Downton Abbey 1. Waiting

As she walked, she could feel the cool rain thump on her thick felt hat, yet neither the rain nor the cold seemed to chill her. It was black. There was no moon in the sky and only the darkened shape of the Abbey was visible to her. The darkness of her surroundings only seemed to add to the stillness in the air. All she could hear was the splash of the rain hitting the ground—a steady trilling thump.

It had been one week exactly since it happened. She had noted the time as the perverse anniversary passed. While the initial shock had set into something more like a steady numbness, she waited. She wasn't sure what for, but she waited for it to happen: Mr. Bates to guess, or Mrs. Hughes to inform the police behind closed doors, or perhaps even for Lady Mary to catch on. She was exposed in a way that she had never been before. She felt that the whole world knew what had happened, as if it were written in the new creases lining her face. Her shame was known, she was sure of it.

It was for this reason that she didn't want to see anybody, or go too near her fellow servants. She couldn't think about going near Mr. Bates. It was as if she might infect them with her soiled nature. She was unclean, and not even this pure Yorkshire rain could wash her shame, guilt and worry away.

She walked on, mulling over the present state of her life. Was it worth it? To keep it up, keep on living. She wouldn't want to cause Mr. Bates any more pain, yet if she was with child there could be no alternative. She would have to . . . .She didn't want to think about that. Didn't know if she had the strength to.

The cold began to creep into her skin as she rested against one of the cedar trees that guarded the main drive of Downton. She marveled at how easily it had been to slip out of her room in the middle of this god-forsaken night. As she had pulled her coat over her shoulders and slipped her shoes over her stocking-less feet she thought how easy it would be to slip away forever. The floorboards creaked as she drifted past Mrs. Hughes's room but she noted the steady hum of snoring coming from within and moved on. This is how she filled her nights now. It was easier than lying awake in an oppressively empty room where a foreign stillness seemed to creep into her. This is how she would spend her nights. Alone in this vast wilderness she was beginning to know as reality.

Anna couldn't be sure if the faint glow of morning was in her mind as she glanced up at the sky, but she began to walk back to the abbey all the same. She couldn't bear the thought of another day, a tired repetition of the previous one. She must wait, though. Wait and see what's to happen next. The pretense of her perfection with Mr. Bates must be kept up until she knew what would happen next. She did so want to protect him and the thought of his unhappiness, and her being the cause of it, contorted her face until a small burst of tears streamed down. It was the first time she had allowed herself the luxury. Yet, as soon as it started her face returned to its usual visage—a blank space.

As she gently turned the handle of the back door and let herself in she had the strange sensation that she was being watched. She closed the door and removed her heavy hat, now black with rain, and her muddy boots. Her smooth, damp feet hitting the cool floorboards sent goose bumps up her flesh and for the first time she felt cold. She began to make her way past the Servants' Hall with the intention of climbing the stairs when a voice softly called out to her.

"Anna."

Mrs. Hughes had said the name almost as a question, but it was clear that she already knew the answer. Anna slowly turned around to face the housekeeper, cringing at the thought of facing another person. Mrs. Hughes was in her rose colored dressing gown with her hair pulled back into a neat braid. Her face was one of pity, concern and sadness and it filled Anna with dread.

"I was just going out for some air, Mrs. Hughes," Anna stuttered in forced confidence, "I couldn't seem to sleep. I hope I didn't wake you."

Mrs. Hughes stood from her chair at the table and reached her arms out and clasped Anna's shoulders. "Well! Heavens you'll catch your death." She cocked her head slightly and the furrow of her brow deepened. "Are you alright?"

Anna shrugged slightly, wanting to be away from the attention "Yes, I'm quite alright Mrs. Hughes. I'm just a little tired so I'll go to bed now."

Mrs. Hughes let her hands slip from Anna's shoulders and regretfully stepped away. "If your sure your alright, Anna?" She questioned, giving the girl one last look-over.

A hint of relief flickered over Anna's face. "Yes quite sure, goodnight Mrs. Hughes," she said before turning and promptly climbing the stairs.

