“Maybe we should let our womenfolk negotiate the resolution of our differences.” Harville laughed at his own thought.
“It would be a gentler way.”Wentworth turned his attention to his friend. He let down his guard with Harville, who had an unaffected easy kindness of manner, which denoted the feelings of an older acquaintance.
Harville’s countenance reassumed the serious, thoughtful expression, which seemed its natural character. “It is the nature of women to seek common ground with others and to lavish attention on, as well as offer protection to friends and family. A woman cannot forget someone she loves.”
His words brought Frederick pain although Thomas Harville was perfectly unsuspicious of inflicting any peculiar wound. “I am sure women might argue that we men have always a profession, pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take us back into the world,” Frederick reasoned. “Yet, I will not allow it to be more man’s nature than woman’s to be inconstant and forget those they do love or have loved. I believe the reverse. I believe in a true analogy between our bodily frames and our mental; and that as our bodies are the strongest so are our feelings—capable of bearing more rough usage and riding out the heaviest weather.”
Thomas took the spyglass from Frederick’s hand and began to search the shore for results of their siege. “Songs and proverbs, all talk of women’s fickleness. But saying something loudly or frequently doesn’t make it so.”
Frederick replied, “Both men and women—we each begin probably with a little bias toward our own sex and upon that bias build every circumstance in favor of it which occurred within our own circle; many of which circumstances, perhaps those very cases which strike us the most, may be precisely such as cannot be brought forward. I suspect that men and women are much alike. But because our circumstances are different, we see the world from distinct perspectives.”
Harville chuckled and clapped Frederick on the back. “Captain, I, for one, need a few hours of sleep; though you might refuse to take time in your quarters, I will take time in mine.” He handed the glass to his commanding officer.“I will see you with the dawn unless you send for me before then.”
“Hopefully, with the dawn, this will all be over,” Frederick mused. Then his friend moved away into the night, and he was alone. Staring out into the darkness, his thoughts returned to Anne Elliot. He would never find a woman to love the way he loved Anne. He wanted a home with her—wanted children with her—wanted to live out his days with her. But his hopes died when her family convinced Anne Elliot to break their engagement. Silently, he pushed the hurt deeper, feeling it in his gut—in his soul. The hurt had lessened over the past year. Now he could compare it to having a knife plunged deeply into his heart and then twisted; or maybe it was more like a wild animal ripping off his leg at the joint. Swallowing hard, he turned back to the task at hand—trying to leave his love behind. Sometimes he wondered if he should write her to see if she had realized the foolishness of her decision. But he could not bear to be rejected again. Somehow, it was better not to know.
Anne Elliot Wentworth sat dutifully by her husband’s sickbed; the gauntness of his figure frightened her. The doctor assured her repeatedly that Frederick’s recovery seemed inevitable. But Anne’s husband was normally a strong, vigorous man, standing feet braced against the swell of the sea.That same man—the man she loved—was now shrunken and feeble.
“Anne?” The soft pleading of his voice brought her attention back to his face. Under the influence of the strong drug, Frederick could not work out how to open his eyes. “Anne,” he murmured again. Clouded by the laudanum, Frederick’s mind tried to concentrate for more than a few moments at a time; he found himself drifting back into sleep, into nightmares. He dreamed of losing her—his Anne—and now he needed to know she was here with him—in this room—guaranteeing the nightmares no longer plagued him. He licked his lips, forcing moisture to his mouth. A flash of memory jolted through his head, and he grimaced with the thought. He spoke her name a third time, and he felt someone sit beside him on the bed.
“I am here, my Love.” His eyes were still closed, and he felt warm lips linger enticingly over his and then pull away.
“So nice,” he mumbled, and a smile tried to make its way to the corners of his mouth.
Anne’s voice held relief. “You are incorrigible,” she teased. She felt calmer at hearing his tremulous words. She reached out to take his hand.“May I get you anything?” She spoke close to his ear.
Frederick forced his eyes to flutter open and to focus on his wife’s face.“Only you,” he managed to say as he searched her countenance. A stray strand of hair hung down loosely along her face. Frederick wanted to reach out and push it behind her ear, but he could not will his hand to respond.
