by Susan Kaye
“Captain Wentworth, whatever aid I might lend you will be a pleasure I assure you.” The man examined Wentworth without the smallest amount of tact.
“Thank you, Sir Walter. Thank you very much for such kindness. To be honest, it is not so much a favour I need, as it is your blessing.” He observed the Baronet as he absorbed this. The man’s expression went from one of puzzlement to deep thought and then to elation.
“May I presume you have come to ask for the hand of my daughter?” He beamed and cocked his head. In his pleasure, he let out a little burst of tittering.
Wentworth thought of Anne and persevered. “Yes, sir. You may presume as much.”
Sir Walter rose from his chair and came alongside Wentworth. “I must tell you, I did not suspect your interest until just the moment you asked. But now that I understand you and might reflect on it, the evidence has been there all along; although, she has kept exceedingly quiet about it.”
Wentworth was surprised that the Baronet would have observed Anne enough over any period of time to notice anything pertaining to her.
“When did you propose?”
“Saturday.”
“You see, I do remember having a passing suspicion when I saw you together at the White Hart on Friday.” He smiled wider and clapped his hands together. “Love blooming under my very nose, and I failed to notice! The pair of you are too clever by half.” Sir Walter’s jollity was disturbing, but the man’s change in fortune had perhaps done a work that Wentworth had failed to see until now. Though, Patrick didn’t seem to think—
“So, Saturday evening the two of you were playing at charades, eh? Letting us all believe you were indifferent to one another. Though, I did notice you taking refreshments together now and then. I thought she presented a beautiful tableau, her dark beauty and your handsome features. Your uniform was particularly striking against her red dress, was it not? You certainly could not have asked Saturday night, and I suppose you didn’t think it proper to come to me on the Sabbath. I’m not sure: is a proposal akin to work? Your brother is a clergyman; is he not? Perhaps he could advise you. But then, you’ll not really need to know, as it is Monday; and I am giving my consent.”
He nodded to Wentworth and opened his hands. “Well, there it is Captain. You have my consent to marry my daughter.”
Wentworth thanked him, even though he was still making his way through Sir Walter’s ramble.
The Baronet took his seat again. He pulled the single volume to him and opened it. He looked at Wentworth. “Do you know what this is, Captain Wentworth?”
“I have not a clue, sir.”
“This is the Baronetage. Do you know what the Baronetage is?”
“Yes, sir. I have heard of it. In the Navy we have something similar: The Navy List. It discloses each man’s rank and where he stands compared with his superiors and inferiors.”
“Ah, the Navy is more enlightened than I would have suspected,” Sir Walter murmured to himself as he perused the pages. For a few minutes, the man seemed to be lost in the pages of the book. Wentworth was about to speak when Sir Walter closed the book, rose and approached him. With hand extended, he said, “I would be most honoured to have our families allied by such a match, Captain.” Sir Walter shook his hand and even made an attempt at patting him on the back. Both were rather weak and, strangely, brought to mind images of small girls in pretty sprigged frocks.
Frederick allowed him to continue prating on and shaking his hand, but there was something not quite right about it all. Perhaps he was just over-prepared, spoiling for a fight when there was none to be had. This was good, he thought. There was no sense in starting his relationship with the head of the Elliot family with a scrap. He continued to smile and endeavoured to attend to the Baronet, but in the next moment the man made no sense. He was jabbering on about Mr. Elliot being a part of the family soon. Didn’t the silly rooster know that everyone in Bath had paired Anne with Elliot? Was he hoping that Elliot would so easily shift his affections to—
“—her dark beauty and your handsome features. Your uniform was particularly striking against her red dress, was it not?”
Anne’s dress had been blue...pale blue at that.
Good God, Wentworth thought, he thinks I want Miss Elliot!