As Mrs. Hughes watched Anna retreat, she couldn't help but feel the pain of the whole situation. What was she to do? How could she be of help to this girl? She couldn't tell the police, Anna had made her swear to secrecy, and she most certainly couldn't tell Mr. Bates. She was caught between keeping her distance with Anna and trying to show the girl her support. She wasn't sure if she was really helping at all or just making the situation worse. She had never had to deal with something quite this sinister before and the worry of it kept her from the warmth of her bed.

She hadn't grasped the full extent of Mr. Green's damage until Anna had asked her if she could stay at the Abbey in one of the servant's recently vacated rooms. Mrs. Hughes hadn't known why on earth Anna would want to be away from her husband at a time like this, when love and support was what she needed most. Her isolation and shame deeply troubled the housekeeper and she let the fleeting thought of a drastic decision creep into her worry. What if Anna did something foolish? But how was Mrs. Hughes to prevent it, except by keeping a watchful eye on the young woman. Perhaps Anna's return to the Abbey would insure that.

Mrs. Hughes had inadvertently sunk back into her chair. Now, she shook her head at the disturbing thoughts, as if she could shoo them away. She rose from her seat and cleared away her glass of milk that had begun to warm outside of the icebox. With heavy steps she made her way towards the stairs, careful to put out the lights and glance around the room one last time before returning to her quarters.


	2. A Discovery

Anna awoke with a tense, slight gasp as her unpleasant dreams came to an end. She raised a hand to her head as panic turned to dread. It was Sunday and Mr. Bates had asked her to walk with him to church. Her head ached and she felt ill, but she had turned him down last week because of a headache and couldn't snub him twice. Better to get it over with. She lifted herself and scooted back against the headboard and a sudden bout of nausea gripped her. With no time to drape her dressing gown around her she sprinted from her room and down the hall and quickly emptied the contents of her stomach in the women's lavatory. As her body began to recover she lifted her head and stared into the reflection she saw in the looking glass. Her bloodshot, tired eyes swelled with tears at the force of her body retching and white fingers ghosted over her mouth as she wiped it clean. She rinsed her mouth and resettled her hair.

It dawned on her then. Her cycle had passed. In the stress of keeping the secret, of avoiding Mr. Bates and Mrs. Hughes's worried looks, she hadn't given a thought to the prospect of being pregnant. She hadn't thought it possible. Especially after trying so long with her husband and nothing to show for it. It couldn't be.

Her hand began to shake as she gripped the sink. It couldn't be. "No. It couldn't be happening to me." Slowly her countenance crumbled and she sank down against the closed bathroom door in a flood of emotion. This was the end. After all she had been through with John, his previous wife, his jail sentence and conviction, their struggle to have a child of their own. This was how it would end?

She let herself dissolve into the cold black and white tiles of the floor, the white paint of the walls that was peeling away at the corners with age. Her hair once again coming free from it's neat braid and sticking to her face and neck, wet with tears. She didn't know how long she had been there; perhaps it was hours or merely minutes. She got up slowly, her head pounding from her body's exertion. She straightened her nightgown, tucked her hair back into place and swept her tears away. Taking a deep breath she opened the door and returned to her room.

As she walked away the door at the far end of the hall creaked open. Daisy could just barely make out a figure walking down the hall in the early morning light. Shadows cast an eerie light against the white walls of the bathroom at the end of the hall. She had heard something. It sounded as if someone had been ill. The figure moved with a heavy step and hunched shoulders as if under a heavy blanket. The figure entered one of the servant's rooms and Daisy noted that it must be Anna, she had recently moved back to the Abbey due to both Lady Mary and Lady Grantham needing a lady's maid.

As the figure closed the door Daisy lingered with her head peaking out, wondering if there was more to the figure than early morning sleepiness.


	3. Hands

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed my story! I honestly didn't think anyone would read it. Any commentary is much appreciated. I know this story is a bleak one but it's hard to make Anna unhappy for long. Thanks for the read!**

Church had been the usual affair. Anna had barely heard a word Reverend Travis had said and only knew when to stand and sit in mock devotion when John Bates squeezed her hand or Mrs. Hughes skirts swished as she stood up to recite a hymn with the rest of the congregation. Lost in her own thoughts, time seemed to slip by and suddenly people were standing, filing out of the church and shaking hands with Mr. Travis. She tensed up in anticipation of facing the world, waking from her numb dream.

