“You cannot be rid of me that easily,” she teased again. “You may count on that, my Love.”
“I always count on your affections, Anne.” He leaned back heavily against the pillow.
“Then do what the doctor suggests. Come back to me; I need you as you need me.” She squeezed his hand before slipping out of the room.
Laraby took her place by Frederick’s bed. “Let me see this wound,” he murmured as he moved Frederick’s nightshirt aside.“I believe we might need to drain this one—the exit wound on the side. Infection seems to be a possibility.” He worked the bandage loose.“You must be rubbing it somehow as you sleep; it looks raw.” He pushed against the opening, forcing the skin together and squeezed the pus from around the stitches while Frederick gritted his teeth. “I will clean this with soap and water when we are finished. A tincture should heal it up soon enough. We will use leeches if we need to—if the circulation becomes a problem.”
“None of those nasty things if you please,” Frederick protested. “How uncivilized are you, Laraby?”
“You may think the use of some ancient ways uncivilized, Wentworth, where I see medicine from the ancient cultures the basis of civilization. I have seen the healing ways of leeches and snake venom and Chinese ginseng and many other folk remedies. I will use any restorative that cures my patients without regard to what propriety says is proper.” Laraby began to rebind the wound, making sure the bandages were tighter than before.“I do not want you pulling this open when you walk today. I will call Avendale and Harwood.They are becoming quite adept at handling your bulk as you maneuver across this room.”
“When might I go up on deck? This room and this bunk seem to have shrunk since my men carried me in here.” Frederick pushed up on his forearms before pivoting his legs to hang off the edge of the bed.
“Not for a few more days,” Laraby cautioned him. “First you must get rid of the infection.”
“This room has become my prison, Laraby,” he said heavily. “But I will follow your orders.” Frederick planted his feet soundly on the floor and stood on his own.Yet, he waited for his crewmen before he attempted a step forward. He no longer clung to their shoulders or dragged his feet along the worn boards. Now, he used their arms for balance, and he lifted his feet gingerly.
“Making progress, I see,” Anne said cheerfully as she posed in the door of his cabin.
“I weave about almost as much as Benjamin driving a gig,” he complained.
She stepped into the room. “I recall you once placed me in Benjamin’s gig and left me to his care.” Anne straightened the bed linens as he made his last tour of the room.
He looked over his shoulder at her. “You were exhausted, and you staggered as much as I do now. It was either Benjamin’s gig, or I would have had to carry you the last mile to Uppercross Cottage. At the time, Mrs. Wentworth, it would have scandalized your family and friends.”
She laughed and moved the blanket back as he made his way to the bed. Moving to the far side of the room, she pretended to straighten the items on his dresser while the men helped him prop himself up in bed.
“We will return later, Captain Wentworth,” Laraby called as he followed the men from the room.
“Tomorrow,” Frederick said, leveling a look at the doctor.
Laraby hesitated and then nodded.“Tomorrow morning.”Then he was gone.
She remained still, running her fingers over his brush and the leather strap.“Anne?” His voice came softly behind her.
She did not turn to look at him.“Yes, Frederick?”
“Lock the door, my Love, and come lie next to me.”
His words sent a shiver of excitement down her back. She turned to face him, worry in her eyes. “Frederick, we cannot. It is too soon.”
“It is never too soon to hold my wife—the love of my life—in my arms. I need you next to me, Anne. I will rest better with your lying alongside me where I might feel the heat of your body radiating through me.”
“Frederick,” she gasped, blushing profusely.
He laughed lightly. “How nice it is to see my words still affect you, my Dear.” Then he suddenly quieted, revealing his lack of confidence.“You will lie with me, Sweetling?”
She smiled and moved to lock the door. “I will lie with you, Frederick.” Her eyes darkened with a passion he recognized only as being for him.
“Only your chemise,Anne.” She reached back to undo the buttons of her gown, never taking her eyes from him. She let it drop from her shoulders to the floor before stepping out of it.Then she slipped under the blanket and turned into his embrace. He kissed the top of her head as he reached for the pins holding her hair. “You are beautiful, my Love.” He cupped her chin and brought her mouth to his for a long, lingering kiss.
