For You Alone (Frederick Wentworth, Captain: Book 2)

by Susan Kaye

  “May I ask your business?” The question was simple enough. However, it reeked of disapproval and the condescension so easily assumed by servants of the middling gentry.

  “I am on an errand for Mrs. Charles Musgrove. I have come to deliver a letter to Miss Anne Elliot...Longwell,” he added, the name popping into his head.

  Longwell offered a silver salver. “I shall see it is delivered promptly.”

  The letter was his charm to get past this dragon and through the gates to the citadel. In fact, he thought, it shall see me safely by both dragons. To surrender it now would ensure failure.

  “I cannot. I gave my word that I would deliver it to her personally.” No such promise had been asked for, and no such promise had been given. He prepared to tell the man that he knew Miss Anne was at home were he to offer her absence as an excuse. Longwell said nothing further but turned and went through one of several closed doors facing onto the entryway.

  Every move he made in the marble entry echoed and accused him of smallness compared to the mistress of the house. He decided against taking a seat, choosing instead to examine a landscape hanging near one of the closed doors. As he studied the scene of haying in the golden midsummer of some unknown county, a piano began to play somewhere nearby.

  Unless Lady Russell had taken up the instrument in the intervening nine years, it could only be Anne. The tune was gay and one he had heard before. He did not know its name or composer but would ask Anne in the course of their conversation. She knew he was fond of music and this, he hoped, would not seem to be merely a polite bit of banter. The music stopped. He quickly peered into a glass and did some moderate preening in preparation for his summons to her.

  The door opened, and Longwell motioned for him to enter. Wentworth followed, but before he could catch a glimpse of Anne, the butler asked for his hat. A stay of some length was anticipated. The door’s quiet click was his cue that they were alone.

  His eyes were drawn immediately to the pianoforte that stood prominently in the room. Anne was nowhere near, and all that moved was two thin tails of smoke from the recently extinguished candles. Although alone, he tried not to gawk as he widened his study of the room. Nothing had changed; the Lodge’s sitting room was still severely formal and elegant, without a hint of comfort. He remembered his first visit years ago. He had stupidly commented that the room was as pretentious and straight-backed as its owner. Unfortunately for him, he had said this to Anne Elliot before he understood fully the relationship of the younger woman to the older. That evening, she had made him appreciate how intimate with and dependent upon Lady Russell she was. His profuse and, at the time, sincere apology had brought Anne’s full forgiveness for his biting wit. Though he had repented of distressing Anne, his opinion of the woman had only grown firmer over time. He was not ashamed of holding such an opinion, but he did regret not having the wisdom to keep it to himself on several other occasions. He was certain it was this loose talk that had sunk him in the eyes of Lady Russell and caused her to take a position against him concerning Anne and their engagement. This incident had forced him to see that there was almost no difference between his own little wooden world and the small society of the country. He was not surprised that the room had worn well. This was to be expected since Lady Russell spent a good portion of the year away from the area. Harassing her few friends and family, to be sure, he thought.

  It was then to his dismay that he noticed a lone, older woman sat at a small table tucked into a corner of the room facing onto a sodden autumn garden. The dragon nodded towards a chair to indicate he should sit. Still, Anne was nowhere to be seen.

  “Captain, you must join me.” The command was polite in tone and her expression composed. Perhaps it was not only the furniture of the Lodge that had worn well. Perhaps, the lady had softened over time and was now willing to acknowledge him properly.

  He bowed and joined her at the table. The formalities of how he took his tea and whether he cared for cake or a biscuit were observed although he could not help wondering what sort of plan the woman was working as she did so. Never, in all their short association, had she treated him with such courtesy. He took a sip of his tea and was disturbed to find it prepared just how he liked it. She was up to something, but he salved his uneasiness with the reminder that Lady Russell was not an overly clever woman. No, not clever...but persuasive enough when she wanted to be.

  “Longwell said you have a letter to be delivered. I must say I am astonished to see you lowering yourself to playing messenger, Captain.”

