Persuading Him: A Modern Persuasion Retelling (Pemberley Estates Book 1)

by Keena Richins

  She laughed, gave him a squeeze, then continued with the story. Once the book was over, she tucked them into bed, kissed them goodnight, and headed out. A quick glance in the family room revealed Mary on the computer and Charles sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded with papers and notes, the air thick with tension. Knowing the two would continue their silent treatment for the rest of the evening, Anne decided to retire to bed and hope for a better tomorrow.

  Unfortunately, the parents' silent treatment continued and Anne ended up doing what she would have done if they had departed on their trip: taking care of the kids.

  She made them breakfast in the morning while Mary fixated on her computer and Charles worked on his farm. She took the kids outside to play and rounded them up for lunch in the early afternoon. By then, Louisa and Rietta would be pestering her to play the piano, a duty Anne never resented performing. Though she sometimes wished Mary had a piano of her own so Anne could play what she wished, she knew to be grateful for at least being able to play a piano. During the evening, everyone gathered in the renovated barn for dinner. Two tables were always set up: one for the adults and one for the children. Anne always sat at the latter. She knew Mary hated being left out of the adult table so she willingly took the job. Besides, the only task she ever did at the adult table was to listen to everyone and she could do that easily enough at the children's table. It was actually one of her most important tasks when she came to visit: listening to everyone's grievances. With the family living so close together, hurts and slights compounded very quickly, but having an outsider to vent to about other family members seemed to help. Though, to be truthful, most everyone vented about one family member. Or rather, the in-law, Mary. Who, in turn, complained about all of them so well that, in the end, everyone had an equal share of the complaints.

  Anne tried her best to soothe and support everyone and wondered what would happen if she failed to come every few months to perform her listening duties. Would the family self-destruct? She hoped not. She loved the Musgroves, loved their warmth and appreciation, and how much they doted on her. She also loved Mary despite her moodiness. Unlike Eliza, Mary at least gave Anne's opinion some weight and often expressed how much she enjoyed having Anne around, a statement she never heard from Eliza.

  As a new week began, Anne finished putting the kids to bed and headed to the family room to see if she could entice her sister away from the computer.

  "Would you like to play a game?" Anne asked.

  "I am."

  Anne checked the screen to see eighteenth century characters parading about.

  "Louisa and Rietta have been raving about this for years so I decided to try it. It's not that bad. Kind of fun being an eighteenth century woman. You should try it. You can download it onto your fancy smartphone. Of course, I can't since Charles thinks flip phones are good enough." She glared at the screen.

  Anne forced an encouraging smile. "I was thinking more of a card game."

  Mary huffed. "Only if Charles will play."

  Anne walked over to the front window. "Where is he? On the farmhouse?"

  "Out with his other love."

  Anne peered out, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. "You mean his invention?"

  "The one and only."

  To her surprise, she spotted Charles running down the hill toward the cottage. "Wait, here he comes! And he's running!"

  "He's what?" Mary abandoned her computer to see the sight, but she was too slow, and Charles barged into the house like an invading army.

  "He's coming!"

  Mary folded her arms. "Who is?"

  "An acquisition manager! He wants to see my invention!" Charles beamed at them, expecting adoring applause, but Mary rolled her eyes and wandered back to her computer. Charles deflated.

  "From which company?" Anne asked, trying to be supportive.

  He brightened. "From yours! Err, your old one. I mean the Pemberley Estates. They finally got to my application! And this guy is an acquisition manager, not just some lowly representative, but a real manager from their headquarters! This could be it! The Pemberley Estates are known for taking really good care of their inventors so we could be set up for life! And he wants to come tomorrow! Said he was in the area and would like to come over. I can't believe it!"

  "So?" Mary stated from her computer. "He'll cancel it like the guy last week and then you'll be all mad when we could have both been on a cruise in Italy right now."

  "But, that last guy didn't sound as knowledgeable as this Wentworth guy—"

  Anne jerked, the room seeming to spin all of a sudden. She grasped the countertop, desperate for some support.

