“Is your sister with the child?” Despite his brooding case of nerves and ill temper, the fact Anne did not arrive with the Musgroves disappointed Frederick. He would like to know how she felt as to a meeting. Perhaps indifferent, if indifference could exist under such circumstances. She must be indifferent or unwilling—unwilling to face him.
Mary joined the conversation.“I told Charles, to be sure, I may just as well come as not, for I am of no use at home—am I?” She turned to her husband for confirmation of what she said. “And it only harasses me. My sister Anne has not a mother’s feelings and is a great deal the properest person. She can make Little Charles do anything; he always minds her at a word. It is a great deal better than leaving him with only Jemima.”
Anne has a way with children. Of course. How often Frederick envisioned her with a babe in her arms—her child—his child? Pain crept into the pit of his stomach.
“It was very kind of Anne,” Charles assured everyone in earshot. “I wanted her to join us in the evening when the child might be at rest for the night. I urged her to let me come and fetch her, but she was quite unpersuadable.”
“I am sorry Miss Anne could not join us.We met when I was here before, and it would have been—ah—pleasant to see her again.” Frederick felt the necessity of escaping an introduction when they were to meet.
“I never realized you knew my sister!” Mary exclaimed.
“As I recall, you were away at school when I visited Somerset some years ago,” was all the explanation he offered before turning his attention to Louisa Musgrove.
The evening continued with music, singing, talking, and laughing; Frederick found it all most agreeable. He forced himself to be charming, leaving his pensive thoughts of Anne in the deep recesses of his mind. He and the Musgroves took to each other quickly; they seemed all to know each other perfectly.“Then you will come for breakfast before we go shooting?” Charles Musgrove confirmed when they said their good-byes.
“Not at the Cottage,” Frederick added. Impulsively, he had decided against seeing Anne. If she chose not to let Charles bring her for the evening’s end, she, evidently, did not want to see Frederick. He would not force himself upon her.“I would not wish to be in Mrs. Charles’s way on account of the child.”
“Then we will meet here at the Great House,” Charles decided.
“Tomorrow,” Frederick confirmed. He bowed, first to the ladies and then to the Musgrove men. He mounted the horse he had borrowed from the Kellynch stables and headed back toward his sister’s home.
CHAPTER 6
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.
—Lord Byron,“When We Two Parted”
“So beautiful.” The words brought Anne’s attention to the figure reclining lazily against the pillows. She sat reading a book of poetry as she tended his bedside.“Did you know I fell in love with you the first time I saw you in the mercantile? Your face—those delicately molded features and dark eyes—captivated me immediately. Somehow, I felt that we understood each other. Odd, is it not?”
She smiled tenderly at him. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, she reached out and pushed the hair away from his forehead. “You did not look away. You charmed me.” Anne leaned forward and whispered in his ear.“I saw your eyes darken with something I did not understand at the time.” She kissed his temple and his cheek.
Frederick’s breath caught in his throat. “I saw the sparkle in your eyes. Suddenly, I had a mad desire to be the only one to make your eyes glow in that way.”
“I am thrilled that you are feeling better, my Love. I feared I might lose you.”
“Never again. Perhaps even the Angel of Death is deterred by love.”
Just then there came a knock at the door, and the ship’s doctor announced himself. “Ah, Captain,” he called as he entered the room. “It is time to get you up out of that bed.” He immediately started checking Frederick’s wounds.
“Are you sure, Dr. Laraby?”Anne looked concerned.“Is this not too soon?”
“No, it is not,” Laraby firmly denied her words.“He needs exercise, or he will become weaker. And you need to see something other than these four walls for a while. Look at her, Captain; see how pale she is.Your wife has done nothing but tend you, night and day, for nearly five days now. Command her, Wentworth; she ignores me.”
Frederick turned his gaze on Anne. Laraby was right; she was white-faced and gaunt, and, if possible, she lost weight. “Anne,” he said mournfully,“I am sorry I did not notice.”
“You needed me,” she said simply.
“I did; I do,” he corrected.“But because I need you, my Love, I want you to take care of yourself. Please leave, Sweetheart; go do something special for you.” He took her hand in his, bringing her fingertips to his lips for a lingering kiss.“Do not make me give you a direct order, Sweetling.” His eyes lit up with amusement.
He watched as she playfully raised an eyebrow in mocked contempt. “Can you spell mutiny, my Love?” she teased.
“M-u-t . . .” Her laughter cut off the end of the word.
She conceded,“I will go, but please note it is not with a willing heart.”
“So noted,” he quipped.“Now get out of here.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” She offered a half-hearted salute before dropping him a quick curtsy.
As she left, Laraby ushered in Lieutenants Avendale and Harwood once again. “We need to get the captain on his feet; I want him walking about the room.”
His men supported his every move, allowing him to lean his weight on their shoulders. With his teeth gritted, Frederick made his way haltingly to and fro across the room. Each movement was dizzying, and he periodically paused when the pain became too intense.
“That is enough for now,” Laraby declared, and he motioned the sailors to help Frederick to sit on his bunk. “We will have you up again a little later today.”