  He had not expected that she would goad him in such an obvious fashion. “Mr. Charles Hayter has been gracious enough to bring word of Miss Louisa’s condition on practically a daily basis. I was presented with an opportunity to spell him in these messenger duties and so offered to bring the letter from Mrs. Mary Musgrove to Miss Anne. I thought to visit my own family as well.”

  “How kind,” she conceded. “I have been told all the particulars of the sad accident that has befallen Miss Louisa Musgrove.”

  Steady on, Captain, this is her angle of attack, he thought.

  “Yes, it was most distressing.” He put down his cup and looked directly into her eyes. “It was a horrible thing to witness, but I must say, even in the height of such panic, it was Miss Anne who showed the greatest strength and was most in control of her senses. We all looked to her for direction, and despite her own feelings, she kept the rest of us from falling into utter disarray. I, in particular, owe her a great debt of thanks.”

  The pride in Lady Russell’s eyes was unmistakeable, and for a brief moment the two were in agreement about something concerning Anne.

  “My goddaughter is a most intelligent and resourceful woman. I am sure it was anguishing for you to see the woman so dear to you the victim of such a dire accident.”

  He was about to agree and confide that to see Anne so discomfited by his own carelessness was a hurt from which he would not soon recover. Something made him hesitate, and in the short lull, he realised Lady Russell was speaking of Louisa Musgrove as the victim. He was about to assure her that no person with a heart could see such a thing and not be moved, but she gave him no time to respond and continued.

  “I would not think, with her sister-in-law in such precarious health, Mrs. Musgrove would have time to write casual correspondence.” The lady’s mild expression was unchanged as she looked at him over the rim of her cup. In the company of a more sympathetic listener, Wentworth would have elaborated that there was nothing to keep Mrs. Musgrove from writing reams and reams of casual correspondence, as she had nothing else to do. Between Mrs. Harville, the Harvilles’ nurse, and the nurse brought from Uppercross, Miss Louisa had a small army of women caring for her every possible need. All that Mary Musgrove had to occupy her during the course of the day was deciding how deeply she was personally affected by each new improvement in Louisa Musgrove’s health.

  “It is not a casual letter, Ma’am. Miss Louisa’s condition is greatly improved, and Mrs. Musgrove wanted immediately to tell her sister the good news.”

  “Ah, improved you say. That is good news. I am sure you are particularly relieved.”

  “No more so than her family, I assure you.”

  “Of course. As I said earlier, my goddaughter gave me all the details of the regrettable affair. She was particularly disturbed by the recklessness and lack of judgment that brought the incident to pass.” Perhaps the woman was more clever than he gave her credit for. She could neither have used words more damaging to his already bruised conscience nor chosen ones which could more readily pierce through his confidence as a man. The question was: were these truly Anne’s thoughts on the matter or were they Lady Russell’s alone?

  “You may leave the letter. I shall see that that it is given to her.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am. But, I would prefer to see it delivered myself. I am well able to answer any questions she might have. Or, should she wish to send a reply, I am returning to Lyme this afternoon an
d could carry it directly to Mrs. Musgrove.”

  It was a simple enough explanation, so when Lady Russell’s cup clattered in the saucer and she stammered something about such fuss not being necessary, Wentworth was puzzled for a moment. Her face coloured quickly, and she hastened to fill his nearly full cup. She kept glancing out the window behind him. He turned to look. It was clear that whatever was out there she desired he not see it.

  He scanned the view and saw Anne making her way from the Lodge. She pulled her cloak close against the light wind. Carrying a covered basket, she walked through an arch that led her out of his sight. He assumed that her godmother had hurriedly arranged whatever errand dispatched Anne into the cold and rain. For a moment, he nursed the hope that she might be on her way to Kellynch Hall. Even Lady Russell is not so foolish as to send her there to avoid me, he thought.

  “As you see, my goddaughter is unavailable.”

