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

by Susan Kaye

  Frederick’s second full day as an engaged man was turning out to be quite profitable. A letter from his prize agent arrived in the morning post notifying him that the amount of £500 had been deposited to his account. It seemed that his first capture of the spring season had carried more than just a hold full of rice. When the wrights began their inspection to determine her value, she yielded a box of jewels secreted into the flooring of the Captain’s cabin.

  No one claimed the jewels, and though somewhere a woman was without her baubles, Captain Wentworth was now a bit richer than expected. As he returned from a short walk, he decided that since jewels had enriched him, jewels Anne must have. What sort of jewellery, he was unsure, but he was confident that, given an opportunity, Admiral McGillvary could advise him on that score. The footman began to speak as he relieved the Captain of his outer garments but was interrupted by Sophia.

  “There you are, Frederick.” Sophia glanced back into the sitting room and then came to him. “Lady Russell arrived about half an hour ago. She was quite agitated, but I gave her some tea and we began to discuss her favourite subject. She is very much better now.”

  When he had spoken to Anne the previous evening, she mentioned speaking to her godmother and was pleased to say things were much better between them. For himself, he was little concerned, but Anne needed Lady Russell’s support. The woman’s presence at Gay Street made him wonder if that truce still held or if she had come to discuss her favourite subject of the Captain’s gross inferiorities. He asked just what was Lady Russell’s favourite subject?

  “Why, Anne, of course.” She patted his arm. “I’m sorry I’ve no Marine to post outside the door, Frederick, but if you have trouble, call for a footman.” She left him in the hallway.

  He had expected that if he were to face the old dragon alone again, it would be in her own den. Her appearance in his home caught him off guard and was unsettling to a man who liked to have a firm battle plan. Prepared or not, it was time to face her. He entered to find her pouring him tea.

  “Your sister has me quite at home, Captain. Milk with a little sugar, I believe.”

  “Yes, thank you.” He took the cup to his favourite chair and marvelled that she had remembered. “And what may I do for you, Lady Russell?”

  “I have had two visits this morning which have left me extremely cross, sir.”

  If the woman was already cross, he calculated what the chance might be that he was the reason. “I am sorry to hear this, Ma’am,” was all he could think to say.

  “The first visit was from Anne. She did tell you we spoke about your last visit and that she and I have set things right?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, she did last night.”

  “Good. Perhaps knowing that will help remove the worried, suspicious look from your face.”

  He smiled at being caught and took a drink.

  “Anne came to me this morning and said she and her father had talked about the wedding, that the plans for his part are very easy and simple and that she is happy about them.”

  “What she and I discussed was very simple. We wish to be married quickly and that precludes anything too lavish.”

  “I understand that, sir. Military men are generally in a rush. If that is truly what Anne wishes, I shall say no more about the matter; but Anne will deprive herself of anything she considers unimportant. Anything you feel is unimportant.”

  He immediately thought of Anne’s declaration that having a dress made would take time. A dress was, evidently, important to her.

  She continued. “The second was from Sir Walter. He was quite provoked about the way you went about proposing.” The mention of the Baronet and their meeting left him cold. It must have shown on his face for she said, “He feels you have taken advantage of him.”

  Wentworth nearly came out of the chair. Restraining himself, he merely leant forward, put the cup down and folded his hands. “And did he explain how I have done such a thing, Ma’am?”

  “He said you were making demands of him concerning the dowry which he cannot possibly meet.”

  “Please be assured, Ma’am, my concerns about the settlement are completely just but nothing Sir Walter should feel pressed about.” The statement was cryptic, even to his ears. Before she could speak further, he said, “Is there any other way in which I might help you?”

  Lady Russell’s expression hardened and colour came into her cheeks. “He also has told me about his version of the plans for the wedding.”

  The plans Wentworth and Anne discussed were quite simple, quite straightforward. There was nothing about them, which would justify interference by the Baronet. Wentworth asked her to explain.

