by Susan Kaye
Anne watched the crowd a moment. “She will be distracted soon enough.”
“I was worried at first that you would not come, and here you are. Then I considered it would be the same game of chase as last night when we could barely scrape out a minute alone.”
At that moment, Mrs. Musgrove appeared, bringing them each a glass of wine.
“I know I should have had you at the other table with us, Anne, and asked Captain Harville to join you, Captain; but his leg is worrying him mightily today. I just didn’t have the heart to stand on ceremony.”
“You needn’t worry Mrs. Musgrove. I have shared tables aplenty with Harville; it is not often I am able to dine with such a lovely young woman.” He raised his glass to her and enjoyed the colour flooding her cheeks. Mrs. Musgrove left them and their chairs were brought. Anne and the Captain were seated. Dishes were brought and served in fine style.
After the footmen moved away, Anne said, “Such effusive praise is going to arouse the suspicions of more than just Henrietta.” She took a sip of soup.
“I doubt it. These are the Musgroves and their friends,” he said, nodding towards the large table loaded with food and guests. “I suppose, just to be on the safe side, we should be silent and severe throughout the meal,” Wentworth suggested.
“Shall we, really?” she said.
“No. To be honest, I doubt I could pull it off.”
“We were not bothered by anyone in the autumn when we were on our own. How did we act then?”
“I acted like an idiot. You, I am sure, were perfectly wonderful.”
“I was disappointed.”
Her statement hurt him, but he deserved it. “I’m sorry for that.”
“As I said last night, I am sure that I could have made myself known to you. I believe I didn’t really know my own mind.”
“We know what we want now,” he said, raising his glass, “so, here’s to the future.”
Anne leant forward. “Do you think we should draw attention by toasting?”
He looked to the table and then nodded its way. “Fortunately, the Musgrove’s domestic hurricano keeps anyone from noticing us.”
They drank, and Anne said, “Around Christmas time, Lady Russell and I visited Uppercross. She called it the same thing. I believe the two of you—”
“Yes, even Harville has admitted that the din can get on his nerves at times. But they mean well.” He smiled and busied himself with slicing a boiled potato.
“We will have to go to her soon after you speak with father. It is only fitting.”
“I know, Anne. But today, right now, let us enjoy our privacy. Let us enjoy one another’s company without the burden of anyone’s family.” Just then everyone at the large table laughed all together, drowning out every other sound. He leant close, “Except for theirs, of course.”
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
The walk home in the drenching rain was cosy under his umbrella. When they got to the door of Camden Place, they met Miss Elliot, Mrs. Clay, and Mr. Elliot arriving from an outing of their own. Nothing was mentioned about the Captain and Anne walking together, and he was invited in along with the other gentleman.
They took great care to present themselves as unattached and completely disinterested when they joined the Baronet in the sitting room. Refreshments were called for, and everyone settled in for a comfortable evening.
Anne casually explained that she and the Captain had been visitors at the Musgroves’ rooms and that he had saved her a soaking by the offer of his umbrella. For good measure, he added, “Unfortunately, salvation came at a price, and Miss Anne has had to endure my nonsense about weather.”
“You are a sailor, sir,” Mr. Elliot said. “You could leave the place if you find its weather foul.”
“I could, sir, but other parts of the world are not as interesting to me just now,” Wentworth replied. His tone was smooth, but Elliot could not mistake the warning in his eyes. “The presence of my family here suits me very well. The weather is nothing.”
Elliot had no opportunity to respond, for Miss Elliot and Mrs. Clay commanded the floor with their opinions on the weather, the elegance of the party the evening before, and the woeful lack of anything in the way of entertainment in the coming week. After those topics were exhausted, Anne spoke nicely of dining with the Musgroves and the crush of their party. She took care not to mention anything about dining with the Captain at a table to themselves.