Frederick collapsed to a seated position on the side of the bed.“Thanks for the warning, Laraby,” he hissed through the settling pain.
“You know it is best; so quit your complaining.” Laraby supported Frederick’s shoulders as the captain pivoted on the bed, swinging his long legs up and over the edge. He gasped as he lay back against the pillows.
“Do you need more laudanum?”
“Not just yet,” Frederick said as he pushed himself up on his pillows.
Laraby pulled the blanket over Frederick’s long frame. “Soon, then. Shall I have a man come in to shave you? That might make you feel better.”
“I think I would enjoy that,” Frederick agreed. “Mrs. Wentworth would appreciate seeing a shaved face when she returns.”
Laraby sent for Wentworth’s assistant before saying, “Your wife is devoted to you, Sir.You are fortunate to have earned such regard. I have heard that you two are newly wed. Not wishing to seem rude, Sir, I am surprised some man did not claim her attentions long ago.”
Frederick smiled.“Some man did—me.” He looked off in space visualizing Anne as he first saw her. “We are indeed newly wed, although we are not in the first blush of youth. I wooed her in ’06, but we were young, and things were not to be. I assumed I had lost Mrs.Wentworth until I returned to her home country to visit with my sister Sophia and the Admiral.Then we were thrown together through mutual acquaintances.”
“Then you are truly a lucky man,” Laraby acknowledged.
Frederick chuckled. “Interestingly, the late Dick Musgrove brought us together.”
“Musgrove!” Laraby looked surprised. “There was a man who was not cut out to be a sailor, Sir. But how did he bring you and Mrs.Wentworth together?”
“Dick Musgrove was useless in my estimation also, but his parents thought the world of him. Except for his family, he was scarce
ly at all regretted once the intelligence of his death abroad worked its way to Uppercross. His parents came to thank me, though, because he had mentioned me positively in a letter home, and I was presented with the pleasant situation of finding my Anne in residence with the Musgroves. Mrs.Wentworth’s youngest sister is the eldest son’s wife.Anne and I took up where we had left off all those years earlier.”
The assistant entered at that point and began setting up the shaving tools. Laraby moved to a chair. “It sounds as if God meant for the two of you to be together.”
“I like to think so,”Wentworth responded,“although the Devil provided us with several twists and turns along the way.”
“You will tell me of them sometime?” Laraby asked.“For now, Yates will take care of your ablutions.”
The assistant lathered Frederick’s cheeks and jaw line with soap. A few minutes later, the captain was clean-shaven once again. Rubbing his palms along his smooth skin, he looked at his reflection in the mirror that Yates offered. “I am glad Anne chose me before I lost so much blood and so much weight. And look at these dark circles under my eyes.” Frederick shook his head in disbelief.
“You were never handsome, Captain,” Laraby joked. When Frederick snorted, he said,“To be serious, Captain, sleep and exercise will do much to restore your vigor and your looks.”
“Exercise?” said Frederick.“You mean pacing a room.And pacing a room is one of my least favorite things.”
Frederick paced the morning room, waiting for Charles Musgrove to finish his breakfast. The Musgroves thought him eager for the sport of the day. In reality, his thoughts rested on Anne. He and Charles were to return to the Cottage for the dogs; more than likely,Anne would be in attendance.They would meet at last.
“Let us go!” Charles called to Frederick.
Louisa Musgrove strolled into the morning room. “We would join you if you have no objections. Henrietta and I wish to call at the Cottage regarding Little Charles.”
Frederick recognized the ruse, but he welcomed it.After all, the Misses Musgrove were two of the most genial young ladies of his acquaintance.“I would be pleased for your company.”
They walked to the Cottage, and the Misses Musgrove kept up an animated conversation. Frederick, on the other hand, remained quiet; he felt as if he might be on his way to his own execution.With determination, he steeled himself to face Anne after eight years.
“The morning hours of the Cottage are always later than those of the Great House,” Louisa explained as they approached the door. “With the late hours of the party, I suspect Mary and Anne are just beginning their breakfasts.”
“Then we will not intrude for long,” Frederick insisted. He was grateful for a legitimate reason not to tarry in Anne’s presence.
The door opened to the Cottage, and Frederick followed Louisa and Henrietta into the room. Air rushed from his lungs as he stepped forward to greet Mrs. Charles. He bowed, not allowing his eyes to rest on either woman standing by the breakfast sidebar. Although he had not looked at her, his body told him Anne Elliot finally stood before him.
“Mrs. Musgrove,” he began,“excuse the intrusion. I came with your husband to inquire on the progress of your son. I pray the morning brings him continued peace.”
Gratified by his attention, Mary delightedly received him.“Oh, Captain Wentworth,” she gushed.“You honor us.”
He heard nothing else; his eyes rested on Anne’s face.They were the same features he remembered; yet, she changed. Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments. She nearly blended into the woodwork; Anne appeared used up—defeated by life.
What happened to the woman he had loved so dearly all those years ago? She had allowed life to consume her. It angered him that she never learned to take up her own cause. Perhaps she deserved serving her inane sister and not having a life of her own. He had once thought she was adventurous enough to sail with him around the world; now, he saw her as nothing more than an accessory to her family. How could he have pined for such a woman? How could he have believed that she could spend her days at sea?