  "—and he sounded a lot more eager. Seemed adamant to come over as soon as he could."

  "He won't like it," was Mary's sullen response. "No one ever does."

  Charles glared at his wife but she stared at her computer, oblivious to his anger.

  Anne took a fortifying breath. "Who, exactly, is Mr. Wentworth?" The name wasn't a common name, but it wasn't super uncommon either. It was possible it could be someone else and not her Wentworth.

  Charles grinned at Anne, apparently happy someone was taking an interest. "An acquisition manager. That means he can make these types of decisions on the spot. This could be huge! When I told my parents—"

  "You told your parents before your wife?" Mary cut in, slamming a notebook on her desk. Charles winced, apparently unable to defend himself. Mary swiped two notebooks and a pen before stalking out of the room.

  Anne couldn't help saying, "You should have told her first."

  Charles sighed. "I know. I just...I knew my parents would be more excited than she."

  "She probably would have been excited if you didn't keep ditching what she wanted for what you want."

  Charles frowned. "You mean the cruise, don't you?"

  "She's been talking about the cruise since before she married you."

  He sagged his shoulders. "All right. If Mr. Wentworth acquires the invention, I promise I'll take her."

  Now it was Anne's turn to frown. "It would mean more if you took her regardless of the outcome."

  He fell silent for a moment. "But, you'll be going back to law school soon. You won't have the time—"

  "Your sisters can babysit, too."

  "They're not as good as you."

  "You still shouldn't use me as an excuse."

  He paused as if unable to respond to that. "I...I'm going to check on Mary."

  Anne resisted rolling her eyes as he left the room, well aware he was leaving simply to avoid the argument. Then she frowned, realizing she had missed the chance to get more information about this Mr. Wentworth. With a defeated sigh, she wandered back into her room and sat on the bed, facing the mirror attached to the large dresser. Could it be him? She wished she had paid more attention to the thousands of employees of the Pemberley Estates. To think they had technically worked for the same massive corporation for almost a year! If she had bothered to attend any of the big Christmas parties down at the headquarters, she might have run into him already.

  And if it was him, what was she going to say? What would he say? She had dreamed of their meeting for years, but now that it could possibly happen, she wasn't sure she wanted it. Well, if his eyes lit up and he dropped on one knee, begging her to marry him again, she'd be perfectly happy. But what if he recoiled at the sight of her? Or worse, didn't even remember her? It had been so long ago and he had never bothered to see her again or answer any of her emails...

  Anne slumped onto the bed. If only she could see into the future and know which outcome it would be. Then again, if she'd been able to do that, she wouldn't have given him up in the first place.

  Chapter 9

  Morning came too soon. Anne rolled out of bed and stared at her face in the mirror. Was she still pretty enough? But that shouldn't matter, should it? If he really loved her, assuming this guy was her Wentworth in the first place. It shouldn't matter what she looked like, right? Then again, if
he really had loved her, he should have already come back.

  With a groan, she flung open her closet, wondering what she could possibly wear that would make an amazing statement, something that wouldn't reveal she'd been pining over a boy and was hoping today might reignite everything. She thumbed through her outfits, wishing she'd brought more of her prettier clothing. Except she couldn't wear any of them, anyway. With an important person descending upon them, Charles and his family wouldn't want to deal with the boys and would expect Mary to do the job. That would make Mary grumpy, which meant Anne would spend the day trying to cheer Mary up as well as handle the boys.

  An idea sprung into her mind. She could take the boys on a picnic! No one would object to that—in fact, they'd appreciate her taking the boys out of the way. And then, once it was all over, she could discover if it really was Rick or not. And, if it was Rick, then she could investigate if he inquired about her or not. Well, assuming he figured out Mary was her sister. They had never met—Mary had been sent to a boarding school—so he may not make the connection. Still, she had instantly recognized his sister.

