Title: So I Sing a Song of Love

Summary: Alternate universe. John Bates tries to find the path that will lead him to find himself when meets Anna Smith, who is facing serious changes and hard decisions after leaving Downton Abbey.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

Author's note: While I had wanted to keep focused and finish my other stories, this simply wouldn't leave me alone. I've been writing this story for a while now, and it's my first time writing an AU story that's not modern, so I'm a little bit nervous! This is loosely based on the 1942 Italian movie Quattro passi fra le nuvolle (Four Steps in the Clouds). I'm really happy to be posting this and I really hope you'll enjoy it. No spoilers in this story.

So I Sing a Song of Love

by fuzzydream

Chapter One

Anna sniffed loudly as she packed up her things, trying to think of the happy moments she had spent in Downton, but none came. It saddened her to leave, in a way, but she couldn't stay anymore.

Thirteen years ago she arrived in this magnificent building, and now she was leaving.

How much had everything changed since then, and how she wished she could go back to those meaningless days! Only a week ago she had handed Mrs. Hughes her notice, thinking about how her life would change after leaving Downton; the kind housekeeper had been sad, but understanding. It was only natural for Anna to go home; so much had changed in her father's farm since she arrived, and it was no secret that Anna's job and money was no longer necessary to her family. Her sister's pregnancy made sure that it was only a matter of days until she was called to go back home, and Anna took the news with a heavy heart.

She wouldn't need to work for others anymore, not in the way things were going. She wouldn't need to share a room with anyone, and she would be able to sleep longer hours and enjoy her family once again. And she'd be leaving the family that took her as a daughter, so many years ago.

Still, it was necessary, and initially she'd stay for a month and then leave.

That wasn't the case anymore.

A soft knock on the bedroom's door startled Anna, and her eyes were wide when Mrs. Hughes opened the door quietly. Anna's lips were pursed thin and her eyes were watery with tears. Her departure was expected, but not quite so soon, and Anna couldn't tell them the real reason.

Anna sobbed once more and went back to her packing. Mrs. Hughes frowned at her sight; her eyes were also sad and she looked confused.

"I know I've told you before that you can leave today," Mrs. Hughes said in a soft voice, so soft that made Anna stop for a moment and listen to her, "But I'd like to know what's prompted this sudden decision. Is there anything wrong with your sister?"

Anna shook her head immediately, and Mrs. Hughes sighed.

"You don't need to leave now, Anna," the housekeeper pushed, "If only you'd tell what's happened."

Anna took a sharp intake of air and thought, for a moment, to tell Mrs. Hughes about everything that transpired her sudden departure. Could she tell Mrs. Hughes? But how could she? How could she voice such torments?

She simply couldn't. She lacked courage and now, especially now, self-respect for that. She couldn't tell Mrs. Hughes. It would be a disappointment too big for the older woman.

Anna shook her head while trying to compose herself. What good did crying bring? There was no point in crying now. It was far too late for that.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes," she managed to say, and the housekeeper frowned, "I'm so sorry."

"Dear girl, you have nothing to be sorry for," Mrs. Hughes said, walking over to where Anna was standing, "I only wish I knew what's happened for you to feel you must leave."

Anna sobbed once more, and Mrs. Hughes kindly embraced her, trying to comfort her from whatever it was troubling the now former housemaid. Anna felt Mrs. Hughes patting her back softly, and she knew everything had to turn out alright. It just needed to turn out alright.

"I'm ever so grateful for everything you've done for me," Anna said in a small voice, "And I was truly happy in the years I spent here. Truly."

"I'm glad for that," Mrs. Hughes said as Anna pulled away from her and closed her suitcase, "You'll be missed, Anna. Please, do write us."

Anna gave her a watery smile, "I will. Every week, I will."

She took a deep breath and looked around her bedroom one last time, thinking about the many housemaids she had shared it with, thinking about late night conversations and giggles. She'd need happy memories if she wanted to make it downstairs properly, without a tear in her eyes.

It would be difficult, but it was the least she could do.

"I might have to move soon," he said to her, "from London."

He knew he owed nothing to her; they weren't living together for years now, ever since he left prison all those years ago, and he certainly didn't plan on living with her ever again. Their time had come and gone, or perhaps it had never come at all. However, they were still legally man and wife – even if they haven't been devoted to each other for quite some time, before he had even gone off to war – and he felt she needed to at least have an idea of where he was, even if he himself didn't care much about where she had been.

"I don't care where you're going," Vera said sharply, "I don't care where you came from, John. This... reformed way of life doesn't suit me. Don't try to play the moralist husband now. We're far past that."

John sighed tiredly, closing his eyes in a frustrated manner. He knew the life he now had didn't suit her. He doubted there was ever one day where his life had suited hers perfectly; perhaps in the early days of their marriage. No, perhaps before they were married.

"I'm tired of this," John said, "We should end this once and for all. It might be better for the both of us."

Vera turned to look at him, her eyes fierce and her mouth forming a smile, a smile that didn't quite serve to make him feel any better.

"Are you talking about divorce? And how do you plan to afford it?" she asked him with a laugh, "You have no money. Never had, never will have."

"And how would you know that?"

Her upper lip trembled slightly.

"Even if you did, why would anyone grant you a divorce?"

John arched his eyebrows, "We both know that faithfulness was never a strong characteristic of you."

Her smile was gone and she narrowed her eyes when she looked at him, "You have no evidence. And with no evidence, no divorce."

He pursed his lips, "Who says I don't have any evidence? I've already spoken to a solicitor, Vera. There's no reason why we should still be married. I don't know why you're so opposed to the idea. You'll be as free as I will. You might start over."