  “He feels there is no need for an engagement party and that a modest breakfast after the wedding is all he can manage.” Her movements and expression indicated the plans were not at all to her liking.

  “I am not very familiar with the wedding customs of Bath. Perhaps you can help me understand why this is not sufficient.”

  “Weddings are not nearly the generous events they have been in the recent past, Captain, but a young woman of Anne’s rank, the daughter of a baronet, even now should have, at the very least, a dress especially made for the occasion. It should be nothing too grand, something that may be worn again at a later time. A young bride should also have some household furnishings to take into her new home—linens and tableware, particularly.” She stopped, obviously hesitant to continue.

  Wentworth was completely unprepared to speak about dresses or tableware, but he understood being prepared with the materials one needed to make a successful campaign. He was about to make this point when Lady Russell continued. “As a part of her trousseau, she should also have new clothes.” Again she hesitated but carried on quickly. “Anne took it upon herself to economise for quite some time. I know she has had no new things for several seasons. In the past, when Elizabeth and Sir Walter returned from town, she was given a small gift.” The furrow in her brow deepened. “That was one area of economy they could agree upon and the gift was done away with this year. I fear Anne needs everything new...everything, if you will pardon my frankness, sir.”

  He did understand her and was appalled that Sir Walter could behave in such a contemptible manner. Wentworth did not care one whit for the mortification the man brought on himself, but to think he could treat his daughter in such a shabby way angered him. Sadly, thrashing the man was not the answer—

  “I told him I had a certain amount of money set aside for each of the girls. I gave Mary hers when she wed Charles Musgrove, and I told him that if he could see his way to match that amount, I would see that Anne had everything she needed. He said he could do nothing more. Then, I said I would see to everything. He left soon after. When I spoke, I now find that I did so in haste. I will not be completely in funds again until after the midsummer.”

  He was astounded that she was so forthcoming with what passed between her and the Baronet, not to mention what she revealed about her own affairs. Of course, she needed his help. She needed his money to put the situation to rights. Still—

  “I was thinking, Captain, that you would not mind using a small part of the settlement money to see that Anne’s and your own home will be well furnished.”

  This presented Frederick with a quandary. To tell her there was no settlement money forthcoming would further sink Anne’s father in her eyes. Such was not really much of a consideration to him, but he did not wish to be the cause of more animosity on the lady’s part. These sorts of plots always come to light, and if Anne ever got wind that he made trouble for her father, it would be Frederick who was sunk. He could go along with the plan and give the money. All would be well, except that the Baronet would get away with a great injustice. Why should he, the old poseur? As it had been scrupulous honesty that had boosted his own fortunes this very day, he decided to make truth his friend and tell Lady Russell what had upset Sir Walter about his proposal.

  “There is no settlement money.”
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br />   “Not enough, you mean.” She sighed deeply. “Please, do not tell me all the talk of your fortune is piffle and that you need the money for the two of you to live on.” Lady Russell held her breath.

  It was almost a comfort to know he was still in the familiar territory of Lady Russell’s suspicions. “No, I mean there is no settlement.” He described briefly Sir Walter’s ramble belittling old-fashioned practices. Next, he was careful to point up how the man freely admitted his own father-in-law had seen to his duty and promptly paid the dowry. Though he was certain she would miss the irony of it, he told her how the Baronet numbered them both as men of the world. To his surprise she was not completely obtuse and smiled at this. “While Anne is not yet my wife, I see the settlement money as Lady Elliot’s last gift to her daughter. It would be morally wrong for the Baronet to betray them both by withholding it.”

  Lady Russell looked away. The sadness in her eyes was acute. The woman might be a thorn in his side, but she did care for Anne.

  “Poor Elizabeth. She would hang her head were she to know this sad business.”

  “I dare say Miss Elliot was not touched in the least at the news of my engaging her sister. I doubt any worries with the wedding plans will make much difference to her.”

