“Oh, no,” Louisa assured him in serious tones,“we will never experience the ton and its wicked ways.The Elliots and Lady Russell are the extent of Father’s tolerance for the nobility.We will all find matches in the country. Living in London sounds exciting, but Papa would never tolerate the number of soirees and balls in a Season.”
It was a merry, joyous party, and Frederick’s spirits were high. How could a man not enjoy an evening in which four young women vied for his notice? The Misses Musgrove and the Misses Hayter hung on Frederick’s every word—his every gesture. At a pause in the music, he moved to the instrument bench to pick out a tune.They crowded around, eager to tease him about his inability to play well.
“Oh, Captain,” Miss Hayter vowed, “your playing is perfectly awful!”They all snickered.
He laughed along with them. “Playing the pianoforte is not in the domain of most sailors.”Yet, he continued to stroke the keys, aimlessly searching for the right tune, as he spoke.
“Would there be room aboard a ship for my new harp?” Henrietta questioned.
“Of course, there is room for such an extravagance; but I am not sure how the sea air might affect the instrument.”
Looking up, he saw Anne approaching the bench. Not wishing her presence to intrude on the vignette he created in his mind where he received the notice of women purely because he was an eligible prospect and where he had no history with Anne, he stood up abruptly, wishing to put the specter of Anne Elliot behind him. “I beg your pardon, Madam, this is your seat.” He bowed.
“No, Captain, please, do not let me disturb you.” Anne’s soft voice betrayed her embarrassment at his studied politeness. She immediately drew back with a decided negative, but he was not to be induced to sit down again.
“I insist, Madam.” He offered his arm to Henrietta, and the five of them walked away. Frederick seemed calm on the outside, but that short intercourse changed his reality. When the music began again, he shared the floor with the younger Jane Hayter and then with Sophia, and finally with Henrietta. Throughout, despite his best intentions, his gaze sought Anne; it was impossible for him not to notice her eyes would sometimes fill with tears as she sat at the instrument. He observed her altered features, trying to trace in them the ruins of the face, which once charmed him.
“Miss Henrietta,” he asked against his will, “does Miss Elliot never dance?”
“Oh! No, never, she quite gave up dancing. She had rather play. She never tires of playing.”
The words shot through him. Anne never danced! How had that happened? Anne lost everything she loved about life. Frederick shook his head in disbelief. His vivacious Anne now found her only meaning in life in being employed for her family’s pleasures—her life held no greater promise. Loving him had cost her dearly.
“It appears, Frederick, that you no longer intend to leave for Shropshire to see Edward and his new wife,” Sophia teased him.
Frederick’s eyebrow shot up in amusement.“Do you wish to be rid of me, Sister dear?”
“You know better. Stay as long as you like. Benjamin enjoys your company; you remind him of his time at sea.” She handed him a cup of tea.“Do you call at Uppercross today?”
He took a sip of the strong brew.“I have a standing invitation to do so daily.”
“What occupies your time with the Musgroves?” Frederick realized Sophia wanted to know if he considered one of the Musgrove ladies as marriage material, but he made no such decision. For the moment, he simply enjoyed the attractions of Uppercross. There was so much of friendliness, and of flattery, and of everything most bewitching in his reception there; the old were so hospitable, the young so agreeable, that he could not but resolve to remain where he was, and take all the charms and perfections of Edward’s wife upon credit for a little longer.
“Charles enjoys his sport; we often hunt or shoot. I walk out with the Misses Musgrove; we walk into the village or visit at the Cottage. One sunny day we spent the afternoon at croquet—another at archery. The days are pleasant with such amiable company.” He paused before adding, “Their cousin Charles Hayter of Winthrop joined us for supper last night.”
“Really?” Sophia mused.“How did you find the curate?”
“His disquiet seemed out of place on such a homecoming. From what I understand, Hayter was away a fortnight. The Musgroves seemed pleased that he might discharge his curacy duties soon at Uppercross itself as Dr. Shirley’s assistant. I wish Edward could have experienced such opportunities early on.”