“I should chastise you, Frederick.” She snuggled in closer to him. “You accused me once of not being a good walker. I was offended then. I remain offended.” Her voice taunted, but her fingertips stroked his jawline.
“But I never said any such thing!” he protested. “I simply wanted to protect the woman I loved. At any rate, my Darling, that was a long time ago.” He kissed her again, this time with more fervor.
CHAPTER 8
When in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate.
—William Shakespeare,“Sonnet 29”
“Why do you suppose I am not a good walker?” Mary bemoaned the obvious ruse of Louisa and Henrietta to be rid of her.
“We will take a long walk—a very long walk.”
“I should like to join you very much; I am exceedingly fond of a long walk.” Mary insisted. Anne tried to dissuade Mary from going, but in vain; and that being the case, thought it best to accept the Misses Musgrove’s much more cordial invitation to herself to go likewise.
About the same time, Frederick and Charles Musgrove returned from their hunt.They took out a young dog, who spoilt their sport, and sent them back early.
“I wonder of what Mary complains,” Charles grumbled upon hearing her shrill voice from the entranceway.
“I cannot imagine why they should suppose I should not like a long walk!” she complained to Anne as they made their way up the stairs.“Everybody is always supposing I am not a good walker! And yet they would not be pleased if we refused to join them. When people come in this manner on purpose to ask us, how can one say no?” She continued her lament as Charles and Frederick entered the passageway leading to the private quarters.
Frederick watched as Charles and Anne glanced at each other and discreetly rolled their eyes before moving away to their own diversions. Surprisingly, Frederick found himself jealous of the private moment and of the intimate understanding they shared.
“Captain Wentworth,” Louisa called when she spotted him through the Cottage’s open window.“It is such a very fine November day,” she said as she approached, “that Henrietta and I propose to take a long walk.Would you consider joining us?”
“What do you say, Charles? Do you have the time and the strength and the spirit to accompany the ladies on their journey?” Frederick noticed Anne’s countenance changed, as if she wished to retract her agreement to walk out with them. Does she wish not to be in my company? He tried to read her reaction. He wanted to see her eyes; they spoke the truth even when her words did not.
“I believe I am exactly ready for this walk,” Charles Musgrove added quickly. With that, all six set forward together in the direction chosen by the Misses Musgrove, who evidently considered the walk as under their guidance.
Frederick walked with Louisa and Henrietta, but his thoughts dwelled on Anne. As always, she lagged behind the others, placing herself in a subservient position, allowing the others to take precedence over her. In reality, he should be walking with her; as the elder Elliot, she was the highest-ranking woman in the party and should assume her rightful place.
His hand still burned from touching her; it was a week, but he could still feel it in his fingertips and his palm. Instinctively, he started to raise his arm to look at his hand, to discover the source of the sensation still lingering there, but, instead, he clenched it, fisting it at his side.To him, the fist represented the pain of their separation and the anger he felt at her rejection. It also represented his anger with her for allowing her own degradation. Heaven help him, he could not stand by and see her suffer so.
Louisa prattled on about inconsequential things as she walked beside him. He remarked to himself how quickly they all moved to an intimate footing. He wondered whether he should continue to pursue these relationships. Frederick considered himself to be emotionally damaged. If he were to choose one of the Musgrove girls as his wife, he would periodically be thrown together with Anne.Treating one of the Misses Musgrove with respect and regard as his wife, while Anne looked on, no longer seemed appealing. Could I hurt her that way? Could I even bring myself to touch another woman with Anne so much on my mind? Maybe if she chose another, his conscience would be clearer—but, no; that would not make him happy either. Perhaps he should move up the date when he would leave Kellynch and move on to visit Edward and his brother’s new wife. He needed to remove himself from Anne. He needed to be away from her and decide what he must do about her. Sorry was the hardest word he knew, and lately sorry was all he felt.They were beyond talking about their situation. Neither of them, he was sure, could muster the desire to examine what they had once had.
