Captain Wentworth's Persuasion

by Regina Jeffers

  “Oh, Anne.” Sophia pulled her along into the hallway. “You really do not think Frederick might not want children? Do you believe he will not be happy with the news?”

  “I do not want to lose him, Sophia.What if he turns from me—from our child? I could not bear it! When you and I first suspected my condition, I was sure he would be happy with the prospect; yet, now I am not so confident. Frederick has all these plans for a house and an estate and—”

  “Anne,” Sophia interrupted her, “for a woman of such great intelligence, you know so little of life. If Frederick feigned disinterest in children, it was for your sake.As small children, the three of us used to play at knights and Celtic warriors and everything imaginable for a child, and in each play, we always imagined these heroes with their families.We feared a separation when our parents passed, and the three of us swore that staying together as a family would be the most important ideal in our lives. Frederick would be content with a household of children, one child, or no children if he had your love; but I guarantee you my brother will be ecstatic with your news. Has he not the most loving heart?”

  “Yes—yes, he is the most romantic man under that stiff exterior,” Anne said shyly.

  Sophia smiled with the knowledge that her brother had finally found happiness. “Do you not think he possesses the capacity to love his own child? His heart is large enough to love all those in his life.The man is built to love and protect. How can you doubt it?”

  “I never doubt my husband,” Anne spoke with determination. “I doubt myself often, but never Frederick. I simply fear disappointing him; I did so all those years ago.”

  “Trust me,” Sophia said as she walked Anne toward her chambers. “Frederick would rather have your news than all the recognitions he will receive tonight.”

  Anne smiled that Madonna-like smile commonplace among mothers and mothers-to-be.“Thank you, Sophia.You have put my mind at ease. I will tell him this evening when we return.”

  Being announced, the Wentworths and the Crofts walked proudly into the dining hall at Carlton House. A naval attaché to the court had called upon them two days earlier to review the protocol at a dinner with royalty present.They were as prepared as one can be—but then again, one can never be fully prepared for the grace, the splendor, and the dignity of such an occasion.

  The light of hundreds of candles flickered off the gold trim of the ceiling. Chandeliers hung low, their light shimmering over the gold-edged place settings and goblets upon the cream-colored linen of the tables.Wall sconces every few feet added to the brightness; it was as if one stepped into the brightness of day. Bouquets of fresh flowers perfumed the air, while guests crushed dried rose petals and lavender under their feet as they walked about.

  Women wearing gowns of various shades of the rainbow—and some wearing plumes that arched high out of their hair—moved about the room on the arms of handsomely dressed gentlemen. The shimmer of the material and the sparkle of their jewels added to the glow of the evening.

  Anne wore a custard-tinted empire-waist gown of satin, and Frederick thought her the most arrestingly beautiful woman he ever saw. A pearl necklace adorned her throat, and beaded pearl pins held the complicated upsweep of her hair in a sleek design. Frederick, who wore his full dress uniform, looked large and powerful and perfectly in control. Together, they were a striking pair, and more than one head turned upon their entrance.

  The Crofts sat at one of the many tables dedicated to the Navy, while Frederick and Anne found themselves at a table headed by Vice Admiral Pennington. Lieutenants Harwood and Avendale, along with Dr. Laraby, represented The Resolve, while like officers from the Bellerophon also occupied the table.

  “So, Wentworth, did you share your news with your wife?” Pennington called from his end of the table.

  Frederick looked up suddenly, discomfited by the question. “Unfortunately, I arrived home too late to fully give it my attention, Admiral.” He took a sip of a very fine white wine.

  “One of you must tell me the news!” cried Anne.

  Frederick cleared his throat and put down his wineglass. “I am sure, Mrs. Wentworth, you will find this news amusing. The Navy Board has chosen to release five sets of captain’s logs as books to the public. My log from the last months of my service—the capture of the two French ships and the American traitor will be the first one released. The book publisher asked that I review the entries and add any pertinent details—embellish so to speak.”

  Anne offered one of her beguiling smiles, and he knew immediately where her mind would go. “Embellish?” she laughed.“They will allow you, my Husband, to embellish your log? The publisher must have heard of your storytelling prowess.”