  She frowned, suddenly unsure of the plan. What if she missed the one opportunity where he could confess he had never forgotten her and had searched the world over—no, that was an impossible scenario. She had never moved except for those four miserable years at college in Boston, though she'd come home frequently. She had the same email address as well, never daring to change for fear she might miss an email from him.

  She sank onto the bed again. If he had been at all eager to see her again, he would have contacted her a long time ago. And since he had never bothered, then it meant he had moved on.

  She stood up, decision made. Picnic it was.

  She grabbed one of her older outfits—tramping through the woods with two boys in tow did not do wonders to new clothing—and hurriedly changed. She had no idea when this Wentworth was due to arrive, but she wanted to be out of the area before he did.

  Unfortunately, she had to wait for Mary and the boys to wake, then she had to make them breakfast while Mary fretted over the messy cottage, apparently wanting to make a good impression for the incoming Wentworth. Mary tried to get the boys to clean it up, promising them time on the tablet if they obeyed. That worked for a little bit but then the boys resorted to complaining, no longer wanting to work. Before Mary resorted to yelling, Anne intervened and creating a cleaning game that enticed them to help a little longer while she finished breakfast. In the end, Anne ended up cleaning most of the area by herself while Mary and the boys ate. She then gathered the needed items for the picnic and was eager to be off once breakfast was over. Alas, the boys remembered they had been promised tablet time if they helped and Mary, already overwhelmed and feeling ill-used, shoved the tablet into her sons' hands so they'd leave her alone and she could play her own game on the computer. Now it was Anne's job to somehow coax the boys away from the shiny tablet and into the not-so-shiny outdoors.

  After much complaining and a bout of tears, she managed to get them outside. As she was closing the door, Mary, probably noticing the lack of noise, looked up from her computer.

  "Where are you going?"

  Anne forced a calm smile "On a picnic. Want to come?" She added, hoping Mary wouldn't. Today was going to be hard enough without Mary's mood swings.

  "A picnic?" Mary stepped away from her computer to check the blue sky. "Huh, no rain."

  Anne wondered if Mary had hoped for bad weather. Poor Charles, but apparently the fates were favoring him instead of his wife's mood.

  Mary wandered back to the computer as if in a daze. Anne waited for a moment, but when Mary sat down, Anne closed the door and happily directed the boys to a well-worn path that thread itself up a hill and into the woods. The path would ultimately lead toward the home of the Hayters, a family who had always been very friendly with the Musgroves. And, if Louisa's teasing said anything, they might even become family if Rietta and Chase ended up married. Anne had once expressed a wish to hike the entire path, but when Charles mentioned it was almost five miles, she had given up the desire. While Anne enjoyed walking, five miles was not a distance she would enjoy.

  Less than thirty feet on the path, the woods opened into a clearing about a hundred yards wide. The perfect spot for a picnic. The boys helped her spread out the blanket and Anne plopped onto it with a happy sigh while the boys took off in search for the best fighting stick. Soon, they dissolved into a fight over who had the best stick and Anne had to haul herself off the blanket in order to resolve the issue. Seconds later, they were battling imaginary monsters that were after their Aunt Anne, teaming up without any memory of the recent fight. She watched them, envious. Kids were so resilient, rarely holding grudges over silly things. Too bad adults shed that aspect of childhood. Otherwise, there might be far fewer problems in the world.

  Anne wandered back to her blanket and laid down, staring up at the blue sky above. Unfortunately, thoughts of the incoming Wentworth invaded her mind. She tried to focus on the yelling boys, but couldn't deny she also sought to hear the slightest hint of an arriving car.

  Irritated with herself, Anne marched toward the boys and declared she'd help with fighting off the monsters. This worked for a while but alas, her reservoir of energy was no match for two small boys and she soon had to bow out of the fierce battle. She meandered to the blanket and paced around it. It was only ten o'clock. Far too soon to eat. Besides, the boys were still playing. They didn't need a new distraction. No, it was she that needed the distraction.

