That evening, he took a tray in his room, unable to hold a conversation with his sister or Benjamin. His head throbbed, and he felt a prickling along his neck and spine, telling him that time was short. If he did not reconnect with Anne Elliot by the next afternoon, he would call, unannounced, at Camden Place and plead for her to receive him. He would immediately pledge his love for her and ask Anne to make him the happiest of men.
He knew that he could not rely on the inspiration of the moment; he needed to carefully construct what he would say to Anne. He had missed a golden opportunity at the concert; now he must formulate a plan. He would prove himself to her. This gave him a focus for the evening—a way to pass the hours until he could search for Anne again.
“Wentworth!” Frederick turned quickly to search the faces rushing by him on the busy street. Finally, he saw the smiling countenance of Thomas Harville, who was followed closely by Charles Musgrove.
“I say, old man.” Charles laughed lightly as he extended his hand in friendship. “I never expected to find you on the streets of Bath.”
“Nor did I,” Harville joined in the greeting, “but I am pleased to see you, Frederick. You are looking well. How long have you been in Bath?”
“Only for a week.”They stepped to the side to let the pedestrians pass them by.“I came to join Sophia and the Admiral; he is here to take the water for his gout.What brings you two to Bath?”
Charles supplied the answer,“Captain Harville wanted to come to Bath on business.”
Thomas interrupted, “I wanted to see some of the offerings at the better shops—to inspect the workmanship. It would give me an idea of what Rushick might need.” Frederick nodded his understanding.
“Anyway,” Charles continued, “Harville began to talk of it a week ago; and by way of doing something, as shooting was over, I proposed coming with him, and Mrs. Harville seemed to like the idea of it very much, as an advantage to her husband; but Mary could not bear to be left, and made herself so unhappy about it that, for a day or two, everything seemed to be in suspense, or at an end. But then, Papa and Mama took up the cause. Mama has some old friends in Bath, whom she wanted to see; it was thought a good opportunity for Henrietta to come and buy wedding clothes for herself and Louisa; and, in short, it ended being Mama’s party, making it easier on the captain here. Mary and I came, too—Mary to help Henrietta with the shopping.”
Frederick looked pleased to see them.“When did you get in?”
“Late yesterday evening,” Thomas added as he shifted his weight to his cane hand.
“You must come say hello to Mama,” Charles insisted. “She would have my hide if I let you slip away without her renewing the acquaintance.You know, you are as good as family as far as my parents are concerned.”
“That is very kind of you.” Frederick looked at his best friend. “Milly’s last letter gave me the impression that you were to return to Lyme.”
Thomas met Frederick’s eyes; they would have a conversation in front of him to which Charles would not be privy. “I assumed we would travel,” he stressed the words,“but the Musgroves were insistent that we stay. Plus, the children have developed friendships with Charles’s youngest siblings. Milly stays behind with all the children and Mr. Musgrove. Of course, James tends Miss Musgrove.”
“I see,” Frederick said with a touch of amusement.“How fortunate for all of you!”
“Come,” Charles encouraged, ushering them forward. “We took a suite of rooms at the White Hart.” He led the way for the two friends. “Mary and I called on her father earlier today. Miss Anne came back with us; she may still be with Mama. Have you seen her since you came to Bath,Wentworth?”
“We spoke at a concert recently,” Frederick said, his heart leaping with the news. He would see Anne today! But now, with the possibility, he found his resolve faltering. Maybe I should observe how she reacts to me—make sure I did not misconstrue her feelings the other evening. If she seems the same today, I will approach her with my pledge.
“Good—good,” Charles replied. “It will be just like last autumn—all of us together again.”
They walked the few streets needed to take them to the White Hart. Charles hustled both of his friends into the room. “Mama, look who we found!” he called.
The wrinkles in Mrs. Musgrove’s face increased as she laughed with pleasure.“Captain Wentworth! For heaven’s sake, how perfect is it to have you among us again!You were sorely missed, Sir.”