  Avendale’s new wife, Margaret exclaimed, “So, you will be an author!”

  “Of sorts. But I do not expect, Mrs. Avendale, to compete with Mrs. Ratcliffe, if that is what you mean.”

  Anne laughed, although she tried to stifle it. “No, Mrs. Avendale, I cannot see Admiral Wentworth competing with the new Gothic writers—no castles or strange prophecies or damsels in distress aboard a ship.”

  Frederick loved her taunt; her quick wit never ceased to amaze him. “Maybe I will be able to compete with your favorite writer, my Love.What is her name?”

  “We readers are unsure. Her first book Sense and Sensibility simply reads ‘by a Lady.’ The second reads ‘by the author of Sense and Sensibility.’ Hers are novels of our time, speaking of the social classes and the economic structure, which paralyzed our efforts for independent thinking. But they are books of hope because one can see the changes coming whether those in charge choose to recognize it or not.”

  Mrs. Avendale took on a quizzical look. “I thought they were simply love stories.”

  Frederick smiled at the woman. “My wife is a great believer in crossing cultural lines, but I am sure she enjoyed the romance part of the book, as well, for she has a very tender heart.”

  “If it is the captain’s log, then we shall all receive a mention,” Dr. Laraby observed.

  Admiral Pennington confirmed, “I expect you will. When Admiral Wentworth was disabled, others filled in the report—the log. It will reflect the two captures and the Admiral’s struggle to survive. The publisher anticipates that the British public will be enthralled by the drama.We jumped the gun, so to speak; the Army has not deployed its high rollers, as of yet. The Battle of Copenhagen—and probably that of San Domingo—as well as the Battle of the Nile will also be released. Did you not see action in some of those,Wentworth?”

  “I did, Admiral, at both San Domingo and Copenhagen.”

  “Then maybe we can tie the logs together that way.Your story in one log will lead to another log, in which you play a different role. Excellent idea, if I do say so myself! I will run it by the higher-ups tomorrow.” He returned his attention to Anne. “Mrs. Wentworth, your husband’s log will be the first one released; you must be very pleased.”

  “Admiral Pennington, I assure you that I am extraordinarily proud of my husband.”

  “I thought,” Frederick whispered privately, “I might persuade you to help me review the logs; you have a gift for words.”

  Anne smiled mischievously. “Sir, I am not so persuadable as I once was.”

  “I did not think you were, Madam,” he retorted slyly. “But I believe my charm might overcome your reservations.”

  She giggled. “It is possible that it might, Admiral Wentworth.” She took a leisurely sip of her excellent red wine.

  The attaché, who had attended them previously, appeared at the table, interrupting their conversation. “Admiral Wentworth, His Majesty George IV wishes to speak to you and Mrs.Wentworth.”

  “Sp-Speak to us? Now?” Frederick stammered. He touched his napkin to his lips.

  The man nodded, and Frederick stood quickly, reaching for Anne’s hand, which had begun to tremble.As they walked the long aisle between the tables toward the head table, the man instructed him, “You are quite tall, Admiral. His
Majesty is not, so sit when you speak with him.”

  Frederick nodded and then steadied Anne as she rushed along beside him.Touching her elbow, he balanced her as they wove their way between tables and among the serving staff.“Are you all right, Sweetling?” he asked as they followed the attaché, who was hurriedly leading the way.

  “We have been summoned to meet the heir to our country’s throne. How should I be?” Anne responded, sounding frightened. Frederick was not sure that her teeth were not chattering, although to him, the room suddenly felt very stuffy and warm. Unconsciously, he ran a finger around his collar, feeling it tightening on him.

  Anne nearly swooned as they came within sight of the Prince Regent.“My legs!” she hissed to Frederick.“They are rubber!”

  “I am here,” he murmured.

  Despite what she knew he must be feeling, he looked self-assured; for that,Anne was suddenly grateful.They were together—she and Frederick could do anything together. She took a deep breath and then straightened her shoulders. “I am ready,” she told him as he directed her the last few feet before being presented to George IV and his special guests.

  “I never thought otherwise, my Love.” He placed her hand on his arm as they stepped in front of their future king.