  She looked at him, smiling faintly. “Not Elizabeth, Anne’s sister, but Elizabeth, Lady Elliot, and my dearest friend.” She poured more tea. It was clear by her deliberate movements she was ordering her thoughts. He rose to accept his cup.

  “I will give you a bit of Elliot history, Captain Wentworth. Lady Elliot was as beautiful as the Baronet was handsome. Some would say more so. Even her daughter, Elizabeth, lacks a certain something my friend possessed. Anne, though, is every bit as intelligent as her mother. They made an exquisite couple. The wedding was lavish by the standards of her people, and then he took her away to be the mistress of his lovely, large estate in Somerset.” She told how she came to follow her friend and to be installed in Kellynch Lodge. “My husband was an officer in the Army and was away most of our marriage. He was glad to have me taken care of so that I was not of much concern for him.” At this, her expression changed little. Wentworth could not say whether her look betrayed hardness to the relegation or a hidden pain.

  “It did not take long for her to realise that her husband, while handsome, had no head for business or understanding of what it took to manage a household or his estate. His father had passed away only a year earlier, and everything was still functioning under the old man’s guidance. It was clear that her husband, if not checked, would make a ruin of everything. So, Elizabeth began learning how to economise and to manage her husband.”

  As she spoke, Wentworth came to admire Lady Elliot by way of Lady Russell’s narrative. The picture from the upper sitting room at Kellynch was very much on his mind. It presented her as a young, fresh, intelligent woman who would soon be shackled to a fool. Like many before her, for the sake of her children, she developed the skills necessary to deal with the folly.

  “I don’t know if Anne has told you, but there was a son born to them just two years after her. Certainly, they needed the son to mitigate the effects of the entail. But he was stillborn. It broke my friend’s heart. She felt like a failure, and I am ashamed to say, he did nothing to lessen those feelings. The pregnancy was difficult as well. So, when Mary was born two years later, Elizabeth’s health was irreparably damaged. She worked hard to raise her girls.”

  Lady Russell stopped and looked off. He could feel the loneliness of the woman, lamenting her friend’s circumstances, no doubt missing her company as well. Had anyone told Frederick in the years following his crushed hopes that one day he would be privy to Lady Russell’s most heartfelt confession, he would have laughed. Now, sitting in his sister’s house, hearing and seeing the effects of this sad tale, he pitied her and pitied Anne for being unavoidably left to the mercy of her stupid father.

  “Cozening and coddling the Baronet took a great deal of creativity and energy. I was with her at the end. The only things she regretted leaving were the girls. To be done with the rest was a relief.” Again she was silent for a time.

  “With all the restraints gone, he did as he pleased. Elizabeth, though far too young and ignorant, became his hostess and housekeeper. Anne was sent to school, which she despised. Mary was left to a parade of nursery maids completely ill-suited to care for her, and it shows to this day.”

  He had never seen Lady Russell sit in such a way as to touch the back of a chair. That was changed now. It was clear her recollections weighed her down to the point that she could barely sit upright. It was time to call an end to the hurtful memoir.

  “Ma’am, I must say, Anne is blessed to have you in her life.” He was not certain whether he or Lady Russell was more surprised to hear these words.

  “I am sure you have never thought that before.” She cocked her head and smiled.

  “No, you are quite right in that. It is an entirely new thought for me.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “In regard to Anne, the time is short and I, unfortunately, cannot be seen paying for her dresses, but you can. You can use your powers of persuasion to see that she chooses what gives her pleasure, not merely what would be prudent and serviceable.”

  “Ah, you know my goddaughter well, sir. Anne has very good taste, but indulges it almost not at all. Adhering to your wishes could be very expensive.”

  “And I should wait to be surprised at how adept she is at spending money until after we marry? Do what you must to see that she is happy. After what you have told me, I think she deserves it.”

