These are scenes in the romance of Bates and Anna, some on-screen, some off; this first story covers seasons 1 and 2.

April 1912

Anna Smith had always known what she wanted. She had gone into service as soon as she was old enough, working her way steadily upward to reach her current place. Being head housemaid in a house like Downton Abbey was a big achievement, and she was more than satisfied with it, for now. As a young girl about the age of Daisy, Downton's scullery maid, she'd been pinched often enough on the servants' stairs by impudent footmen to put dreams of that nature aside indefinitely. Over time, she had developed an image in her mind of the man she would want, and then she'd put it away in a corner of her heart to wait until such a man appeared.

Sometimes, on nights when she had trouble sleeping, she would lie in the dark listening to the light breathing of Gwen, the second housemaid, and she would take that image out and go over it. He would have to be an honourable man, honest and forthright. A man of intelligence, with warmth and humour and an interest in learning. A gentle man, but strong enough to stand beside her come what may. Looks weren't that important to her—most of the remarkably attractive men she'd met hid far less attractive things under their bright surfaces—but she wanted a big man, someone she had to look up to, someone into whose embrace she could disappear. Anna might have been as much a stranger to the physical side of love as she was to the emotional, but she had a healthy imagination.

Her mother's practical daughter was well aware that such a man probably existed only in her mind, and that surely she would not find him in service. So Anna didn't look for him in the men she met; she assumed he wouldn't be there. But she also had a strong romantic streak, and she believed in hoping for the best. When he appeared, she would be ready.

These thoughts were far from her mind the terrible morning of the Titanic's sinking, when she walked down the servants' stairs to find a man standing in the hall. He was a tall man, dark-haired, leaning on a cane. Miss O'Brien, the ladies maid, accosted him, as was her way.

"I've been waiting at the back door," he said. "I knocked, but no one came."

"So you pushed in," Miss O'Brien said.

"I'm John Bates, the valet."

"The new valet." Miss O'Brien looked pointedly at his cane, but said only, "You're early."

"Came on the milk train; thought I'd use the day to get to know the place, and start tonight."

When Miss O'Brien gave no response to his remark, Anna thought it was about time someone stepped in who wouldn't make this Mr. Bates feel that he'd arrived in the Arctic Circle.

She shifted the bundles in her arms, holding her hand out. "I'm Anna, the head housemaid."

Her small hand practically disappeared in his larger one. "How do you do."

"And I'm Miss O'Brien, Her Ladyship's maid." Miss O'Brien hadn't moved, standing forbiddingly in front of him. Anna couldn't help but wonder what was under Miss O'Brien's bonnet—what was it to her if there was a new valet? Of course, she was thick with Thomas, the first footman, and Thomas had been hoping for the valet's job himself. But he wasn't going to get it; Anna could have told them both that. Mr. Bates waited politely, not rushing her or giving any indication he felt her incredible rudeness. Anna liked that about him, right off. Finally, Miss O'Brien said, "Well, you'd better come along with us, then."

He bent to pick up his valise as Miss O'Brien walked off. As he straightened, Mr. Bates's eyes met Anna's, and she couldn't help smiling at him. She liked the smile she got in return—it was polite and not effusive, but there was a hint of humour to it. She hurried off after Miss O'Brien and Gwen, conscious of Mr. Bates's heavy steps following her lighter ones.

In the kitchen, faced with the doubts, both spoken and unspoken, of the butler and housekeeper, he refused to be ruffled, simply repeating, calmly, "I can manage."

Where was their hospitality? Anna thought. It was the coldest reception she could ever remember of a new servant, so at his fourth or fifth repetition of "I can manage," she said, "Of course you can."

He looked at her over his shoulder with surprise, and a small smile as if to thank her for the support, and she liked him a little more for accepting the caution and dismay of those who ran the house with such self-possession.

As they sat at luncheon that day, with Mr. Carson assuring Mr. Bates that he needn't be uncomfortable in the presence of His Lordship, the Earl of Grantham himself came into the room, apologizing to all of them for disturbing their luncheon. There was a happy eagerness in his face when he came around the table to greet Mr. Bates, whom he introduced to them all as an old comrade from the war. As his lordship left the room, there was total silence from all the servants, until Mr. Bates looked at all of them with that same small smile, shrugged a little, and said, "You never asked."

That was when Anna was sure they were going to be friends—not only was he a man who had earned the esteem of Lord Grantham, he was a man who could find humour in a situation a lesser man might have taken offence at. She picked up her fork, feeling an awareness of the man sitting next to her that she had never felt before. And deep inside her heart, something that had been waiting, tensely, relaxed.