Wentworth bowed to Mrs. Musgrove and the rest of the room, and then took Mrs. Musgrove’s outstretched hands in his. He brought one set of chubby knuckles to his mouth and grazed them with his lips.“Thank you, Ma’am, for receiving me.”
Mrs. Musgrove teased him about his formality, and then led Frederick into the center of the room. Frederick had not looked directly at Anne since coming through the door, but his whole body knew she was there, even before Charles led them across the portal. Although he had prepared himself for the prospect that she might be among the party, the surprise of his first look at Anne, after pining intensely for her, took his breath away. Stay calm. Observe. He made a quiet comment or two to the group at large and then took up a position behind one of the more imposing wing chairs scattered across the room.
Frederick tried not to make it obvious that he watched Anne, but try as he might, his eyes remained on her. He attempted to be calm and leave things to take their course, trying to be rational. He thought, Surely, if there be constant attachment on each side, our hearts must understand each other ere long. And yet, a few minutes afterward, he felt as if their being in company with each other, under their present circumstance, could be exposing them to inadvertencies and misconstructions of the most mischievous kind.
Mary’s call to Anne broke Frederick’s concentration. Standing close to the window, Mrs. Charles seemed pleased to announce to the whole room, “Anne, there is Mrs. Clay, I am sure, standing under the colonnade, and a gentleman with her. I saw them turn the corner from Bath Street just now.They seem deep in talk.Who is it?—Come and tell me.” But before Anne could obey, Mary gasped,“Good heavens! I recollect.—It is Mr. Elliot himself.”
“No,” cried Anne, and Frederick watched as she blushed. “It cannot be Mr. Elliot,” she offered in explanation. “I assure you he was to leave Bath at nine this morning and does not come back until tomorrow.”
How does Anne know Mr. Elliot’s traveling plans? he wondered. How intimate are they? The questions vexed him greatly. He hated the uncertainty.
Mary, resenting she should be supposed not to know her own cousin, began talking very warmly about the family features, and protesting still more positively it was Mr. Elliot. She called for Anne to come and look herself.
Anne would not accede to Mary’s wishes. He prayed she refused for his sake, but those moments of hope vanished on perceiving smiles and intelligent glances between two or three of Mrs. Musgrove’s friends, as if they believed themselves quite in the secret. It was evident the report concerning Anne and Mr. Elliot had spread; and the short pause succeeded in ensuring it would now spread further.
Reluctantly, Anne moved to the window to satisfy all the eyes now falling upon her. Frederick cringed as she stepped forward and drew back the drape. “Yes, it is Mr. Elliot certainly,” she announced to the room.“He changed his hour of going, I suppose, that is all—or I may be mistaken; I might not attend.” Frederick’s eyes followed her back to her chair. Anne seemed composed, and it irritated him to think others in the room thought she must acquit herself to them.
After a few more excruciating minutes, Mrs. Musgrove’s friends finally departed. Frederick took the opportunity to find a seat. Then Charles revealed, “Well, Mother I did something for you while I was out today that you will like. I went to the theater and secured a box for tomorrow night. Am not I a good boy? I know you love a play, and there is room for us all. It holds nine. I am sure we can engage Captain Wentworth, and Anne will not be sorry to join us, too.We all like a play
. Have not I done well, Mother?” This could be just the opening that I need, thought Frederick.
“Charles, how thoughtful,” Mrs. Musgrove began.“I do so love a play, and it would be a wonderful evening if Henrietta and all the others could join us.You will come, will you not, Miss Anne?”
Mary interrupted the exchange, delivering a reprimand to her husband with a large dose of Elliot pride. “Take a box for tomorrow night! Have you forgotten we are engaged to Camden Place for the same evening? We were most particularly asked on purpose to meet Lady Dalrymple and her daughter and Mr. Elliot—all the principal family connections—on purpose to be introduced to them? How can you be so forgetful?”
