For You Alone (Frederick Wentworth, Captain: Book 2)

by Susan Kaye

“Are you certain? I have no plans other than seeing to this.” Wentworth was confused by Harville’s change of mind concerning the portrait.

  “I know. You’ve more than gone out of your way to help me, and I had every intention of having you do this for me. God knows I’ve asked you to do worse,” he said, referring to the dreadful task in July. “But, I still think of him as a brother, and it is only right I fulfil this one request he has made of me.”

  “As you wish.” Frederick could not help but delight in Harville’s sudden determination to take Benwick’s portrait to the framer on his own. With the task out of his hands, there might be opportunity to meet Anne and discuss the letter. He had no desire to wait until the evening party to know her feelings.

  “Go on. Bath is a big place, and I’m sure there are other, more important things you need to see about.” Harville took the packet and the letter.

  Wentworth bid his friend farewell in as unrushed a manner as possible. When Harville turned to enter the shop, Frederick dashed away, back in the direction of the White Hart. She may not need me, he thought as he wove his way through the pavement, but perhaps she might want me.

  The street was crowded, and no matter how he tried, he seemed at every turn to be thwarted by Bath’s human traffic. As he slowly made his way, he became aware of numerous groups of giggling women. Perhaps they laughed since they took up the entire pavement leaving the rest of the population to shuffle along behind. There were far too many of the ancient or ill with their canes, chairs, or nurses slowing him down as well.

  He scanned the crowd ahead and caught sight of a familiar bonnet. Charles Musgrove and Anne were now within an easy distance. He vowed to join them only if her manner indicated she accepted his letter as sincere. Even if her reaction to him were cool, he would begin a relentless campaign, inventing other chances to make her understand his wishes. He had squandered too many opportunities in the past weeks. He was now determined to press his case.

  A women with a dirty, ill-behaved little boy clutched to her was the only obstacle between them. The little beggar smashed a toy into his knee as he passed. He glanced back at the smiling little creature but did not stop. Even in the crowd he could hear his own breathing and the rhythmic sound of his leather heels tapping the pavement.

  He was within steps of them. It would be rude to insinuate himself into their company without invitation—suppose they were taking this opportunity to speak privately? But then, they were all friends, and what would Charles have to say to his sister-in-law that could not be heard by him? He came even with them. Anne gave him a quick look and then another. It was time. He slowed to keep pace with her.

  “Captain Wentworth,” Charles greeted him. “Which way are you going? Only to Gay Street, or farther up the town?”

  “I hardly know,” replied Captain Wentworth, surprised. He intended to follow Anne wherever she went, but he could hardly tell Charles such a thing.

  Charles then stopped and said, “Are you going as high as Belmont? Are you going near Camden Place? Because, if you are, I shall have no scruple in asking you to take my place and give Anne your arm to her father’s door. She is rather done for this morning, and must not go so far without help, and I ought to be at that fellow’s in the Market Place. He promised me the sight of a capital gun he is just going to send off—” Wentworth could not care any less about guns and ignored the rest of Musgrove’s explanation. All the same, if Musgrove’s penchant for guns opened an opportunity for him to escort Anne Elliot to the moon or any star she might fancy, he would be more than happy to give assistance.

  “Certainly, Charles, I shall be happy to see Miss Anne home.” He ignored the exasperated glances of those passing them whose way their threesome blocked. He ignored Charles and looked only at Anne. Hearing no reply, Wentworth glanced around and saw the retreating figure of Musgrove making haste for a glimpse of the beloved gun.

  Anne was smiling as she, too, watched Charles. Wentworth offered his arm. She took it with no pretence of playing the coy miss surprised by the attentions of a new suitor. It was his hope that the deep-rooted familiarity he felt at her touch was equally strong for her.

  “Bless Charles and his obsession with weapons.” Frederick walked in a direction he assumed was towards Camden Place.

  Anne laughed. “Yes, bless the dear man.”

  “I shall always say that his love of guns is one of his finest qualities.” She laughed again and leant into him. Memories of their past boiled up with the warmth of her voice and the gesture.

  Anne cried out, and his arm jerked. A careless young man walking with his own lady had knocked into the pair. He stammered an apology to Anne. It was uncertain who blushed more, the fellow or his companion.

  “Please, don’t trouble yourselves,” Anne said, smiling at them both. They began to walk again.

  “That fellow should be more careful. He’ll send someone sprawling.”

  “I suspect they are young and in love and were paying no attention whatsoever.”

  “We all have that much in common then.” She left his statement unchallenged. He felt hopeful as he steered her to a little path off hectic Union Street. “I intend to be too occupied to be on watch for careless swains.” There were others on the path, but most seemed to be refugees from the busyness of other places and were more willing to make way for the lovers and their leisurely pace.

  “I read your letter.” Anne’s tone was direct.

  “Good, I intended that you should. And what did you think?”

  “I understand you were writing in haste, and so made allowances for the blots and such.” Anne’s voice held no hint of animation.

  Her toying with him was both agonising and enjoyable. “Points off for carelessness. What of the content?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “I thought the composition very fine. You made your points rationally and in good order.”