Louisa put forth for his notice once again.“It is a beautiful day, is it not, Captain?”
He looked about, forcing his attention to the scenery and to the girl walking beside him. “What glorious weather for the Admiral and my sister!” he responded.“They meant to take a long drive this morning; perhaps we may hail them from some of these hills.They talked of coming into this side of the country. I wonder whereabouts they will upset today. Oh! It does happen very often, I assure you—but my sister makes nothing of it—she would as lieve be tossed out as not.”
“Ah! You make the most of it, I know,” cried Louisa, “but if it were really so, I should do just the same in her place. If I loved a man as she loves the Admiral, I would be always with him, nothing should ever separate us, and I would rather be overturned by him, than driven safely by anybody else.” She blushed prettily after her speech.
He knew she only said what she thought he wanted to hear; women placated to men in such a way. Yet, why not continue the flirtation? he thought. What else is there for me here? “Had you?” cried he, catching the same tone. “I honor you!” Unfortunately, Louisa’s words brought him back to Anne; she had allowed others to separate them. Anne Elliot weighs entirely too much on my mind.
“Is not this one of the ways to Winthrop?” he heard Anne ask; but nobody else heard, or, at least, nobody answered her. Her insignificance reigned; no one except him attended to her musings; and he had no idea whether Winthrop was near or not, nor did he wish to discuss the question with her. At the time, he knew not whether Winthrop was the predetermined destination of the Miss Musgroves, but after another half mile of gradual ascent through large enclosures, where the ploughs at work, and the fresh-made path spoke the farmer, counteracting the sweets of poetical despondence, and meaning to have spring again, they gained the summit of the most considerable hill, which parted Uppercross and Winthrop, and soon commanded a full view of the latter, at the foot of the hill on the other side. Winthrop, without beauty and without dignity, was stretched before them—an indifferent house, standing low, and hemmed in by the barns and buildings of a farmyard.
He heard Mary exclaim in disgust, “Bless me! Here is Winthrop—I declare I had no idea!—Well, now I think we had better turn back; I am excessively tired.”
Frederick felt the tension that gathered in the air upon Mary’s exclamation.A family drama was about to play out in front of him. He turned his back on the scene, trying to distance himself from the emotions. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Anne, too, seemed to hold back. Perhaps she wanted to say something sensible to her younger sister, but she stared off at the view.
“No,” declared Charles Musgrove to his wife’s avowal.
Louisa pulled Henrietta aside before she added her own, “No, no.”
“We are this close,” Charles pleaded, “and I will do what is proper—what is my duty—and call upon my aunt. Mama would be terribly upset if I did not.You will accompany me, Mary.” The statement came out as a plea for her acquiesces.
“I will not go, Charles.” Her audience strengthened Mary’s resolve.
“You may rest at Winthrop for a quarter hour while I pay my respects,” her husband reasoned.
Mary spoke regally, “Oh! No, indeed!—Walking up that hill again would do me more harm than any sitting down would do me good. I will not go.”
After a little succession of these sorts of debates and consultations, Charles and his sisters decided that he and Henrietta, should just run down for a few minutes to see their aunt and cousins, while the rest of the party waited for them at the top of the hill. Frederick disapproved of how easily Charles Musgrove gave in to his wife’s lamentations. Personally, he would not tolerate such silliness from the woman he married.
At first, it appeared Louisa would accompany her siblings to the estate house, but she soon turned back to where he stood. Frederick allowed himself a moment of relief, having panicked at being alone with Anne and her sister and having to make conversation in the absence of the others.
Only Mary was serene. Finally settling herself on a comfortable seat on the step of a stile, she took the opportunity of looking scornfully around her and of saying to him, “It is very unpleasant, having such connections! But I assure you, I have never been in the house above twice in my life!”