“He seems well situated now,” Sophia noted as she refilled her teacup.“I suppose you dine at Uppercross again this evening?”
Frederick smiled to himself. “I believe I will. He stood and returned his empty cup to the tray.“I will take my leave, Sophia, as soon as I change my waistcoat.” She tilted her head up to receive the kiss he bent to bestow upon her cheek. He tapped her nose tenderly with his index finger. “And if I were to choose one or another of the Musgroves for my wife, you would be the first to know.” He winked at her and then strode from the room.
“The ladies are all at the Cottage,” Mrs. Musgrove told him when he presented himself at the Great House. “You are welcome to wait, Captain, but if I know my daughters, it will be some time. Mrs. Charles received a new book of fashion plates. I am sure Henrietta and Louisa are making plans for creating the latest fashions for their holiday dresses.”
“Perhaps, Ma’am, I will walk to the Cottage and offer my services upon their return.” He bowed to excuse himself.
“That is an excellent idea, Captain Wentworth.” She chuckled as she picked up her embroidery. “I have no doubt your presence will delight Henrietta and Louisa.”
Less than a quarter of an hour later, Frederick presented himself to the servant who answered the door at the Cottage and was immediately shown into the drawing room. He stopped short, finding only Anne and Little Charles in the room. Little Charles, still recovering from his fall, lay on the sofa;Anne sat next to him.
“Fred—” she blurted out and caught herself. “Captain Wentworth—welcome, Sir.” She stood and curtsied.
Her near use of his Christian name deprived his manners of their usual composure: He started and could only say, “I thought the Misses Musgrove were here—Mrs. Musgrove told me this is where I might find them.” Surprised at being almost alone with Anne Elliot, he walked to the window to collect himself and to feel how he ought to behave. He clasped his hands behind his back and focused his attention on the withered flowers of the garden.
Anne too stammered in embarrassment. “They—they are upstairs with my sister—they will be down in a few minutes, I dare say.”
“Aunt Anne,” Little Charles’s voice called her to his side.“May I have some water?”
She busied herself with bringing the boy his water, cradling his head as he held his lips to the glass. “Let me rub your arms and legs; lying still so long is nearly as tiring as being outside, is it not, Sweetheart?” She began to gently massage the boy’s arms, working her way slowly down his limbs, offering the comfort of her touch and her attention.
Frederick remained at the window, but he knew good manners demanded he say something. He turned to face her. “I hope the little boy is better.” His words brought Anne’s eyes to his; she smiled and nodded. Anne caressed the boy’s cheek with the palm of her hand.The picture of the two of them together brought images of Anne with her own children—with their children. It was a vision that had haunted him for years.
The sound of some other person crossing the little vestibule made Frederick pray to see Charles Musgrove. Instead, Charles Hayter stepped briskly into the room.
Anne looked up from where she tended the child. She stood to offer the visitor a welcoming greeting and a curtsy. “How do you do?” she mumbled.“Will not you sit down?The others will be here presently.” She looked tentatively at Frederick.“I believe you know Captain Wentworth.” She gestured to where Frederick stood and then turned her attention once more to
the child.
It did not take Frederick long to determine Charles Hayter was probably not at all better pleased by the sight of him, than Frederick was by the sight of Anne. However, Frederick forced himself away from the window and bowed. “How do you do, Sir? It is pleasant to see you again.”
Hayter bowed and responded coolly, “Captain Wentworth.” Turning to Anne, he inquired,“Miss Elliot, is Little Charles better?”
“I believe so,” she answered from her seated position.
Then Hayter strode to a wing chair next to a side table and picked up the newspaper lying there, ignoring everyone else in the room. Frederick could not decide whether he found Hayter’s actions offensive or amusing. Having lived for many years in close quarters with other men, he sometimes forgot how rude landlubbers could be. He shrugged his shoulders and returned to the window, wondering how much longer he would have to wait for the Misses Musgrove. He suspected the ladies would make the gentlemen wait at least a quarter hour. It seemed to be the way of ladies, and secretly, Frederick enjoyed the ploy.
