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

by Susan Kaye

  “I am glad to see you enjoyed yourself, Mademoiselle,” Elise said, as she lightly brushed Miss Anne’s dress.

  “Thank you, Elise, but how do you know I enjoyed myself?”

  The French maid’s history was vague, but she had been with their mother first and was now shared between Elizabeth and Anne. She had watched the girls grow into women and was of strong opinions concerning each of them. She smiled over her shoulder to Anne, placed the dress in the closet, and began to gather and fold her undergarments. “Well, Miss, normally you are unenthusiastic when dressing for such a party as tonight’s and are quite glad to be done with it at its end. You come up immediately after the last guest leaves and are ready to retire. But tonight is different.”

  Anne played with her hair, interested in the maid’s observations. “How is that so, Elise?”

  “You were dressed before Miss Elizabeth, and you went down early. That is something you very rarely do, Miss.”

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  She had gone down early, hoping the Crofts would be precisely on time. They were not, which was a disappointment, but they and Frederick arrived within the hour. By that time, the Baronet and Elizabeth were down and receiving all the guests.

  There was never any reason to blush for her family’s manners though Anne was quite sure their sincerity was not so faultless. Both had made Frederick very welcome. Elizabeth had even taken him by the arm and shown him all the points of interest in the salon. He had found the refreshment table well appointed with many of his favourite foods. Then, when Elizabeth had made the mistake of bringing him to Anne and he remarked how well she looked this evening, Elizabeth made certain he knew that Anne absolutely refused to play cards. She wondered aloud why, considering her distaste for games, her sister bothered to show herself at such affairs.

  “I can understand such sentiment, for unless I am playing for money, I find that observing others is, by and large, a more interesting pastime,” he said. Elizabeth suddenly thought herself needed elsewhere and left the pair alone. He apologised for any offence if it was given.

  “I think she is not offended, merely put out that you would agree with me. I am afraid Elizabeth and I are very mismatched sisters.”

  He was about to respond when Sophia Croft joined them. Teasing him, she asked, “Are you boring our poor young friend with a continued recital of all the reasons women should not be allowed aboard a King’s ship?” The Admiral joined them and she took his arm.

  “No, we were talking about how mystifying it is that siblings can be completely opposite and yet come from the same parents,” he said. He turned back to Anne.

  Sophia smiled and said, “How true. It can be quite heartbreaking in fact. Take the case of the Wentworths of Liverpool. The eldest brother and the only daughter are quite intelligent, independent-thinking and liberal in their ideas. And yet, the youngest son—a scapegrace by all accounts—is the most stiff-necked and hidebound man of my acquaintance. Come, Miss Anne; let me rescue you from whatever nonsense he was spouting.” She took Anne’s arm, gave her surprised brother a wink, and walked away with his prize.

  When Anne expressed worry that Captain Wentworth would be angered by the exchange, Sophia laughed and the Admiral said, “They joust like that all the time. He’s a good one to liven up a place. Frederick likes a good tease more than most and will be back later in the evening with a good sharp rebuttal.” They continued to talk about him and his sense of humour. Anne wondered if she had changed so much over the years that she might be too dour for him or for his humour-loving family.

  They met repeatedly over the course of the evening. One meeting, under cover of a large flower arrangement in the parlour, was a particular revelation. Frederick confessed that after the Asp was sunk, when he was in possession of several thousand pounds and posted into the frigate Laconia, he had considered writing to her in hopes that she would renew the engagement. When she told him she would have done so, he admitted that he was as much to blame for their years of separation as anyone else he might hold responsible.

  “Like other great men under reverses,” he added with a smile, “I must endeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve.” Upon reciting this swath of affected modesty, Wentworth reached out and fingered one of the leaves of the display.

  Anne reached out and stroked the same frond. It bobbed silently against the sound of the card party in the other part of the room. “I think you are not the only one who must learn to endure this unearned joy. I, too, gain more than I bargained for.”

  He glanced her way and said, “How so?”

  “All those weeks at Uppercross, I allowed your horrid mood to put me off. Everyone knew we had been acquainted. I would not have been breeching any sort of propriety in presuming upon it. Instead, I wasted my time politely inquiring after your opinion of the weather or the day’s shooting. I am a woman after all; I could have done more.” She touched the frond again. “I could have used whatever means available to make you understand me, but I chose not to.”

  “So, you wish to take the blame?”

  She smiled and turned to him. “We shall share it equally, but don’t think I will be so generous after we are married.”

  Just as he was about to explore her interesting reference their future, his sister approached and insisted that he join her at one of the tables.

  “I have noticed you are not playing very much; so, I will not feel I am imposing upon you, Captain. Colonel Wallis is sorely in need of a hard set-down.” After slipping her hand through his arm, she said, “And you are just the man to do it.”

  Frederick was all smiles and feigned eagerness, but Anne could tell he yearned to remain with her in the plant-filled corner. They could not afford to be incautious, and if there was anyone in the room who might guess their secret, it would be Mrs. Croft. He bid Anne to please excuse them as they went to do battle for the honour of the Navy. For a moment, she considered giving him a token, her handkerchief perhaps, but that would rouse suspicion as well. Overt intimacy would conjure up questions in the minds of their friends and family, and those questions would eventually be asked and require answers.

