None But You (Frederick Wentworth, Captain: Book 1)

by Susan Kaye

  It had never occurred to Wentworth that there might be a financial advantage to marrying Anne. His only idea had been to have her for his own. There was nothing she could bring to him that would please him more than herself. Clearing his throat, he continued with Sophia’s letter:

  The family is quite prominent, and I would imagine you know of them from your time with Edward. I wrote to him as soon as the deal was made and his reply was full of stories about the surrounding area and the Baronet in particular. They all were in agreement with matters disclosed to us in Taunton, and if we had been dealing strictly with the Baronet, I think we would not have troubled ourselves with the place. The Admiral sees no harm in him, but the man is over-scrupulous about various nonsensical things, even going so far as to wish the pleasure gardens be made off limits. He is worried about the “approachableness” of his shrubberies! Thankfully, he has a man of business who is more interested in his good than the man himself. We were able to come to very fair terms and we take possession on Michaelmas. The family is moving to Bath for reasons of economy. Now, I am not one to crow over the misfortunes of others, and I do feel somewhat guilty in benefiting from the Elliots’ circumstances, but our brother’s letter has been some solace by explaining that the family has a reputation for being proud. As he said, “Pride goeth before a fall…”

  Again, there was talk of financial embarrassment and that the Admiral’s taking the house had actually been a godsend. He could not imagine any matter being fraught with more personal irony than that of the Baronet’s straitened circumstances.

  When he had first received his sister’s letter, he had felt anger that Kellynch Hall and its attendant ghosts were to be foisted on him, and he had vowed that he would not visit. Indifference was the mantle he chose and buttoned close to his chest when he finally accepted the invitation. While he prepared to leave Plymouth, he had come to agree with his brother’s observation of irony in the fact that its new inhabitants were those the Baronet had found so distasteful in the past. With perverse satisfaction, Wentworth imagined the once grand Sir Walter Elliot handing over the keys to those so lowly as to make their living by the sea.

  Throughout this journey, he had clung to that vision of the ruined Baronet, fleeing to the faded watering hole of Bath. However, reluctantly, his own temperament eventually smoothed the jagged bitterness he allowed towards the former occupant of Kellynch Hall. He was certain the silly man did not even comprehend his predicament. The rest of the letter bore even more interesting news:

  The eldest daughter will accompany the Baronet early in the month. A second lives in the nearby village of Uppercross and is married to the son of another prominent family. They are not of any rank, the Baronet assures us, but they are worth knowing. I expect we will be in company with them quite often. The third daughter will stay behind and see to the house and then remove to Bath herself…

  So, Anne was married and living in Uppercross. It was not as if he thought she would cease to live after his departure, but he had assumed her well-settled and far away from Kellynch. It had taken several years, but eventually he had pronounced himself to be free of any lingering emotional attachments to Anne. All this changed in the months since his return to England. After his sister’s letter arrived, his days had been filled with unbidden memories of her. More than once his wool-gathering had earned him a hectoring when meeting with fellow officers, and several times he had found himself midway through dressing for dinner only to discover it had taken him ten minutes to do nothing more than mutilate his neck-cloth.

  Their courtship had lasted only a short time, but now there seemed to be no scarcity of searing memories to torment him. As the time to leave Plymouth neared, he had been forced to take hold of himself and banish her again. When he felt himself slipping, he would reel off lists of chores that must be done, the steps for taking the noon reading, or the progressions of especially complex manoeuvres. If those strategies failed, he enlisted anything mundane to divert his mind and emotions.

  To his relief, the past week had elapsed in welcome peace. There had been few flights of fancy. But now, it appeared, irony had dealt him a more complete hand than the Baronet’s humbling. He was to begin his stay in Somerset in the very town in which Anne lived. He fervently hoped that, should they meet, there would be nothing more than a polite introduction that would progress to gracious avoidance. The anxiety of the past few months would end. He could view her safely married and let the past die quietly.

