by Susan Kaye
After the third plate of sweets was brought, along with coffee, tea, sweet wine, and a crystal pitcher of water, Mr. Musgrove finally determined there were refreshments enough for a simple morning visit. Such a welcome was gratifying. As Wentworth related the Admiral’s condition, feminine voices in the entryway roused Mr. Musgrove. “That will be my daughters. Girls!” he called out. “Come and meet our guest.”
Wentworth heard the voices cry out, then silence for a few seconds, followed by laughter. Mr. Musgrove had said they all were looking forward to his visit and that the girls were particularly looking forward to meeting such a distinguished servant of the Crown. It was a bit overdone, but he supposed children isolated in the country would be excited to meet anyone not from the area. The giggling and such were natural.
Setting down his cup, the Captain stood in anticipation of the introduction. To his surprise, it was not two little girls who entered the room. He wondered where on earth he’d acquired this notion of the Musgrove daughters. “Captain Frederick Wentworth, I would like you to meet my daughter, Miss Henrietta Musgrove.”
When she raised her head, it was plain to see she was very excited to meet him. The fresh, round face was all blushes and dimples. Her eyes sparkled, but he perceived that shyness kept them from looking directly into his.
“And this is my younger daughter, Louisa.”
Miss Louisa was as excited as her sister, but the only time her eyes left his was when both nodded in introduction. She was flushed, but there was little he could see in the way of shyness.
“Girls, Captain Wentworth is Mrs. Croft’s brother and the man who helped make Richard’s career such a success.”
He noticed a slight glance between sisters as their brother was mentioned. Perhaps they knew him better than their parent.
Settling themselves on either side of the Captain, the girls began pelting him with questions. How did he like the neighbourhood? Was he comfortable at Kellynch Hall? Did he like to ride? How long was he planning to stay?
Mr. Musgrove laughed at the Captain’s indecision as to whom he should answer first. “This is why you must come to dine. Perhaps you could stay today. I’m sure it would be no trouble.”
The man’s kind expression and the attentions of the young ladies made the invitation enticing, but he was somewhat concerned with his brother-in-law’s condition and could not disappear for the entire day.
“I would be honoured to dine with your family, sir, but, I must beg your pardon for today. My brother...” Mr. Musgrove nodded, quieting the disappointed noises of the girls. “But if I might be so bold, perhaps tomorrow would be a better day. Besides, I am certain Mrs. Musgrove would appreciate a little notice of guests.”
“Papa, that would do wonderfully! Then we might invite Charles and those at the Cottage,” Miss Musgrove said, glancing at the Captain, then away.
“Yes, for you know how Mrs. Charles will be if she is not included, Papa,” Louisa said, ignoring the shocked look of her sister.
“Uh, well, that is best left for later, Louisa,” was all Mr. Musgrove said on the subject. “It will be an honour, Captain. I know you and my eldest son will get on very well. He is not much like Richard, but I know you will like him just as well.”
The girls began to lay before him their older brother’s sterling character. The prospect that the elder son was nothing like the second did wonders to lighten Wentworth’s growing dread of meeting the younger Charles Musgrove.
The time was set and the Captain prepared to leave. The girls were delighted to find that he was to walk home and offered to accompany him. He was a bit disappointed to find himself manoeuvred into accepting Mr. Musgrove’s firm offer that he be driven to Kellynch in his own carriage. The prospect of a leisurely walk, on a lovely autumn day, with such lively young women for company was quite appealing.
Chapter Ten
Returning to Kellynch Hall, Frederick wondered what sort of spell he’d fallen under. There must certainly be an enchantment about the mansion of Uppercross for him to accept an invitation to dine with the family of “Damnable Dick” Musgrove, scourge of the Laconia midshipmen’s berth. However, that was the past. Who would have guessed that he came from a warm and welcoming family, not to mention that he had such pretty and amiable sisters?
