murse, yes I know." She looked him over again, her lips pursing before she took his hand in a firm but swift shake. "Mary Crawley-Talbot, your employer. Please call me Mary. It's shorter to say and since you're going to be in the house I don't want to be so formal it's awkward to maintain."

"I can do that." John smiled, "And it's lovely to finally meet you in person."

"And now I know you're also a liar." She stepped to the side, "Would you like to come inside?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you need an excuse for something?"

"I…" John coughed, "You called me a liar."

"Is there a question there?"

"Yes. I…" He almost gaped at her, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. "Why'd you call me a liar when I said it was lovely to meet you?"

"I'm absolutely certain, Mr. Bates, that whatever I am, it's not lovely to meet me. I'm demanding, specific, and very detailed oriented. All things you learned from my requests and my many emails."

"I like working with people who know exactly what they want and what they need from my service." John shrugged, "It was no trouble."

"It was a lot of trouble but at least you weren't lying there." Mary pointed toward the interior of the house, "This conversation continues better indoors. I hope you like dogs."

"Dogs?"

"Yes, dogs, plural. I hope you like them." Mary moved inside without waiting to see if John would follow, her attitude indicating he had no other choice.

John stepped through the door, his hand on his bag, and paused when Mary gave a high-pitched whistle. Before he could ask after the odd noise, two dogs converged silently on her position, one from the sitting room and the other from the second floor. The only indication of their presence before they stood before John was the soft click of their nails on the floor. Otherwise they kept as still as sentinels.

The one from the sitting room, a Dutch Shepherd, led the other in an investigation of John. Neither of them barked as they inspected him as thoroughly as Mary had from her position on the front step. They circled him twice each, neither bumping into the other or seeming overly excited in their efforts. It was as if they followed trained orders drilled into the better than any solider.

John kept still during the investigation, breathing slowly to calm himself as the two dogs paced him. Satisfied with the result, they padded off, separating in the corridor for one to go upstairs and the other to continue into the sitting room. It all took less than a minute and in almost complete silence.

"They're incredible."

"We think so." Mary shrugged, "And we start with them as it's always best to meet the dogs first, so they don't surprise you."

"I'm still a little surprised."

"Then let me rephrase," Mary paused, "It's so you don't surprise them."

"Ah." John swallowed again, the weight of the moment almost pressing him to the floorboards. "I'm impressed by how calm and well-behaved they are."

"It's because they like you.."

"Really?"

"Really." Mary pointed John toward the first room on the tour. "Carl's not usually so quiet around new people. They make him nervous because he doesn't usually trust them."

"Which one was Carl?"

"He was the Dutch Shepherd, my grandmother's watch dog."

"And the other?"

"That's Bernie, he's a German Shepherd and a seeing-eye dog. You'll meet him again in a few minutes." Mary led into the sitting room where Carl stood vigil at the front window while two old women played a card game from overstuffed chairs. "And these are your first patients of the day."

"There she goes," The woman with a cane hanging from the back of her chair spoke first as she laid down a card. "Speaking about us as invalids when we're in the same room."

"I'm just introducing you to the new nurse."

"Because we're so helpless we need twenty-four-hour care?" the first woman almost snorted. "We can take care of ourselves I'll have you know."

"Let her keep her fantasies." The other woman, with a longer face, stood and held out her hand to John. "Isobel Crawley, the mother-in-law… Or, the first one."

John frowned, confused, but Mary cut in. "Isobel's my first husband's mother. He passed… Going on six years ago now. Isobel's been kind enough to keep my grandmother company as she gets older."

"We're racing one another to the grave, don't let my granddaughter fool you." The first woman finally eyed John, measuring him up and down before extending her hand to him. "Violet Crawley, the grandmother and chief invalid."

"Keep speaking like that and I'll think I was hired by mistake." John nodded toward the dog, keeping steady watch out the window. "He's exceedingly well trained."

"You have Anna to thank for that."

"Who?"

"She's the third one of us you'll be babysitting." Violet looked at Mary. "I assume he knows there are three of us involved in this venture he's taking on."

"I do." John answered before Mary could. "The instructions were clear."

"We're not overly difficult but we make up for quality in quantity. And Anna-"

"He hasn't met her yet Granny." Mary tapped John's shoulder. "Better a tour of the main floor so you know your way around. Wouldn't want you lost if one of them falls and can't seem to get herself back up."

