by Alexa Adams
“Yes, at least that is where I think they were bound,” replied Mary, not at all pleased with the notion that Mrs. Clay might have beat her to the honor of conveying to Charles the story of Anne's engagement.
“I am afraid I did not see him,” replied Mrs. Clay. Mary's smiles were restored.
“Did you run into anyone else of our acquaintance, Penelope? I expected Mr. Elliot to call, but he has not made an appearance.”
“Yes, actually I did see Mr. Elliot, though only briefly. He says he has business in London and must quit Bath soon, but he will certainly visit Camden Place before his departure to bid his farewells to Sir Walter and his cousins.”
“Business in London? But surely he will not remain away long? I thought he was to spend the rest of the season in Bath!” Elizabeth exclaimed, no longer endeavoring to disguise her chagrin.
“He did not reveal the nature of his errand to me, but I am sure he will explain the situation most thoroughly to Sir Walter.”
“To be sure he will. He is never deficient in his deference to my father,” insisted Elizabeth, though unwanted memories of a time when he was not so attentive were beginning to plague her.
Mr. Elliot called that very evening, in the familiar way to which he had become accustomed since his arrival in Bath. He offered his congratulations to his cousin Anne with an appearance of joy he could not possibly have felt, and expressed the sad circumstances that took him from Bath at this critical time.
“Nothing could keep me from your nuptials, my dear cousin, but the utmost necessity. My business cannot be delayed. Indeed, I am afraid I have been remiss in putting it off for as long as I already have.”
“We will miss your presence at the wedding, Elliot. Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret will be in attendance, you know,” boasted Sir Walter.
“So I have been told. It is sure to be a most memorable occasion.”
“Will you not return to Bath upon completion of your business?” questioned Elizabeth.
“I cannot say how long I need remain in London, Miss Elliot. It pains me to part with such dear friends as I have found at Camden Place.”
“Yes, of course it does. Let me know when you plan to return, and I will have Shepard see to securing you the best lodgings.”
“You are all kindness, Sir Walter,” he replied and bowed his way out.
The departure of Mr. Elliot left a disparate variety of sensations in the inhabitants at Camden Place. Sir Walter felt most complacent. Though Mr. Elliot was a very agreeable and appropriate companion, he could not help but acknowledge that Captain Wentworth's fine appearance more than made up for the loss of his heir's presence. After all, he had always maintained that Mr. Elliot was sadly under-hung, while Wentworth possessed no such defect. Anne saw her cousin go with much gratification. Their society could only be improved by not being subjected to such a hypocrite, and as she had every intention of introducing Captain Wentworth to Mrs. Smith on the morrow, the absence of Mr. Elliot could not come too soon. Elizabeth's feelings, on the other hand, were quite opposite to those of her relations. She saw her cousin's withdrawal as an insult: the second one he had leveled at her through the course of their acquaintance. To be twice abandoned by the most eligible applicant to her hand was mortifying in the extreme, but her pride would allow her to reveal none of what she suffered. Perhaps only Mrs. Clay, as her confidant, had any true notion of Elizabeth’s emotions, but her own gratification in the situation trumped any desire she might have to provide condolence. Fortunately for both, Elizabeth was far too dignified to seek it.
**********
All the Elliots were at home when Captain Wentworth arrived the following morning, bearing a letter of congratulations from his brother, Edward, in Plymouth. His impulse was to share the contents with Anne, but as the letter was not of the sort to please Sir Walter and Elizabeth’s vanity, the Captain contented himself with summarizing thusly:
“Edward and his wife send their utmost felicitations and insist we visit them not long after our nuptials. With your permission, Miss Anne, I will engage us to journey there upon quitting Bath, assuming the Admiralty doesn't interfere with our plans.”
“Indeed, please do! I look forward to becoming reacquainted with Mr. Wentworth and meeting his wife.”
