The rain pattered incessantly on the backyard. John stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the wet stones, his thoughts wandering far away from what he saw. It was grief that haunted him, a deep, crushing grief nourished by the fear of losing his wife, Anna. Almost four weeks ago she had moved out of the cottage and moved back into her old chamber in the abbey. At first, John had hoped that it would be a small break. That she really needed a break. But it hadn't gotten better, it had gotten worse.

In the last few weeks, she had become more and more introverted. Her eyes had lost their luster, her smile was only occasional and never seemed to be quite real again. He had noticed it and so had everyone else. Again and again cynical remarks came from the direction of Thomas, who - John knew this only too well - simply took pleasure in the suffering of everyone else. While Mrs. Hughes had tried to find excuses for Anna's behavior at the beginning and he had believed them in his distress, he didn't give a damn about it anymore. Anna was no longer the woman he had married—she seemed to be moving further and further away from him. Her affection, her closeness – everything seemed to fade.

The desperation in him grew, but out of this despair something dark developed. Something he couldn't control. The thought of losing her ate away at him, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was the reason for her distance. What if he had never really been good enough for her? What if he had never been able to hold it? The thought that she might leave him forever drove anger into his limbs. No matter how she felt, he had a right to know the truth. Even if she didn't owe him anything, she owed him the truth.

He couldn't take it any longer. He closed the door to the backyard and descended the few steps. He would talk to her. Today. Now.

When he entered the Servants Hall, he found Anna sitting at the table, fastening pearls to a collar. In addition to her, there were a few other employees in the room, talking, drinking tea or reading a book.

"Anna," Bates said, and his voice sounded hoarse, much harder than he had intended. "Please come into the hallway."

Anna looked up: "I don't have time right now. I have to take the collar..." John couldn't be talked out of it: "Now," he looked at her sharply. Anna swallowed. He had never talked to her like that before. Everyone else had also noticed the sound and looked curiously back and forth between the two.

Slowly Anna put her work aside and rose. Without taking her eyes off her husband, she came to meet him in the hallway. He walked a few meters further into an adjacent hallway, stopped and turned to her. Anna knew that this would be a different one than they had done before. She could tell by his face.

"I've had enough of your excuses, Anna," his voice was dark and cutting. Startled, she looked at her husband. He had never talked to her like that before. "I don't know what's wrong with you and you obviously don't want to tell me. I gave you time. A lot of time, more than some others would have given you. You will walk back to the cottage. Today. And then we'll talk."

Anna had backed away, surprised by the harshness of his words. "What? What do you think?"

"You're going to move back to the cottage," Bates repeated, his voice now cold and unyielding. "You can't always avoid me anymore, Anna. I'm tired of running after you and showing you how much I need you and you're ignoring everything. You will do as I say. You will go back to the cottage."

Anna was frightened. She had never thought that John, who was always so gentle and understanding, would ever talk to her like that. It was as if she had another man in front of her, a man she had never known. Her hands trembled slightly as she tried to explain to him.

"John, please... This is not necessary. I just need some time, but I want to stay with you. I love you."

But Bates shook his head. "You love me? Then show me by finally doing what I say. I am the man, and you will comply. You will return to the cottage."

Anna stared at him in horror. Her throat was constricted as she felt the atmosphere around her change. What had happened to her husband? Why did he talk to her like that? The man who had always respected her, who had always been so patient, was now a stranger. The anger in his eyes, the coldness in his voice, were things she would never have expected from him.

"John," she whispered, "you can't..."

But he interrupted her: "Tonight, after Lady Mary is done, I'll wait for you down here and then we'll go back to the cottage together," with that he walked past her and up the stairs.

Anna felt a cold hand of fear gripping her heart. She wanted to contradict him, to tell him that it wasn't what he thought, that she still loved him, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn't imagine contradicting him. She had never seen him so angry, and she knew that the man in front of her was no longer the man she had known.

Anna knew she had no choice at that moment.

It was difficult for her to concentrate on her work for the rest of the day. She was scared because she didn't know how the evening would end. Did he perhaps know everything by now?

John had hurried upstairs after the short conversation. He was ashamed. He had never spoken to his wife like that before. With his first wife Vera, most of the time. Actually, always. She didn't deserve it any other way. But never with Anna. His loving, tender Anna. But he couldn't take it anymore. His understanding, the waiting, the fear, the hope, everything had changed nothing.

He was afraid. Had he destroyed everything now? Would their marriage be over tonight? Had he really lost her forever now?