  The carriage stopped and swayed as the driver jumped down. Glancing out the window, he could see that Uppercross was typical of the small, old-fashioned villages of Somerset. He guessed they were delivering the package to the apothecary’s home. A child’s laughter caught his attention. Looking out the window and up the street, he saw a cottage set back from the road and a woman with two little boys sitting on the steps of a small veranda. The boys seemed to be tussling over something. Suddenly, the shorter of the boys hit the other. The woman took the boy’s arm and was in the process of scolding him when the driver returned. He thought it amusing that he had come all this way to be an observer to the little domestic drama. One never knew what would catch one’s attention on the road.

  The countryside was still brilliant with turning foliage, and the drive, once out of Uppercross proper, was pleasant enough. He began to recognise houses, fields, and local landmarks. It struck him as strange that he should recognise the area here but not in Monkford. The carriage drew near to Kellynch, and Wentworth was determined to put aside the oppressive feeling concerning the past. He reminded himself that to be with his sister and her husband would be enjoyable.

  It suddenly dawned on one of his travelling companions that they had left the main road. She was vocal once again about the inconvenience to her and to her daughter awaiting her at the Misterton fingerpost. They drew up before the door of the great house of Kellynch and Wentworth prepared to exit the carriage. “Well, sir, I hope you know this side trip is a great inconvenience to us.” The woman was quite displeased and not unwilling to make him know it.

  Before he could think of a polite response, the door was wrenched open and the driver announced in a voice of mock importance, “The Great Hall.” The laughter from above that accompanied the proclamation had an edge, and the Captain surmised the coach crew had been none too impressed with the previous occupant. “Your bags are down, and it looks like the drones are here to fetch ’em.” The driver turned his bright eye on the two women. “And since the Captain was quite generous when he made the special arrangements, I’ll see you and the other lady clear into Misterton.”

  “But what about my daughter? She’s to be—”

  “At the fingerpost. I know, I know. Everybody knows.” He stepped aside and allowed Wentworth out. “Out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll pick her up and take her too.”

  He could hear the ladies shrill, delighted voices through the closed door. “Sir,” Wentworth called, “this is for you.” Handing the driver some silver, he added, “You and your man have a drink on me.”

  “Thank you, sir. And you have a good visit at the palace.” He winked and went to his seat.

  As the coach drove off, Wentworth studied the entryway of Kellynch Hall. It was neither as imposing nor large as he remembered. There was little of the grandeur of the past. It would seem that eight years had brought many changes, but was it the place that had changed or he?

  “Sir, this way.” A footman dressed in brocade and a crimped wig indicated the open door.

  Wentworth smiled as he entered. From somewhere inside, he could hear his sister. “Hurry, Admiral. Frederick has finally arrived!”

  Chapter Eight

  Frederick, it has been an age.” Sophia held him close, and he could not help but return the gesture. Not wishing to seem aloof, he waited for her to break off the embrace, but she did not. As they grew older, their times together were less frequent and of shorter duration. Propriety in their greetings was less and less important.
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  “I have missed you so, Brother,” she whispered. The emotion in her voice was unmistakable, and she let him go.

  Now it was he who held on. Grasping her shoulders, he looked at her closely for the first time in nearly six years. The hair was dark as always but now shot through with a few strands of silver. Her face had the ruddy hue of one who lives at sea. The lines around her eyes had grown deeper, and her skin, while not precisely coarse, was no longer smooth as it was in her youth. Over the years, everything had changed except her eyes. They were the same hazel eyes that looked back at him in the mirror. They were their mother’s eyes. Whereas Sophia’s were sharp and perceptive, their mother’s had windowed the melancholy and anxiety of her weak constitution and feeble disposition.

  When comparing his sister to himself, Frederick had always thought them different and quite separate; but today he could not help but recognise the close familial bond they shared.

  Gently, he kissed her cheek and, pulling her close again, said, “I think I missed you more.”