She led him from the sitting room into a large room, formerly some kind of library, converted to hold two medical style beds and various equipment. "This, obviously, is their room. The bathroom, through there, was retrofitted for them."

John peeked through the door, noting the shower with no lip, a convenient seat, and a bathtub with an easy-access door. The counter held evidence of two women, their various accouterments and medications delineating their sides. And the toilet with bars on either side of it to help them stand back up.

"What kind of bathroom help do they need?"

"None, yet." Mary paused, "Unless you do hair. They're very particular about that."

"Sorry, no expertise or experience."

"Not a problem." Mary waved him through the bedroom to the large kitchen. "They've got their own refrigerator, since they're both on regimented diets."

"They can't like that." John checked the fridge and then turned to Mary. "I've worked with enough patients to know that they never like having restrictions on their food."

"Granny certainly doesn't and while Isobel pretends to be jovial about it, I've watched how she looks when George has candy she can't have anymore." Mary led him into the dining room. "They take dinner with the rest of us, as a family, but breakfast and lunch are worked according to the schedule for their medications. Gwen'll give you the rundown of those when she gets back."

"Gwen?"

"She was our full-time nurse but she's going to do graduate work and had to cut back to nights and every other Saturday."

"Explains my day-only schedule."

"They sleep through the night and it'll let her get her work done." Mary brought them back around to another sitting room. "This is where my children play, sometimes, and they know they're not supposed to go in to where Granny and Isobel are unless a nurse, myself, or Henry is there."

"Why's that?"

Mary winced, "George and Caroline are both rambunctious and they can play… rough. I want to make sure someone can stop them or help Granny and Isobel."

"What are my parameters in regard to your children?"

"If they invite you to play, go ahead. If they're about to do something dangerous, stop them. And if they look like they might injure anyone, stop that too. Otherwise they're not your concern and you needn't worry about them. I didn't hire you as their nanny or governess." Mary finished in the foyer, aiming for the stairs. "There's a half-bath on the main floor. The children know that's the one they use if they're down here with the telly or playing. They're not to go in Granny's bathroom for any reason. I don't want them messing anything up in there."

"Sorry," John called up to her, noting Carl padding into the hall to watch them a moment before rejoining the older women in the sitting room. "You mentioned Henry. Who is that, if I may ask?"

"He's my husband. He works full-time, like me, that's why we need a full-time caregiver in the house."

"What does your husband do, if I can ask?"

Mary stopped at the top of the stairs, "He designs sport and race cars."

John noted one of the designs hanging on the wall and his mouth opened a little, "Henry Talbot? The Henry Talbot?"

"That's right." Mary frowned, "You know him?"

"He won more British Grand Prixs than anyone alive." John whistled, pointing at the design. "The man that drew that was… A gifted driver and an expert in the machine."

"He always said it was child's play." Mary pointed to the bedrooms as she moved down the hall. "That's Henry and mine, those two are for our children and those bathrooms are ours. I'd rather they not be used by anyone else, all the same to you, but if needs must then needs must."

"Of course." John gestured to a room between the boys' bedrooms and the master. "Office then?"

"Yes, that's Henry's office. Given the kind of proprietary information he has, it's a invite-only situation. The door's usually locked but, all the same, don't go in there."

"I know the boundaries of my work."

"Good."

John pointed to the last room, "And that?"

"This," Mary knocked on a door and waited for a woman's voice to bid them enter. "This is Anna's office."

"I prefer design studio." John noted a woman, her hair tied up in a messy bun to keep it out of her face with a pair of sunglasses keeping any loose hair back on the top of her head, and her hands mucked up with clay as she sculpted in a basin. "It used to be on the ground floor until it flooded in some unseasonable rain and damaged my equipment. Now my room is down there because I'm the only one who can sleep through the sounds of beeping and breathing machines."

"Just that?" John waited, noting a twitch in her posture as her head turned toward him but her eyes did not. "It wasn't because you wanted a waterbed?"

"Waterbed… I like that." She gave a little laugh and John noted the computers, digital apparatus, and something that resembled a large-scale children's toy with pins that pressed in the shape of whatever indented them. He frowned at it, a board creaking under his foot when he stepped closer for a better look, and almost jumped when she spoke. "Please don't touch that. It's very sensitive and I've set it for the parameters of my current project. I can't afford to reset it."

"Sorry." John stepped back and noted the other dog, Bernie, wrapped around the stool the woman- Anna- used to work. "It's an interesting tool."