“I will do so this moment, if you would be so good as to supply me with paper and ink. I will ask Sophy and the Admiral to accompany us, that we might enjoy a proper family reunion.”
Anne smiled in anticipation of the happy family circle she was soon to join, hastening to situate Captain Wentworth comfortably at the writing desk. He had just taken up a pen when Sir Walter, who had been mulling over the exchange, felt it incumbent upon himself to voice his opinion on the subject. “As curate at Monkford, Wentworth, your brother and I did not have many occasions to meet socially, but as Anne's future relation, I do wish the man well. You may express my regards in your letter.”
Captain Wentworth nodded in acknowledgment, but allowed his true sentiments regarding Sir Walter's condescension to be revealed in his composition.
You will be gratified to learn that my future father-in-law finds it becomes him to send you his regards. How shall you contain your joy?
But Sir Walter was not yet done. “I do think, however, that a parsonage cannot possibly house both you and my tenant, Admiral Croft, comfortably. Surely he will wish to return to Kellynch once he removes from Bath.”
“Quite true,” concurred Elizabeth.
“Thank you for your concern, Sir Walter, but I assure you, having been there myself, that my brother's home is quite commodious. We shall all be made perfectly comfortable.”
“That may be so, but perhaps you had better invite Mr. Wentworth to Kellynch instead. Surely that would be much more the thing, and Anne would prefer to visit her ancestral home than some unknown town in Plymouth.”
“And you might call on the tenants, Anne,” contributed Elizabeth. “They would be comforted to see an Elliot in neighborhood again.”
Anne tactfully changed the subject. “Where is Mrs. Clay this morning? I have not seen her since breakfast.”
“She had a variety of errands to attend. I told her she might enlist a servant on her behalf, but she insisted the exercise would do her good. Why she must walk to the post office, I certainly do not comprehend, but I thought it best to indulge her whim, as she was quite determined on the matter.”
“Mrs. Clay has been too often in the streets during the day. Such needless exposure will undo all the good affects that Gowlands has had upon her complexion. Speaking of Gowlands ...”
“I see you are finished your letter, Frederick,” Anne hastily interposed. “We had best be off if we are to arrive at Mrs. Smith's in good time. She is expecting us.”
“It is good of you to indulge my daughter in these altruistic whims she insists upon, Wentworth. No persuasion of mine has succeeded in convincing her that a sick room is no place for a Miss Anne Elliot, of Camden Place and Kellynch Hall. I hope neither of you may suffer any ill-effects from such a visit.”
“It is my pleasure to escort your daughter, Sir Walter, as it pleases me to know she is firm where she feels herself to be in the right.” They said their goodbyes and made a hasty departure for Westgate Buildings.
“Well they certainly make a fitting pair. There is no understanding the pleasures of either,” commented Sir Walter.
“Do not concern yourself with the matter, Father. Unnecessary worry will only crease your brow.”
“Quite true, my dear,” he replied, examining his surprisingly smooth forehead in the nearest mirror. “Soon Anne shall be the Captain's concern. Let him puzzle over her eccentric inclinations.”
Elizabeth and Sir Walter spent the next hour complacently discussing the town gossip: the loss of Mr. Elliot to their family party, the acquisition of a man of Captain Wentworth's appearance to their drawing rooms, and the honor of Lady Dalyrymple's desire to attend the upcoming wedding. The Abby had been secured for the occasion,
on a day most convenient to all, and both felt themselves generously reconciled to the arrangements. If Elizabeth's chagrin at being the only unmarried sister continued to fester, she could now take some consolation in the prospect of no longer having to bear Anne's company, which she had ever found tedious. She much preferred Mrs. Clay, whose flattering attentions were more to her taste than a sister's censorious eye.
But Elizabeth's feelings were shortly to suffer a further disappointment. Mrs. Clay returned somewhat flustered and overheated, a state that provoked Sir Walter to reaffirm his disapprobation for needless dalliance in the sunlight, but a few minutes revealed that it was not exertion that rendered their companion unsettled, but the reception of a most inconvenient letter.