Considering the merits of the girls, he judged the elder to be the prettier of the two. He also speculated that the younger, Louisa, though charming enough upon a first meeting, had a spirited looked in her eyes that promised a bit of mischief as well. He was surprised how much he anticipated the next day and meeting the Musgroves again. It was particularly surprising when remembering this was Anne Elliot’s new family.
The Admiral was up and around in the morning, and he and his wife returned to their regular daily habit of riding out together. At breakfast, Frederick was glad to see Sophia’s face relaxed and not drawn and pale as it had been the previous morning. Her improved state of mind affected the cheerfulness of the entire household, he realised, as well as his own.
After their travels around the neighbourhood, they returned with news that one of Mr. Musgrove’s grandsons had been injured the previous day in an accident. The Captain reasoned that such a crisis would, by necessity, postpone that evening’s dinner. “It did not sound as if the boy was too badly hurt,” Sophia said, “but perhaps you should send a note, enquiring after his condition. Then you will have the latest report. If they have forgotten to cancel, it will remind them, and it can be done without any embarrassment on their part.” He proclaimed his sister a genius in manoeuvring the complicated waters of country society.
“No matter the locale, Frederick, it is always best to make allowances and give others the chance to save face,” was her advice.
A note was sent, and within the hour came a reply that, while there had been some concern the evening before, the child was doing very well, thanks in particular to the ministrations of his capable aunt. It went on to say that the dinner was not in any jeopardy, but that the boy’s father would not be joining them. The note closed with fervent thanks for his most kind enquiry.
Sophia remarked that he and his initial note would be talked of with the highest regard around the social circles of Kellynch and Uppercross. “You are giving yourself an excellent reputation without much effort at all. You have always been lucky in that regard.”
“Well, in this particularly, I did have some help.”
“You have always had help, Frederick. It is just that you are wont to take all the credit for your own.” He puzzled over his sister’s words for a little while, but then put his mind to dressing for the evening.
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
“My sword, Harkness.”
He stood with his hand out. When the sword did not cross his palm, he glanced behind. Harkness was buffing a spot of plate on the scabbard. He cleared his throat.
“Sorry, sir. Below they missed a bit of polish.” One last swipe and he handed the sword over.
Wentworth took it and secured it around his waist. It had been weeks since he’d worn the presentation sword. In fact, not since the Plymouth Farewell Ball had he worn his dress uniform. He preferred the undress uniform, with its longer coat and less fussy lace decorations. But, now that he was at half-pay, he would dress in his finest costume and take upon himself the part of The Dashing Captain in order to justify decent invitations to dinner. Besides, he anticipated the justifiable reaction the uniform would coax from the young ladies Musgrove.
“Your waistcoat, sir.”
Slipping into the garment, he began buttoning before Harkness could come to his aid. From the corner of his eye he could see the man fidgeting with desire to take over the task. In these moments he missed the casual, rather slipshod ministrations of Michaelson.
“My coat.”
The man jumped into action, and in a trice, the coat was behind him, open to accept his arms.
As Wentworth adjusted his cuffs and Harkness brushed, he said, “Sir, might I ask a question?�
��
“Go on.”
“How is your sword kept in such immaculate condition? I mean, it is perfect. No evidence of abuse at all.”
“It is in perfect condition because it rarely sees the light of day, Harkness. It is a presentation sword. It was given to me by the Merchants Alliance of Bristol. I captured a clever smuggler who was particularly adept at taking their goods and, by various means, sinking their ships.” He chose not to share that the middling pirate and his crew were captured when all were drunk as lords and, after falling asleep, had drifted into the side of the Laconia where they were simply plucked up and piled in the brig.
Taking the sword from the scabbard, he held it for Harkness’s examination. “There is no cutting edge. Were I to use this in battle, I would be hacked to ribbons in no time.” Regardless of the weapon being useless, he took satisfaction in the fact that the blade rang nicely when removed and had a fine heft to it. “That is why I keep it wrapped in my sea-chest. I take it out only on special occasions.”