A self-conscious silence engulfed him; Mary Musgrove looked at him expectantly. Frederick realized he had not attended to her ramblings; he was just about to make some sort of excuse when her husband appeared at the window. “Come, Wentworth, I have the dogs.” He held the leashes of several beagles and pointers.
“If you will excuse me, Ladies,” he said with a bow and then turned toward the door, needing to escape the room.
“Let us walk with them to the end of the village,” Louisa encouraged her sister.
Mary grabbed her shawl from the back of a chair.“I will go, too.”
Frederick paused at the door to allow the women to precede him. Reluctantly, he glanced at Anne to see if she would join them also. Her eyes were still downcast. She curtsied and then stood there, as if rooted to the floor. Join us, he wanted to say to her. Take your life into your own hands. He tried to will her to move. But she did no such thing.Annoyed, he strode out the door.
He walked silently beside Charles Musgrove, lost in his thoughts. He replayed the scene—her eyes half met his; a bow, a curtsy passed; he talked to Mary, said all that was right; said something to the Misses Musgrove—the room seemed full, full of people and voices—but a few minutes ended it. “It is over! It is over!” he repeated to himself again and again in nervous agitation. “The worst is over!” He had seen her. They had met. They were once more in the same room! Eight years, almost eight years passed, since they gave up on love. How absurd to be resuming the agitation which such an interval had banished into distance and indistinctness! What might not eight years do? Events of every description, changes, alienations, removals—all, all must be comprised in it; and oblivion of the past—how natural, how certain too! It included nearly one quarter of his life.
Alas! With all his reasoning, he found that to retentive feelings, eight years may be little more than nothing. Irritation flooded him—only a few moments in her presence, and he was once again brooding about her.
He turned from his thoughts reluctantly when he heard Henrietta address him. “Captain Wentworth, what did you think of Miss Anne?”
Caught off guard, he responded candidly, “I am sorry to say I found Miss Anne altered beyond my knowledge—so altered I should not have known her again!”
He thought her wretchedly altered, and, in the first moment of appeal, spoke as he felt. He realized he had not forgiven Anne Elliot. She used him ill; deserted and disappointed him; and worse, she showed a feebleness of character in doing so, which his own decided, confident temper could not endure. She gave him up to oblige others. It was the effect of overpersuasion. It was weakness and timidity. He had assumed maturity would have tempered those tendencies; instead, Anne Elliot was but a ghost of the woman she should have become.
He had been most warmly attached to her and had never seen a woman since whom he thought her equal, but he had been wrong. Now, except from some natural sensation of curiosity, he had no desire of meeting her again. He swore her power with him was gone forever.
Later that evening, he sat in the drawing room with Sophia and Benjamin.They sipped a fine wine. Staring at the fire in the hearth, Frederick, despite his earlier vow, remained consumed by his continual thoughts of Anne. “The Misses Musgrove are attractive,” Sophia roused him from his musings.
Frederick knew where the conversation would lead. “They both offer pleasant company,” he said.
“Do not be evasive, Frederick,” the Admiral admonished him.
“Does either of the young ladies interest you? Your sister and I would like to see you as well settled as is Edward.”
“I know, Admiral,” he conceded. “You and Sophia will be pleased to know it is now my object to marry. I am rich, and being turned on shore, fully intend to settle as soon as I can be properly tempted. I am actually looking round, am ready to fall in love with all the speed which a clear head and quick taste will allow. I have a heart for either
of the Misses Musgrove, if they can catch it; a heart, in short, for any pleasing young woman who comes my way.” Anyone except Anne Elliot, he thought.This was his only secret exception to his sister’s suppositions. “Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match. Anybody between fifteen and thirty may have me for the asking. A little beauty and a few smiles, and a few compliments to the Navy, and I am a lost man. Should not this be enough for a sailor who has had no society among women to make him nice?”
“Frederick, you jest! You just wish me to contradict you,” she reasoned.“No woman could ask for a kinder man than you.”
He hesitated.“If I were to more seriously describe the woman I should wish to meet,” he hesitated, remembering his initial assessment of Anne,“she would possess a strong mind, with a sweetness of manner.” He paused again, considering his own words. “This is the woman I want,” said he.“Something a little inferior I shall, of course, put up with, but it must not be much. If I am a fool, I shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more than most men.”
From this time, Captain Wentworth and Anne Elliot were repeatedly in the same circle. They soon dined in company together at Mr. Musgrove’s, for the little boy’s state could not supply his aunt with a pretense for absenting herself; and this was but the beginnings of other meetings.
Frederick grew less fearful of being in the same room with her. He treated Anne as everyone else did; she was a nonentity—she did not exist other than being part of the room decoration. In this manner, he could deal with her presence.Yet, as often as he tried to not let himself think of her, he foolishly succumbed nevertheless. It irritated him to see her treated as an afterthought in the minds of her family. It irritated him to think that she accepted her life as it was. It irritated him that, despite her betrayal, he still had moments when his eyes rested on her and her alone.
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