by Susan Kaye
Catherine glanced at Frederick. “We are putting your brother in an awkward position, dear.”
“Are you feeling awkward, Frederick?”
Before he could answer, Catherine’s brow rose. “My dear, I would like her to come and help me. I find the duties of this house, while there are only two of us, to be more than I can manage. This is Christian charity extended to your own wife, Edward.” She again cocked her head and, if Wentworth was not mistaken, batted her eyes.
Edward knew he was caught. “More people in the household, even those installed due to Christian charity, make for a chaotic situation. Servants particularly! They are so quiet they inevitably startle me while I am working. All our privacy is gone.”
She looked at Frederick. “For one dedicated to serving his fellow man, your brother is more like a hermit than anyone I know.”
Edward’s lament in relation to their privacy being disturbed hit home. Frederick was the first to intrude, bringing with him the burden of an extra mouth, and now there was to be a servant. Unlike Frederick, his brother was not used to having people surrounding him and imposing on his peace all day and night. In the past, he and his brother would pass hour upon hour without saying a word. Frederick doubted much had changed now that his brother was older. It was impossible to not feel guilty for upsetting the household.
“I do have a question, Catherine. Where will we put her?”
She lowered her cup. “In the room behind the kitchen, where all the housekeepers have slept, I imagine.”
“Mr. Tuggins is occupying that space at the moment.”
Catherine frowned. “I suppose I could ask Father if the groom could bring her back and forth, but that would be an awful imposition on her.”
“The boy could sleep in my room.” Frederick looked from Edward to Catherine.
It was Edward’s turn to frown. “No, there is no need. Catherine, it would be an imposition for the boy to be in Frederick’s tiny room.”
“Perhaps it would be an imposition on Mr. Tuggins as well.” Catherine smiled at Frederick. “But, if he is willing, dear, might we not try it for awhile?”
“Are you sure, Frederick?”
“I would not have offered if I weren’t sure.” To Catherine he said, “I am sorry, madam, that I have thrown your house into chaos.”
“It is a very welcome chaos, Captain, very welcome, indeed.”
The conversation turned to the visits, and Edward began to bring Catherine current on all the neighbourhood news. Vowing to make his presence as unobtrusive as possible, he studied Edward and was actually hard-pressed to see a trace of any sort of pique at this upset in their routine. Frederick could not help noticing that while the Rector stood well away from Catherine, there was no real distance between them.
When he passed by on the way to the tea table, the Rector grasped the Captain’s shoulder. Then, as Mrs. Wentworth poured his tea, he leaned down and spoke something in her ear. Her expression blossomed into a smile accompanied by an appealing pink flush. She whispered back, and he laughed all the way back to his place by the fire. As he had been earlier in the day, Edward was cheerful, laughing, and affectionate. Nevertheless, the old spinsterish brother, he suspected, was still lurking nearby. Frederick wanted an explanation but was baffled as to how he might obtain one.
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
A note was dispatched to Catherine’s family stating that a new battle plan was being formulated and the Rectory was in need of another bed. Particulars of the situation were given, and in hours, a child’s bed once used in the nursery of the Keye family was being set up in the far corner of the Captain’s room.
Frederick, on the whole, was not ordinarily grudging with his privacy, but he could have wished the room the size of the one he occupied at Kellynch. It did not really matter; he had become accustomed to Mr. Tuggins’s company over the past few days and sharing the room would present no real difficulties.
Along with the bed, Mrs. Wentworth had requested that if there were any of her brothers’ clothes left from their youth, they should be sent along as well. It appeared that Mrs. Keye—Catherine’s good and sensible mother—was scrupulous to keep everything that might in the future be deemed useful.
“I am sorry, George, there is not much here that will fit you.”
“That’s a’right, Ma’am. I ain’t had any new shirts for a long time. Two is a lot to have. And these trousers.” He held up a pair of particularly ugly brown wool trousers that would have to be shortened for him. From the expression on his face, the trousers might as well have been custom tailored and spun from the finest silk in the Orient.