She rested one arm across his chest and leaned over him. Frederick felt the warmth of her body radiate through him; even though he was injured,Anne still had an arousing effect on him.
She smiled. “Concentrate on your recovery,” she whispered close to his lips, kissing first the corner of his mouth and then his cheek, his temple, and his ear. Frederick demanded that his body respond; he turned his head to the side to properly kiss her. “You have been here for nearly four days,” she explained, and he nodded that he understood. “Rest.” She stroked along his cheekbone with her fingertips.
Frederick could only nod once more as he took in her features—features that others might find nondescript—but features, which beset him for years. At first glance, a person might think his Anne unexceptional, but on closer observation a man would be a fool not to see her elegance. Her hair changed color with the lamp lighting from a dark chocolate to strands of gold mingled with red within a mahogany forest. Her skin remained a smooth ivory although she had spent the last six months at sea with him, and her eyes sparked with intelligence and amusement. “Your eyes mesmerize me,” he choked out. “Pools of strong coffee—a man could get lost in your eyes. I thank God every day they rest only on me.”
“Flattery,” she whispered, amusement glinting in her eyes.
“Honesty,” he muttered. His Anne had an utterly feminine presence, which soothed him. She also had a surprising strength of will, honed through years of self-denial. Frederick found himself suddenly very tired again. Knowing Anne would watch over him allowed him to relax back against the pillow. For eight years he took responsibility for everything around him; now, he could give up that answerability. She would tend to him without fail, an intoxicating sensation to say the least. He felt Anne pull the blanket up to his shoulders, careful not to disturb him as he drifted back into oblivion. Suddenly, Frederick forced his eyes open again, wanting to imprint her image on his brain.
She bent to kiss him on the forehead, and her low voice pierced what was left of his consciousness.“Rest and recover. It took us too long, my Love, to find each other again. We promised each other constancy; let us honor our vows.”
Frederick groggily interlaced his fingers with hers. “I have missed you.” His eyelids drifted closed with the words.
“And I you—more than words can express.” She squeezed his hand, and he never felt so totally loved.
“You are mine,” his voice barely audible.
Anne touched his lips with hers.“As you well know.”
As you well know, Frederick,
he read the words out loud from Sophia’s letter,Benjamin has long wished to return to Somersetshire and to settle in his own country. Last month we came down to Taunton in order to look at some advertised places in that immediate neighborhood, which, however, did not suit him. Upon accident, we heard from a local innkeeper the possibility of Kellynch Hall being to let. It took Benjamin no time to introduce himself to Mr. Shepherd, Sir Walter Elliot’s solicitor. My husband made particular inquiries, and, in the course of a pretty long conference, expressed as strong an inclination for the place as a man who knew it only by description, could feel, and gave Mr. Shepherd, in his explicit account of himself, every proof of his being a m
ost responsible, eligible tenant.
Frederick took a seat. Sophia’s news dredged up memories and stirred up feelings he had hoped were dead.
Benjamin did not quibble about the price, as he should have. He let Mr. Shepherd know he only wanted a comfortable home and to get into it as soon as possible—knew he must pay for his convenience—knew what rent a ready-furnished house of that consequence might fetch—should not have been surprised if Sir Walter had asked more. Of course, I asked more questions about the house and terms and taxes than the Admiral himself. I even explained to the solicitor my connection to Somersetshire—Edward having lived in Monkford a few years back.
Several weeks later, we toured the manor, and I met the infamous Miss Elizabeth Elliot. I found I often had to keep my tongue in check in order not to offend her sensibilities; yet, we parted with each of us well disposed for an agreement. Benjamin’s hearty good humor and open, trusting liberality could not help but influence Sir Walter. The house and grounds and furniture were approved; Mr. Shepherd’s clerks were set to work, without there having been a single preliminary difference to modify of all that ‘This indenture sheweth.’The Admiral, with sympathetic cordiality observed as we drove back through the Park,‘I thought we should soon come to a deal, my Dear, in spite of what they told us at Taunton. The baronet will never set the Thames on fire, but there seems no harm in him.’The long and the short of it is, my Dear Brother, we take possession of Kellynch Hall at Michaelmas.When you come to us in October, you must return to the area where you spent five weeks with Edward in ’06.You are probably more familiar with Kellynch than either the Admiral or I am at this point. I am sure after having spent time in the neighborhood, you already understand what I do not say about Sir Walter or Miss Elizabeth Elliot. Sir Walter must be to Bath to save his reputation and to keep his creditors at bay, but his inability to manage his life gives Benjamin and me a fine home to share with you.