“Captain, I must tell you that I know your taking my daughter as a wife will prove to be not only a charming choice but an advantageous one as well. Elizabeth has been mistress of Kellynch all these years, since the passing of her mother and, I dare say, will do you credit as your position and rank require more of you in society. Yes, she will do you quite proud—”
The Baronet clacked on while Frederick thought not how well Miss Elliot could entertain his society, but how she might react when taken into it. The idea of Elizabeth Elliot joining the Harvilles for a homey, family dinner in their crowded little house under the dock in Lyme nearly made him laugh aloud.
“Sir Walter, I am sorry, but I believe that you and I have crossed our signals dreadfully. I have indeed proposed to your daughter, but it is Anne that I have asked to marry me, not Miss Elliot.” As the words diffused the Baronet’s pleasure, Wentworth was nearly struck with pity for the silly old windbag.
“But surely, Captain, I am surprised that you would endeavour to renew—Anne! You have asked Anne to marry you? I must say, I am amazed.” He sounded more angry than amazed as he made his way back to the desk and collapsed into the chair.
“Yes sir, I have asked Anne to be my wife, and, happily, she has accepted. That is why I have come to ask for your blessing over our marriage.” Wentworth would take care from here on out to present this as a courtesy to him as Anne’s father, not as a desire on their part for his permission.
The man said nothing as he continued to study Wentworth. The tide of the Baronet’s mood was definitely turning. The open look was steadily darkening; the eyes were losing their glow. The muscles in Sir Walter’s jaw were working at an alarming rate. The overbearing arrogance of years past was steadily reasserting itself as his glee in adding the Captain to the Baronetage completely evaporated.
It didn’t matter to Wentworth. The respite from the Baronet’s usual vanity and idiocy had been pleasant enough, but the return of the old man was nothing to him. He’d faced worse for mere money and was more than prepared to inform him that this was merely a courtesy call. If it came to it, he would gladly inform Sir Walter that he and Anne had their own plans that did not require her father’s approval.
“If you are determined to marry Anne, I suppose we have some business to discuss, Captain.”
“Yes, sir. I suppose we do.” Captain Wentworth moved to a chair alongside the desk. Unfortunately, he felt the negotiations would have all the charm of bargaining for stores in a foreign port rather than an affectionate father seeing his daughter into the safekeeping of a loving husband.
Sir Walter stood and went to the window. “We must speak of you and my daughter—of Anne. I am surprised that you have renewed the engagement, sir. As I recall, there was a rather unfortunate ending the last time.” He kept his back to Wentworth.
Frederick wondered why the subject of the first engagement was being raised. The incident was between Anne and him and was, to his way of thinking, best left unmentioned. “Yes, sir, that was a very unfortunate time for both of us, but we are in agreement about our future together. I hope you will not think me impertinent in saying so, but I fail to see what our past engagement has to do with our present desire to marry.”
The Baronet took a seat. “As you’ll recall, there was nothing I could do for my daughter in the way of her settlement at that time. I always wondered if that was the reason you decided to decamp on such short notice?” He perched a bland look on his face.
Fie! You old bugger! So this is how you will play me. It struck Wentworth how easily and economically Sir Walter could rewrite the past. With the change of just one word—“would” was now changed to “could”—and the entire scene was new. At this, Sir Walter ceased b
eing a cold and indifferent parent and was transformed into nothing worse than an ordinary man, fallen prey to bad monetary circumstance.
Keep your head, boy. It will not do to murder him just yet. Get his blessing first. “No sir. I left because Anne made it clear she would not marry me. I assure you that the lack of settlement money had nothing to do with my quitting the field. May I say that money has nothing to do with my seeking to regain her favour now.” He was suddenly curious as to why the Baronet would be taking him down this particular road. There was no reason to think Sir Walter could have any cunning schemes in the offing. This left only an opportunity to cry poor to be the reason the broken engagement was mentioned.