He was holding her hand and leading her out of the church, past the neighbors and townsfolk, wishing them happy Sunday and enquiring after their health. She was walking along the path home now. He was talking, speaking of Lord Grantham and something about an upcoming trip to London when he suddenly stopped.

"Anna, are you listening?" he enquired, concerned at his wife's clear distraction. "You seem like you are a million miles away."

Realizing that she must feign composure Anna straightened up. "I'm sorry, I was just thinking about some things I must do for Lady Mary. There's a dress I must mend."

She tuned back to the path a little to harshly and he took her hand.

"Tell me what I've done. Please. I hate to see you this way."

She tensed up as soon as her hand met his.

"You've done nothing, nothing at all. I'm just under a bit of pressure seeing to both Lady Mary and Her Ladyship is all. I'll be alright once a new ladies maid is hired for Lady Grantham."

The firmness of his hand encompassing hers was relentless. She had forgotten just how secure his hands were.

"I know that is not all. We must talk about this. I need to know why you don't love me anymore."

He had said it so plainly that Anna couldn't help but melt under his pressure just a little. The cracks were beginning to show. She longed to reach her hand to his cheek and smooth it across his skin, reassure him that she loved him, save him from the torment he was in. But she pictured the torment he would be in if he knew the truth. They were no longer from the same world. She could no longer touch him. She knew his temper, his rage at any injustice and her certainty that he would kill Green, if he knew, was unwavering. She mustn't let on.

She stuttered and looked down. "I do love you. I—I'm sorry. . . I must get on." And with that she began to walk, her hand pulling away from his. The tears came involuntarily and she almost didn't notice them at all until she felt the small streams slip down her chin and neck and between her bosom. Her face remaining still, numb and exhausted from the emotion of the previous month. She hurried on to the house and reached the servants entrance. She quietly slipped up to her room to freshen up before the family would return and Lady Mary would want to change.

She thought about the future—his future without her. She would have to do it. There was no other option. The only question was to how. She thought about poison—arsenic—like Vera had done. It put a bad, metallic taste in her mouth. She couldn't do that to John, not the same way his first wife had done. What about jumping. She could do that if she had enough courage. It was easy with no mess made. She shuddered at her morbid thoughts and covered her face with her hands attempting to shut out the world. Jumping would be the way to do it. The Thames offered her escape. Her brain reeled. When would she be in London next? Lady Mary was going into town next week with Lady Rose. Then. She would do it then. She had to.

-oOo-

Lady Mary was seen to and the crest of the day had been reached. The dinner chatter that filled the servants hall sounded dull and far away when Mr. Bates turned to her and whispered: "What are you thinking about?" He was so gentle with her. Perhaps something drastic wasn't necessary after all.

"Have you ever thought of going to a place where no one knows us? Where we could just start over?" She asked curiously, a flicker of hope and desperation in her eyes at the thought of a kind of future that might exist in another time.

He looked at her with surprise and a little concern. "What's brought this on?"

Immediately, she was brought back to reality. They were not in another time. "Oh nothing, I'm just being stupid."

She turned back to her roast and Mr. Bates could see the familiar mask fall back into place. The murmur in the hall seemed different somehow from what it had been a moment before. He wondered how lives could go on as normal when something was so clearly wrong. Gently he put his spoon down on his plate and let his fingers slip under the table and brush against Anna's hand, gently gripping her chair. She didn't want him to touch her. She knew it was wrong to let him, now, but his touch was so tender that she let him. He smoothed his hand over her knuckles and slowly wrapped around her trembling fingers.

The mask was cracking. She could feel the emotion welling up and threatening to spill out, but she let him comfort her all the same. Slowly she picked up her spoon and continued to eat.


	4. Mrs Hughes's Sitting Room

**This story was getting way too intense so I had to add a lighter chapter. I'm pretty sure I read a similar fic about Mrs. Hughes and a chair but I'm not sure where, so thanks to whoever started this prompt.**

The downstairs morning bustle had hardly begun but already Mrs. Hughes could feel that it was going to be a fine day. She could judge the tone of a day like she could the thread-count of the new sheets on the beds or the clarity of the crystal vases in the sitting room. She simply felt it.

The Ladies of the house had gone to London to view a dress show and Lord Grantham and Tom seemed to be enjoying the relaxation that quasi-bachelor life offered, if only for a few days. The dinners would be simple and the workload light. She had already given a number of the maid's time off to visit family or simply enjoy the blooming Yorkshire countryside.