Deep in such thoughts, the arrival of the youngest Musgrove child took him by surprise. Evidently, someone opened the door for the boy. He scrambled to where Anne sat beside young Charles. “Aunt Anne,” he called as he ran toward the sofa,“I am hungry.”
“I am busy with your brother,” she explained in an even voice. “Please ask Jemima to prepare you something,Walter.”
The use of her father’s name for the child piqued Frederick’s curiosity, and he turned to take a look at the boy, Sir Walter’s name-sake. He was a remarkably stout, forward child of two years, and Frederick thought the boy would never be handsome. How ironic that will be for Sir Walter! he thought, chuckling with the idea. The man will blame the mix of the Musgrove heritage for any inadequacies the boy possesses.
“But I want you to get it,Aunt Anne.”The child began to pull at her hands to try to get her to leave his brother.
She worked his chubby hands free from her sleeve. “You must wait, then,Walter, until I finish helping Little Charles.”
“I want to play,” the boy whined.“Come play with me.”Again, he latched onto her arm and pulled with all his might.Anne had to catch her weight with her hand or be pulled over.
“Walter, that is no way to get me to play with you. If you wait until your mother comes down with Aunt Henrietta and Aunt Louisa, I will happily take you outside to play, but I cannot leave your brother unattended.” She spoke close to the child’s face.
The boy stamped his feet, demanding that she do as he said. Frederick thought the child looked like Sir Walter after all.“I want to play now!” he ordered while hopping onto her back.
“Get down,Walter,” she insisted, pushing him successfully away.
Just as she turned back to the invalid, Little Walter had the great pleasure of getting upon her back again.“Get up, Horsey,” he called close to her ear as he kicked Anne in the side. His arms clutched about her neck.
“Walter,” she said more determinedly, “get down this moment. You are extremely troublesome. I am very angry with you.”
“Leave her alone,Walter,” Little Charles warned from his position. “Papa will be mad at you if you do not get down.”
“Walter,” cried Charles Hayter, “why do you not do as you are bid? Do you not hear your aunt speak? Come to me,Walter; come to cousin Charles.”
Frederick waited for Charles Hayter to take some sort of action; after all, he was family and could step in to discipline the child if necessary. The boy obviously hurt Anne, as he continued to kick her in the side, pretending she was a pony to be ridden. She pushed at the child, ordering him to let her go. Hayter watched her struggle for a few moments and then returned to the paper. Frederick wanted to throttle the man. He did not know who needed a thrashing more—the child or Charles Hayter.
Anne bowed with the boy’s weight upon her back and the strength of his grip about her neck. She struggled to remain upright, but the child’s continued high-spirited wrangling forced her to her hands and knees. Frederick could take no more; he would not watch her fight the humiliation of what life held for her.
Before he thought what he did, he caught the boy by the nape of the neck with one hand, while prying away his arms from Anne’s neck with the other. He spun around and forcibly placed the boy in a nearby chair. A warning stare told the child not to even consider moving. Then he advanced quietly to where Anne rested on her knees. Silently, he leaned down and offered his hand. Unsteadily, she placed her delicate fingers in his gloved hand and rose to her feet. She never raised her eyes to him nor did she thank him; it was not necessary between them. He had witnessed her mortification; Frederick would not amplify that with his words of concern. She nodded slightly and returned to her place by the boy on the sofa.A silence as thick as overstuffed upholstery hung between them.
Frederick moved a chair next to Little Walter. Using the tone he might use to demand obedience from his crew, he leaned down to look in the child’s face.“A gentleman never hurts a lady.”
Hayter lowered his paper and reprimanded the boy also. “You ought to have minded me, Walter; I told you not to tease your aunt.” With an obvious look of regret that Frederick did what he ought to have done himself, he buried his face behind the paper once more.