  “Never let it be said that I would stand between you and your duty, sir,” was the safest thing for Anne to say. For an instant, their eyes met and she felt something from him, a little disappointment perhaps. She watched and pondered her impression as Frederick and Sophia made their way to the table.

  He drew the chair out for his sister and then took his place across from the sharp-featured Colonel Wallis. Anne couldn’t decide whether the man’s red uniform gave him a florid cast in the candlelight, or he was responding to the warmth of the room and anticipation of the game. Perhaps it was both. Better and better, she thought as she watched her cousin approach the table. He asked that Mrs. Wallis surrender her seat to him. She seemed quite happy about the exchange. Mr. Elliot took the chair with a greedy smile.

  Whether Frederick won or lost was of little import—though she hoped fervently that he and his sister would thrash their opponents—what mattered to Anne was watching him. She took the greatest pleasure in watching him cut the cards and speak with animation to his sister as they were dealt. After the deal was finished, he picked up his cards, fanned them, but did nothing to change their order. They lost the opening trick, but she could tell by their looks that this was a strategy.

  No hand of cards ever held such interest for her, but she soon realised she didn’t really attend the game. She examined him. His hands were of special interest to her. He handled the cards with great surety, never dropping or mishandling them. It was regrettable that she must stand so far from the table. With the low light of the candles, closer study was not possible. She would satisfy herself by watching the movements of his whole person. She savoured them all, especially his triumph.

  When the game between the services ended, Mr. Elliot withdrew and Frederick was set upon by Elizabeth and Miss Carteret. Anne was amused to
see that Miss Carteret seemed terribly smitten with him. She blushed and dropped her cards quite prettily. He endeavoured to show her how to shuffle correctly. This was a complete failure, and when he was on his knees under the table for the second time in as many minutes, he looked to Anne, smiled and made a silly face of frustration that made her laugh. He continued to play with the ladies and the Colonel in a most gracious manner but didn’t look Anne’s way again.

  For once, she wished she did play cards. She could then manoeuvre a place at a table with him. Instead she must continue her charade of disinterest in the games. Walking around the room would have to satisfy for the moment.

  The tables changed. Charles Musgrove, who seemed to be eager to have a go against the Army, relieved Wentworth. Frederick smiled as he approached her, and her breathing quickened; but just before he reached her, Mr. Elliot stepped up and asked that he might bring her a cup of punch. She refused but could think of no way to deter her cousin from ruining her next furtive meeting with the Captain.

  “I hope you are not too bored by the party. I know cards are not your favourite form of entertainment.” Elliot ate a cheese straw and took a drink.

  “No, they are not,” was all she said in response. Wentworth was staying well back, trying to look interested in a conversation between Captain Harville and Henrietta Musgrove.

  “I think you prefer guessing games,” Elliot said.

  It was an odd statement and one that spontaneously drew her attention. “Guessing games? What would make you think I like such things?” He had found a topic that did interest her.

  “You seemed very curious the other evening at the concert about how I knew so much about you before your arrival in Bath. You are still as curious, if not more so, I’ll wager.”

  The arrogant presumption of her cousin was laughable. She wondered what might transpire were she to mention Mrs. Smith, late of Westgate Buildings. If she mentioned knowing the wife of his late friend, what sort of guessing game would this become? Were they not surrounded with so many of her father’s friends, she might indeed play, but as he had no idea how foolish he looked to her now, she schooled her features and moved around him to walk along the table of refreshments. “I have always thought it unwise to gamble, sir. After giving it a considerable amount of thought, I have come to the conclusion that as intriguing as your mystery might be to me, you are more anxious to tell than I am anxious to know.” With that, she walked away.

  The path along the table took her precisely where she wished to be: amongst the Naval contingency of Captains Harville and Wentworth. As fortune would have it, Miss Carteret and Miss Elliot joined them. Her sister was all smiles, and while Anne could not place herself near Wentworth, she could enjoy a felicitous view of Mr. Elliot glowering at her from across the room.

  Anne said little, but she was gratified to watch her sister’s perfect manners carry the day in entertaining both Frederick and Captain Harville. Miss Carteret was enthralled by a tale Harville was telling, and her sister dutifully followed her lead. Frederick bowed out, pointing to his cup. She waited for the right moment and left them as well.

  “I have never been so frustrated in my life,” Frederick said.

  “Why is that?” Anne took a drink from the cup he just filled for her.

  “We can never be alone here.”

  “We will not be alone for some weeks or months, perhaps.”

  “Months! What do you suppose they would do if I were to announce right here that you have accepted my proposal and that we wish to fix a date?”

  She gave a bit of thought, though it did not take long for a smile to appear. “I think we do not have enough smelling salts to accommodate all the fainting.”

  He laughed. “Particularly your father, I suspect.”