“Oh, Ma’am, what is this? It’s like the one the Captain has.” George reached into the bundle, snagged a corner of something blue, and began to pull. It was a deep blue, brocade waistcoat, several sizes too large. The delight on his face faded quickly.
Catherine glanced at her brother-in-law. “Well then, I shall enlist Bell’s help in cutting it down to fit.” She held it up against him. “The colour suits you wonderfully, George.” She gave him a few other things to sort through and then went to the Captain. “He is quite smitten.”
“How so?”
“He admires you a great deal, sir.” She turned back to look at the boy. “You have done a wonderful thing in taking responsibility for him.”
“I never meant that he should think of me so...warmly. I only meant to help him when I have another command.”
Catherine thought for a moment. “He can’t help it. All the people in the world who are supposed to care for him are gone. You have shown him that care. Don’t be afraid, Brother; such feelings will only make him a better man—and sailor.” She smiled and touched his arm. “You are a great deal more like Edward than I imagined.”
She gathered the clothing with George’s help and left the room. Frederick closed the door, went to the window and opened it. The room was suddenly stifling; he welcomed the fresh air.
A cold breeze carried the smell of wood smoke, the scent of food cooking, and various reminders of the damp vegetation surrounding the rectory. Standing at the top of the house, looking over the small northern village gave the illusion of his having a simple life. When this comforting notion was challenged by Catherine’s observations that he was now responsible for George and about the boy’s growing affection, he winced to think he could be so generous to a stranger, but to the woman he loved, he had had nothing to offer but coldness.
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
The news of Frederick’s arrival blew through the farthest reaches of the parish like a warm summer wind. Those less fortunate families that missed out on the first visitation now took it upon themselves to invite the esteemed gentleman into their midst. The Rectory was awash in invitations, and its calendar was filling for weeks into the future.
“You always liven things up when you stay with me,” Edward said one morning as he was accepting the invitation for “the gentlemen of the Rectory” to dine at the table of a very prominent parishioner the following afternoon. “If these people have their way, you will almost never be home. This fellow has two marriageable daughters, barely out of school, and I suppose he hopes you will see them and be instantly taken with one or the other.”
Frederick was discomfited by the situation and its eerie resemblance to that of Henrietta and Louisa Musgrove. Thankfully, he had learnt his lesson. In the maelstrom of social activities, he did not allow himself to be charmed into the ranks of any one family. He took extreme care not to cast a shadow of undue interest in the direction of any of the ladies presented, and the only enthusiastic conversations in which he engaged were about the Navy, sailing in general, or horses. Now, even talk of hunting left a disagreeable taste in his mouth.
This increase of social obligations quickly became a part of the household’s daily routine. Another routine he noticed was that Mrs. Wentworth was almost never seen any time before early afternoon. On days when the gentlemen were not engaged, Edward either kept her company in t
heir bedchamber or made visits about the parish. Frederick would ride or read or walk the grounds around the church and nearby fields. George, surprisingly, seemed quite satisfied to be traded back and forth between the brothers.
After spending a significant portion of the day with only himself or the boy, it was fortunate for him that, when Mrs. Wentworth did appear, she was more than ready to entertain him. Her natural curiosity proved her open to a vast number of subjects. Nor was she shy in asking questions of him about sailing, the various parts of the world to which he had travelled, and even the intrigues of Whitehall. He had yet to find an appropriate topic in which she was not interested.
Thanks to his sister-in-law’s seemingly endless curiosity, he forgot most of his troubles for days on end. Intermittently, he was acutely aware that they might be mounting with each passing hour. At those times, he took hard and punishing rides in the cold countryside. Only when his body was exhausted could his mind fall quiet.
On the whole, the visit to his brother was going very well. The only disconcerting aspect of his presence was that the couple were still newlyweds. Frederick was as likely as not to catch the rector and his wife in a pose of full-blown affection. The Captain assumed he and poor Bell to be sailing the same seas in this, and he pitied her. It soon became a habit to walk heavily, clear his throat, whistle, and generally make a fuss before entering a room. He quickly understood they were fond of the Rector’s study as a place to exchange their connubial demonstrations.
