mastermind
my first attempt in making a one-shot (after 9 years of not writing anything). this i just more of a re-write (canon divergence) of that iconic confession scene from season 1.
i hope you enjoy, my lovelies! comments are much needed <3
~
“Because I love you, Mr. Bates! I have loved you for a very long time.”
At the sudden burst of confession, John Bates stood agape in the middle of the pathway with Anna Smith, breathing heavily, as if she had laid her whole life in a span of seconds. Maybe she did, it’s been two years since they have known each other very well. Years filled with waiting and falling invisibly with uncertainty that made Anna, probably, hysterical. So did he. But he often questioned if he was ridiculous for not taking on Anna immediately. They seemed perfect, aside from the huge age gap that would make her his daughter especially with him having a cane.
But there is no denying that Anna is beautiful: her simplicity, her joy would honestly make every man weak on his knees, making John’s even more weak.
However, these thoughts are just a reminder that he is not good enough for her. She does not deserve this, but so much more.
But what does he do when she herself comes forward? Prompting to create answers to what he and her have been questioning for years.
“I’m sorry Mr. Bates, I know it’s such a sudden surpris-“
“It did not surprise me at all.”
He heard himself blurt out loud and looked at Anna’s eyes, which were glistening, that slowly met his own.
His dearest and sweetest Anna, the comfort to his troubles and the anchor to his storms.
What would he do without her?
Two years. It felt just like yesterday she flashed her small smile in his direction the first time they saw each other. It also felt like yesterday was the day he saw her confidence in him, showing how much she can hold herself and the people she loves so dearly and protectively. Loves.
Has it really come to this?
He never expected it but it simply came in so smoothly. Since the day they met, something clicked. They’d share laughter and jokes and sneers at Thomas and O’Brien who often talk about them behind their backs. He found this naughtiness of hers enjoyable but he found it more endearing when he gets to explore more about her in his own company.
At the end of a long day at work, they would spend time in the quiet of the downstairs dining hall, reading each of their literary pleasures or they would talk about their day in hushed voices while sulking in some warm drink, making conversations lighter and her company even lovelier. Their days went domestically like this for years.
However, for the past few months, he began sensing that something was growing even deeper.
She began asking him his favorite poets and he’d find her somewhere in the servants hall reading intently a borrowed book of Keats poetry. It made him smile. Sometimes she’d even quote him,
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.
He’d smirk at her ability to impress him. It made his heart filled with warmth.
Day by day, it grew even deeper.
It’s always sad when you love someone who doesn’t love you back.
She may have looked ridiculous (for herself) at that moment but he can vividly recall how much it has troubled her and somehow by saying that, she thought it would alleviate the heaviness of her questions.
But she does not know, and may God bless her, that all along he always knew. He was always aware.
Her love was no surprise at all because he has felt it since he first set foot at Downton Abbey. She became an unimaginable constant in his life, a sudden change in his routine but something he will always look back upon. It’s as if she had control of the whole situation and now it’s suddenly out of hand. She really does not know that her company has been one for comfort to him that sought so much for friendliness, laughter and joy… love. He’d grown used to her, more fond of her.
He knew her love for him and he realized his love for her.
As if sensing his thoughts, she reached to him, reminding him of the present from the precious moments that took hold of him that seemed like centuries.
”John, you don’t need to say anything. I’ve said too much. ” Looking down, Anna removed her hand from his arm and started fidgeting with her fingers, as if unable to steer the conversation to a more amiable topic.
Seeing her discomfort, he took hold of her hand, stopping her actions by reminding her that he’s here.
You will never be too much.
Looking at their joined hands, John sighed. He began smoothing her hands with the pad of thumb.
“There is so much more you need to know. But for now…”
Sometimes we’re not at liberty to speak, sometimes it wouldn’t be right.
Reaching for his coat pocket, he took his handkerchief and wiped a single tear from Anna’s eyes while they locked eyes with each other. He wanted to lean forward and ease her worries but for now, he will be braving for her when she cannot.
The sound of the carriage coming to them from behind marks the end of their first emotional exchange.
“You should go.” He tells her
“No. I could take the long walk but I suppose not for you…” she smirked in his direction and he smiled just as much with her use of humor after heaving so much of herself.
As he climbs the back of the carriage, he reminds her again, “Find a better man.”
“I could not.” She could never.
His strong-willed Anna, always never giving up a fight. They lock eyes with each other for the last time and he grasps for her hand and gives her his handkerchief.
“John, I don’t-“
“Trust me, you do.”
As he rides the carriage away from Anna, he just thinks and hopes that by giving her a piece of him, she’ll know his answer.
Perhaps, Mr. Patrick did love her back, he just couldn’t say it. Out loud.