  She paced some more, only to discover she ended up near the entrance of the clearing, only thirty feet away from where she could check if a car had arrived. Muttering hotly to herself, she marched back to the blanket, determined to imprison herself there for an hour. However, someone behind her called out her name. She turned to find Mary huffing toward her.

  "You left without me!"

  Anne stared at her. "You wanted to come?"

  "Of course I wanted to come. Why would you think I wouldn't want to come? Everyone else is fawning over that Wentworth fellow—"

  Anne caught her breath. He was here.

  "—as if he's some king but did he have anything useful to say to me? No, I'm just the wife." Mary plopped herself on the blanket with a scowl.

  Anne sat next to her, for once glad Mary vented so much.

  "He wasn't even wearing a suit. What stuffy guy doesn't come wearing a suit? Does he not take this seriously? Does he think it's grand forcing people to wait all day for his arrival?" She pulled the picnic basket toward her. "What did you make?"

  "Sandwiches. Did he like the invention at least?"

  "They were too busy talking." Mary pulled out some of the grapes and popped one into her mouth. "Louisa insisted on showing them the renovated house. Like he'd really be interested in some house. I think Louisa likes him, but she's too blonde for him. Rietta would fit him better."

  So, he was dark-haired. Her Wentworth was also dark-haired. Could it really be him?

  "Where are the boys?"

  Anne looked around, realizing she hadn't checked on them in a while. Unfortunately, during that brief lapse of an authoritative watchful eye, Charlie had seized the moment to practice his tree-climbing skills.

  Mary shot to her feet. "Charlie! Get out of that tree this instant! You're going to break your neck!"

  Anne rushed to the tree, embarrassment fueling her run. If anything happened to the boys while under her charge, she'd have the entire Musgrove clan upon her, not to mention the regret that would haunt her for the rest of her life. As she reached the offending tree, she found Walter standing next to it, arms folded and lip pushed out in a pout.

  "Charlie not help," Walter muttered, looking up at Anne as if she'd do the honors instead.

  But Anne focused on Charlie, already ten feet up into the gnarly tree. "Charlie! Come down, please!"

  "Aunt Anne!" He flashed her a big grin. "Look at how high I am!"

  "You're going
to fall and break your neck!" His mother yelled and yanked her youngest away from the tree as if that would ensure obedience from the older one. "Get down here right now!"

  "I won't fall," the boy declared and climbed even higher.

  "Oh, that boy!" Mary muttered. "Charles Samuel Musgrove, you get down here this instant or I will—"

  The boy's foot abruptly slipped. He screamed as he grasped the branch, his feet dangling precariously over ten feet above them. Mary clutched Anne's shoulder, shaking it as if it would rewind time. "Anne! Anne!"

  "It's okay," Anne called over Mary's racket, spreading her hands out to catch the boy if he fell. "I'll catch him."

  But Mary was too busy panicking. "He's going to die. Oh, Charles! Charles!" She bolted across the clearing, still screaming her husband's name.

  "Mary, wait!" Anne cried. Charles would be with Mr. Wentworth. And the last thing she needed was to meet him at this moment, especially when her entire job was to keep the boys out of the way.

  As if to make matters worse, little Walter ran after his mother, wailing along the way. She should grab Walter, but first, she had to save Charlie from death. Frustration and panic mounting, Anne snapped her eyes back up to Charlie. To her surprise, his feet no longer dangled in the air. In those short moments, he'd managed to climb back onto the big branch and gazed down at her with big, worried eyes.

  "I'm scared."

  "It's okay." She held out her arms. "I'm right here. Just climb down and you'll be fine."

  "I'm going to fall. Come and get me."

  Anne eyed the large tree. Even if she managed to pull her thin frame up to the first branch, she doubted she'd get much higher. She hadn't exactly been in the habit of building muscle in her arms.

  "You can climb down. You're a big boy."

  Little tears pooled in his eyes. "I want my daddy."

  Anne sighed. This was not working. And Mary's screams were heading toward them. She must have found Charles already.

  And Wentworth.

  "Hey, remember how proud you were in getting yourself up so high?"