by Jayne Bamber
“Things are different now. You are a widow.”
She looked up at him again, as sharp and judgmental a look upon her countenance as he had ever seen there; he had said the wrong thing. “It does not matter. There have been too many mistakes between us that cannot be undone.”
“Mine were not the only mistakes.” God knows I have made the greater share of them. Flirting with Louisa Musgrove rather than pursuing Anne directly the moment he returned to England last year, and giving rise to the expectations of all of the Musgrove family had been a terrible miscalculation on his part. Writing to Anne just after she had announced her engagement to another, begging her to reconsider, had not been the most prudent move, either, but he had been a desperate man. “Had I arrived in Bath but a few days sooner,” he groaned.
“But you did not. It needn’t have mattered, if only you had....”
“Spoken sooner, I know.”
Her countenance softened, and Wentworth realized that her pity was just as painful as her anger. “If you had proposed to me when you first returned to England, I do not know if I would have accepted you. I have regretted you for many years, but I did not know I still cared for you, until I witnessed your behavior with Louisa. I believe you when you said it was not intended to inspire my jealousy, but that did nothing to ease the pain you had already inflicted. We both of us wallowed in our feelings for so long that the opportunity passed us by. Both of us. I did not love my husband when I married him, but I wanted to. And how can I regret it now, when his child brings me such joy?”
“I am not asking you to regret the past, I have done with that. That does not mean we cannot have a future.”
Anne shook her head. “You are more than capable of forgetting me again. I still have the letter you wrote me, a year ago in Bath. You said you would have married Louisa, if her family had pressed you. Indeed, you would have been happy with her, I am sure of it. You were ever cheerful in her company. That, at least, I am certain you shall find again, and I am sure it will be enough for you.”
Wentworth let out a shaky breath at her dismissal. “And what of you? I understand the reason for your refusal nine years ago, when I was so far beneath you in station. Even a year ago you were right to reject me, as you were already promised to another. But now, what could possibly stand in our way?”
With a cautious glance to see if they were being watched, Anne briefly reached out and squeezed his hand in hers before releasing it. “Dear Frederick, if you have to ask, I daresay you shall never understand. There are simply too many holes in my heart, I suppose.”
“Anne....” He sighed, but he knew it was no use arguing. Her mind was made up, now more than ever.
“I mean to travel with Lady Russell for some time. I daresay we shall not meet again, but I hope to someday hear news that you have found your happiness. As for me, I have all the happiness I ever shall, and it is enough.” She briefly raised her fingertips to her lips, and placed her hand on his heart, before slowly walking away. Feeling like a man drowning, he watched her cross the room and speak to Lady Russell for a moment, before slipping quietly out of the room altogether.
***
“I beg your pardon, but poor Captain Wentworth looks rather ill over there. Sam, perhaps our new friend requires some cheerful company,” Jasper Middleton said.
Cecily smirked at Caroline as the gentlemen moved away. “I do not wonder why,” she whispered. “He looked quite taken with the widow Elliot. Poor Captain Wentworth, such a handsome fellow, and so rich! What a fine catch he would be for our new sister Harriet! He could certainly do better than a widow who is tainted by scandal, and nearly thirty!”
Caroline could not account for why her companion’s words should needle her so. Such tittle-tattle had never much bothered her before, even when the subject was one of her own friends, and she should like to call Mrs. Elliot a friend. “Sister Cecily,” said she, “I pray you would not say such things. It is very unfortunate that Mrs. Elliot’s late husband was such a man. She does not deserve to be the subject of so many stares and whispers. Can you not imagine being the victim of such treatment yourself?”