Frederick saw the boy’s face twist in a pretense of crying.Whispering to the child, he kept up his warning: “Do not cry, Boy, unless you are truly sorry for what you do.A man must protect the women in his house; they will love and protect him in return.” He gave a level, cautionary look to the boy. “I would be most displeased to know you hurt your Aunt Anne again. Do you understand me,Walter?”
“Yes, Sir,” the child’s lower lip trembled, and he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.
“Before you go to bed this evening, you will apologize to your aunt. Do I make myself clear, Child?” His words were spoken so softly anyone watching them would think he shared secrets to a buried treasure with the boy.
“Yes, Sir.”
Clearing his throat audibly, Frederick took the child’s hand. “Let us find your nurse,” he said loud enough for the room to hear. “She will find you something to eat while you wait for your mother to come downstairs.” He walked the child to the door and motioned for his nurse to take him.That done, Frederick returned to the silence of the window. Anne’s soft song to the child as she massaged his legs underlined the regret they all felt.
A few minutes later, Mary Musgrove and her husband’s sisters swept into the room.“Oh, Captain Wentworth,” Mary called as he bowed,“we did not realize you waited upon us, did we Henrietta?” Mary was discreetly maneuvering the girl toward Frederick when she spotted Charles Hayter rising from the chair in the far corner of the room.“Cousin Charles,” she said as she flicked a wrist in his direction,“you are here, too.” Hayter greeted them all while eyeing Henrietta. “Please have a seat, Captain. Let me send for tea.” Mary seated herself close to the hearth, where she could rule over the room. Henrietta looked divided—she knew not to whom she should show her notice. “Henrietta, tell the Captain what we decided to do for the holiday wardrobes.”
Henrietta turned to speak to Frederick.As she did, Hayter moved forward to interrupt.“Henrietta, might I speak to you privately?”
“Of—Of course, Charles,” she stumbled through the words. Then she turned to leave the room, and he followed her toward the garden.
“Well,” Mary said with disgust.“I never saw such rudeness! But what is one to expect from those at Winthrop! He did not even pay proper due to those of us in the room.”
“Mary,” Anne interrupted Mary’s censure of Charles Hayter, “I will leave Little Charles in your care and check on Walter.” Without waiting for her sister’s agreement, she slipped from the room.
Frederick’s eyes followed her. Like a child picking at a sore place, he needed to know she did not suffer from her predicament. “I came to walk you back to the Great House, Miss Musgrove.” He forced a smile t
o his face as he finally turned to Louisa.
“Thank you, Captain.” Louisa stepped forward to take his proffered arm. She smiled up at him with anticipation. “You will join us for dinner, will you not?”
“It would be my honor, Miss Musgrove.”After the histrionics of the past few minutes, Frederick allowed his body to relax into his quickly developing familiarity with Louisa Musgrove’s flirtation. “If you are ready, we will set off.”
“Indeed, I am, Captain.”
“Should we let him stretch his legs?” Dr. Laraby asked as he swung into the cabin, making his morning call on Frederick Wentworth.
Anne Wentworth laughed lightly.“I am not sure the man appreciates our efforts.” While the doctor busied himself opening his bag, she turned her head and murmured to Frederick, “You spoke to Louisa in your dreams.” An amused smile flitted across her face. She watched distress creep into his demeanor.
“I never thought of Louisa like that,” he whispered so only she could hear.Anne moved to sit on the edge of his bed, leaning close to him.“I love only you,Anne.”
“I know that, Frederick. I did not think you regretted our union. You allow me to be me—all my insecurities—all my strengths.You accept them all and love me for them. A man who gives such freedom to a woman does not dream of another.”
“I dreamed of finding you again; that is why I spoke to Louisa in the dream. But she and James were meant to be, as were you and I.”
Anne smiled and said more loudly,“I will leave you alone with the doctor.”
“Do not be gone long.” He grabbed at her hand as she started away.“I miss you when you are not near.”
Captain Wentworth's Persuasion Page 10
