Tuesday 11 October
On my way through the village this morning I found myself being hailed by a number of people who remembered me from my previous visit, and from them I learned all the neighbourhood news. Mr Shepherd’s daughter, Miss Shepherd, married Mr Clay, had two children by him, lost him, and returned to live with her father, only to then be taken up by Miss Elliot, who invited her to Bath.
‘A very lucky thing for her,’ said Mrs Layne. ‘Only think, she is staying with the Elliots and goes with them everywhere. What a chance for her to have some entertainment, for I do not believe her marriage was a happy one, and who knows? Perhaps she might meet an eligible gentleman and contract a more prosperous marriage.’
‘Kitty,’ said her husband reprovingly. ‘Captain Wentworth does not want to hear all the tattle.’
‘Why is it that men call information about their neighbours—people they know, and are therefore interested in— tattle, but call information about people they do not know, have never met, and never will meet news, and put it in the papers for everyone to read?’
‘There is someone I would like to hear news of,’ I said to her. ‘Miss Scott. Is she happy now that peace has been declared?’
‘Yes, indeed. She went to live with her sister, you know. As soon as peace was declared she decided to move. I have no idea why. When she lived here, she was in constant fear of invasion, being so close to the sea, but as soon as all threat had passed, she moved into the heart of the country!’
‘I am sorry not to see her.’
‘I will send her your regrets the next time I write.’
By the time I returned for luncheon, I had learnt the fate of most of my brother’s parishioners, and I had also met his replacement, a studious young man who seemed to be much liked in the parish, and who invited me to dine with him.
Wednesday 12 October
Mr Musgrove senior called this morning to pay his respects, and to invite Sophia, Benjamin and me to dine with him and his family at the end of next week. He tried to press for an earlier date, but Benjamin had urgent business to attend to, so that we could accept nothing sooner.
Thursday 13 October
I returned Mr Musgrove’s civility by returning his call today, and found Mr Musgrove at home with his wife and his two daughters.
Miss Musgrove, a young lady of some twenty summers, positively sprang out of her chair when I was announced and dropped me a deep curtsey whilst looking me up and down with admiring eyes. Her sister, Miss Louisa, was no less pretty and no less admiring. They reminded me of playful puppies, full of life and eager to please. My spirits soared, and I thought, Here is just the sort of lighthearted company I need to rid myself of the lingering griefs of the summer.
I was invited to sit down, and treated with so much cordiality that I was soon feeling at home.
‘And how do you find Uppercross, sir?’ asked Mr Musgrove, when we had all taken a seat.
‘I find it a very pleasant place to be. The air is pure, the countryside varied, and the people’—with a bow to him—‘most agreeable.’
He was pleased with my answer, and laughed and rubbed his hands together, and said he was pleased to find such good neighbours in Sir Walter’s tenants. He did not appear to remember me from eight years ago, and, as I had no desire to awaken old memories, I did not remind him.
‘Ah, yes, Uppercross is a fine place,’ said Mrs Musgrove. ‘My family has always lived in the neighbourhood,’ she went on, speaking to me. ‘My sister is married to a gentleman, Mr Hayter, who lives not far away, at Winthrop. You might have seen it? It lies on the other side of the hill.’
I said I had not yet had that pleasure.
‘Uppercross is all very well, though I wish we could go to London, or Bath,’ said Miss Musgrove.
‘What! Go to London or Bath, and miss all the fun at home?’ said her mother. ‘I will remind you of that, the next time we get up a dance.’ She turned to me. ‘We are very fond of dancing in the Great House, Captain.’
‘You must come to our next ball, Captain Wentworth,’ said Miss Musgrove.
I was delighted with the idea, for I was tempted by her wide smile and her bright eyes.
‘Promise!’ said Miss Musgrove. ‘We must have you dance with us, must we not, Mama?’ she said, turning to her mother.
‘Indeed we must. You will be very welcome, Captain Wentworth, whenever you can spare us the time.’
‘Do say you will come,’ pleaded Miss Louisa. ‘We would so like to have you here.’
‘Please?’ said her sister.
‘How can I refuse?’ I answered with a laugh, for it was a long time since I had been so pleased!
‘Now let the good captain alone,’ said Mr Musgrove, ‘before you worry him half to death. I declare, Captain, it is a troublesome thing to be the father of two such noisy girls,’ but he said it with great affection, and it was obvious he loved them dearly. ‘You will stay to dinner?’ he asked me, as I accepted his invitation to sit down.
It was with real regret that I could not accept his kind invitation, for the atmosphere in the house was a happy one, and everywhere I looked there was good cheer, but I had promised Sophia I would bear her company.