  He sighed deeply and loudly. No doubt he more than deserved her good-natured torture, but it was maddening nonetheless. She stopped and eased them off the path.

  “I was very glad to read it, for I have loved none but you.” Anne’s gaze was steady and expectant.

  “My heart is as much yours now as it was that summer. I wish us to be married, Anne. There is no good reason to cover old ground with delaying.”

  “No, no need for that. It’s been a long time, and we should explore new territory.” They walked on. Even with such an acceptance to look ahead, the past ten days were examined individually and as links in a chain. Their scrutiny led them inextricably to their present joyous moment.

  “I thought you were jealous of my cousin, Mr. Elliot.”

  “Certainly! Who could blame me? It was his admiration on the beach that roused me to see you more clearly. When I discovered his identity and that he would be staying in Bath, I realised the two of you were bound to meet somehow, though you tried to counter the idea. Almost immediately upon setting foot in this gossip-ridden place, I began to hear rumours and speculations about your future with him. I managed to get hold of myself for a day or so, but the concert was the real blow.”

  She glanced his way. “I do not think he was purposely driving a wedge between us, but I am certain he was trying to curry my favour. He overstepped himself greatly once or twice.”

  Elliot’s confident boasts to Colonel Wallis, particularly the jolly salute behind her back, reminded him that the man knew precisely what he was about. Frederick chose not to counter Anne’s assumptions. He suspected when Elliot learned of their engagement, her cousin’s reaction would be dramatic.

  “In any case, the following Friday when we met at the White Hart, your determined show of indifference to his comings and goings gave me some relief.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I am glad. It was all I could do to keep from shouting that I did not care about his being nearby or a hundred miles away. His manner was never to my liking, and I have recently learnt things about his character that make me glad I did not listen to an
yone about his eligibility. My only concern that day was making you know, by any acceptable means, that I cared nothing about him. Had it been in my power, I would have spoken more frankly.”

  “It began the work. It was your conversation with Harville today that finished off my jealousy. I know eavesdropping is wholly improper, but I couldn’t help myself. Just listening to the sweetness of your voice was a pleasure. To hear you state your case so eloquently and even defend us poor men on some scores was all I needed to screw up my courage and tell you what I felt.”

  “And I am glad you did.”

  “I meant every word, you know. There’s nothing in that letter I wish to amend. My only regret is being too blind to say it all the moment I saw you that first morning.” He wondered if such a declaration might have brightened her tired eyes the first morning he’d met her again. His misplaced anger at her decline shamed him now. “Like you, there has never been anyone else. You ruined all women for me. There were few who could come close to your beauty, and it only took a few moments of conversation to make me know they lacked your intelligence and special sort of humour.”

  Anne laughed, and a pair of passing gentlemen looked sharply her way. “I believe you are the only person who thinks of me as a wit.”

  “That is my superior intelligence at work.”

  She laughed again. “I suppose so.”

  “Truly, there has never been another. I have been completely constant to you, although, I will confess, it’s been unconscious and unintentional. My soul’s desire, I thought, was to forget you. That is why I came to Kellynch. I reasoned, as you were nothing to me, I had nothing to fear. So I thought. When I did hear of you, I felt immune to you. But when I saw you, I was angry all over again. I felt the pain of the rejection again. I would not see your true, honest nature because I had been made to suffer by your honest consideration of our situation. I deemed you weak even then. But I know now that you are not weak. Your strength and fortitude lie behind your gentle and loving nature.”

  Anne was quiet as they strolled through a thicket of trees. There were few people nearby and little to distract them. He glanced her way in time to see her touch the corner of her eye. If there were tears, he knew they were tears of relief or happiness. Their walk was a perfect time to speak of all these things, and he continued.

  “As I said, your cousin set my mind and heart in motion. Then, Louisa’s stubbornness and subsequent fall on the Cobb were the perfect counterpoint to your clear-headed patience and calm. You were even the perfect counterpoint to me! I have never felt so rattled—never by something as innocuous as a fall—but you kept your head and kept us all from losing ours.”

  “May I tell you something?” She looked up at him with an expression he could not read. “When the surgeon came to tell us he thought there was reason to hope for a good recovery, everyone was elated and rejoicing. I heard you, rightfully, thank God and saw the look on your face. I knew you were truly grateful, and I could not help but fear it was because you did love her. Even just a little love under such circumstances might grow to more.”

  “I was grateful that she would likely recover, but I think it was more relief that my inattention had not actually killed her.”

  “When you asked me to stay and care for her, I was flattered that you thought me so capable. You asked me so tenderly. I was delighted that you trusted me again.”

  “I trusted that you were the one person who could pull my completely unworthy fat from a particularly ugly fire.” They both laughed.

  “I wanted to stay. I would have, gladly.”

  “I know. But, it was Charles’s decision to make, and he chose differently. Now I’m very glad for it.”

  Anne’s expression changed from thought-provoking to curious. “You were quite angry, as I recall. Why, now, are you glad?”

  “Had you been left behind, Benwick’s mournful countenance and his sombre poetry might have worked on you in the same way it has obviously worked on Miss Louisa.”