"Start over? Is that what you plan on doing? Find a new girl for you to share dreams and hopes of a life that only exists in your head? Please," she said in mockery, taking a long drag off her cigarette, "I won't give you a divorce. I don't want to be known as the divorced lady."

He smirked at her tone; did she really believe she was a lady?

"We'll see about that, Vera," he stood up, ready to leave, and she smiled devilishly at him.

"It doesn't matter to you. You might have won me years ago, but who would want a wounded man now?" she told him, "And what will you do out of London, anyway?"

He turned his back to her and opened the door that led to a narrow hallway and then to the street.

"Do you forget that you don't care about where I'm going?"

He looked at her once more before leaving, her face full of emotions she did not bother to hide, none of which appealed in the least for him.

His life was changing and he didn't want her to continue being a part of it.

She didn't go home. It would raise questions from her parents, especially after she replied that she would only be able to arrive in a little more than a month. Instead, she went to her sister's house, in Ripon; she was expected there anyway, in a few weeks, and she knew Beth needed all the help she could get, with two small children and another on the way. Beth and her family welcomed her with smiles; her brother-in-law, Tom, owned a small store, and her nephews were more than happy to have Aunt Anna with them for more than just an afternoon. Beth, however, found Anna's earlier than expected arrival very intriguing, and Anna knew she'd have to find an excuse for her actions soon.

"You're not well," she told Anna later in the evening, after the children had retired to bed and Tom was in the far corner of the parlour reading the newspaper, "And don't tell me that you are, because I know you aren't."

Anna remained silent, and looked at the clock on the wall, shivering slightly.

"Something happened there, inside that Abbey," it wasn't a question, and Anna didn't correct her, "You've always enjoyed working there, I don't see why you'd want to leave before it was necessary. You were even excited about meeting the new valet next week!"

"Beth, there's no point in talking about it," Anna said promptly.

"I always thought Mum and Dad should have taken you out of there sooner. But of course, they never really listened to me," Beth said, shaking her head, "All those people, all those visitors..."

"Please, Beth," Anna said in a quiet voice, her watery eyes meeting the gaze of her sister's fierce ones, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I may be younger than you, Anna, and I may not be as wise as you are," Beth started, "but don't hesitate on asking for help. Alright? I'm here for you. You'd tell me if something very bad happened, wouldn't you?"

Anna felt tears in her eyes once more, but blinked quickly and looked down; when she looked up, she tried to smile the brightest smile she could at the moment, and nodded.

"Don't worry about me, Beth," she said, trying to sound cheerful, "I don't know where you get these silly notions."

It had all started so well. He had a new job waiting for him in a different place; he had grown tired of London, preferring the calm of the countryside. His divorce process seemed to be moving forward, and he was quite sure, and the solicitor assured him of that, that the many letters he took from her place could count as evidence for adultery on her part, thus enough to grant them a divorce. He knew he had no reason to pursue one, but somehow it didn't sit well for him to still be married legally when the truth wasn't that. He truly didn't plan on marrying again – part of this resolution was because of the fact that he was now a crippled, wounded man with no high expectations in life, and the other part was that his first marriage didn't give him any good experience whatsoever. Perhaps marriage and family weren't for him. He'd survive.

But he truly didn't count on being dismissed after so little time in Lord Grantham's household; his limitations certainly took the worst out of him, and the other servants weren't exactly friendly either. In the end, what he feared the most had come true: he was now unemployed, in the middle of a divorce, and with nowhere to go but his mother's house. It was humiliating and it saddened him to think of what little opportunities he'd have in the future. This one had proven to be a complete disappointment.

He marched his way through the station, checking the time on his pocket watch; soon the train would be here and he would be off to York, and then to London, to the same old life he used to have before coming to Downton Abbey full of hopes and expectations.

Anna walked around the train station, waiting patiently; by the end of the afternoon she'd be off at her parents' farm, and she had never wished to be away more than at this moment. Her nerves were under her skin after the brief morning revelation she had.

As she had promised, she stayed in her sister's house, helping her out with the new baby and the house, but the time for her to leave had finally come. Beth's pleasant company kept her spirits up, and she felt much better than in the day she had arrived. But that morning, before she left for the station, she had one more place to go to.

She had feared the doctor's words, for she knew what was to come; she had been thinking about this every day since that faithful night. She had been hoping it wouldn't come to this, but oh, how wrong she was. She might be inexperienced, but she knew how these things worked and what was to be expected. When the evidences presented themselves in front of her, she knew she had to go to the doctor, at least before she went back to her parents' farm; she knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable, but it didn't make things any easier.

"Ms. Smith," the doctor had said, his tone serious, "You're pregnant."

Anna took a deep breath and closed her eyes; there was no going back now. There never had been going back. As she recalled the brief conversation, tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she tried to control herself. It wouldn't do her any good if she started crying in the middle of the train station. She was pregnant. She was unmarried and having a baby. She was completely ruined.

The doctor had congratulated her, though it was more bitter than sweet. Of course this wasn't happy news; she knew it and the doctor knew it. But his voice was soft and his smile was sad, and she knew he wasn't being mean. She had thanked him quietly and he had told her a few recommendations.

"Best of luck to you, Ms. Smith," he had said at last.

Trying not to think of her family's reaction just yet, she was momentarily distracted by the train's arrival, and climbed in, trying to find a seat and hoping the short trip would take enough time for her to gather her thoughts.

Anna appreciated the doctor's words. She needed all the luck she could get.

A/N: I hope this isn't very confusing and fast-paced, and I really hope everyone seems in character - it's more like an introduction chapter.I'd absolutely love to know your thoughts on this one; any feedback is very much welcomed. I'll try to post Chapter 2 soon. Thanks for reading!