It was dark when Mr. Elliot said he must be going home. Wentworth wished to stay but knew his remaining might rouse suspicion. He decided it was best that he take advantage of the cousin’s departure. Though Miss Elliot saw them out, Anne stood at the top of the stairs and smiled as he departed.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning as Frederick worked his neck cloth into an appropriate knot, he reflected on the need for perfection in everything from his appearance to his attitude for the coming interview with Sir Walter. Much of the previous night had been spent dissecting the disastrous first encounter with Anne’s father. Ridicule and dismissal had been the Baronet’s weapons of choice. There had never been an outright denial of parental permission. It was not necessary to plunge a knife into a dying man when you could simply walk away, assured that he would eventually die of neglect. I suspect you are little changed over the years, Sir Walter, Wentworth thought, but I certainly am. He neatly smoothed the ends of his neck cloth.
“You have finished then, sir.” Harkness had quietly joined him and held open the Captain’s best waistcoat.
Wentworth shrugged it on and fastened the buttons. “I’ve finished this. Is my coat ready?” Harkness left him again. He marvelled at the calm of the man reflected back to him in the mirror. But why not? The fit of the clothing was flawless. The colours woven into the waistcoat suited him well. Just then Harkness returned with his blue coat. As expected, it slid easily over his shoulders and fitted him in the waist and length perfectly. He would meet Sir Walter Elliot, if not as a social equal, at least as an equal in the externals the Baronet so highly prized.
Sir Walter had been all smiles and polite grace when Frederick had presented himself at Kellynch in the summer of 1806. “Captain, please, have a seat. How may I help you?” He was the model of a gentleman more than willing to aid a brilliant young officer rising quickly in the King’s Navy. Once he was found to be a young man not given to meddling with their daughters, most of the gentry of Somerset had been pleased with Commander Frederick Wentworth, the Baronet among them. But when the Commander had asked to marry the Baronet’s second daughter, the country gentleman lost his noblesse oblige and had regarded the proposal as an insult to him and to his family’s honour.
“If it was your hope to collect a tidy settlement, may I remind you that Anne is not of age? She cannot marry without my consent, and there is no dowry even should something be arranged without my consent.”
The statement was nearly a lifetime ago; yet, it still had the power to anger him. Today, Wentworth would meet Sir Walter face-to-face, man-to-man, and Wentworth would be the victor. He was no longer a young man cowed by any theoretical superiority; Captain Wentworth was a superior man who would claim his bride.
“Your coat, sir,” Harkness said, brushing Wentworth’s shoulders. He stood back, taking one last swipe at a speck of lint.
Wentworth carefully judged the effect of the suit. Not bad for an overreaching, unconnected stiver with no prospects for the future, he thought, echoing the words used to reject his suit that dreadful summer. He knew them to be the opinions held by her family and, to his shame, he’d assumed they had convinced Anne of them as well. He had thrown back against her every protest she made. He had twisted her words, making her say things he knew to be the opposite of her true feelings.
Thankfully, all of that was in the past. His dear Anne had forgiven his foolishness, and he had made great strides in putting aside his own pride and arrogance. He saw her once again as the lovely, intelligent woman he had known her to be.<
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“I think I’m finished, Harkness.”
“One last thing, sir.” Harkness took a brush to his hair. “It needs to be cut, sir. If I’d had more notice, I’d have done it today.” There would always be something to keep him from perfection. Except for his hair, he deemed himself well armed and prepared for battle.
Entering the dining room, he found Sophia and the Admiral at breakfast. The Admiral had finished eating but lingered over his coffee. Sophia had gone through the mail, and they were now discussing pressing errands.
“Good morning, Sophia. Admiral.” The goal was to eat and leave without being questioned about his attire or plans for the day. His hope foundered immediately on the rocks of brotherly curiosity.
“My, my, Frederick. You look to be married...or buried.” The Admiral leant back to take in more of the sight of his brother-in-law.