“Ladies must find it very impressive.”
He would allow Harkness the indiscretion. “I can’t think that any ladies have paid it any mind.”
“Well, I can see that it could easily turn the head of a country miss.”
“Perhaps, if a man was inclined to boast.” Harkness was at once a puzzle and an annoyance. Could he be referring to Anne and their past, or was he alluding to the Miss Musgroves? In either case, his statement was bordering on impertinence. He thought it best to ignore it.
“Well, I must say, they was impressed below.”
No doubt. As he studied the effect of the entire uniform, he decided it would create more trouble manoeuvring through people and furniture than could be worth any amount of awe from the ladies. “I have changed my mind about the sword. This is but a simple dinner party; I doubt there will be any need for arms.”
“Most likely not, sir. The Musgroves put on a good party, but nothing close to a brawl.”
Handing the sword back, he instructed the man to wrap it well and place it back in his sea-chest. “That will be all.” Harkness nodded and headed to the door. “And you needn’t wait up. I shall see to myself when I return.” The man nodded again and disappeared.
Turning back to the mirror, Wentworth again measured the effect. The blue wool was brushed to perfection. He reconsidered his missing Michaelson; the sailor never did so well banishing lint from his coat. The gold threads of the braid gleamed in the candlelight. Though daylight was still abroad, Harkness had pulled the curtains and lit the candles, claiming it easier to see the offending lint on the dark field of his uniform. At least Michaelson had the presence of mind to keep this coat wrapped well against the salt air. Perhaps after his travelling, when he had determined where he might settle, he would have another made. Since he would be caring for himself, it would be wise to have two. With the occasional tug here and there, he finished the inventory of his gear.
Glad to be living in a more modern time, he thanked the gods of fashion that he did not have to wear a wig. He was pleased to note that Harkness had put his all into tying the neck-cloth and seeing that his breeches and stocking were sparkling. The only thing he could wish for was a better shine on his pumps. Settling on the bed with the cloth, he thought of Anne as he worked at bringing the leather to a high gloss. If the younger Mrs. Charles Musgrove made an appearance, he would be ready to meet her on equal terms.
Since accepting the invitation to Uppercross, he had given some thought to their respective circumstances. In terms of family and fortune, she had made a comfortable marriage for herself, but certainly not one of the level aspired to in the past. Though the Musgroves were second only to the Elliots in position in the area of Uppercross and Kellynch, they had no title to bestow. When she broke their engagement, her reasons seemed to be his lack of rank in the Navy, his lack of standing in the world, and fear of being left ashore destitute while he pursued his career. Her sudden placement of importance on marrying a man of greater consequence than even her father had dismayed him.
In the beginning of the relationship, all that had mattered was their enjoyment of one another’s company. Even after he proposed, for two glorious days they made plans with little consideration of wealth or position. But after his disastrous meeting with the Baronet, her aims for the marriage seemed to change drastically. It was hinted that a marriage of equals would be accepted, but certainly no one inferior to the baronetcy could be seriously entertained. When asked why she had played him along, the tears had begun and the name of her godmother had come out. Once that occurred, he lost all sense of reason, and she had changed her tack, insisting she was giving him up for his own good. In hindsight, neither of them had been at their best.
By marrying the son of a squire, she was, no doubt, well off; but without the distinction of a title, there was no elevation that would be acknowledged by her socially conscious family and friends. Now with the Baronet retrenched, their impeccable standards would, no doubt, be expanded to allow for their change of address. He reasoned that, among those who put stock in such things, perhaps it was he who had advanced the furthest, and had best elevated himself.
Studying the pumps and buckles, he was satisfied and took his place before the mirror once more. He had risen above all the insults hurled at him. No longer was he merely keeping body and soul together. He was a man able to chart his own course. His labours had been great, as had been the rewards. His accounts grew with each prize sold off and now were earning a comfortable interest on their own. To ask a wife to live on that interest and his half-pay would be short of lavish but no martyrdom either.