Cecily fixed her with an odd look. “But of course I can. My mother was West Indian. I do not look like everyone else here, you know. My brother does well enough because he works very hard at being gentlemanly and amiable, though I wonder if it is primarily his fortune that has made him so many friends. But such is the world, that it is more of an uphill battle for us ladies, is it not? I was kept at home with the governess, because my sisters could not stand to be away at school, bearing up under the stares and whispers, as you say, being called exotic and mulatto and having their hair fussed over, people speculating how grand my mother’s fortune must have been to induce an Englishman to wed her. Having to constantly prove that we are regular people just like anyone else. Last week someone asked me what the weather is like in the West Indies, as if I have any idea! I have never left England in the whole course of my life, and my mother was brought here when she was four years old!”
Caroline let out a little gasp. She had spent four months living with Cecily‘s brother, and he had never once been half so candid with her about his unusual origins, despite being provoked regularly about the matter in Scotland – even by Caroline herself. “Oh, Cecily, I am –“
“Do not say you are sorry,” Cecily interjected, her whisper almost a growl. She pasted a smile on her face and fanned herself for a moment, scanning the ballroom to ensure no one was listening to their conversation.
Caroline was struck with a sudden curiosity. “Given all that you have told me, why did your sister Cynthia spread those vicious rumors about Miss Darcy? Having experienced the cruelty of others, why would she wish that upon another innocent?”
Cecily stared at her with a look that conveyed far more wisdom than Caroline would expect to find in a woman nearly ten years her junior. “Can you not guess her motivation, Sister?”
Indeed she could, for it had long been her own motivation in behaving unkindly to others. “Jealousy,” Caroline muttered.
“Exactly so. There is a mean child in every family, I daresay, and in ours it is Cynthia. She did not marry early as we did, and each year that passes she only grows angrier, and meaner. She sees in Georgiana Darcy everything she would wish to be herself, and despises her for it. I am sure it is something a great many ladies in society experience, even when they have your skin tone. She has paid dearly for her bad behavior, however, and I expect her stay in Northumbria will be of some duration.”
Caroline fanned herself, making as much effort as Cecily to appear perfectly at ease, discussing mere trifles, but her companion’s words had affected her deeply. Mr. Middleton and Sam were returning, trailed by a chastened-looking Captain Wentworth, and Caroline had time only to say, “I thank you for speaking so candidly with me, Sister. I hope we are to become better friends.”
With the approach of the gentlemen, Cecily’s girlish giggles returned, but she squeezed Caroline’s hand in her own. “Sisterhood is the finest form of friendship, you know.”
Caroline smiled brightly. There certainly was something to be said of simply being nicer to people. As Lydia would say, what a fine joke! Who would have thought, after all these years of putting on airs and overcompensating for her origins in trade, that simple sincerity would do so much more for her, and make her feel so much better?
The gentlemen were before them now; her brother by marriage was looking as affable as ever, flanked by his two fine friends. Captain Wentworth looked significantly less so, though Sam was determined to ignore the fact. He clapped him on the back and laughed heartily. “What do you know, ladies, Fred here has just discovered that the primary function of a ball is to dance! The guests of honor are already engaged, but happily I have sisters enough to accommodate my good friend here. Which of you shall have him?”
“Forgive me for limiting your options,” Mr. Middleton drawled, “but my dear wife is looking far too pretty for me to a
llow her to take to the floor with anyone else, before I have had the pleasure.” He offered Cecily his arm and she made her blushing apologies as he led her away.
Caroline felt a moment of panic. It was already enough of a challenge to explain away her husband‘s absence to all his relations; she was not sure she could trust herself in the company of such a handsome man as Captain Wentworth, in the presence of so many of her in-laws. The gentleman seemed to be engaged in an internal struggle of his own, but after a moment he gave a very proper bow and extended her his hand. “Mrs. Sutton?”
***
Wentworth led Mrs. Sutton to the new set just forming, internally cursing Sam’s perpetual high spirits. He ought to have been the one to leave the ball, not Anne. He would have at least preferred to have continued sulking in the corner, if only Sam and Jasper had let him be. But no, they would push him at the ladies, the very thing Anne had both prophesied and reproached him for.