After a fortnight of grey skies, there dawned an uncommonly brilliant morning and, as was usual, he found himself with only Mr. Tuggins for company at the breakfast table. When asked about the master and mistress, all Bell had to say was, “They’re bein’ quiet by themselves.”
George watched the woman leave and then volunteered his observations. “I saw a man come earlier. He went with the Rector upstairs.” Wentworth reminded the boy not to speak with his mouth full. “Sorry, sir. He called the man Abernathy.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
Wentworth handed George his napkin. “Did he say anything else to the man?” George was proving to be as useful a source of information as a distraction.
He shook his head vigorously. “No, sir. He took him upstairs to Mrs. Wentworth and never came back down.”
Wentworth stirred his coffee slowly and contemplated a male visitor to the wife of the house. “Did the man have a bag with him? A satchel like mine only black and smaller?”
The boy was in the habit of swinging his feet, and his head bobbed as he thought. “Yes, sir. I think so. He told the Rector there was no need to worry.” He made a point to let Wentworth see him wipe his mouth on the napkin.
Bell re-entered the room, cleared away George’s dishes, and asked if the boy might help with some odd jobs out of doors. The Captain consented. After coming to no conclusions about a doctor visiting, Frederick decided that he should write to Harville and ask for news from Lyme. If Miss Louisa was well on her way to good health, the sooner he could bid farewell to his role of villain in this convoluted melodrama.
As he approached the study, he tapped absently on the wall in case he’d missed the doctor’s departure. He coughed several times for good measure. After knocking on the door, he stepped in and was somewhat surprised to find his brother. He’d thought he was still upstairs.
With the rector was a young man whose bag at his feet obviously marked him as the doctor. The young fellow was a pleasant-looking and well-dressed man for a country healer, but that did not explain the reason they should be raising wine glasses in a toast in the morning.
Edward interrupted his drink when he caught sight of Frederick. “Brother, come in, please. Captain Frederick Wentworth, please meet Doctor Michael Abernathy. Doctor, Captain Wentworth.”
The doctor bowed and extended a hand. “I am happy to finally meet you, Captain Wentworth. Your brother has been good enough to share with me some of your more brazen exploits at sea.” He grasped Frederick’s hand firmly, shook it enthusiastically, and was quite anxious that the Captain should take the better of the leather chairs, which he had vacated.
Frederick thanked the doctor, took the seat and a glass of wine Edward offered. He was surprised that Edward knew of anything of his life at sea, much less exploits. Frederick never wrote to tell of any particular actions or captures. The Captain assumed his brother would not be at all interested.
“So, we toast to the future, Rector.” Abernathy’s smile was open and generous. Whatever they toasted was a happy event. He turned to Wentworth. “The way your brother speaks, I should not be surprised if he names a boy after you.” Abernathy turned back to Edward.
Frederick’s realisation of what the doctor meant took an instant or two, but it dawned quickly enough. He studied this happy, slightly dazed Edward. Edward glanced Frederick’s way and signalled what Frederick took as an apology for the news being delivered so abruptly.
To see his brother happy in his new life should have filled the Captain with joy, but, in the way humans are at times, it only reminded him of his own faults and sadness at his own missed opportunities. The confidence in his own abilities that had carried him so remarkably through the earlier years seemed to be deserting him. All he had wanted for himself—had wanted for Anne and him—was now playing out before his eyes in the life of another man, and it galled him to the core, even if it was his own dear brother.
To add jealousy to his repertoire of jumbled emotions was ridiculous, childish in fact. He was beginning to appreciate the attitude of those others who seemed to resent his success. He was now eating the crow he enjoyed feeding to others. Forcing a smile, Frederick raised his glass to the future of the Wentworth Clan. “May its chief find joy in his family and in his life.” He raised the glass high and endeavoured to genuinely take pleasure in Edward’s look of contentment.