  She was about to counter him but then said, “Perhaps you’re right. Though the cause would be that someone of your prospects would wish to marry me and not my sister.”

  The secret moments between them were growing in number, and she was flattered that he continued to find ways to come to her. “I have never before set for myself such a difficult mission as I have this night. Had I known when I accepted your sister’s invitation I would be exerting myself to such an extent just to be with you, I might have thought better of accepting.”

  “Really,” she had said, her tone feigned indignation. She even took an exaggerated step away to emphasise her jesting.

  He frowned and made every effort possible to make amends. “I must not do anything to make us look any more connected than others sharing the warm punch at a friendly party.” She let him worry for a moment or two more and then informed him he was the object of her hesitant try to recapture her lost sense of humour. “I was afraid of this,” he said. “All that is needed is to be in the company of my sister for a few moments and I am dished.” He took a drink of punch. She noticed a white scar across the knuckles of his left hand.

  “What is it?” he asked, when he noticed that she stared.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  Later, in the quiet of her room, she considered how much she did not know about him. They had been engaged so short a time, she’d known little of him even then. She was young and deeply in love with a man who made his way in the world in a most violent manner. The scar was bound to be just the beginning of things.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  “—and tonight you stayed downstairs longer than your sister. Miss Elliot is usually the one who remains and sees to the cleaning up.”

  “Yes, I did. It was only fair. As you say, it usually falls to Elizabeth.” The truth was that Anne wanted to stay in the room he’d occupied. She had gathered the decks of cards he’d played with and sorted through them. His nimble fingers had touched them, and she wished to touch them as well. It was all foolishness. She forced herself to pay attention to Elise. It was important that she not allow herself to indulge in silly, girlish thoughts.

  Elise was finished with her observations. Anne had missed most of them. The maid closed the jewellery casket, curtseyed, and bid Miss Anne a good night. The closed door did more than close out the household; it gave Anne a private place to consider a new life.

  On other nights, when she looked about her room, it was merely a well-appointed cell. The chamber was neat and tidy, little more than a place in which a prisoner could be comfortable in body but not in heart. Now, in the same way that everything since Frederick’s letter was turned on its head, her room, too, was reborn into a warm and inviting spot to contemplate her future. Love truly changes more than just the lovers, she thought.

  She reached over to a book of poetry and prose by John Gay. She had purchased it in Lyme that morning she and the Musgrove sisters had walked through the town with Frederick. They had been left alone at one point, and she’d made reference to Gay while looking through a bookstall. Frederick had not recognised the name. Before she could explain, he had been called into the store to assist Louisa. She had taken advantage of the solitude, bought the book, and prayed no one would ever know about her sentimental, hopeless purchase. It was not until she met Frederick in Molland’s that she had bothered to unpack it from her trunk and read it. Now, it was her most prized possession.

  Opening the letter, she relished the thought of his hands touching the pages and that touch turning to action while he wrote of his feelings for her in such intimate terms. Then there came thoughts of his drawing her attention to it as he distracted Mrs. Musgrove with talk of forgetting his gloves. Energy surged through her limbs and inner parts as she remembered his expression when he pulled it from under the scattered papers on the little writing desk. The flushed, pleading expression, she now understood, was the product of pouring himself out for her. She held the letter to her heart. It was as if he were touching her.

  She looked at the letter and smiled. On sudden impulse, she took it and herself to the mirror. Her colour was high and appealing as never before. “I suppose you are no more immune to silliness than the next young woman,”
she told her image. It had been a long time since she had thought of herself as young, and it was because of him. Frederick made her feel completely different in every way she could imagine.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  When Frederick arrived unannounced at the White Hart, all the Musgroves and their guests were present. Along with many of Mrs. Musgrove’s Bath friends were his own who were clustered about the dining table, partaking of bits of gossip gathered all over the city and even a few tender bits found in and about Camden Place the night before.

  “I scarcely think I attended the same party, listening to them,” Harville said, nodding towards the crowded table. “It’s hard to imagine that so much goes on around a man of which he takes no notice.”

  “That is always the way of it,” Wentworth said, disappointed that Anne was not in attendance. He was invited to join them for dinner and he accepted, hoping all the while she would appear. When she did, he barely had a chance to admire her when it became clear her presence upset the balance of the table. Happily, such turmoil caused them an unexpected benefit.

  “Mama is fretting about the table,” Henrietta said, gesturing to the large table. “There are so many, and there are still some dishes to be brought up from the kitchen. She wonders if, perhaps, the two of you won’t mind sitting over here, at the little table.” She looked particularly at Anne. “I assured her that of all the people in the room the Captain would take the least offence in being asked to be separated from the rest.”

  “Tell your mother I will be very pleased to take a place over here. I would never wish to make her uneasy about treating me like family.”

  “Certainly, Miss Musgrove, tell your mother that I, too, am quite content with the arrangements.”

  The girl smiled, but as she left them to tell her mother, she glanced back at the pair. “We may have been too enthusiastic,” he said. “I think she suspects something. She just doesn’t know what.”