  He looked into her cool expression, and said, “Unavailable to me, you mean.”

  “Captain, must I remind you that my goddaughter is a very thoughtful young woman? Sometimes too thoughtful; she takes on the cares of far too many people. Since she has been with me, she has endeavoured to hide the fact that the events in Lyme and how they will affect the Musgrove girl’s future wear very heavy on her. You cannot expect that I would allow her to be subjected to your presence and the suffering that would surely accompany it.” The woman’s words did not describe the Anne Elliot of a week ago who so adeptly directed matters concerning Louisa’s immediate care, consoled the dispirited, and was willing to stay to nurse the girl at his particular request.

  Anne Elliot was indeed caring and thoughtful, and this was certainly proven by the fact she had taken matters into her own hands and seen that provision was made for him when he rode back to Lyme that horrible night. If her godmother was telling the truth, in the intervening days, her opinions and thoughts now flowed against him.

  “So, you can see that your only option is to leave the letter with me and get on with the rest of your errands.”

  It nearly strangled him to admit she was right. Short of refusing to leave—which would give her an excuse to summon the groom and see him ejected—he must leave the letter and exit with some of his threadbare dignity intact. He reached into his coat.

  She was not so rude as to extend her hand, but she watched with an avid eye as he took the letter from his pocket and placed it before her.

  Rising, he folded the napkin. “I will be at Kellynch Hall visiting my sister until noon should Miss Anne need me.”

  Lady Russell’s eyes brightened. She took the letter and studied it for a moment. Meeting his gaze full on, she said, “I assure you, Captain Wentworth, my goddaughter has no need of you.”

  Chapter Two

  The half-mile ride to Kellynch Hall was not remarkable, except that the Captain was able to relive the entirety of the disastrous meeting with Lady Russell exactly four times. Each re-enactment gave him an opportunity to triumph in the verbal joust with only the slightest variations of cunning wit and brilliant wordsmanship. He thought it a pity that none of the imagined victories could change the results of the actual clash. Passing through the Hall’s gates, he nodded to the gardener, who sent a boy to announce the visitor. “Don’ worry, sir. I’ll see that she’s brushed good and gets me special blend of oats,” the groom assured Wentworth as he dismounted. In the mind of the Kellynch groom, the animal’s care was quite obviously lacking.

  He’s no doubt right. I’ve ridden the poor beast too hard, too often, the Captain thought, stripping off his gloves. And yet never able to outride my difficulties. The footman greeted him with no indication that he had any opinions on the matter and directed him to the dining room where the Crofts were finishing breakfast.

  “Frederick, dear, you look terrible,” was the first thing his sister said, taking him gently by the arm as though he were suddenly feeble.

  “Thank you, sister, dear. I have been riding all morning just hoping to hear your melodic voice.”

  The Admiral chuckled from behind his newspaper, and Sophia dipped in a mock curtsey. “I’m sure you did not come all this way just to tease me.”

  Bussing her cheek, he saw her to her seat and then took the empty one to her right. “And who else would I ride all this way to see?”

  She paused as she poured him tea. “There is no one, I suppose. All the Musgroves are with you in Lyme, and that leaves just the Admiral and me. Oh, and the Pooles.” She looked to the Admiral, lifted a brow and returned to appraise her brother. “Have some breakfast; you look as though you’re perishing.” So, his horse was not the only one suffering from lack of decent care.

  He took the platters offered and allowed the comforting smells to entice his appetite. Of late, when he occasionally dined alone, he chose simple meals and drank more than was good for him. It was difficult not to spend those solitary times toasting to the foolish nature of men and the ache of lost love. When dining at the Harvilles’ and the various configurations of Musgroves that daily presented themselves, he had strained to listen to the noisy, circular conversations between the members, expecting any day that his part in Louisa’s accident would be mentioned. It would also not have been a surprise if the family spoke of an engagement. Surely, the idea would come to them just as it had come to the Harvilles. He never allowed himself to go any further in his conjecturing.