Until we meet, I remain your loving sister,
SC
Frederick let out the breath he had not realized he was holding. He had already made a commitment to visit his sister, but how could he go to Kellynch Hall? For many years the place haunted his dreams. What excuse could he give? Bonaparte was banished to Elba, and as the war dwindled down, Frederick repeatedly let it be known that, barring any new uprisings, he would take his newly made fortune and return to civilian life. Now, Sophia expected him to come to her. How this news trifled with his feelings! His heart was still in Somersetshire; his match with Anne Elliot would not have been the most advantageous match imaginable in the eyes of society, but marriage was not impossible for them. Anne had acted dishonorably by breaking off her engagement to him.
How can I return to Somersetshire? he silently demanded. He searched the letter again, wondering why Sophia did not mention Anne. Could it be that she no longer lived in the area? Had she married at last? It had been eight years, after all. How soon had she married once she broke their engagement? Did Anne have children of her own? Some part of him wished her happy while a more dominate urge wished some form of revenge. A sarcastic laugh escaped his throat. “Is it not revenge that my sister will take possession of Sir Walter’s estate house? My family was never good enough; now it is Anne’s family that is found wanting.” The thought, although distasteful, consoled him.“Even if Anne Elliot is still in the neighborhood,” he shored up his own resolve, “she will soon learn she is nothing to me. I have long since forgotten her hold on me.”
CHAPTER 5
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turned when he rose!
—Thomas Moore,“Believe Me,
If All Those EndearingYoung Charms”
“Frederick, you are here at last!” his sister called as she met him in the entrance hall. He handed his hat and greatcoat to the butler before taking her hands in his and lightly kissing her proffered cheek. Finally seeing her eased the chaos that his stomach had endured from the moment his public carriage entered Somerset. “You look well, my Brother.” She embraced him again. “Come,” she said and took his arm.“Benjamin awaits us in the front parlor.”
Sophia Croft, though neither tall nor fat, had a squareness, uprightness, and vigor of form, which gave importance to her person. She had bright dark eyes, good teeth, and altogether an agreeable face; though her reddened and weather-beaten complexion, the consequence of her having been almost as much at sea as her husband, made her seem to have lived some years longer in the world than her real five and thirty. Her manners were open, easy, and decided, like one who had no distrust of herself, and no doubts of what to do, without any approach to coarseness, however, or any want of good humor.
Frederick fought the urge to look around for remnants of Anne Elliot. From the time he had entered the Park, he felt her presence—could nearly visualize her moving through the gardens—entering the house—walking toward the lake to meet him. He shook his head to chase the images away.“You must be exhausted,” his sister added as she tightened her grip on his arm. Looking over her shoulder, she turned to the butler, “Mr. Steventon, please have someone bring us fresh tea and refreshments.”
“Right away, Mrs. Croft.”
“Look at you,” Frederick teased, “acting the fine lady of the estate.”
Her eyes twinkled.“Who says I am acting?”
Frederick chuckled.“Being the mistress of the house suits you, Sophia. I am pleased to see you well situated.”
“It is pleasant to finally have roots rather than seaweeds upon which to stand. Of course, you must not tell the Admiral I made such a bold statement.”
He cupped her hand with his.“Your secret is safe with me,” he whispered close to her ear.Then he turned his attention toward his brother in marriage and in service. “Admiral,” he acknowledged the man rising to his feet,“I am so pleased to see you, Sir.”
