The cold wind blew mercilessly through the trees as Anna reached the cottage. It was
late, and darkness lay heavy on the hills and streets. Her heart pounded violently in her
chest as she turned the key into the lock and unlocked the door. Her body felt tired,
battered, and empty, and the thought of the day that had ended so horribly still haunted
her. The assault by Mr. Green had pulled the rug out from under her feet. It wasn't just
the physical violence that had tormented her, but the fact that she no longer had control
over what was happening to her. The thought of how helpless and at the mercy of others
she had been gnawed at her. And now she had to go back to her husband and look him in
the eye. She couldn't tell him what had happened. She couldn't show him how broken
she was at that moment. Her thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess, and the fear of his
reaction flooded her. What would he do if he learned what had happened to her? She
knew he was going to kill him and that would mean he himself would be hanged. How
would he look at her gaze? Would he blame her? He had warned her several times about
Mr. Greene, she ignored it. He had waved it off and insinuated that he was just jealous.
Why hadn't she just listened to him? Slowly she entered the cottage and put down her
bag. The silence weighed on her, and at that moment she felt more alone than ever
before. Anna closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. She had no
idea how she was going to survive that night. She bent over in front of the fireplace and
lit a fire. The flames began to flicker, grew larger and you could feel the first warmth, but
they did not manage to dispel their cold. It was a moment of loneliness that almost
overwhelmed her. She stood there for a while, staring into the flames and hoping that
something would change. Finally, she gave up and slowly walked upstairs. John would
be coming soon. She felt the usual warmth that flooded through her when she thought of
him, but at the same time a wave of fear came over her. She knew that she couldn't
really open up to him, that she couldn't tell him the whole truth. It was too much, too
painful. Slowly, she began to undress in the bathroom and wash again. Mrs. Hughes had
already brought her everything she needed to clean herself at Downton, but she was
dirty, dirty. After a filled eternity, she gave up. She couldn't get rid of it. She still felt it all
over her body. His hands, his smell, his taste when he had kissed her again and again.
Bruises could be seen on her upper arms when he had forcibly pushed her to the floor,
below the ribs on the right side there were prints when he had thrown her in front of the
table in the boot room. She shuddered. She quickly put on her nightgown and loosened
her hairpins. She combed her hair and braided herself for the night. In the mirror, she
could see the injuries on her face more precisely. Her lower lip had burst open and a
bruise had formed under her right eye. She quickly looked away and brushed her teeth in
the hope of not tasting his kisses anymore, but it didn't help. With slow steps, she left
the bathroom and finally stopped in the doorway to their shared bedroom. She stared at
the bed. Unease spread through her. She had always been happy here, had been as
close to her husband as a woman can be to a man. Now she couldn't imagine ever being
close to him again. All was lost. She closed the door behind her and climbed under the
ceiling on her side. She often read when her husband came home later than she did, just
to make sure he had arrived safely and to get one last kiss. Today she did none of that.
She crawled, shouted under her blanket. She couldn't sleep. Her thoughts circled and
she couldn't find an end until she heard the key in the lock. The sound of John's
footsteps made her wince. She slipped even further under her blanket. Seconds later,
the door to the room opened softly. The glow of the oil lamp, which John had probably
brought with him from below, lit up the room. She quickly closed her eyes. She lay with
her back to him, she didn't want to risk having to talk to him. "Anna," his voice could be
heard softly. She did not react. Slowly the door closed again and the room was again in
the dark. Anna could hear her husband in the bathroom next door. The water rushed,
then it was quiet again. It took a while and she could hear the bathroom door open and
close again and shortly afterwards the bedroom door opened again and closed quietly
again. The duvet next to her rustled and she felt the mattress lower. John lay down next
to her and turned to her. He moved closer to her, gave her a soft kiss on the back of the
head and then she felt his hand and he put his arm on her hip like every evening. Anna
froze. She wanted to scream, jump up, run away. But she didn't. She lay there quietly
and waited. Waited for him to fall asleep. Waited for him to turn away, as he always did
at some point when he fell asleep. Waited for the night to be over. Again and again she
nodded off briefly. Long before the time, she finally got up, got out of bed quietly and
went to the room door. She turned to her husband. He was now lying facing the door and
she looked at him lovingly. He was everything she had ever wanted. He filled her with
happiness and contentment. A pain spread through her. She had destroyed all this
happiness. In one night. And that was only because she hadn't listened to him. Because
she had ignored his warnings, had not taken it seriously. But why? John had never told
her what she could or couldn't do. Was that it? Because he had prescribed something to
her. Had she provoked it? Quietly so as not to wake up, she left the bedroom and
disappeared into the bathroom. A look in the mirror showed her that the area under her
eye had become even more discolored and her lower lip was slightly swollen. She
quickly looked away again. She began to wash and dress herself. When she put her hair
up, she tried as little as possible to look at her face in the mirror. Only when she was
done and reached for the powder box did she have to face the sight of it. Gently she tried
to cover as much as possible with the powder. She didn't use it often. Basically, only
when she dressed up a bit for her husband. For something positive, but that was also
gone now. She would never be able to look at that powder box again without thinking
about the sight of her moment. Carefully she put the can away again. After putting on
her coat and taking her bag, she quietly left the cottage and made her way to Downton.