  “So, what is the news of Miss Louisa today? Does she continue to improve?” Sophia asked.

  “Yes, she does. She is beginning to stand, in fact. Her progress is excellent.”

  “Just see that she doesn’t overtax herself. But, I suppose Elsa Harville would know not to allow her to do too much.”

  “Mrs. Harville has done an excellent job. She cannot be thanked enough.”

  “I should think not,” the Admiral said, finally adding to the conversation. He folded the paper and continued. “This is a strange new ritual you’ve added to courting, Frederick. I have my doubts, though, as to it catching on with the common folk...especially the ladies.” He took a drink, the cup not quite covering his wide smile.

  One part of him welcomed the Admiral’s attempt to lighten the mood, the other suspected his brother-in-law would never let loose of this particular bone. Wentworth knew that even if a miracle freed him from obligation to Louisa Musgrove, he would forever have to endure this sort of harassing. He would be explaining to his children why their uncle was always talking about ladies falling—

  “Have you plans to visit Miss Anne?”

  The sound of her name so casually spoken was a surprise. Frederick paused. He then took his time drinking his coffee. When he’d composed himself sufficiently, he said, “I had no plans to do so. Has she made mention of my visiting?” He was disappointed that his voice did not, to his own ear, sound more indifferent, more detached.

  “No, we’ve not seen her since her return. She is still settling in with Lady Russell, I imagine. No doubt, she will make us a visit soon. I just thought, being connected to the Musgroves and the accident after a fashion, she might like to know the latest good news.”

  A footman took his empty plate. Perhaps it was the comfort of being with his family, or, perhaps, it was the fortification of a good meal, but Frederick thought Sophia and the Admiral should know as much about that day as possible.

  “I brought a note from the Musgroves and left it at the Lodge. She’ll learn the latest from that. Although I know her modesty will never allow her to admit it, it was only she amongst us who kept her head. Only she prevented a chaotic disaster from becoming a tragedy.” He paused, thinking of the events in quick succession. “If I had had my way, it would have been her to stay rather than her sister. She was very gracious and more than willing to remain and care for Louisa, but others thought better.” He could see that Sophia desired to say something but kept it to herself.

  “My only hope is that she did not suffer exceedingly from the shock. I should hate to think...there are more ways than
the physical to be damaged.”

  Sophia rose and patted his shoulder. “Frederick, please, I assure you again, we are not all fine china. Women see shocking things all the time and survive quite well. In fact, we are strengthened by them. Do you think you came into this world by a tidy and gentle passage? Our mother—”

  “Well, now,” the Admiral said, rising as well, “I think we’ve talked enough of the shocking events of the past weeks.” He took Sophia’s arm. “Frederick, let’s go out. You can give me advice on a pointer I’m thinking of buying.”

  He stayed awhile longer and talked about the pointer, though he possessed no specific knowledge that might help the Admiral decide, then left the Crofts to discuss their genteel country life. Returning to the house, he made arrangements for his possessions to be sent to his inn at Lyme.

  “...so please see it sent immediately. I have no intentions of returning here.”

  “Very good, sir. And these books, sir,” Harkness said, indicating two sitting on the table by the bed.

  “Yes, the red one is mine to be packed. Return the other to the library.”

  Harkness picked up the one, glanced at the title, then at the Captain. Wentworth had found the novel in the library and tried to read it on one of the nights when sleep was impossible. It was a dreadfully affected tale of desperation, separation, and eventual madness. Further, steeped as it was in such overwhelmingly depressive elements, it had also managed to be sloppy and maudlin. He wondered if Anne had ever read it. If she had, surely she had despised it as much as he? He slipped his own volume into his pocket and looked around the room.

  “Will that be everything, sir?”

  “Yes, Harkness, I believe so. You have the name of the inn and her keep. Please send it on as soon as possible.” Harkness bowed and followed Wentworth to the door. He took a moment to look about the room. “I cannot say I am going to miss the country.”