  “I agree, sir.” She looked steadily at him for a moment. “Anne was already aware of her father’s ways when you came to Somerset, and was intelligent enough to know that if things did not change, eventually the family would be in the situation they face today. When she came to me and told me you had proposed, I had nightmares of her far away and in need. I made her to understand that a genteel sort of country poverty was to be preferred to raising her children in a boarding house in a grubby port town, waiting for a man who may or may not return, who may or may not have any money in his pockets.”

  Wentworth was at first shocked that she would paint such a dire picture of the future he offered Anne. He was puzzled why she told him about it now. “At least you did not convince her I was stupid.”

  “No, Anne could never fall in love with a stupid man. I had taken great pains to school her on the dangers of such a thing. Anyway, do you not find it ironic that I used the spectre of poverty to separate the two of you those years ago, and now, you are returned to save her from it?”

  “I do, now that you mention it.”

  “It is like a ridiculous play come to life.”

  “The Bard said that the world is a stage and we are all merely players on it.”

  “And I shall do my best to act the part of a solicitous godmother, urging my goddaughter to pamper herself.” She rose and gathered her bag and began putting on her gloves.

  Wentworth stood to escort her out. “Anne told me at the evening party it is a great wish of hers that you and I should be friends.”

  “She would be proud of us today, I think.”

  “I believe she would.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Frederick arrived at Camden Place the next morning, Anne asked that he escort her to the home of a friend. She hesitated telling him where the friend resided, and it was not until after they made a stop at Molland’s that she spoke much about the person at all.

  She handed him the box of sweets they had purchased. “I hope you do not think ill of her. Mrs. Smith’s address is not very fashionable.” After he handed her out of the carriage, she took his arm without waiting for him to offer it.

  He was heartened by Anne’s assuming for herself the privileges of a fiancée. Slowly, she would come to her place as the wife of a successful man. He tried not to dwell on what that success might become if he were not called back to sea. Besides his de
light in Anne’s progress, he was extraordinarily interested to finally learn the mysteries of the occupant of the Westgate Buildings.

  The peeling door opened almost immediately, and they were admitted to an ill-lit and dingy hallway. The small area trapped the smells of past meals, wood smoke, and strong medicines. It dissipated as they made their way into a dimly lit parlour. Like all the other upright surfaces of the place, the once cheery wallpaper was peeling and the rest of the room was yellow with the cast of cheap candles. An attempt had been made to make things comfortable with covers placed over the few pieces of furniture.

  Mrs. Smith was seated near the fireplace where another woman—introduced as Nurse Rook—was kneeling, stirring the coals. Both ladies greeted Anne warmly. They greeted him in similar fashion, but he could not but be conscious that he was merely a man in the domain of women.

  Anne was recruited to help Nurse Rook make tea, leaving Wentworth with Mrs. Smith. They spoke agreeably, back and forth, comparing Anne’s many virtues. Though a fascinating subject to him, it was eventually exhausted, and he thought it was the moment to inquire about things he had observed from the street.

  “I shall be blunt. I know that you are acquainted with Anne’s cousin, William Elliot, and that he has visited you at least once in the last fortnight.”

  Mrs. Smith grew pale and her expression turned worried. “Yes, I know the man, but I am not quite sure when last I spoke with him.”

  “It was just a few days ago. I saw him enter this house.”

  The woman was slender, nay slight, in build, but she straightened, becoming resolved. “There is a comfort in having a clear conscience, Captain Wentworth. Your coming here today will help me to complete something I began last week.”

  He was puzzled with her cryptic speech, but listened intently as she began to tell him about her association with William Walter Elliot. Elliot had been, at first, the Smiths’s very good friend. At that time, he had had no regard for the Elliot family or the title he would inherit. It was after Elliot had married a rich and silly woman that he came into the means to indulge himself in any number of wicked acts, which her money admirably concealed, and led Mr. Smith into ruin that directly contributed to his death. It was Elliot who was responsible for his friend’s estate and Elliot who had neglected such a responsibility. She quickly, with good cheer, laid out the privations of the past three years.