Chapter Five
Edward looked embarrassed at the overly flattering toast. The doctor joined in with a call for a speech. “Thank you, gentlemen. I am happier than I can convey and am glad to have such good friends to mark the occasion. Gentlemen.” He lifted his glass again and then drank it dry.
While the others chatted, Frederick took the opportunity to fill his glass. It was then he spied a copy of the Naval Chronicles on his brother’s desk. There had never been any mention of such a thing in the past, and he had never seen a copy in his brother’s possession.
“You read more widely than I knew.” Edward looked and saw to what Frederick referred. He hesitated for just an instant. Just as quickly the moment vanished. He laughed. “Yes, I have subscribed for years. How else would I keep up with your activities? Your adventures are kept pretty much to yourself.” To prove himself, he opened a drawer and tossed several well-worn magazines in his brother’s direction.
The banner of the topmost announced the latest issue of Naval Chronicles and several of the stories found within its pages. When it came out twice yearly many readers read every copy, and most officers were buried in its pages for days. Wentworth had missed this particular issue, but he calculated it would tell of three small captures to the credit of Laconia, Captain Frederick Wentworth commanding. There would be Benwick’s name on the list of Lieutenants stepping up to the rank of Master and Commander. There would be no announcement of Fanny Harville’s death. She was not the wife of Captain Benwick, and Captain Harville was not important enough to have family tragedies listed. Only truly important events in the life of the Navy’s privileged ever graced the pages of the Chronicles.
His mind jumped to the next issue that would appear early in the following year. The only announcement he cared about was that Laconia had been put in Ordinary. Without an accompanying notice of his being awarded another ship, all would know he was now ashore on half-pay. If things were timed just right, there would be an announcement that Laconia was placed back in active service and that Captain Tanner was now at the helm. Wentworth’s private business would be there for all to read and to speculate upon. His though
ts only glanced at the idea that a future issue would announce his marriage to one Miss Louisa Musgrove of Uppercross, Somersetshire.
“Frederick?”
He looked away from the magazine. Both Abernathy and Edward were expecting an answer. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.” He scolded himself for allowing idle speculation to overtake him.
Edward was about to enlighten him on what he had missed when the door opened and a woman entered. Edward and Frederick rose. The Rector gave the woman a very stiff, very proper bow and then introduced his brother to Mrs. Michael Abernathy.
Frederick wondered how George had missed seeing the woman enter with her husband. He bowed and looked up in time to see that her curtsey was as shallow as could be made and still be considered movement.
He noticed first the intricately arranged mass of chestnut hair. Her eyes were a pleasing brown and her features were regular, though nothing out of the ordinary. Other men of a more generous character would call her complexion alabaster, but pale was a much more apt description. Overall, he would say she was not unattractive, and he fully understood how a man might be drawn to her. Nonetheless, he had certainly learnt his lesson with Mrs. Wentworth about making judgements concerning a woman’s character by her features, and he could not help being put off by the frigid air of this one.
She stepped forward with a lifted chin and confident expression. “Captain Wentworth. My cousin, Rear Admiral of the Blue Daniel Fuller, assists the First Lord at Whitehall.” She folded her hands, making it clear that her credentials were now stated and it was his turn to do the same.
As luck would have it, he did know Admiral Daniel Fuller. They had met in Portsmouth early in the year when Fuller was the guest of the Port Admiral. Mrs. Abernathy’s careful enunciation of his full title did not negate the fact that, while the man did, indeed, assist the First Lord, he was merely one of an over-stuffed retinue of toadies chosen solely for their ability to trumpet the importance of the powers that be and, in doing so, ensure that all observers understood how important they were. General opinions of Fuller’s talents as a sailor and an officer were mixed. From what Wentworth had heard, Admiral Fuller’s most impressive talent was his memory for gossip. The man was a treasure trove of embarrassing peccadilloes that ensured the least of captains, sailing the least of ships, in the least important stations, would remain so. He was just the sort of man who would land himself at Whitehall, snugged up against the most powerful of officers. He was just the sort of man Wentworth endeavoured to avoid.