Frederick and Thomas Harville traded a knowing look—they both held the same opinion of Mary Musgrove. No wonder Charles spends so much time out of the house. Frederick thought Charles would happily turn back the clock and press Anne harder if he could.
His pride wounded, Charles Musgrove had no choice but to be contrary, declaring his renewed intentions.“Your father might have asked us to supper if he wanted to see us.You may do as you like, but I shall go to the play.”
Thus began a heated discussion on both sides. Frederick had witnessed more than one of these arguments during his time with the Musgroves. In the beginning he had found them amusing, but now he thought it a pathetic situation. It came from marrying without love—marrying without respect. If he did not win Anne, he might never marry; he did not believe he could tolerate such a life just for the sake of an heir. He could leave his fortune to Edward’s children.
“Please, Charles, there was always such a great connection between the Dalrymples and ourselves,” Mary pleaded. “We are quite near relations, you know—and Mr. Elliot too, with whom you ought so particularly to be acquainted! In time, he will be our nearest neighbor. Every attention is due to Mr. Elliot. Consider my father’s heir—the future representative of the family.”
“Do not talk to me about heirs,” cried Charles.“I am not one of those who neglect the reigning power to bow to the rising sun. If I would not go for the sake of your father, I should think it scandalous to go for the sake of his heir.What is Mr. Elliot to me?”
Frederick became even more alert, looking and listening with his whole soul. The last words brought his inquiring eyes from Charles to Anne. Will Mr. Elliot be Charles’s new brother? Tell me, Anne. Deny your connection to the man! He tried to will her to bring their love together.
Finally, Mrs. Musgrove interceded. “We better put it off. Charles, you had much better go back and change the box for Tuesday. It would be a pity to be divided, and we should be losing Miss Anne too, if there is a party at her father’s; and I am sure neither Henrietta nor I should care at all for the play if Miss Anne could not be with us.”
Frederick realized that Mrs. Musgrove wanted Anne to attend to serve as a buffer between Mary and everyone else.The woman provided Anne with the opportunity to set everyone’s assumptions straight. Say it,Anne, he silently pleaded.
Frederick listened intently as, trembling noticeably,Anne spoke, “If it depended only on my inclination, Ma’am, the party at home, excepting on Mary’s account, would not be the smallest impediment. I take no pleasure in that sort of meeting and should be too happy to change it for a play and with you. But, it better not be attempted, perhaps.”
Frederick let out his breath. Anne did it! She had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with the stuffy way of life to which her family clung. As if in a dream, he moved from his seat to the fireplace, pretending to warm his hands with the flame before taking a station with less barefaced design by Anne. As the others continued to speak of the pros and cons of the party and the play, Frederick spoke directly to her:“You have not been long in Bath,” said he, “to enjoy the evening parties of the place.” He demanded she confirm what he hoped to be true.
With a beguiling smile, she turned her full beauty on him, and Frederick felt his knees go weak. “Oh, no! The usual character of them has nothing for me. I am no card player.”
A smile of his own turned up the corners of Frederick’s mouth; he seemed to hear the strings of a love song. “You were not formerly, I know.” I know you better than anyone does. “You did not used to like cards, but time makes many changes.” Their words spoke of cards, but their hearts spoke of love.
“I am not yet so much changed,” she protested, and then she stopped.
Frederick feared she did not want him to mistake what she said, but he could no longer contain the emotions coursing through him. As if it were the result of immediate feeling, he declared,“It is a period, indeed! Eight years and a half is a period!”
Before Anne could respond, Henrietta interrupted their private moment, totally unaware of the magic building between them. Frederick felt the air sucked from him; he still had no answer—strong suspicions—but no answer; and he watched in dismay as Anne, obviously reluctant, spoke of being perfectly ready to retire the room.