“I’ve neither of those planned for the day, I assure you, sir. I am meeting a fellow and wish to make a good impression. You know these city types, all rigged out formally just in case they meet someone of importance while walking the dog. I should hate to reflect badly on the House of Croft.”
The Admiral laughed heartily and answered, “So, no marriages and no burials.”
Frederick hoped to preclude further questions by making a great show of attacking a plate of eggs and beef tongue. He kept a close watch on them and could not help but notice Sophia’s pencil hovering over her list. She studied him closely, and he willed himself to look innocent. In general, it took a heroic effort to thwart Sophia’s curiosity. To his relief, she suddenly tapped her pencil and turned her attention from him to the Admiral.
“My dear, have you noticed that Frederick seems to be in better spirits since Friday last, but most especially since Saturday?” His relief flagged. It was clear his sister was in the mood to bait and tease. Unluckier still, the Admiral’s smirk told Wentworth he was of the same mind.
“Well, when a man quite unexpectedly meets up with an old mate and good friends like the Musgroves, it is more than enough to bring his spirits to the full. Besides,” the Admiral said, pouring another cup of coffee, “Sir Walter’s rout the other evening was much more pleasant than I could have ever imagined. Why should he not be in a fine humour?” He looked to his wife. The baton passed, Frederick braced for Sophia’s turn at him.
“While these are indeed things which I think may contribute to his...upturn, I thought I noticed a great change on Saturday. He was in an absolute passion to be dressed and ready for the party.” She looked directly at Wentworth, who was finishing with his coffee, preparing to make a hasty exit. “Well, Brother, dear. Am I mistaken or has something of consequence happened which is the source of this changed demeanour?”
Sophia once told him she had learned the value of silence and that people would fill the space it created rather than endure it. He had learnt the same lesson and would normally wait her out, but he was in a rush. He must give her something else to occupy her thinking. “Actually, yes, I was able to gain some information on Saturday which will, in fact, change my life markedly. After my meeting today, I am hoping to have very good news for you both.” This bit of intelligence, taken simply, should keep his sister busy for a time. Frederick rose from the table, signalling an end to the discussion.
Sophia, however, was not daunted by this obvious ploy. “Might this have to do with a certain young woman?”
Frederick had already started out of the room when his sister aimed this shot directly across his bow. He stopped and turned to address his sister and brother. “There is a good possibility this, indeed, has to do with a certain young woman.” He smiled faintly and continued. “But then again, it could have to do with finding a new manager who promises me four and three-quarters per annum.” He returned to Sophia, bussed her on the cheek and said, “I leave you to decide which has raised my spirits, dear.” Straightening, he touched his forehead in salute to the Admiral and left them to think over his mixed reply.
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
Anne rose and sorted through the flowers in one of the side table vases. When she handed the spoiled blooms to the footman, Elizabeth looked up from the book she was attempting to read and glared at her sister for a second time in just a few minutes. Mrs. Clay looked up from her sewing as well and gave Anne one of her more genuine, practised smiles. With time, Anne thought, the woman’s show of fake sincerity will be unassailable.
Since Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay had no trouble seeing she was unsettled, Anne reasoned she must find some occupation before her father took notice. She would normally go to another part of the house, but with Frederick’s promise of coming to speak to her father, she abhorred the idea of missing him. The previous day, spent with the Musgroves, was wonderful. Though they were kept apart by propriety and the large number of people visiting their friends, she felt sure no one suspected them. Having such a secret and revelling in it under the noses of people who knew them both so well, was a rare delight in her normally dull world.
The clock, sweetly chiming another quarter hour, interrupted her thoughts. He had said he would call on her father this morning as soon as propriety allowed. But here it was, nearly eleven o’clock. The morning was racing forward and still no Frederick.