  “Your Majesty,” the attaché spoke once the Prince Regent turned his head to look in their direction.“May I present Rear Admiral Frederick Wentworth and his wife Mrs. Anne Wentworth?” Both men made a proper bow as Anne dipped into a deep curtsy.

  No one raised his eyes or spoke until the Prince spoke. “Admiral Wentworth, would you and your wife care to join us for a few minutes?”

  “We would be honored, Your Majesty.” Frederick’s voice changed in timbre. He handed Anne into the nearest chair and took the one set at an angle from the Prince, making the disparity in their heights less obvious.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs.Wentworth?” the Prince asked nonchalantly.

  Anne swallowed hard before answering. “It is a magnificent gathering,Your Highness.”

  “Then you approve, Madam?” He seemed amused by her innocence, and his tone spoke volumes.“Have you not been to Carlton House previously?”

  “No,Your Highness. I mean, I have not been to your home previously.” A tone of disapproval crept into her voice; she did not like being the object of his entertainment. “As far as approving of the supper,” she blurted out, “one would be foolish to disapprove of what one’s monarch offered.” Suddenly, she wished that she had not opened her mouth.

  A long pause added to the tension before the Prince laughed. “A woman with spunk, Admiral Wentworth! You may have your hands full.” He motioned to the man on Anne’s left.“This is Prince Metternich of Austria, Madam.”

  Anne dropped her eyes, but did not stand to curtsy. “It is with pleasure that I greet you, Prince Metternich.”

  “Mrs.Wentworth,” the Austrian spoke in heavily accented English, “we understand that we owe your husband a great debt.”

  “I am sure my husband does not feel he alone is worthy of such accolades, Prince Metternich.”

  The Prince Regent interrupted, “Is that true, Admiral Wentworth? Does your wife speak your thoughts on the matter?”

  Frederick spoke with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances: “My wife is extremely loyal and honest. My men—my crew—were as much a part of the success of our campaign as I was. In fact, they carried on most efficiently once I became injured.”

  “Then you give them the credit for the captures?” the Austrian prince questioned.

  “We are a crew, Prince Metternich; each of us relies on all the others to survive. Like a chain, we are only as strong as our weakest link.” Anne stared at him in disbelief; her softhearted husband appeared a rock of granite.

  George IV laughed heartily, as did the minions seated at his table. “A lesson we are pleased Bonaparte never learned. Tell me, Wentworth, from where you hail,” Prinny demanded.

  “From Herefordshire,Your Highness.”

  “And your parents?”

  “Edward and Cassandra,Your Majesty, of simple birth if that is your question, my Prince.”

  “Was I misinformed?” Prinny looked almost embarrassed. “I thought you were from Somerset,Admiral.”

  “My wife and I currently reside in Somerset with my sister and her husband,Admiral Croft.We are at Kellynch Hall,Your Highness.”

  “At Kellynch?” the Prince Regent now seemed completely interested. “Sir Walter Elliot’s seat?”

  “The very one,Your Highness. My wife is Sir Walter’s daughter.”

  Prinny directed his comment to Anne. “Your father, Mrs.Wentworth, is well known as a pompous ass!”

  “I am aware of his reputation.” Anne, thankfully, did not crack a

  smile. The rest of the Prince’s table, however, burst into laughter again, as if on cue.

  The woman to the Prince’s right inquired, “Then are you not Lady Wentworth?”

  Anne allowed a smile to turn up the corners of her mouth.“My husband has no title, Madam.”

  The Prince Regent leaned forward and flirtatiously took Anne’s hand in his while Frederick fought the urge to snatch it out of his grasp. Prinny knew exactly what he was doing—a test, so to speak, of the Wentworths’ reported devotion to each other. He brushed his lips across Anne’s knuckles.“Tell me, Mrs. Wentworth, when did you meet the Admiral?”

  Anne flushed a little but spoke forthrightly,“Your Highness, my husband and I fell in love when I was but nineteen, and he had just received his first command.We never loved another or even considered another worthy of our attention, although we spent many years apart.”

  “Not even a prince, Mrs. Wentworth?” Prinny prodded her. Frederick bit back the anger swelling in his chest.