  The Admiral joined them at the door; she let him go and turned to dab at her eyes. Wentworth put out a hand. “Admiral, thank you for inviting me.”

  “It is our pleasure, Captain.” He winked. “You always liven things up when you visit.” Sophia tucked her arm around his and the Admiral took her other.

  “I have tea or something stronger, if you wish, in the sitting room. Or I will show you to your room and you can freshen up, if you’d rather.” Not wishing to part just yet, he accepted something stronger.

  “I wonder you brought no one from Laconia with you. I would have thought Michaelson and particularly Eyerly would be in your wake.”

  “Yes, well, Michaelson has taken up with some bad habits and bad company and finds them preferable to the country.” He chose not to say he’d not even considered bringing his steward, allowing him to follow his interest in brawling and gaming to their logical conclusions. “And Eyerly was headed south to an aunt. My normally stalwart crew has abandoned me,” he laughed.

  “I am just surprised that you’ve no one to valet for you.”

  “I have learnt to shift for myself, Sophia. I suppose it was inevitable that, once put ashore, I would have to learn to live like ordinary folk.”

  “Perhaps Lowell might recommend someone to look after you.” She rose. “And now I must go down and speak to Mrs. Wallis about dinner. You’ll want to neaten up, so I shall have hot water sent up to your room.”

  He watched her bustle out of the room. As was her custom, Sophia was in charge and seeing to the needs of others. He saw the same confident, capable woman who asserted authority, in her proper sphere, on board her husband’s ship and was now in command of a great country house. Sophia remained the same whether on land or at sea.

  “We’re both glad to have you here, Frederick, but Sophy in particular,” the Admiral informed him.

  “I am glad to be here, sir.”

  “When we didn’t hear right away, she was worried that you might avoid coming. She feared the country might not be lively enough for you.”

  This made him feel guilty that he had thought so long about dodging the visit. “I was delayed with standing the Courts Martial board, and paying off, and all the other petty concerns of finishing out a commission.” He relied on the Admiral’s understanding of how slow was the climb of any action making its way up the Navy chain of command.

  “It worked out well. After signing the lease here, it gave us time to go north and visit Edward…and meet his new wife.”

  “Ah, yes, the new wife. And what is she like?”

  The Admiral laughed a bit. “I knew not what to expect. Sophy is the one who generally has opinions on such things, and she was prepared to dislike her. But to our great surprise, the new Mrs. Wentworth is quite a nice woman. No art, no pretence.”

  “The tone of Edward’s letters has been different. More at ease, I think.” Wentworth did not say that he expected the tone would change as soon as the newness of the marriage wore away.

  “That is no surprise. She is a lovely woman.” Croft poured himself more tea and continued. “I have always liked your brother. Though he and I are not of the same philosophical bent, I have always considered him a good friend. We have shared many a glass and many an interesting conversation. I was very happy to find him so…happy. More than once I walked in on him, book and glasses in place, not reading but staring out a window and grinning like a fool.”

  Wentworth compared this statement with his own relationship with Edward. There was little resemblance. Edward was always a genial host, but distant. When they shared a glass, it was at dinner, and there was little in the way of conversation. He reckoned it was his lack of religious sensibilities that put them at odds. In the same way that sailors found it difficult to converse on subjects not related to the sea, perhaps the religious knew little of the world outside the church. And there was never a time he had found his brother smiling for no apparent reason. He was hard-pressed to remember his brother smiling at all.

  Almost to prove him wrong, the Admiral said, “He introduced me to a friend of his, a physician, I believe, who raises horses. He has hopes of one day winning a cup or two.”

  Wentworth could not help but remember lectures on the useless pursuit of gambling. Edward had droned on about how casting your bread upon the waters of vice was a wasteful and faithless act. Finishing his sherry, he wondered if his brother had changed his opinion or if the price of friendship with the physician was moral silence.

  “I suppose you noticed that Sophy was rather enthusiastic in her welcome.”

