Captain Wentworth's Persuasion

by Regina Jeffers

  Mr. Musgrove stepped past Frederick and reached for the brandy decanter. He poured himself one and tossed it off before refilling the glass.“How did it happen? I need to know everything before I tell Mrs. Musgrove.” He stood with his back to Frederick, his shoulders hunched, trying to ward off reality.

  “It was my fault, Sir. I encouraged Louisa to be adventurous. She jumped from the seawall. I tried to catch her, but I was too late. It was purely my fault. I know not what else to say, Sir.”

  Mr. Musgrove started past him. “I will tell Mrs. Musgrove—if you would be so kind as to bring Henrietta in? I am sure that Mother will want to assure herself of Henrietta’s safety.” He patted Frederick’s shoulder.

  “I will return to Lyme this evening, as soon as I refresh the horses and retrieve some clothing from Kellynch. If you wish to send anything to Charles or Mary or Louisa, I will gladly take it with me.” Frederick stood in supplication.“I beg your forgiveness, Sir.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, Captain.” Mr. Musgrove moved dejectedly toward the stairs.

  Frederick returned to the carriage, where Henrietta and Anne sat.“Your parents need your help, Miss Henrietta,” he said without emotion as he helped her from the carriage.

  “Thank you, Captain.” She rushed up the steps and through the door, still being held open by the footman.

  Frederick turned to help Anne.“If you could see that the Musgroves gather some items for your sister and Charles, I would appreciate it. I will look to the horses.When they are fed properly, I am to Kellynch and then back to Lyme.”

  “I shall take care of it; a footman will bring out the items.” She paused, obviously, not wanting to part from him; Frederick, too, lingered.

  “Thank you, Anne. If not for you, today would have been even worse.Thank you for your good counsel.”

  “I did no more than anyone else, and a good deal less than some.”

  Again, silence prevailed. So much needed saying, but neither of them had a right to speak the words. “I suppose, then, that this is farewell,” he said as he took the bridle of the nearest horse to lead it away.

  “Good-bye, Captain.” She gave him one last look and then hurried up the steps and into the mansion.

  “Good-bye, my Dearest Anne,” he whispered to her retreating form.

  Frederick stopped at Kellynch to give Sophia and Benjamin the news and to gather some of his belongings. He sent Ned Steventon to prepare his clothes, anticipating a lengthy stay in Lyme.

  Reluctantly, he entered one of the bedrooms in the east wing. He knew exactly which one it was, having innocently asked Ned several weeks ago. Sophia refused to use this wing of the house—it was where the Elliots lived. Frederick closed the door quietly behind him, before taking the candle and holding it high.This had been Anne’s room, and although most of her personal items were no longer evident, Frederick felt he needed to be there, where she had once slept.

  Setting the candle on the nightstand, he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. He looked about him, envisioning Anne moving around the room—dressing behind the screen—writing letters at the desk—standing by the window—observing the garden below. She would never be his; he knew that now. Lying back, he stared up at the canopy above his head. His Anne had slept in this very bed, and Frederick found himself grasping the pillow to his chest, trying to smell the lavender she always wore. A pain shot through his heart; happiness eluded him. A quarter hour passed in this way. Then he resolutely shook off the despondency filling his whole being. “I had best return to Lyme,” he said out loud. “I must finish what I started.”

  Returning to the Harvilles’ house, Frederick joined those gathered in the downstairs sitting room. As expected, Charles had taken the latest news of Louisa’s recovery to his parents that very day. Frederick had barely arrived in Lyme before Musgrove was on his way to Uppercross. When Frederick showed up at the house, Musgrove greeted him and said wearily,“Mrs. Harville is exceptional. She has handled everything. Mary had a fainting spell, and so she and I returned early to the inn last night. Mary was hysterical again this morning, but Captain Benwick was kind enough to walk out with her. I wish I had sent her home last night. She is of no use to Mrs. Harville;Anne would have been of service.”

  “Anne is uncommon,” is all Frederick could get out before Charles took his leave.