“No formality here, Frederick.”The elder seaman extended his hand in warm welcome.“We have both left our ships behind. I am no longer your superior officer; here at Kellynch Hall, I am Sophia’s husband and your brother.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Frederick took the seat to which the Admiral gestured.“Although I must admit old habits will be hard to break.” His sister took the seat next to him on the settee while the Admiral sank back into the wing chair. “How are you feeling, Benjamin?” He noticed immediately the man sat with his leg propped on a close-standing ottoman.
“I am having a bit of difficulty getting my land legs,” the older man confessed.“Your sister tends me well, though, and I am sure I will be up and about soon.”
“How do you like Kellynch Hall?” Frederick allowed his eyes to circumnavigate the room. Memories of the last time he had sat in this very room flooded his senses.
“It is a fine estate,” Sophia mused.“Of course, we are still trying to accustom ourselves to all the room. Benjamin and I are used to much smaller quarters. Were you ever here when you visited Edward years ago?”
“Only once.” Frederick’s jaw twitched with the strain of not allowing Sophia to see his reaction. “Edward and I dined with some of the local gentry just a week before I left the country.”
“Was the master of the house his usual pompous self?” Benjamin asked amusedly.
“It was the only evening Sir Walter and I had a private conversation in the time I resided with Edward.” He bit the inside of his mouth to distract himself from the pain of remembering that conversation. “I am afraid Sir Walter did not approve of my bettering my lot in life through the Navy. He was most adamant in his opinions.”
The admiral snorted with disgust.“You have no idea how many mirrors I removed from the walls!”
Frederick chuckled.“The man radiated vanity, as I recall.”
“That is an understatement.”The Admiral shifted his attention to the maid bringing in a fresh tray of tea and cakes. �
��Thank you, Hilda.We will ring if we need anything else.”
“Yes, Sir.” She curtsied and left, closing the door behind her.
Sophia poured each of them a fresh cup of tea. Frederick took several sips as he built the courage to ask what he knew he must. “Then the family—the Elliots, that is—have all removed themselves to Bath?”
Sophia settled herself next to him again. “Sir Walter and the eldest daughter, Elizabeth, are there—on Camden Place, I believe I heard Mr. Shepherd say. His widowed daughter, Mrs. Clay, is Miss Elliot’s traveling companion.” Frederick waited, his heart thumping so loudly in his chest that he thought surely Sophia and the Admiral would hear it. “The youngest daughter married Charles Musgrove and is living at Uppercross. We met them recently. Mrs. Charles is quite insipid, would you not say,Admiral?”
Frederick did not hear his brother’s response. All he could do was force himself to take steady breaths. So Anne married Charles Musgrove. Frederick had expected as much. More than once he had replayed scenes of Musgrove dancing with her at the assembly. “Mrs. Musgrove’s children,” the Admiral’s voice penetrated Frederick’s musings,“are high-spirited enough; she certainly cannot control them.” Anne had children! Don’t be a fool. What did you expect? Certainly she could not remain celibate if she were married. Yet, the thought of Anne Elliot loving anyone but him seemed a crack in the natural order of things.
“Did you meet the Musgroves when you were here before?” Sophia asked casually.
“Just briefly—I would not recognize the man, I am sure. I am surprised, however, that Anne Elliot married him. From what I remember, he did not have the same fine mind as Miss Anne.” It took effort to utter Anne’s name.
“Oh, I must apologize, Frederick, when I said the youngest daughter married Charles Musgrove,” his sister interrupted. “Mrs. Charles was once Mary Elliot; Miss Anne remains unmarried.” A lightning bolt shot through him. Anne, too, has never married! Surely, it had nothing to do with him. It could not. Just as their failed engagement was not the reason for his bachelorhood. If he chose not to marry, then she could make a similar choice. Having never met her, he had forgotten Anne had a younger sister. Miss Elizabeth Elliot never married. Why should Anne? Sir Walter probably dashed her hopes with every offer. It would be just like the man to refuse his daughters’ suitors so as to keep their affections focused purely on him. He felt an unexpected twinge of sympathy, centered on Anne’s lost dreams, worm its way into his heart. “I assume you knew Miss Anne?” his sister concluded.
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