At least he was safe with his present partner, for she was married already, although her husband was not present – strange, he thought, for she was remarkably beautiful. It must be foolishness greater than my own, to keep a man away from a woman like this.
He belatedly realized he had been silent for far too long, but his head and heart were far too full to speak sensibly. Fortunately for Wentworth, Mrs. Sutton rose to the challenge of sustaining the conversation.
“If you are enjoying your stay in London as much in general as you are this evening in particular, I daresay you must be greatly looking forward to joining your friends in Kent,” she said with a wry smile.
Touché. Wentworth smiled at her. “I apologize if I appear out of sorts, Mrs. Sutton. I assure you it has nothing to do with my present company.”
“That is very kind of you to say, though I would not have you think I was fishing for compliments. I merely felt we must have some conversation between us. Would you prefer to speak about the weather?”
“Good Lord, no, I should much rather speak of Kent than the weather.”
“Have you ever been to Cranbrook before? I met my husband here in London, and have not yet had the good fortune to travel to their family seat. We spent much of the winter at my husband’s estate in Scotland.”
“I became acquainted with Sam here in London. Very recently, in fact. I came to Town just before Christmas, which I spent with my sister and her family. I met Sam through his brother-in-law, Mr. Audley, a cousin to my brother-in-law Admiral Croft – why do you laugh, madam?”
Mrs. Sutton shook her head gently as they came together for a turn of the dance. Her lustrous red curls bounced against her face as she continued her private mirth. “It is merely an observation I have shared with my ward, Miss Lydia Bennet. It seems that all of our acquaintance are somehow related to one another, and the notion amuses us.”
Wentworth savored the look of self-possessed humor on her countenance. “Shall I continue to amuse you?
“That is widely accepted as the purpose of dancing,” she quipped.
Wentworth caught himself smiling again. “Any savage can dance – I can do better than that. Pray allow me to entertain you further. You are sister by marriage to my friend Sam, who is brother by marriage to Henry Audley, who is the cousin of Admiral Croft, the husband of my sister.”
Mrs. Sutton laughed again. “So you are my long lost cousin?”
“As much as anyone else in the room, I daresay.”
“At least we are not so much brother and sister that it would be wrong for us to dance at all,” she teased, giving him another delicious smirk.
“Brother and sister? No indeed!” Another turn of the dance separated them for a moment. “Shall you also be traveling into Kent?”
He instantly regretted his query. He ought not be flirting with anybody, not so soon after Anne’s rebuke, and certainly not with a married woman. She seemed to be thinking quite the same thing, for her smile turned pensive.
“I do not think my husband will be at liberty to leave Scotland for many months yet – his affairs are of such a nature that – that is, I am not sure.” As he led her through another turn of the dance, she sighed heavily before offering him a determined smile. “I suppose I should like to become better acquainted with my new sister Cecily, and with Harriet, of course.”
“You and Mrs. Middleton appeared to be discussing something or other with great intensity. Was she perhaps tempting you with the many alluring attractions to be had in Kent?” Damn and blast! That sounded far more flirtatious then he had intended.
If Mrs. Sutton mistook his meaning, she did not let on. “In fact, our discussion was of a rather metaphysical nature.”
Pressing his palm against hers for the next movement of the dance, Wentworth raised his eyebrows at her in an expression of exaggerated surprise. “Philosophy in a ballroom? Do instruct me, Mrs. Sutton.”
He was rewarded with more elegant laughter. “I find I am hardly qualified, for I have been the pupil myself this evening. Young Mrs. Middleton is apparently wise beyond her years.”
He could scarcely credit that notion, but Wentworth was intrigued. “And what have you learned?”
Mrs. Sutton missed one of the movements of the dance to stroke her chin contemplatively, then quickly corrected herself, a very pretty blush on her face. “I suppose I have been given a deeper understanding into the character of one of my friends, and all of my in-laws. Indeed, perhaps even myself.”