“It is to my great sorrow that I am afraid I must depart from you, my dearest friends. My sister is quite distressed, and asks that I come to London at once. It appears that her household has been afflicted by the measles, and all three children are terribly ill.”
“Measles!” cried Sir Walter in horror. “No, my dear, you must not go to London, however much in need your sister may be. Surely she can hire an additional nurse to assist her at such a time. You must not endanger your health! The measles are a most disfiguring ailment!”
“Absolutely not, Penelope. Besides, how can I possibly spare you?”
Touched by this show of concern, Mrs. Clay assured her benefactors that she had already suffered from the disease as a child, that it therefore posed no risk to herself, and that she would return to Bath as soon as she possibly could.
“But you must not go at all. For if you do, you understand that we cannot have you return to us here. No Elliot has ever suffered from such a disreputable disease, and we cannot risk becoming infected ourselves.”
Mrs. Clay's hopes fell. Had Sir Walter shown true concern for her, she might have abandoned her current scheme, but this display of self-absorption, though not unexpected, confirmed what she had long been coming to accept. Camden Place held no future for her other than that of companion. Desperation steeled her determination.
“Then I am afraid, Sir Walter, Miss Elliot, that I will have to part from you for an unknown period of time.” Her eyes welled in a touching display of sorrow.
“It cannot be, Penelope. First Mr. Elliot, now you, and soon even Anne will be gone. Surely you understand that this is a most disagreeable turn of events!”
“My dear Miss Elliot, you must know that I would never cause you undue distress. Indeed, it is your own example of sisterly affection that assures me of my course. I cannot have spent so much time in superior company without learning my duty on such an occasion.”
Elizabeth held no illusions regarding her attachment to her sisters, but pride prevented her from disputing this assertion. Mrs. Clay must go. “Of course. I understand perfectly,” she said coldly. “After Anne's marriage, I will find myself more frequently called upon to accompany Lady Russell about town, and with Miss Cateret's desire for my company, I will have little enough time as it is.”
“It's all settled then. When do you depart?” inquired Sir Walter.
“I shall leave on tomorrow's mail,” she replied with wounded dignity. “My brother is sending a servant to accompany me.”
“Very good. I am glad he has such forethought, for surely we cannot spare a servant to attend you,” Elizabeth retorted.
“I shall go pack my things at once. Excuse me.” Mrs. Clay held her head up as she quickly left the room, bracing herself with the knowledge that the high and mighty Elliots would soon experience their own share of mortification. She did not pause to think what impact her decision would have on her father's relationship with his most important client, nor the consequences to herself in the future. Instead her mind was consumed with the knowledge that she would not be traveling by the lowly mail, but in a very handsome equipage bearing the Elliot crest. She would have what Elizabeth most wanted, and that knowledge was a source of supreme gratification.
**********
Anne had previously revealed something of Mrs. Smith's predicament to Captain Wentworth – that she was widowed, in reduced circumstances, and sickly – but she did not provide any information regarding her prior acquaintance with Mr. Elliot. If Mrs. Smith chose to confide in Frederick, as Anne hoped, it would be at her own discretion. The presence, upon being ushered into the room, of the familiar box containing Mr. Smith’s correspondence, raised Anne’s hopes for the outcome of the visit.
Introductions were easily made. Anne was reminded of meeting the Harvilles at Lyme and the instant sense of camaraderie that pervaded their humble but welcoming home. Being able to provide Frederick with at least one friend whom he could value was a source of great comfort to Anne, being keenly aware of her own inferiority, having no family of her own to receive and estimate him properly. Mrs. Smith regaled the Captain with a few choice anecdotes from the ladies' school days, much to his amusement, before Anne decided it was time to introduce the subject of Mr. Elliot.
“Surely your informant, Mrs. Rooke, has already made you aware of my cousin's departure for London?”