Even more vexing was the entrance of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot. Having moved away unwillingly from Anne, Frederick noted the general chill hanging over the room.Anne, disquieted by her family’s grand entrance, appeared oppressed, and wherever he looked, he saw symptoms of the same.The comfort, the freedom, the gaiety of the room was over, hushed into cold composure, determined silence, or insipid talk, to meet the heartless elegance of Anne’s father and sister.
“We came to issue everyone an invitation for tomorrow evening,” Elizabeth declared. Then she turned to Frederick, offering him not only an acknowledgment but a flirtatious smile. “Oh, Captain Wentworth, I especially hope that you will be available to join us.” A shiver shot down his spine. What was Anne thinking with the change of situation? He often wished for such acceptance but never at this cost.“Tomorrow evening,” he heard Miss Elliot saying the proper nothings,“to meet a few friends, no formal party.”
It was all said very gracefully, and the cards which she provided herself, the “Miss Elliot at home” were laid on the table, with a courteous, comprehensive smile to all, and one smile and one card more decidedly for Frederick. A definite twist in his stomach sent his earlier meal rising to a sickening awareness. He fought back the urge to run from the room. Lord knows, he thought, no such alliance would satisfy me! Elizabeth pointedly slid her card across the table to Frederick before she and Sir Walter disappeared.
He knew that all eyes fell on him, and although Frederick saw the offering as atonement for all the insolence of the past, he knew only surprise rather than gratitude—polite acknowledgment rather than acceptance. He held the card in his hand after they left, peering at it as if it held the answers to all his questions. He seriously considered accepting the invitation, but never for Elizabeth. If he ever entered Sir Walter’s drawing room, it would be to claim Anne as his own.
The interruption was short, and ease and animation returned to most of those they left, as the door shut the Elliots out. Frederick stepped to the side, deep in contemplation, wondering how Anne perceived all that had just happened.
Mary moved to her sister’s side and audibly whispered, “Only think of Elizabeth including everybody! I do not wonder Captain Wentworth is delighted! You see he cannot put the card out of his hand.”
Frederick felt a momentary urge to toss the card into the fire, as if it were a live spark burning his fingertips. Anne caught his eye, and he felt his cheeks glow with embarrassment. His mouth formed itself into a momentary expression of contempt before he turned away in embarrassment and frustration.
“Wentworth, Harville and I plan to check out some of the shops in the trade district.We would be pleased if you joined us.” Charles picked up his hat.
“Cer-Certainly, Musgrove,” Frederick stammered, although he would have preferred to stay behind in hopes of speaking to Anne. “Are you ready, Harville?”Thomas grabbed his cane and followed the other men out.
Both he and Thomas remained quiet, deep in their own brooding. Musgrove rattled on about the possibility
of taking up falconry or some other such sport, but neither of the other two men heard much of what he said. When they reached the trade shops, they agreed to separate for a while. Frederick then joined Harville, claiming his friend might need his help in maneuvering the crowded stores.
“You must be put out by all this,” Frederick noted as they stepped through the doorway of a cramped furniture shop.
“What brings you to say that?” Harville stopped to look carefully at the intricate carving on a grandfather clock.
Frederick chuckled lightly. “You did not object when I used your injury as an excuse to avoid Musgrove right now.You would never accept any such offer otherwise.”
Harville stopped short, leaning heavily on his cane. “Do you have any idea what Benwick requested of me?” Anger hung on every word.
“Tell me,” Frederick’s lips barely parted—his jaw clenched in anticipated contempt.
“That pretentious ass wants me to commission a portrait of him—for Louisa Musgrove! He gave me this to use as the model.” Harville thrust a small miniature painting into Frederick’s hand. “Damn him! He had it made for Fanny—remember, at the Cape—he met with a clever young German artist at the Cape, and in compliance with a promise to my poor sister, sat to him, and was bringing it home for her. And I have now the charge of getting it properly set for another!” And with a quivering lip he wound up the whole by adding, “Poor Fanny! She would not have forgotten him so soon!”
Frederick stared at his best friend. “You should not be in this position; I brought my folly upon your home.”
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