  When Musgrove returned to Lyme in the early evening, he brought with him the family’s old nursery maid. Mrs. Musgrove thought the woman would speed Louisa’s recovery; the nursery maid had a reputation for coddling her charges, and she had less to do since Harry, the Musgroves’ youngest, had gone off to school.

  For the next two days, Frederick spent most of his time sitting quietly in the Harvilles’ parlor. Everyone assured him the intervals of sense and consciousness were stronger; Louisa’s recovery had begun in earnest. He took solace in the news. God had answered his prayers—at least, his prayers for Louisa.

  A few days later, Frederick was thankful for the assignment of returning to Uppercross to retrieve some of Louisa’s personal belongings and bring them back to Lyme. It got him out of the parlor; he did not know how much longer he could sit in that room and wait.As a man of action, such indolence drove him mad.

  Riding into the circle at Kellynch, he slid easily from the saddle as the groom took the animal to the stables. Sophia was out the door before he could reach the steps. “Oh, Frederick!” she caressed his face.“You look pale.You are not sleeping, and I can tell you are not eating properly. Look how much weight you have lost!” She wrapped her arm through his as they walked to the house. “You must spend the night.”

  “I must return to Lyme,” he said automatically.

  “You will not,” she insisted.

  Frederick looked at her with hollow eyes. “I have no choice, Sophia. I came here first to pick up some more of my own clothes. I am to call at Uppercross and have the Musgrove maid gather some of Miss Musgrove’s trinkets and personal belongings.There is hope such remembrances will speed her recovery.”

  “Then the girl is improving?” she asked.The Admiral joined his wife and Frederick in the foyer.

  Frederick seemed lost in his thoughts.“Miss Musgrove is awake for longer periods each day. She converses with Milly Harville and the family’s nursery maid.” He headed to the staircase.

  “Have you not spoken to her?” Sophia asked as she followed him up the first few steps.

  He turned back to her. “Sophia, it would not be proper for me to enter Miss Musgrove’s bed chamber.” A part of Frederick thanked the rules of propriety for such behavior. He had no desire to encourage Louisa’s affections any more than they might already be in place.

  “Of course, of course,” she added quickly.“Learning everything secondhand must be maddening.”

  “Yes.” Frederick took several steps before casting a glance back over his shoulder at her. “Would you ask the groom for a fresh horse while I take care of a few things in my room?”

  “Naturally, Frederick. I shall see to it right away, and I will send a tray up for you.” His sister headed to the servants’ entrance, and Frederick took the remainder of the steps two at a time.

  Less than an hour later, he reappeared in the drawing room, a satchel under his arm. “You are off again?” Sophia asked with regret.“When will we see you next?”

  “I have no intention of quitting Lyme until this is settled.” Frederick was resigned to his fate. He walked to the window, not really seeing the garden view. Pausing, he debated before asking his next question. “Sophia, have you seen Miss Anne? I assume she returned to Kellynch Lodge with Lady Russell.”

  “I have not seen her, but she and Lady Russell sent a note with an intention to call here tomorrow.”

  Frederick sighed; he could not turn around and look at his sister. He would give anything just for a glimpse of Anne. “Would you convey my respects to Miss Anne and tell her I hope she is none the worse for what happened at Lyme. She was the stalwart throughout those init
ial moments.The exertions were great, and I pray she did not suffer unduly.” He would love to leave her word of his constancy—to tell her how much he still admired her, but those words would never be spoken.

  “Perhaps you would like to leave Miss Anne a note. I am sure she is eager to receive information on Miss Musgrove’s progress,” Sophia suggested.

  “An excellent idea, Sophia. I will do so before I leave.” Frederick crossed to the desk, took out a piece of foolscap, and scribbled Anne a message. He did not allow himself the liberty of saying anything personal or even to sign the paper. He knew Sophia would convey that information directly to Anne. In an impetuous move, he kissed the corner of the folded page before he sealed it with wax. His kiss would touch her fingertips as she unfolded the paper to read his message. Closing his eyes, he envisioned his lips caressing Anne’s fingertips in a playful seduction. It was all he could do not to groan as the vision played across his mind.