“Ah! A romantic marrying for love! I suppose those who possess an independent fortune are able to indulge such quaint sentiments,” Sir Walter said. For once, the accusation of “romantic” did not nettle him as it did when coming from some others. Anything that placed him opposite this man he deemed first-rate. Whatever the Baronet’s beliefs were about such “quaint sentiments” was beside the point. The look in his eye was that of a cynic, not one concerned whatever with tender feelings.
“Your situation is much the same as mine when I married my Elizabeth. We married for love, and though I thought them childish, we participated in the traditions that were all the rage at the time. Parties could only be hosted by the families and attended by only the proper people, only certain foods were eaten by the couple. I think I remember—”
Wentworth listened with interest to the litany of marriage customs the Baronet found silly. Most were still in place as far as he knew. What was the fellow up to?
“—and the dowry was expected immediately, within just days of the announcement.”
There it was. There was the pearl in the oyster of this convoluted exchange.
“I was fortunate that Miss Stevenson’s father was well able to manage. He lectured me long on this being his daughter’s stake in the marriage and that it would provide a stake for daughters to follow. All utter rubbish,” he muttered. “People from Gloucester are rarely so scrupulous about their debts. It was of little matter to me, I could well afford to forego the dowry completely. I only took it to satisfy the man’s old-fashioned notions of honour and their outmoded country ways.” It seemed that for all Sir Walter’s foolishness he, too, had learnt the value of silence along the way and sat quietly while the Captain absorbed his little speech.
Ah! An oyster with two pearls! How fortunate for me, thought Wentworth. Of course the man hadn’t the money to pay off the settlement. He would do whatever he must to squirm out from under the obligation, even if that included making Wentworth look like a peasant if he made any sort of fuss about the dowry. In the grand scheme, the money meant nothing and the opinion of Sir Walter even less. But the money had come through the mother and was intended for her daughters. Lady Elliot had wished Anne to have a stake in her marriage, and this imbecile—
“So, Captain, shall we, as men of the world, put aside these superstitions and—”
Wentworth decided to extend the silence. The man had the temerity not only to insult the memory of his late wife, but her people, her dearest daughter, and himself. The man would learn a lesson about what it was to truly be a man of the world.
When Sir Walter began to toy with his sleeves, Wentworth deemed it time to speak.
“Sir, as a man of the world, you will agree that gentlemen do not always see eye-to-eye.” The older man’s expression shifted in a flash from one of hope to one of aversion. No doubt, Wentworth’s elevation of himself to the station of a gentleman was repellent. “That being the case, I must say that I have a great fondness for our good, solid English traditions. As a sailor, I know of no other group of men so steeped in superstitions, a few of whom have saved my life.” He rose. “So, if you have no objections to Anne and me being married—” He had not long to wait for Sir Walter’s affirmative. “And so there is no shadow over the announcement, we shall speak no more of the settlement...”
The Baronet smiled broadly, rose, and extended his hand in agreement.
Wentworth made no move to receive it. “...until the next quarter-day when I shall return and expect us to discuss the payment of my wife’s dowry.”
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
The cool air was refreshing to the spirits of the lovers as they made their way to Rivers Street. They departed Camden Place quickly, reasoning it was only right that Anne be the one to tell her godmother before word travelled to her by some other means. One would not suspect they had just received the most indifferent of congratulations from Anne’s closest family on the announcement of their engagement.
Sir Walter’s announcement was followed by a brief and indifferent kiss on his daughter’s cheek and a handshake for the groom, which could have been outdone by any of a dozen old ladies of delicate health. Miss Elizabeth’s languid, “Best wishes, Sister,” was nothing exceptional. To the couple’s surprise, it was Mrs. Clay who gave them a warm, “Many happy returns to you both,” and whose expression showed any genuine kindness.
Anne suspected Frederick was not bothered by her family’s response. The moment they left the house, he had offered his arm, and when she took it, he placed his hand protectively over hers. She was happy to notice when they met anyone with whom he was acquainted, his hand remained and he merely nodded his greeting. He possessed her emotions and, by his actions, made it clear she was his in body as well. Such care was foreign to her, but she was sure she could grow used to it.
