Fic: Going to the Ball (Downton Abbey)
Well, I was watching the 'Ideal Christmas' feature on the ITV site, and Brendan Coyle said this: "The ideal Christmas for John Bates would be just being allowed to go to the ball." How was I supposed to resist?
Going to the Ball
He could barely believe it, even now. For days it had echoed around his mind, and for days he had dismissed it as ridiculous. It couldn't possibly be right. And now he was in the back of a car with a policeman beside him and he still couldn't believe it.
Allowed to go to the ball!
It was second only to freedom in his desires these days, but he had never dared believe it possible. He refused to let himself imagine dancing with his wife, because it was impossible. But now at last he was going to do it. He might not be much of a dancer; he had never danced at the servants' ball before, but for Anna's sake he would do it tonight. His heart nearly burst at the idea of seeing her, of making this new start with her in his arms.
In his arms.
Even when she had visited him, that had never been allowed. They had sat together at opposite sides of a long table, held hands and linked feet, but he hadn't held her since their wedding night. He didn't know how he would wait even the ten minutes more before arriving at Downton.
He was going to be with Anna again.
~o~
"Anna, would you-"
Anna glanced up at the owner of the offered hand, and smiled. "Thank you, Mr Crawley, but I - I'm not dancing tonight. It isn't appropriate."
"Of course," he said, and the smile he gave her was sincere. "I hope you will have reason to dance soon enough."
She smiled in thanks, and he moved off to talk to Lady Mary. Anna settled back into her seat and tried not to cry.
It was at times like these that she missed her Mr Bates the most. At previous balls they would have been sat together, talking, immersed in some conversation, and when somebody asked her to dance, she would have gone and been back to him as quickly as she could, enlivened by the exercise and brightened by being with him. She loved those times, and now she could only long for them.
Another hand appeared before her. She ducked her head briefly in order to get rid of her tears, and then looked up. "Thank you, but-"
And then she saw him.
She didn't say a word as she slowly stood, studying him all over as if ascertaining that it really was him. Her hands ran down his arms and her eyes searched his face desperately. She didn't dare believe it. But he lifted his hands to her face, holding her still, and smiled, gazed straight into her eyes. And then she clung to him.
"How are you here?" she whispered from the comforts of his embrace.
"I was set free, just for tonight. I go back in the morning, but tonight I'm here. I've missed you," he added, emotion thickening his voice as he buried a kiss just beneath her ear. "I've missed you so much."
"And I've missed you," she murmured, her face buried in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him, ascertaining his identity again. Her hands slid around his back and up against his shoulders, pulling him closer. "You're thinner," she accused quietly, still holding him tightly. "Are they treating you badly?"
"No," he said with a laugh that betrayed true happiness. "I'm fine, truly, and all the better for seeing you. I have taken care."
"Good," she said quietly. "I worry about you."
John kissed her neck softly and pulled back to meet her eyes. "Don't worry," he told her. "It's going to be alright." His hand rose to caress her face, and she reached forward to quickly catch his lips in hers.
"People want to talk to you," she said, pulling out of his hold.
"I don't care." He kissed her again, and she giggled. How long had it been since he'd heard her giggling?
"Talk to them."
He squeezed her hand, released it, and turned around to obey his wife.
~o~
John laughed, happier than he had been in a very long time. He was seated at a table with Lord Grantham and Mr Carson, engaged in conversation regarding something little and insignificant - politics or country leadership or the recovery of Europe, he wasn't quite sure. Finally he could just enjoy a relaxed conversation with his friends, and that was all he cared for.
After a while, Mr Carson got up to refill their drinks, and his Lordship lowered his voice, turning to face John. "I understand you leave in the morning," he said.
"Yes, that's right."
"Take a room, Bates. Spend the night with your wife."
"Milord, I-" John stopped short. He had been going to protest, to say that there was no need, they couldn't possibly accept. But out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Anna's golden hair.
He turned to watch her for a moment. She was laughing in a way he hadn't seen in months, and when she saw him watching she gave him a dazzling smile. How could he turn down anything that would make her happy in these troubled times?
"Thank you, your Lordship," he said, as if in a daze, watching Anna for a moment more before turning back. "That's very kind of you. If it wouldn't be too much trouble…"
"No, no, of course not," his Lordship said quickly. "You deserve it, old chap. So does Anna, it would do you both the world of good. Don't allow-"
They were interrupted by Mr Carson's return, and fell back into their earlier conversation, but a huge weight was lifted for John. This evening had been everything perfect, but it was missing the little something of being completely alone with Anna. He needed her, and tonight he would have her. He might be able to give her something of what she needed, too. It was going to be beautiful, a night with his wife.
Everything about tonight was beautiful.
The music slowed and the song finished, dancers scattering, and their discussion was interrupted by the arrival of her Ladyship, Mrs Hughes, and Anna. They settled into seats beside their respective men, and attentions were diverted into little conversations, and so they remained for a few minutes longer. Then, Lord and Lady Grantham made their way to the dance floor, and various pairs followed. When they were alone, John held out his hand to Anna with a smile.
She sparkled back at him delightfully. "You don't dance," she said.
"I haven't done for a while, but there's no reason why I shouldn't tonight. I've not yet had the opportunity to dance with my wife." She smiled and took his hand.
They got into position just as the music started for the final waltz. Anna's arms made their way around his neck; John's arms about her waist. This music was something happening to other people; they danced to their own sweet tune, and it was the melody of their own love. Their movements were slow and gentle, swaying in their little corner of the dance floor, locked in an embrace that was more filled with love than propriety. This was all that they were.
Not long into the dance John saw that Anna was trying to suppress tears, and he bowed his head a little to kiss her eyelids as they fluttered shut against his touch. She cried openly then, and his hold on her tightened. He couldn't bear that he would one day have to let go. Would it be too soon? If he were found guilty, he would have to let go of her. He couldn't bear that. He refused to think of it; this was about making Anna happy again. He kissed her hair and buried everything of his heart into her.
Her head rested itself against his chest near the dance's close. To John, it felt like she were entering herself further into his heart; to Anna, as if she were memorising his heart, for fear of not hearing it again. She wouldn't let go, and so they stood together in the corner of the ballroom for long after the last dance was over, she crying into his chest, he trying to comfort her, trying desperately not to succumb to his own tears. Fear was for another day.
He took her to bed that night, and showed her what he could not say. They were both comforted that night, and when it came to an end, and John's police escorts appeared to take him back to prison, they said their farewells with smiles and courage. They had welcomed a new beginning together, a new year, and they would see it through.