  “I believe that is it,” he said before placing the note on a side table.“I am back to Lyme once I retrieve Miss Musgrove’s belongings. I shall send you word every few days to let you know how things progress.”

  Sophia walked out with him.“You are in my prayers, Frederick.”

  “Thank you, Sophia. Pray for us all, please.” He swung up into the saddle and rode away.

  Thomas Harville slid into the chair next to him. Frederick had sat at the table for three hours, shuffling a deck of cards he did not play—staring off into space, lost in his thoughts. “The girl will recover,” Harville assured him.

  “What? Yes—yes, I know she will with time. It has not been a fortnight, after all.” Frederick sipped on a cup of cooled tea, now several hours old.

  Harville hesitated and then spoke:“Louisa Musgrove will make you a fine wife, Frederick.”

  Frederick rolled his eyes heavenward in supplication. “Do I have a choice?” Frederick asked rhetorically.

  “Obviously, her family expects a proposal when she recovers; it seems you have paid the young lady with your attentions for several weeks. Mrs. Charles, and even the nursery maid, indicated as much. I understand her mother and father and Miss Henrietta will arrive in Lyme tomorrow.” Thomas leaned back in the chair to watch carefully his best friend’s reaction.

  “I was so foolish, Thomas!” Bitterness laced his words. “I allowed Louisa Musgrove the liberty to think I would choose her, even though my heart has belonged to another for many years. Now, if she recovers, I am obligated to ask for her.” Frederick stared off into the distance once again. “What else can I do? It is the only honorable thing.” In the back of his mind, he heard Anne telling him the same thing—her words from the last time they were together.

  “Perhaps you should withdraw and see how things go once Miss Musgrove recovers. She is young and possibly it would be a matter of out of sight, out of mind. Should you not visit Edward, after all?”

  Frederick looked at Thomas. What his friend suggested gave him a faint hope.“I would only be in the way here, would I not?” he said slowly, as if he needed to digest the idea himself.“Louisa has her whole family to tend to her, and you could send me word if I needed to return because of her illness. I should be off to Plymouth for a time to oversee the dismantling of the Laconia, and Edward has a new wife whom I must really meet.” He searched for permission to leave.

  “If absence makes her heart grow fonder, I will send you word immediately.Take your leave early tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you,Thomas.You have seen what others have not.”

  “Go with God, Frederick.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Nothing in the world is single,

  All things by a law divine

  In one another’s being mingle—

  Why not I with thine?

  —Percy Bysshe Shelley,“Love’s Philosophy”

  “Is that better, Sir?” Lieutenant Avendale asked as he helped Frederick to a chair. It was the first time Frederick was on deck since the fateful day they had overtaken the French sloop.

  Frederick took a deep breath, filling his lungs with sea air.“It is near perfect—thank you, Lieutenant Avendale.”The journey from his quarters to this chair propped against an outside wall had taken nearly ten days, but, at last, he could feel the mist on his freshly shaved face.

  “I am to wait with you until Mrs.Wentworth comes. I believe she went back for a blanket.” The officer transferred his weight from one foot to another.

  Frederick chuckled. “Women are the practical ones, are they not,Avendale?”

  “I believe they are, Sir. At least, my Maggie seems to always know what is best.”The man smiled with his recollection.

  “Is Maggie your wife?” Frederick asked, glad to hold a normal conversation with one of his men.

  “I hope to make her my wife when we put into port. My term is up, and I will be going home.”

  “We will be losing a valuable member of the crew when you leave us.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Avendale dropped his eyes. “The sea is not my life; I thought it would be, but I am not meant for this constant pull of Nature.”

  “What will you do?”

  Avendale stared off for a moment. “I would like to take my orders; I studied at the university. My father wished me to pursue a military career, but the life of a country curate would serve me quite well. My father will be disappointed, but a man must define his own life. Do you not agree, Captain?”