Mary Elliot Musgrove treated the Hayters the way Sir Walter had treated him—and the way she—the way they all—treated her own sister.All he could offer her was an artificial assenting smile, followed by a contemptuous glance, as he turned away. If he spoke to her at that moment, Mrs. Charles Musgrove would know his wrath.
Luckily, Louisa reached him at that time. “Captain, let us glean some nuts in the hedgerows while we wait.”As he walked away, he heard Anne trying to soothe Mary’s discontent. How he hated Anne being in such a position! It gnawed at him excessively.
Yet, he tried to give Louisa the attention she deserved. Forcing his conversation, he acknowledged, “That was quite a scene of domestic tranquility.”
“My brother Charles is too kind to his wife,” she noted as she reached for a low-hanging branch. “Mary lords her heritage over all of us. It riles me to see her trying to supplant Mama in her own house by taking Mama’s seat at the table.”
“I assume your sister planned to come here today.”The reasons for Charles Hayter’s disdain became clearer.
“Henrietta and Cousin Charles have a long-standing affection for each other. Of late, there was some doubt on both their parts. We resolved that she would speak to him today.” Frederick smiled. It seemed Henrietta Musgrove had given Frederick over to her sister; Frederick now understood the lay of the land.
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, pausing occasionally to pick the hazelnuts still remaining on the trees. Frederick finally noted,“It appeared for a few minutes that your sister would acquiesce to Mrs. Charles’s demands.”
Louisa looked at him incredulously.“I made her go, you know. I could not bear she should be frightened from the visit by such nonsense. What!—Would I be turned back from doing a thing I was determined to do, and I knew to be right, by the airs and interference of such a person?—Or, of any person I may say. No—I have no idea of being so easily persuaded. When I make up my mind, I make it.And Henrietta seemed entirely to make up hers to call on Winthrop today—and yet, she was as near giving it up, out of nonsensical complaisance!”
Frederick remembered how Anne had turned to Lady Russell for counsel
, and how that woman destroyed his hopes for marriage to Anne by not supporting her godchild.Would his life have been different if Anne had a sister possessing Louisa’s sensibilities? He mused aloud,“She would have turned back then, but for you?”
“She would indeed. I am almost ashamed to say it.” Louisa met his eyes and gave him a bold triumphant look.
Moved by his thoughts of what might have been with Anne, Frederick spoke from his heart. “Happy for her, to have such a mind as yours at hand!—After the hints you gave just now, which did but confirm my own observations, the last time I was in company with him, I need not affect to have no comprehension of what is going on. I see more than a mere dutiful morning visit to your aunt was in question—and woe betide him, and her too, when it comes to things of consequence, when they are placed in circumstances, requiring fortitude and strength of mind, if she have not resolution enough to resist idle interference in such a trifle as this.Your sister is an amiable creature, but yours is the character of decision and firmness, I see. If you value her conduct or happiness, infuse as much of your own spirit into her, as you can. But this, no doubt, you have always done. It is the worst evil of too yielding and indecisive a character, that no influence over it can be depended on.—You are never sure of a good impression being durable. Everybody may sway it; let those who would be happy be firm.” He was wrapped up in his fervor—all the memories of how Anne had dashed his plans by succumbing to Lady Russell’s advice occupied his mind. It did not occur to him that his words would encourage Louisa’s regard. He praised her for her resolve, not for herself, but as an example of what he wished for Anne.
He was on a roll—he had kept these thoughts secret for so long—he could not hide his passion. Frederick finally had a chance to speak his regrets out loud. “Here is a nut,” said he, catching one down from an upper bough. “To exemplify—a beautiful glossy nut, which, blessed with original strength, outlived all the storms of autumn. Not a puncture, not a weak spot anywhere.—This nut,” he continued, with playful solemnity, “while so many of its brethren fell and were trodden underfoot, is still in possession of all the happiness a hazelnut can be supposed capable of.” Then returning to his former earnest tone,“My first wish for all, whom I am interested in is they should be firm. If Louisa Musgrove would be beautiful and happy in her November of life, she will cherish all her present powers of mind.”
Captain Wentworth's Persuasion Page 11