"It tells me if I've got the design right when Mary's fastidiously working at her office in the city." Anna pulled back from the clay and slid carefully from the stool. She took a measured step to her right and nudged the side of a large barn sink with her hip before stepping on a foot pedal to activate the water. "You must be the new nurse."

"That's me, Nurse John Bates."

"Well, I'm Anna Smith. The third of your charges in the house."

"It's a pleasure to save the best for last." He waited, watching as she used her elbow to find the towel that then dried her hands. She reached for the sunglasses on her head and he held up a hand to stop her, lowering it sheepishly to speak when he caught Mary's lip twitch toward a smile at his gaffe. "No need for those."

Anna's hand paused at her glasses before she lowered it, turning to face him with eyes that did not focus in his direction. "You don't mind?"

"You've got lovely eyes, if you don't mind me saying so, so I'd rather see them."

"Mary helps bring them out with makeup in the mornings but so few people get to appreciate her work."

"She does a wonderful job." John turned to Mary, "My sincere compliments."

"I'm not sure why Anna allows me to bother, given she doesn't know the quality of my work and it might, for all she knows, be child's scrawl."

"What she means is, what's the point of doing up the face of someone who never leaves the house so the artwork if never seen."

"Not at all."

"Mary Crawley Talbot you're a bald-faced liar." Anna paused, shrugging as she reached her hand out to grab a long white cane. "We still have our undeniable vanities… Even if we can't appreciate them."

John waited a moment, measuring the air between the two women, before speaking to Anna. "Are the sunglasses one of those vanities?"

"Yes." Anna laughed, "Not mine, to be sure, but they are a vanity."

"If they're not for you then why wear them?"

"The soulless stare I have now tends to put people off." Anna tapped a free finger near her eyes. "I can't see their expressions but I can hear it in their voices when they don't know where I'm looking. It makes people nervous so I decided to use the glasses to distract their gaze and keep their focus."

"Very Ray Charles."

"That was the idea." She sighed, "And it makes others more comfortable so, you could say, it was for their vanity."

"Well, no need to trouble yourself on my account." John gestured to the machines, laughing at himself at the repeat of his earlier gaffe and heard Anna laugh with him. "It'll take getting used to."

"So much of human experience is visible micro expression. Barely perceptible when you can see it but there, giving you clues and tells without you even being consciously aware of it. Or aware you're doing it."

"It's true." John bit the inside of his cheek, "Must make your condition very lonely."

"It does." Anna's hands gripped the cane a moment before a release of tension washed through her body. "No one's ever told me that before."

"I'm sorry if-"

"No," She put out her hand, stopping him from continuing. "It's nice to have someone recognize it. To… To put words to the experience."

"They're not my words but I'm glad I could offer them."

"Me too." Anna came around the table, holding out her hand as Bernie sat up and padded beside her. "It'll be a pleasure working with you."

"And you." He shook firmly before glancing down at Bernie. "I know he's on duty but would your dog hate it if I scratched him?"

"He'll shake your hand if you kneel down." John watched Anna's face as he knelt in front of the dog. She then spoke something in Italian and Bernie extended his paw to John.

John took it, grinning at the dog. "It's good to meet you."

"Bernie, abbaia una volta."

Bernie looked to Anna, and she repeated what she said in Italian, and barked once. Anna smiled, John catching it as he looked up at her. "He says 'hello'. Or, as close to 'hello' as I can allow his bark to be. Anything else and he'll bring Carl up here in a fright thinking someone got into the house."

"He understands Italian?"

"Seems to since he responds when I speak it to him."

"Impressive measure." John stood, releasing Bernie's paw as he did. "Not many people go to the trouble of such thorough training.

"It ensures he can't follow any instructions but mine." Anna gripped her cane toward her chest with both hands again. "It's the same with Carl."

"He understands Italian too?"

"No. But he only responds to Dutch commands."

John gave a low whistle that perked Bernie's ears. "You speak Italian and Dutch?"

"One should study the masters in their language, as my father always taught me."

John laughed, "Of course, Bernie and Carl."

Anna's eyebrows rose, her eyes tracking slightly closer to where John stood. "You know the significance of their names?"

"I can't claim your level of skill but I have dabbled in art before." John pointed to Bernie, "Bernie is short for Bernini, I'm guess. Ss in Gian Lorenzo Bernini, the rather famous and skilled sculptor."