This was hardly a sentiment Wentworth had ever encountered in a lady, except perhaps Anne – and never before in such a setting. Fascinating. “And what have you discovered about yourself, Mrs. Sutton?”
The dance parted them again, and Wentworth let out a heavy breath. He would need to exert some effort to remain within the bounds of propriety with such a lady. How had the simple act of dancing taken such a very personal turn?
Mrs. Sutton seemed not to mind his forward questions, and responded as evenly as if he had asked after the weather. “I have discovered that when one encounters vexation in others, doling out blame is easier than accepting it, and when one encounters folly in others, one might learn to amend their own behavior.”
Wentworth gazed at Mrs. Sutton in wonder; it was if she was speaking directly to his own heart. How could such a thing be possible, that after all Anne had said to him that night, Sam would lead him directly to such a lady, who would say these words to him, knowing nothing of his situation? It was almost too much to think of, while dancing with the pretty woman. The notion of blaming Anne for all the vexation and folly between them was indeed a fairly accurate summary of his entire relationship with Anne Elliot. He had blamed her for the vexation of refusing him twice – now three times. She had blamed him for the folly of his flirtation with Louisa Musgrove before his second proposal, and refused his third for the same reason. Should he perhaps accept his share of the blame, and learn from it – gain a deeper understanding of his own character, as Mrs. Sutton had put it? But where did that leave him?
Fearing he had been silent for too long, he merely replied, “Those are very wise words, Mrs. Sutton. I cannot tell you how that resonates with me.”
Again she blushed prettily. “I had no notion of them having any effect on you, other than to amuse,” she replied, “as you have done to me. Nor had I any expectation of encountering such wisdom at a ball myself. We must give all of our thanks to Cecily Middleton, it seems.”
Wentworth’s thanks were all for Mrs. Sutton, though this time he managed to keep his thoughts to himself.
***
James Rushworth arrived late at the ball, hoping to slip in relatively unnoticed, as he was not yet comfortable attracting too much attention in society. Yet, it must be done. His former schoolmate Sam had called on him that very afternoon, urging him to attend. After all, it had been four months since his divorce, and he felt it time to put the scandal to bed at last. This event seemed as good a time as any to do just that. For the most part, the gossip about his ex-wife’s dalliance had given way to othe
r, juicier tales. He would much rather be discussed as having attended a ball honoring an illegitimate heiress, rather than allow conversation about him revolve around his wife’s betrayal. And, as Sam had so candidly observed, it was time for him to prove that Maria’s infidelity had not unmanned him.
Surely it would not be long before the society mammas were alerted to his presence, and began filling their daughters’ ears with news of his twelve thousand a year and recently achieved status as a single gentleman once more. He was far from wanting another wife just yet, but a little female attention, whatever the motive, must be a good thing. So, here he was, pretending that all was well. Sam had noticed him, and was making his way over, an uncommonly handsome young woman on his arm.
“I was beginning to fear you would not come,” Sam said, clapping him merrily on the shoulder. “We have all just had our supper, but at least there shall be more dancing, and I have just the partner for you, old friend. May I present my new sister, Miss Harriet Sutton? Harriet, this is my old friend, James Rushworth.”
Miss Harriet gave a demure curtsey. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rushworth. Brother Sam, how many friends you have! It seems as though you know everyone in London!”
Rushworth smiled. Isn’t that the truth? “I dare say old Sam here is never more than a stone’s throw away from a friend, wherever he goes.”
“I think it is quite remarkable how everyone in London seems to know everyone else,” Miss Harriet replied with a wide smile. “I have made so very many new friends myself since I have come to Town, though I considered myself happy enough in my limited circle of acquaintances in Surrey.”
“I hear Surrey is a charming county,” Rushworth replied.
“I am certain it is,” Sam said to his sister, “though we are all very happy that you are here now, in London, with us!”
Miss Harriet said nothing, but merely blushed, and sensing his friend Sam’s expectation, Rushworth thought he had better ask the girl to dance.