‘Then you will come tomorrow?’ he said.
‘Oh, yes, Captain, do say you will,’ Mrs Musgrove entreated me.
I could hold out against their entreaties no longer and declared myself very happy to accept.
The rest of the visit passed very agreeably, with the two girls asking me about my battles and telling me of the neighbourhood dances, and, in short, flattering me with such attention that I was sorry to leave.
The time for parting came, however, and I returned to Kellynch Hall in excellent spirits.
Sophia and I dined alone, for Benjamin’s business had taken him away from home, and we had so much to say to each other after the years spent apart that it was very late when we went to bed.
Friday 14 October
It was a fine day, the sort of crisp autumn weather that makes exercise an invigorating delight. I set out for an early morning ride, with the mist clearing to reveal a beautiful day. When I returned home for breakfast, I had a hearty appetite.
The day was spent in writing letters and seeing to business in town, then this evening I set out for the Great House. I was conscious of some curiosity and not a little apprehension as I walked up the drive, for I knew that Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove were to dine with us. How would Anne look? Would she remember me? Or would she have forgotten me? Yes, most probably, I thought, my pride suffusing me. Well, let her. I had forgotten her, carried on with my life, earned my promotion and won my fortune. I was not going to pine for a girl with no resolution, one who married another man just a few years after agreeing to marry me.
I went in, and as I found that Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove were not there, I felt my spirits lift. I was made much of by the two Miss Musgroves and I was hardly given any less warm a greeting by their parents. It was the sort of welcome to make me feel, once again, immediately at home.
Hardly had I sat down, however, when the mood changed and Mr Musgrove, looking more serious, said, ‘It is lucky you could not dine with us yesterday, after all, Captain, for we would not have been good company. We had a calamity in the family.’
‘Oh, it was awful! We were all in a terrible state,’ said Mrs Musgrove, wafting her fan vigorously in front of her, for the heat from the fire was intense. ‘My heart was in my mouth when I heard the news, for, of course, one always thinks the worst. All sorts of ideas flashed through my mind, each one worse than the last. I do not know how we got through the day.’
‘Let us not keep the captain in suspense,’ said Mr Musgrove. ‘We were very much dismayed because our grandson had a nasty fall.’
‘Ay, very nasty, very nasty indeed,’ said his wife.
‘I am very sorry to hear it. It was not serious, I hope?’ I asked, concerned for the little fellow.
‘We feared so at the time, and
called Mr Robinson, the apothecary, straight away.’
‘It was Anne who sent for him,’ said Mrs Musgrove. ‘Anne has always been very sensible and she took charge at once, so that little Charles was given the best attention right away. She sent for him even before she sent word to us.’
‘Very sensible of her,’ said Mr Musgrove.
‘Well, Robinson examined him and said he had a dislocated collar-bone. Robinson replaced it—’
‘Oh, that was nasty, and very painful for him, poor little man,’ said Mrs Musgrove.
‘You may imagine that we were all vastly relieved when he had done, and said that he believed, with plenty of rest, all would be well,’ said Mr Musgrove. ‘It gave us hope, and we were able to come home again.’
‘Though I do not believe I ate a mouthful of dinner for worrying about him,’ Mrs Musgrove said.
‘However, he had a good night and seems to be going on well,’ said Miss Musgrove briskly, as though anxious to be done with little Charles and the talk of his fall.
‘Ay, Mr Robinson does not believe there will be any lasting damage, for which we are all very grateful,’ said Mrs Musgrove. ‘We thought my son and his wife would have to cry off tonight, but they are so pleased with little Charles’s progress that they feel they can leave him for a few hours. Had things been different, they would have had to stay at home, which would have been a grave disappointment to them, for they are very desirous of seeing you,’ she said politely, with a bow in my direction.
At that moment, Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove were announced. As I heard the names I felt myself tense, despite my belief that I had put the past behind me. I did not immediately look round. Mr Charles Musgrove came into the room with a quick step and I recognized in him the same man I had seen in the year six, the man Anne had described as a family friend. As my eyes ran over him, I was surprised she had married him, for he was nothing out of the ordinary, and was even less well favoured than I remembered him. He was certainly not the catch Lady Russell had wanted for Anne, and it gave some solace to my pride to know that her schemes had come to nothing, after all.
‘Here you are, just in time to meet Captain Wentworth,’ said Mr Musgrove. ‘Captain Wentworth, might I introduce my son, Mr Charles Musgrove—’
I greeted him, and was then forced to turn my head to include his wife in my vision, and to my astonishment I saw that it was not Anne, in fact it was a woman I had never seen before in my life.