  She looked surprised at the idea. “Well, then it is a good thing we shall never know.” Her smile indicated his jealousy of Benwick and the dangers of rhyme were not much of a risk.

  “At any rate, I can say I never loved Louisa Musgrove and could never have done so. I had loved the perfect woman once, and Miss Louisa is not of the same stuff as you. After the fall, I had more than enough time to revisit the past and torture myself with the knowledge of having thrown away so many opportunities to reunite us.”

  Frederick told her about the Harvilles and their belief that he and Louisa were engaged. “I had behaved inexcusably and must abide the consequences. I had trapped myself through careless and incircumspect behaviour. Fortunately, Edward had been dunning me for a visit, and I reasoned that leaving the scene might be a good way to test the genuineness of her feelings.” He leant close. “I think the current state of affairs proves any feelings for me were feeble at best.” Anne laughed quietly, almost to herself. “But, having no idea such a thing was even possible, I left knowing that, if nothing changed, I would return eventually to Kellynch and do what was required.”

  “You would have married her?” Anne’s tone was low and uncertain.

  “Yes, I would have, in honour, been bound to marriage. I hope you can understand me; I think we would have found a sort of happiness. Nothing extraordinary, mind you.” He stopped and faced her. “Nothing that resembles the feelings I have for you. Do you believe me?” She nodded in the affirmative. He took her arm, and they continued. “The saddest part is that my actions would have deprived her of being loved as well as she ought to be. By marrying her, I would have been denying her the best possible life.”

  “You would have been denying yourself, as well.”

  “And you...and Benwick. I would have damaged us all.” They continued down the lane, past a bakery. The scent of fresh bread reminded him he’d not eaten since breakfast. “I was six weeks with Edward,” said he, “and saw him happy. I could have no other pleasure. I deserved none. He inquired after you very particularly and asked if you were personally altered, little suspecting that, to my eye, you could never alter.” He was gratified by her smile. It pleased him to let her know that even when they were far apart, he still spoke glowingly of her.

  “What did you do all that time in Shropshire?”

  “I languished. You will be glad to know I suffered daily seeing the great happiness between my brother and his new wife.”

  “You did not begrudge him such happiness, did you?”

  “No...well, a little. He deserves it and more. When I told him I was leaving and going to Bath, I hinted that you were the reason. Knowing what a kind heart you possess, he hoped you would have pity on me.”

  “I think I am able to muster just a little pity for you, sir.”

  “Thank you, Miss, you are very kind.” He told her of his hopes on his journey and the one encouragement he had possessed. “I could never doubt that you would be loved and sought by others, but I knew to a certainty that you had refused one man, at least, of better pretensions than myself. I could not help wondering.”

  “I overheard you speaking with Louisa that day.”

  Now it was his turn to be silent. Her quick recall of the episode made him believe it had carried some weight in her mind. He endeavoured to remember everything he’d said, but only the pictures and satisfaction of helping her into the Croft’s carriage remained sharp in his mind.

  “Your speech about the beautiful, glossy hazelnut made me know how you felt about my weakness. I suspect you thought me weak again in turning down Charles.” She could not look at him.

  “I assumed Lady Russell had intervened again, that she once more had persuaded you against a man not to her tastes.” It was the first time the spectre of Lady Russell had arisen.

  “I never told my godmother about the proposal. She knows it occurred, of course, but even now, we have never discussed why I refused him.”

  “Was it for me?”

  “Ye
s.”

  He could not help himself. His heart ached with happiness that she had loved him through so much misery. “I feel sorry for Charles. You would have been a wonderful wife to him and a great influence on his family.”

  “But again, he would not have been loved in the way he deserves.”

  They re-visited their meeting on Milsom Street and Molland’s that first day. The concert had been an agonising mixture of excitement and dread. They came to understand that each was vulnerable to misunderstanding the other, although Wentworth was quick to admit that he was more prone to that danger than she.

  “I thought I had lost you, but I realised that if so many could be wrong about Louisa and me, then all of Bath could be wrong about your attachment to your cousin.”

  “They certainly were! There are still some who have hopes in that direction.”

  “They shall be greatly disappointed when they learn about us.”

  “They certainly shall.” She stopped and he realised they were at the door of Camden Place. “Thank you, Captain. It was a lovely walk.” She offered him a courtsey.

  He bowed, regretting that she did not live farther away. “Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Miss.”

  “I look forward to seeing you at the party.”

  “I look forward to everything concerning you.”

  His words made her blush, and she stumbled against the door thinking she’d opened it. She was in no real danger of falling, but he took her arm and brought her close to him.

  “We shall talk more, later.”

  “Yes, there is so much to say.” The door opened and she left him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Thank you, Elise,” Anne said, stepping out of her dress. She glanced at the mirror and observed the faint smile which, upon notice, broadened. His influence was in everything about her now. There was no task so mundane that could not be infused with thoughts of him and made enjoyable.

  Elise approached and put her nightdress over her head. As she loosened her hair, she said, “I don’t care for it braided tonight.” In a few weeks time, Frederick would see her just as she was now. Her cheeks coloured scarlet. She turned away from her reflection and went to the bed.