No, she had chosen to marry a man who could give her a home and children. He’d not heard how long since the deed was done. Perhaps she’d wed soon after his leaving, or she had waited as long as she dared for one with better prospects than him to come along. When none appeared, she’d accepted Musgrove. His being a first son was certainly to her advantage. Even if Damnable Dick had survived, all the Musgrove holdings would come to her husband. When the older Musgrove copped it, she would be the mistress of the mansion. While it was old-fashioned, and certainly no Kellynch Hall, it was a comfortable home to further a successful family line.
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
A knock on the door and a footman’s message that the Musgrove carriage was waiting prompted him to finish. He smiled as he considered that though Anne might not be in attendance, it was still vital that he make a presence this evening. His uniform, his bearing, and conversation must be of quality in every way. This evening would be a rehearsal. He would use all the props and costumes so that when he was finally in the company of Mrs. Charles Musgrove, she would have the most advantageous view of the future she rejected. He gave another cursory inspection to his uniform and then gathered his greatcoat, gloves, and hat.
It was his intention to head down the stairs, obtain a compliment or two from his sister, and be on his way. But, without really thinking about it, he found himself standing at the threshold of the door to the small sitting room. There were no candles lit and the portrait was in deep shadow; but he needed no light. The face he saw wasn’t that of Lady Elliot. The features he envisioned were the genuine, animated, provokingly pretty features of the woman’s second daughter. He turned and left the room knowing that these forays were only hurting himself. Meeting the real woman would happen soon enough, and he was merely torturing himself beforehand.
He was gratified when Sophia was all compliments and did her share in fussing over his appearance. The Admiral, completely recovered from his bout of pain, assured him that he would have a marvellous evening at Uppercross. “They are a family that knows about having a fine time.”
Over his objections, Mr. Musgrove had sent his carriage, but now Wentworth was happy to be travelling the three miles in relative comfort. Smiling to himself, he mused that the carriage possessed the same slightly worn cheerfulness as Uppercross mansion.
He noticed something in the sha
dows and, leaning down, recovered a child’s toy from under the opposite seat. A knotted string was attached to a horse on wheels. A yarn tail was down to only two strands, and he observed with a bit of alarm that the nose was distorted by many sets of tooth marks.
“You must feed them, Anne, else they resort to eating their toys.” He tossed it on the seat next to him where the gentle bounce of the carriage caused it to slide into the corner. Out of boredom, he righted it and pulled it close to him with the string. Giving it slack, he allowed it to roll back into the corner. The child’s toy brought the present into sharp relief.
In the intervening eight years when he had allowed thoughts of Anne, he saw her as a nineteen-year-old girl, full of the bloom of youth and love for him. Occasionally, he saw her at their parting, but rarely could he stomach the scene. There was no thought that her life had continued on. He considered now and then that she would no doubt marry, but that coupling never took any form in his mind. He would soon see her with her husband, possibly her children, and her husband’s family. The Bower Room portrait came clear in his mind. Instead of Anne’s mother and grandfather in the frame, he envisioned Anne smiling and surrounded by her plump, rosy children. A husband smiling down on her with love and satisfaction replaced the older man. To his horror, his imagination supplied even a bit of wicked delight in the man’s smile.
He flipped the toy’s string away. What in the name of Jove induced me to entangle myself with this family? The answer was simple—curiosity…stark, human curiosity. The carriage jolted to a halt and the door opened. He exited, the door to the mansion opened, and he propelled himself into the midst of the Musgrove clan.
After divesting himself of his outer garments, he chanced to hear ladies’ voices drifting from the sitting room. The footman showed him past that room, however, and through a door leading to a dim little hallway ending at another door. The man announced him, and he was greeted by an exuberant Mr. Musgrove.