Bernie's tail thumped on the ground and he smiled, as if recognizing the name. John put out a hand for Bernie to sniff before the dog dipped his head to allow for a scratch. "Which means your Dutch shepherd, Carl, is named for Carl Bloch."

"That's right."

"I'm curious why you chose Bloch over another Dutch master."

Anna shrugged, "It was either Bloch or Vermeer and since George struggled with the name 'Johannes', I kept it simple."

"Dutch names for your Dutch Shepherd. But Bernie's a German Shepherd."

"I sense an implied question there."

John worked his jaw, noting Mary leaning against the wall as an observer to the conversation as she contributed nothing. "Why not speak to him in German?"

"The Germans and Austrians were good with music but not so much with art as far as the 'masters' were concerned. So it left me with Italians and the Dutch as the only options for names."

"Why not find a dog more suited to the names you had in mind?"

"Because Carl and Bernie got on so well in training." Anna let one of her hands hang down and Bernie moved his head under it so she could scratch behind his ears. "At least that's what Mr. Carson said when he recommended them to us."

"Do they get on because they're similar breeds?"

"They're close cousins."

John frowned, "Is Mr. Carson someone else in the house I've yet to meet?"

Anna gave him a smile, "No, he's the dog trainer. Trained my first seeing eye dog and I've used him ever since."

"Venus was a sweetheart." Mary commented and Anna nodded.

"She was. George loved her and she loved him. Gutted him so badly when she passed just last year. Gutted us all really."

"Venus?"

"After the first supposed sculpture of her form."

"I'm starting to think I should've boned up on my art history before I took this job."

"Maybe you should've but, in the meantime," Anna held out a hand and John stepped close enough for her to hold his hand to guide him around the studio office. It was large enough to leave a decent space for Anna to walk it without bumping anything and for Bernie to either keep pace or stay just behind her. "I'll explain what all this is so you know what I do in here if I ever need your help."

She directed him to the 3-D printer, the tactile machine he almost touched, her sculpting table that read the information in real-time to a computer that would speak commands in an oddly real-sounding British voice she named 'Jarvis', and her guided drafting table. "I used to be an architect, at Mary's firm, but then… Well, I still do a bit of it but it's easier to work 3-D sculpture now."

"For what?"

"Films, models, and toy companies. You've no idea how lucrative that industry can be." She led him back to the door and released him to hold out a hand to Mary. "Gwen's coming by this evening then?"

"Yes. She had to get her course schedule today and then she'll be by later to show Nurse Bates here the ropes."

"Perfect." Anna smiled and John caught himself staring at her again. "She wanted something for her fiancé and I've got just the thing to give her. Plus, she promised to finish reading aloud to me."

"Gwen reads to you?"

Anna pivoted in John's direction. "She's got a lovely voice and while I can find no end of things to read in braille, not everything gets translated. When she's got a free moment she reads to me."

"No audiobooks?"

"All the time but they've not got a narrator for Caustically Beautiful yet and I've been dying to read it since the author talked about it on her blog."

John noticed the book on a counter, leaning over to read the blurb so as not to disturb its position. "Well, it looks interesting."

"Which is what everyone says when they think it'll be trash."

John laughed, "You'd be surprised the books I read to my mother when she was…"

"Unable to read?"

"Just that." John took another look around the studio. "I'll let you get back to your work, Ms. Smith, but it was nice to meet you."

"And lovely to meet you Nurse Bates."

"It can just be John, if you like."

"Takes less syllables." She spoke in Italian again and Bernie moved his head under her hand to guide her back to the sculpture. "Then I'll be Anna, since we're being informal and being economic with our syllabic usage."

"As you wish."

"I do." She grinned, "I look forward to working with your expert care."

"I'm not an expert."

"No?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Said only by people who are true experts in their profession." There was a moment between them before she spoke again, "It was a sincere pleasure John."

"It was all mine." John followed Mary into the hall, waiting until the other woman closed the door. "Not what I was expecting for my third patient."

"I wouldn't think so, given she's mostly independent but there are things she can't do anymore and it's nice to know she won't have an accident without anyone around to help her if she needed it."

"She does seem very capable."

"It makes her the trickiest of the bunch." Mary showed him another half-bath and an attic space before leading them back to the foyer. "So, now that you've seen the madhouse, are you still interested in the position."

John flicked his eyes up toward room where he could now make out the vague computer-generated voice through the floor. "I think I'd be a fool to say no."