  Anne gazed at the heir to the throne. “Your Majesty, although you have the world to offer, I never wanted the world; I turned down riches and a title, preferring to marry the Admiral. I do not regret my decision.”

  “Mrs. Wentworth, you are incomparable!” the Prince exclaimed.“I do not know when I last so enjoyed a conversation.” He purposefully placed Anne’s hand in Frederick’s. “You are a lucky man,Wentworth.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness; it is a fact of which I am well aware,” Frederick forced pleasantry into his tone, although inside, he seethed.

  Anne had recognized the Duke of Mayfield earlier, so when he asked about her father, she was not surprised. “Mrs.Wentworth, is Sir Walter not set to marry Mrs.Amelia Bradley?”

  “He is,Your Grace.” Anne squeezed Frederick’s hand, glad to have him so close.

  The Duke continued, “And will he not return to Kellynch when he marries?”

  “My father—Sir Walter,” Frederick began, “will return to Kellynch Hall soon—at the end of the Season. Having recently begun their family, my sister and her husband are considering a place of their own in Oxfordshire. My wife and I seek a like estate of our own, now that the war with France is at an end.”

  “So, Sir Walter marries Mrs. Stephen Bradley, a war widow,” the tipsy Duke said sarcastically.“He marries her for her money, and she marries him for his title.Then he displaces his own daughter, as well as two men who, between them, have served this country for nearly three decades.” The alcohol gave the Duke courage he might not possess otherwise.“It seems a shame,Your Highness; that we have this evening to celebrate war heroes like Wentworth here, only to find out that we displace them.”

  “My wife and I appreciate your concern,Your Grace,” Frederick added with a nod to those at the Prince’s table,“but we encouraged my wife’s father to remarry. He has only daughters and his immediate family would otherwise lose the estate to a cousin, a man who may own the title but not care for the position it gives him. I have earned enough from my service to provide for Mrs. Wentworth.”

  The Prince rejoined the conversation.“Your consideration and foresight speak well of you, Admiral Wentworth.You reflect estimably on our country’s
Navy, as a gentleman of reason and of vision. Your country and your future King thank you for your service.”

  Realizing their time with Prinny and his inner circle had come to an end, Frederick rose to his feet and helped Anne to hers.“Your Majesty,” Frederick said as he lowered his body in a bow, “Mrs. Wentworth and I thank you most sincerely for the honor.” Anne curtsied elaborately.

  Then—as coached by the attaché—Frederick and Anne took several steps backward. Frederick bowed and Anne curtsied again, and they turned quickly to leave.

  “Nothing like an inquisition!” Frederick chuckled as they approached their own table once more.

  Anne swayed against him, feeling all the adrenaline drain from her.“I never realized the royal court cared so much for gossip. Perhaps I should have provided a copy of my family tree as a parting gift.”

  Frederick took hold of her arm.“I would prefer not to have to relate even half of that conversation with our tablemates. May we simply tell them that Prince George wanted me to describe the boarding of the French sloop and you to describe my recovery?”

  Anne glanced quickly at his fellow crew members, who were waiting for the retelling. “I agree; telling your men the Prince wanted to gossip about my father and wanted to make you jealous is not my idea of pleasant dinner conversation.”

  “Our Monarch succeeded in one way; I seriously considered planting him a facer if he held your hand much longer,” he whispered close to her ear.

  “Thank you, my Husband, for showing restraint. Finding you in a cell at the Old Bailey tomorrow morning is not how I wish to end my time in London.”Anne took his arm to return to the table.

  They told their diplomatic version of the conversation to anyone who would listen. During the main course, the captain of the Bellerophon told a similar tale. Anne and Frederick wondered if he “lied” also or whether the Prince’s party had actually spoken of Bonaparte’s capture with him.

  As the party’s entertainment began to wind down. Frederick and Anne prepared to take their leave and rejoin Sophia and Benjamin for the ride home. However, before they could make their goodbyes, the attaché reappeared at the table. “Admiral Wentworth,” the man spoke softly,“his Majesty requests to speak to you again.” Frederick laid his napkin on the table, preparing to stand when the man spoke in more confidence,“Come alone, Sir.”