  Lifting his glass to be filled, he said, “I could not help but notice. I’ve never been greeted in such a fervent manner.” Leaving it at that, he chose not to say that it lifted his spirits more than anything had in an age.

  “You may notice that she’s a bit changed. Much more sentimental than before.”

  Not by nature, and certainly not by upbringing, had the Wentworth siblings been sentimental. But it would seem that time was making changes. By the Admiral’s accounts, his brother’s marriage might have transformed him into a more sympathetic human being, and his sister, while not previously a cold woman, was willing to toss propriety aside and leave no one doubting her love for family.

  “Has something in particular happened?”

  “She lost a dear friend this summer—a very dear friend. The woman was a widow in Deal. She befriended Sophy years ago, before she started coming to sea with me. They remained close over the years. The woman was an amazing correspondent. No matter where we were, her letters found us. While we were on our way home, a letter from her daughter arrived saying she had died. Sophy had been very much looking forward to seeing her again after so many years in the east. The letter crushed her. After a week or so, she finally began to be herself. She told me one day that no longer would she take it for granted that those she cared for most in the world would always be waiting ashore to receive her. It had come to her that there was no way to know when you were seeing someone for the last time. That’s why she was so anxious to see you and to visit Edward.”

  It was interesting that both he and his sister would have such philosophical revelations thrust on them by untimely death. In the same way, there had never been an expectation that he would return to this part of the world and certainly no expectation of ever seeing Anne Elliot again. Clearly, the future was the province of God alone.

  “So, if she seems a bit overwrought, you’ll know why.”

  “Thank you for telling me, sir. It will be my first consideration.”

  “Precisely what will be your first consideration, Frederick?” Sophia had entered the sitting room without either man noticing. Standing, he downed the rest of his sherry and said, “My behaviour while I am here. I will always consider that I represent Kellynch Hall and all the nobility for which it stands.” The words sounded ridiculous even to his own ears. Hoping to end the questioning, he came to her, took her arm and said, “
Now, I would like to go up and wash away some of the dirt of the road.”

  “Certainly. Lowell says that one of the footmen, Harkness, would be a good choice to valet. I have instructed him to bring up hot water and anything else you might like.” After the stairs, they walked down a long corridor and turned down another. “I didn’t put you in the family wing with us. The daughters’ rooms are in sore need of attention and are far too feminine for you. You will be in a guest room. It is smaller, but nicely furnished.”

  She led him to an open door and followed him in. A man in livery was pouring steaming water into the basin. He looked up at Sophia and the Captain. An unmistakable frown crossed his face. Just as quickly, the typical bland expression of a house servant replaced it.

  Putting aside the man’s greeting, Wentworth said, “I’ve been closeted in a rooming house for the better part of a month, Sister, and accommodations on Laconia were not spacious. I am sure this guest room will be more than adequate.” In his heart, he was glad to be in another wing from the family rooms. To be placed in the family wing and endure the endless wondering if he might be in the very room which Anne had occupied would carry the irony of the situation to ridiculous lengths.

  “…yes, the accommodations of a fifth-rate are a bit snug indeed. I already have plans to redecorate, and if you grace us with your presence long enough, you can be moved to a larger room.” She did not wait for an answer. “Captain Wentworth, this is Harkness.” She turned to face the servant. “Admiral Croft has said you are the best choice to valet for my brother.” Ah, Sophia, energise the man’s pride. He’ll break his neck to turn me out well now.

  “Yes, ma’am. Sir, I have taken the liberty of unpacking your case. When you are ready, I will see you prepared for dinner.”

  Frederick wanted to laugh at the interesting turn of phrase. For a moment, he wondered if there was a serving platter large enough to accommodate his tall frame. “That will be quite all right, Harkness. I will need very little in the way of assistance, but I would have you brush and lay out my blue coat and my best trousers.” The man bowed and disappeared through a side door he assumed was a dressing room.