“Indeed she has. His greatest hope dashed, he has fled the field of battle, much like the man he is. But do not think he has left the fray, for as long as he perceives a danger to his own inheritance, you may be assured he continues to conspire and maneuver. He was never one to give up so easily.”
“You know Mr. Elliot of old?” asked Captain Wentworth, and the entire story of his false dealings unfolded.
The Captain took in every detail with rapt attention. Many of the same papers Anne had previously seen were produced, though not those pertaining to Mr. Elliot's former disregard for his patrimony. Frederick examined each one in turn, a stony expression settling onto his face as the man's true nature was revealed. “And you knew of this, Anne?” he asked in astonishment, once Mrs. Smith completed her account.
“Only since the day following the concert. Like you, Mrs. Smith believed the reports of attachment between Mr. Elliot and myself, but upon assuring her I had no such inclinations, she made his character known to me.”
“I thank you for disabusing Miss Elliot from her cousin’s false façade, but this is outrageous! It would take so little for him to rectify the situation. His lawyer could handle the business in a trice! To act so falsely towards those who had proven themselves true friends is a most dishonorable deed, and I assure you, Mrs. Smith, my career has put me in the way of more than one scoundrel. I am astounded by the man!”
“It is my hope, Captain Wentworth, that you might be able to advise Mrs. Smith as to the best way of proceeding. Is there not some way in which she can force Mr. Elliot's hand?”
“There most certainly is! I shall do it. It will mean following the rogue to London and demanding action.”
“But I do not wish to separate you from Miss Elliot! No engaged couple should be parted so soon.”
“He will be missed,” Anne admitted, “but I will happily endure the sacrifice for your sake.”
“It will not be very difficult, I assure you. Less than a week will see the matter settled. Mr. Elliot knows that you have legal recourse to make him act, but he has taken advantage of your circumstances and remained idle. I will write to my lawyer this very day. He and I shall confront Mr. Elliot, giving him little option but to act on his role as executor or appoint the task to another. I will volunteer for the duty myself. It is not so very onerous. Indeed, it will take some time to fully reveal the state of affairs in the West Indies, but I know of many who make the trip regularly and will ask one to explore the matter on sight, thereby hastening the procedure.”
Mrs. Smith was overcome with emotion at the Captain's readiness to engage himself on her behalf, and her gratitude revealed itself fully in both words and the sincerity of her countenance. He dismissed her declarations of obligation as unnecessary – it was, after all, what any true gentleman would do – but upon leaving Westgate Buildings, he made his true feelings known.
“I unde
rstand he is your cousin, Anne, so please forgive my violence, but it will take every bit of self-control I posses not to thrash the man when I see him. To leave a sick woman, the wife of his friend, in squalor while he lives in luxury, a lady for whom he is legally responsible moreover, is an act of such base monstrosity it sickens me, and I once had the misfortune of captaining Dick Musgrove! If Mr. Elliot were a member of my crew, I would have him flogged within an inch of his life.”
Anne did not doubt his words, and though she could not say so about a member of her family, she privately agreed it would be very little less than he deserved. Any mortification she might have felt at the actions of her relation were completely overcome by pride in the man whom she would soon have the honor of calling husband.
**********
Whatever Captain Wentworth expected to discover at Mr. Elliot's elegant West End townhouse, it was certainly not Mrs. Clay presiding over the drawing room. So taken aback was he at the sight that the confident Captain was momentarily rendered completely dumb, a symptom only worsened by the conscious blush, obscuring any and all freckles ever attributable to the lady, that confirmed his worse suspicions. Mr. Elliot, on the other hand, seemed quite unmoved by the awkwardness of the situation, greeting Captain Wentworth and his man of business with a degree of composure that quickly restored the former’s tongue, outrage overcoming his shock. Looking away from his future sister's former companion, he said tersely, “Elliot, I have business to discuss with you of a nature quite unfit for the lady's ears. Let us remove to your own room.”