‘—and my daughter-in-law, Mrs Charles Musgrove, who was Miss Mary Elliot before she married,’ Mr Musgrove finished.
So it was Anne’s sister who had married Charles Musgrove! I was elated, though I did not know why, and then amused, and then I felt foolish and not a little angry with myself as I realized how much time I had wasted thinking about the meeting.
Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove greeted me warmly and were evidently very much interested in their new neighbour.
‘Are you sure it is all right for you to leave little Charles?’ asked Mrs Musgrove, when the greetings were over. ‘I am not easy about him. I know Mr Robinson is hopeful, but I am worried that he might have a setback.’
‘You may be perfectly easy, Mama,’ said Charles.
‘Oh, yes, perfectly easy, for we did not leave him alone. Anne is with him,’ said his wife. ‘Anne is my sister,’ she explained to me.
‘Well, if Anne is with him, I am sure he will be all right,’ said Mrs Musgrove.
‘Of course he will. Anne is the very person to look after him. She does not have a mother’s sensibilities, and besides, she can make him do anything. He always attends her more than he attends me. I do not have any fears for him, you know, for he is going on so well that I feel quite at ease. Anne can always send word if anything should happen, and we are only half a mile away.’
We all sat down, and I smiled to find that Miss Musgrove and Miss Louisa managed to seat themselves one on either side of me, both vying for my attention.
‘I believe you met Anne when you were here before,’ said Charles, as he settled himself on a sofa next to his mother.
‘Yes, we were acquainted,’ I said.
‘Really?’ asked Mary.
‘You were away at school at the time, but Anne was at home,’ said Charles. ‘It must have been in the year five, or thereabouts?’
‘The year six,’ I said.
‘Ah, yes, you are probably right. Your brother was the curate at Monkford, was he not?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘I hope he is well?’
‘Yes, thank you, very well. He is married now.’
‘A good thing, marriage,’ said Mrs Musgrove comfortably. ‘Every man should marry.’
‘And every woman,’ said Mr Musgrove, looking at his two girls benignly.
I longed to ask whether Anne was married, but my pride would not let me.
‘You will see Anne before long, I dare say, for she is staying with us at present,’ said Charles. ‘Her family has gone to Bath, but my wife was not well and needed her sister so Anne stayed behind.’
‘Indeed, I could not have done without Anne,’ said Mary.
We went into dinner. Mr Musgrove escorted Mary, Charles escorted his mother, and I was left to take in the Miss Musgroves, one on each arm.
I was delighted with them. They were full of questions about my life at sea and they made playful remarks that set us all laughing, bringing good cheer to the table, and, after dinner, they entertained us by playing on the pianoforte and the harp.
‘Such musical girls,’ said Mrs Musgrove happily. ‘They are so clever, I do not know which of them plays better. What is your opinion, Captain Wentworth?’
‘They are both very accomplished,’ I said, admiring them as much as their mother could have wished, for their faces were full of life, and their posture enchanting—though I believe they did not play very well! It was hardly surprising. They were far too boisterous to endure many hours spent practising their instruments, and I was sure they abandoned the task in favour of walks or shopping or gossip as often as they could.
‘And so they are, very good girls, both of them. I like to hear them both, and I never know which I like more, the piano or the harp. Mr Musgrove and I are spoilt for choice. Let us have some singing,’ she said then to the girls.
They were eager to do as she asked and I went over to the pianoforte and joined in with their songs. They smiled up at me most agreeably, and it was difficult to know which of them I liked best, Miss Musgrove with her glossy curls, or Miss Louisa with her bold manner and her dimples.
At last the singing came to an end and we resumed our conversation. It was not long before Charles Musgrove invited me to go shooting with him on the morrow.
‘We will meet at the Cottage for breakfast and then take our guns out afterwards,’ he said.
‘I would not like to be in Mrs Musgrove’s way, with a sick child in the house,’ I replied, though really my objection was because I felt a strange reluctance to see Anne.
I was honoured for my concern, there was some discussion back and forth, and the upshot of it was that we should breakfast at the Great House, and then to go out with Charles Musgrove afterwards.
All too soon it was time for me to take my leave. Buoyed up by an evening spent in the uncomplicated company of such pretty, spirited girls and their convivial family, I returned to Kellynch Hall.
As I walked up the drive, I found my thoughts straying to Anne once again, and thinking how strange it was that my brother-in-law should have rented Kellynch Hall. Of all the houses in Somersetshire, why did he have to rent that one? A place that held so many memories? And a place that would bring me into company with Anne? It was only by chance that I had not already met her for, if not for the child’s fall, she would have been at the Great House and I would have passed the evening in her company.
Captain Wentworth's Diary Page 13