“I shall hail us a carriage. The wind is picking up, and those clouds are darkening.” He slowed to look up the street.
“It’s not all that far now. Besides, it is a pleasure to walk when I have such a delightful companion.” She didn’t look at him but grasped his arm more tightly and leaned into him.
“As you wish, Anne.” There was a smile in his voice. She regretted the chill weather and the gloves they wore.
Making their way steadily through the crowded streets, she wondered if anyone was half as happy as she and Frederick. She tried to imagine how Lady Russell would take the news of their engagement. This led her to think of Mr. Elliot and the news she had to tell concerning him. Why her father was so angry underneath his cold indifference was also a concern. “Frederick, what did Father say when you told him we were getting married?”
It took some time for him to answer. “He wished us well. He was surprised that we had reunited, but raised no objections.”
“He seemed displeased about something.”
“What makes you say this?”
“I cannot say. There seemed to be an air of tension about him.” She laughed and leaned into him again. “I should think that your taking on my expenses would be welcome to a man in financial difficulty.”
“Well, to be honest, I may have made him a bit angry. At one point in the conversation I spoke of myself as his equal. I went so far as to refer to myself as a ‘gentleman’ and saw his displeasure at that.”
“Oh, yes, that would do it. But he must learn that the word is broadening in scope. Though you own no land, you are in every other way a gentleman.”
“I think he cherished hopes for you and your cousin.”
“That was never very likely, but recently a friend has informed me of some very deep shades in his character. I hesitate to speak, not that I wish anything kept from you, but because I have yet to tell even my godmother what I have discovered about him.”
“While I have no objections to the world knowing what sort of reprobate the man is, I do think it will be quite enough for Lady Russell to contend with us appearing unannounced with the news we are to marry. To cast a shadow upon her favourite may be too much for her.”
“You are probably right,” Anne said. “So, I shall tell you of his grave misdeeds another time.”
Rivers Street was quite the most crowded they had walked that morning. It took a little time to work their way to Lady Russell’s building. When they finally reached her door,
a die came shooting from behind them, clicking as it spun and skittered against the steps to the house. “Hey, toss it up, will ya?”
Frederick picked it up and looked around to the voice. The driver of a fine new carriage held out an expectant hand. “Up here, fella.” The toss was perfect and the driver caught it, turned back to his game and his companion without a word of thanks.
Anne knocked on the door while Frederick examined the carriage.
“Miss Anne. Captain Wentworth.” Longwell’s expression and tone were all politeness for her, but she noted something disdainful when he spoke Frederick’s name. “Madam was not expecting so many for tea,” he said, careful not to look at Wentworth.
“Are there others, Longwell? My godmother did not mention anyone else being invited.”
The butler was at a loss for something to say. Finally, he replied, “Madam had only the family in mind, Miss Anne.” Just as he handed their cloaks to the footman, there was a muted crash originating from down the hall. He directed the footman to investigate. “I will show you to the Sun Room.”
“Is my godmother indisposed, or have I misunderstood and come on the wrong day?”
“Of course not, Miss, but Madam asked that I tell her when you arrived. I shall return directly.”
Before she could answer, the footman returned and whispered something to the butler. He grew red in the face. “Please, Miss, allow me to see you comfortable in the Sun Room.”
As they passed by a set of closed doors, Anne paused. “Is my cousin, William Elliot, with Lady Russell?” For the second time in several minutes, Longwell went red. Again, he took his time in speaking. He looked from Anne to the Captain and back
“I can hear his voice in the sitting room,” Anne prodded.
“Uh, yes, Miss. Mr. Elliot arrived some time ago.”
She turned and faced the door. “As you said earlier, Longwell, this tea is for the family. There is no reason for us all not to be together. Please announce us.”