  “For those not firstborn or for those whose family can offer their sons little, I am a firm believer in the power of choice. My brother, Edward, chose the clergy and is very happy, whereas I could think of little but the sea and the adventure.The Navy gave me opportunities I would never have otherwise.”

  “Does your brother have his own parish?”

  “My brother toiled for many years as a curate, but he, at last, took a position in Shropshire, near Shrewsbury. He married and will welcome his first child soon.”

  “Then he is happy?”

  Frederick nodded. “When I saw him last, he was. His calling serves him well, as I am sure it will you.”

  “When we reach Plymouth, I will meet Maggie there; she travels from Bristol. I hope to make her my wife—and then I hope for a position near Hull.” Avendale stood as he saw Anne Wentworth approach.“Your wife approaches, Sir. When you are ready to return to your quarters, it will be my honor to assist you.”

  “I will send for you.”

  After Avendale saluted and left, Anne took the seat next to Frederick, but only after spreading a light blanket over his lap. “Is not the sea air glorious?” she whispered.

  Frederick turned his head to look at her.“You love it as much as I do.”

  “A ship is nothing like what I imagined. When I saw the sails from a distance, I thought a ship moves silently upon the waves; I was surprised that the canvas sails roar and snap in the wind, the hull breaks water like an explosive thunderclap, and the guns roll with a volcanic eruption. I was more surprised that in the mix of all this noise, there is a peace—a faceless gentleness that creeps into my soul—into my veins.” Her voice trailed off. There was silence for a few companionable minutes, and then Anne said, “What do you ponder, Captain?”

  “Hmm? Oh, I was thinking of Plymouth.The last time I spent more than a few days there, I was trying to forget the chaos of my life just after Louisa’s fall and trying to come to terms with my undying need for your love.” Frederick reached out and took her hand in his. He placed a kiss on the pulse of her wrist.

  “What did you do in Plymouth? I know so little about what you did before you came to Bath.”

  He chortled. “Do you mean before I threw myself at your feet and begged you to marry me?”

  “First, you did not beg,” she began to protest, but then stopped suddenly.“Why do you enjoy teasing me so?”

  “Because I cannot live without that spark of passion I see in your face when your emotions are engaged.” He traced his fingertips from her temple to her ja
w line. “You mesmerize me; when you are near, I am spellbound—enthralled—captivated—just pick a word because none of them completely describe what I feel.” Love and need held them as they memorized each other’s features. After longing moments only those who truly love understand, he cleared his throat, needing also to clear his thoughts of Anne’s heat-laden eyes. Looking straight ahead, he began, “I have been to Plymouth many times.”

  Walking along George Street, Frederick mused at the many changes he had witnessed in the Plymouth landscape over the years.When he had first made port there, back before his sailing to the Americas, George Street had been strictly residential. Now, the Theatre Royal II anchored a development, which also included the Royal Hotel. Between 1811 and 1813, every time he sailed into port, he made a special trip to the area, intrigued by the construction.

  The theater boasted a special vestibule, private boxes, a pit, and a gallery; it had once been isolated, but now the town met the site. Frederick had been in attendance for the opening program—As You Like It and a farce titled Catherine and Petruchio. Some members of the unruly audience had interrupted portions of the performance. The building itself was something of an anomaly, using cast and wrought iron for fireproofing. Seeing the structure from a distance, he smiled with the remembrance.

  He walked past the theater and took a room at an inn on Cornwall Street. Frederick had come to Plymouth because he was heartsick and anxious; he wanted nothing more than to escape the scenario playing out in Lyme. If Louisa Musgrove did not recover completely, he would be obligated to make her an offer of marriage. She had placed her trust in him, and he could not turn from her if she continued to suffer from her fall. He prayed daily for her full recovery; admittedly, this was partly an act of self-interest. Frederick hoped that with the distance, Louisa would forget her feelings for him. It was an act of a desperate man, and one of which he was not proud; but he could not control the dread he felt when he considered making Louisa his wife.