Anne took a seat—even this warranted another glare from her sister—and took up some embroidery. She began to work a simple chain stitch while listening for the door. After another quarter of an hour, her patience was rewarded when she heard the knocker rap three times. Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay exchanged looks and, after a short discussion, guessed that it was Mr. Elliot. Sir Walter was convinced Colonel Wallis was come to call and that, perhaps, Mr. Elliot was with him. Anne was amused that Mr. Elliot was so much anticipated by her family. When the door opened and Captain Wentworth was announced, the effect was quite fascinating.
Each party seemed convinced that they were to see their preferred visitor walk through the door. When that was not the case, each maintained the appropriate, half-surprised smiles and expressions of happy regard. Only her own expression was genuine—my, how good it felt to smile—when she laid eyes on him. Anne was happy to see that either Frederick did not notice the slights of her family or chose to ignore them. He smiled warmly during his reception and looked her way often. While they were settling into their seats, Anne was surprised to see Elizabeth’s expression change. In fact, Miss Elliot and her father were suddenly quite solicitous of the Captain, offering him the best seat.
“Captain Wentworth! I am so happy to see you. This is quite an unexpected pleasure. Come, come and have a chair,” Sir Walter said, his arms out-flung, offering up all the furniture for his comfort. Elizabeth called for refreshments and took pains to make sure the footman repeated special instructions for the kitchen. They strained to make themselves quite at his service. Frederick appeared to take the arch politeness in stride. In fact, he looked as if he was rather enjoying the attention.
After Wentworth had chosen a seat, Elizabeth, of course, took her place next to their father. Anne took her normal place just a little to one side of the sphere of conversation. Mrs. Clay was relegated to being a satellite left in a distant orbit. It was amusing to think that, just for this little while, Frederick Wentworth was the centre of the Elliot galaxy.
Anne knew her cheeks were flushed. Her breath was short and the sound of her heart pounded in her ears. The embroidery she’d been working earlier was at hand, and she picked it up. It was a useless gesture. To try and do even the simplest of stitches would be impossible with her hands shaking so violently. She knew it was the fact that he was here to propose that made her so tense. Why this was, she couldn’t guess. There was no risk now. He’d made it clear that he intended to make her his wife with or without her father’s blessing. The very thought of Frederick’s intentions warmed her further, and she could not resist smiling. She looked up and was surprised to find him smiling at her as well. Anne could hear the Baronet’s voice, but it seemed very far off. The whole scene was a dream. He
was actually in her home to ask her father for her hand in marriage. A fortnight ago, she could not have dared to hope, but now—
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
“I believe this will be to your liking,” said Miss Elliot, as she offered him a cup of tea. This forced Wentworth to look away from Anne. He accepted the cup, took a drink and, despite its lack of flavour, complimented the hostess. At this juncture, he decided to use the advantage of surprise against the Baronet’s advantage of home waters.
“Sir Walter, I wish you to know that I enjoyed myself exceedingly Saturday evening. I thank you again for the invitation.” Quickly taking a drink, he continued before the gentleman had an opportunity to reply. “Such kindness towards me makes me think you the perfect man to render me a particularly great favour, a favour for which I would be most assuredly in your debt.” He took another drink and enjoyed watching Anne’s sweet expression shift to one of perplexity over the rim. Sir Walter, too, was mystified, but Wentworth could see the wheels turning. The idea of the Captain being indebted to him intrigued Sir Walter exceedingly. This was precisely where Frederick wanted him. Soon, it was suggested that they adjourn to the library.
On entering the room, Wentworth noticed the want of books. There was a single volume on the desk with only other common desk clutter to keep it company. He noticed one of the lower shelves contained several books on sailing that he recognised. He made his way over and read the titles of several other books of poetry and some noted essayists.
“Those are Anne’s. She was quite set on bringing them from Kellynch. For what reason, I haven’t the slightest idea.”
Wentworth wasn’t sure the accusatory tone was towards books in general or the content of these in particular. Either way, the Baronet had little regard for the interests of his middle daughter. He touched the spine of The Seaman’s Life, moved that she’d searched it out on her own.