A small stream of light illuminated the ledgers that she was working on and she traced the beam back to the window and noticed the powder of dust that swirled up the thick column of light. Smiling and giving her head a little shake, she made a note to have the downstairs rooms turned out and cleaned during this moment of reprieve.

She rose from her desk and reached to open the window that was nearly level with the ceiling, stretching towards the latch that would give her fresh air. The strain against her corset and the stiff fabric of her gown was unrelenting. Sighing, she dragged her desk chair towards the window, unwilling to give in. With a slight hitch of her skirt she placed her foot on the swivel seat and, using a nearby shelf for leverage, hoisted herself onto the unsteady contraption.

Her regret was immediate as she felt the unsteadiness of her feet and as she tried to right herself a firm knock sounded. Of course it would be him at this moment. His timing really was impeccable. She looked down and contemplating taking her chances, but rolling her eyes, she decided that the risk was too great at her age. How did she always seem to get herself into these predicaments?

"Come in." She said, sighing, giving in to the shock and tease that she knew he would inevitably greet her with.

She knew him far to well.

"Mrs. Hughes!" He bellowed as soon as he registered the scene before him. "What are you doing?"

She gave him an exaggerated eye roll. "What does it look like I'm doing, Mr. Carson? I'm trying to get a little air into this stuffy room."

He continued to show a look of concern and confusion. "Well yes, but what are you doing on that thing?" He pointed repulsively to the offending object.

"Well, it was the only thing that was convenient and it seemed a sound idea at the time." She sighed and gave him a rather exasperated look. He continued his mystification. "Well, can't you help me down? I don't think I could afford to be stuck up here all day."

He came out of his puzzlement with a start. "Oh yes, let me help you."

He was across the room in seconds but found he had no idea how exactly he could assist her? He glanced at her waist. Perhaps he could lift her down. No, no that would not be proper; maybe if he held the chair steady, or offered his hand to her.

His hesitation wasn't lost on her and she looked down shyly, mumbled a small "hmm" through pursed lips and brushed her hands against her hips, indicating that that would be the safest solution. Her cheeks burned as the awkwardness of the situation intensified but his hands were on her waist in a second, strong and a perfect fit against the whalebone of her corset. He lifted her seemingly without any strain and she was down instantly. She took a wobbling step back and looked down, straightening the front of her dress.

"Thank you Mr. Carson. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along just now. I expect they would have found me as they were ringing the gong for dinner." She dared to look at his face and just as she suspected his cheeks were flushed and his eyes flustered.

"No trouble at all Mrs. Hughes, no trouble at all. I'll just get that latch for you."

She smiled coyly. She couldn't help herself. "Thank you." Yes, it would be a good day indeed.

As he clicked the latch that held the window shut and raised it an appropriate level he couldn't help but ask her a question that had been plaguing his mind. "Mrs. Hughes, I was wondering if you've noticed anything strange about Anna lately?"

Her easy demeanor froze into a tight bundle of anxiety as the situation with Anna flooded back. Still, she tried to appear calm. "Should I notice something?" she replied in feigned ignorance.

He had turned back to her now, facing her intently. "Well, no. Only, I've noticed a change in her that I can't quite put my finger on. She seems distant."

Mrs. Hughes allowed herself to shift from uneasiness into sadness, but she continued to mask it well. "She's been keeping up with all of her work and hasn't given me any cause to question. I suppose she may have had a falling out with Mr. Bates. But you know how it is, lovers quarrels are soon to mend."

Mrs. Hughes blushed at the last comment. How exactly was Mr. Carson to know anything about lovers? Oh, she was a terrible liar after all. It was too much to lie to him.

Her dip in etiquette was evident on his face and a small blush rose to his cheeks. "Well, I suppose you're right, Mrs. Hughes. You know her better than I."

They paused, neither one wanting to leave but not relishing the awkwardness that invariably settled into conversations like this.

"Well, I must get on. Thank you again Mr. Carson." She smiled brightly and stepped into the hallway as he held the door open for her.

"Not at all Mrs. Hughes. Not at all."


End file.

Downton Abbey, Angst, Hurt-Comfort