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

by Susan Kaye

  Wentworth had no idea how much time he’d spent before the portrait. He left the cosy room and re-entered his own, slamming the door and uttering a string of curses to the Hall. A clattering at the fireplace startled him. A young serving girl stood amid a cloud of scattered ashes on the hearth, obviously terrified at his display.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Her eyes studied the tips of her shoes peeking from beneath her over-long apron.

  For his part, there was little he could gracefully do but mutter, “Carry on,” go downstairs, and endure breakfast with his sister and the Admiral.

  Sophia was surprised to see him up and about so early. “You needn’t be so quick to the table you don’t finish dressing. We are in the country, but we are not savages, Frederick.” She winked in punctuation.

  To his chagrin he realised he was sans waistcoat or coat. Without missing a beat, he took his chair and apologized. “I’ve had some business on my mind, Sophia. It will not happen again.”

  It was now Mrs. Croft’s turn to apologise and explain that she and the Admiral would be out for the morning. The gamekeeper was anxious to show them several spots where the shooting was excellent. Though the Admiral took out a gun only as an excuse to walk the countryside and run the dogs, he wished to offer a profitable day’s sport to any visitors they might have. Their hasty finish and departure did little to help divert Wentworth. After a second cup of coffee, he dismissed the idea that he needed to go upstairs again and sent Harkness to fetch his coat so that he might take a turn in the garden.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  The sounds of digging drew Wentworth’s attention. He kept to his side of a large hedge and listened. Mackenzie, the head gardener, was delivering a rather convoluted explanation to his underlings concerning which plants were to remain and which plants were to be taken to Lady Russell. Evidently, she still lived at the Lodge, but was not in residence at the moment.

  “Now be careful with all of ’um. It’s a bad time of year to be doin’ this, and if they dies, I’ll have that harpy from Bath down here seein’ that I swing.” The sound of a shovel commenced. “Oh, and don’t go sayin’ anythin’ about things from the Hall bein’ give away. I don’t need the other one from Uppercross marchin’ down here, nippin’ at my heel, claimin’ ’er share. There’s only enough of these here ones for the Lodge.”

  An irreverent snort was the assistant’s only reply and the shovelling started again. Mackenzie’s tone left no doubt that he cared neither for Miss Elliot, whom he wished to remain in Bath, nor “the other one.” Since he had mentioned Uppercross, Wentworth assumed this must be Anne. It surprised him that anything to do with her would be connected with disdain or contempt. As far as he remembered, her attitudes towards all were caring and fair. Was it possible that she had changed fundamentally? He supposed it would be unjust to decide until he had an opportunity to observe her. Though more curious, he still fostered hopes of avoiding a full-out introduction.

  Moving around the side of the Hall, he stopped and looked at the prospect. It was a lovely view of the lawns and the drive. The old grey walls shone clean, almost new, in the morning sunlight. He watched the under-gardener lug a full wheelbarrow out the main gate, heading to Kellynch Lodge no doubt. In the weeks of preparation for leaving the service, the anticipation of returning to Kellynch Hall and dread of the inevitable meeting with Anne Elliot, he’d given no thought to Lady Russell.

  Though not mentioned by his sister, Lady Russell was only half a mile away and, therefore, a close neighbour of the Hall. Such proximity would, were her ladyship home, require that proper introductions be made and that they socialise together. Were the gods not smiling on him, he could, even at this moment, be breaking bread with her, all the while deflecting glares and veiled insults, no doubt. But, as luck would have it, Mackenzie had mentioned she was out of the neighbourhood until Christmas. He was safe from that hazard at least.

  Turning to the rear of the house, Wentworth considered the intelligence of the morning. If the gardener were to be believed, time and marriage had caused Anne to become grasping and demanding of her due. No different than the rest of the family! Any sympathetic feelings spawned by the portrait or regrets from the same source were a waste. Lady Russell would not be returning to the area until he was safely installed in Shropshire, enjoying the company of his brother and new sister-in-law.

  Wentworth was congratulating himself on a successful reconnoitre when Harkness announced that Squire Charles Musgrove was come and wished to meet with the Captain. The name Charles was certainly not extraordinary; there were Charleses enough to man the entire fleet, though the name Musgrove rang a distant, but distinct bell. Following Harkness, he said, “Tell me about the Squire.”

  It was obvious the man did not leave the house often. He was careful in picking his way through the wet lawn and occasionally shook his foot to be rid of the excess dew. “He’s from Uppercross, sir. The family is quite as old as that of Kellynch. He is second only to the Baronet in land and prominence,” he added. “His eldest son is married to—”

  “That’s enough, Harkness. I remember my sister mentioning him now,” he said, passing the man his coat, hat, and gloves. “In the drawing room?” Harkness nodded and another footman dashed to announce him.

  A white-haired man rose from the chair near the fire. Wentworth suspected his rosy cheeks and sincere smile were permanent fixtures and not due to the warmth of the room or social expectations.

  “Captain, I have been most anxious to meet with you again.” He bowed and made his way to shake hands.

  They were obviously acquainted and, while the man had the air of familiarity, thousands of faces over many years of commissions made it impossible to place him. He was comfortably stout but not fat, and though his attire would be considered old-fashioned, it was clear he was a proper and prosperous gentleman. Perhaps he was a fellow officer, like the Admiral, retired to the country. Looking closer at his face, Musgrove had the ruddy, weathered look of one who makes his living at sea, but he did not think him of the officer ranks. It was possible he was an inferior officer, or had held a warrant at one time. In any case, the man’s open manner did not make him think an admission of ignorance on his part would give offence.

  Before he could ask about the particulars of their previous meeting, Sophia and the Admiral entered. They explained that the gamekeeper and his men were hot on the trail of a poacher and would have to give a tour of the prime pheasant cover at another time. Both were pleased that the unhandy turn of events now meant they could now entertain their neighbour.

  Sophia was about to order tea when a cart appeared with all that was necessary to make their impromptu assembly enjoyable. After she poured and passed the cups, Mrs. Croft said, “I am continually amazed. The servants here are a joy and a wonder. Before one even asks, everything is brought just to your liking.”

  Mr. Musgrove laughed. “Well, ma’am, I suppose that’s what comes of being so familiar and close. They see a certain one coming, and they know right away what’s expected.”

  “The families bein’ so close, I suppose you were regular visitors here at the Hall,” the Admiral said.

  Wentworth could easily see that Mr. Musgrove was not an artful man, but his right eyebrow raised and he took a sip of his tea before saying, “Not as much as one would think. It’s actually not often that I get out of my own neighbourhood. Just now, the harvests are finished, but I can’t say I saw the Baronet above four or five times this year. It was only by Mrs. Charles that we knew of the removal.” It was clear, as he took another sip, that he was giving a good face to an intricate association.

  Offering the Captain a plate of biscuits, Sophia directed the conversation to a different topic. “On our first visit to Uppercross, Mr. Musgrove said he thought he knew you, Frederick—that you had met some years ago in Clifton—just a few months after you were made into the Laconia.”

  Clifton. The Bristol Channel. Perhaps the man was a pilot or even a sailing master. He reca
lled that they had used no pilot on that commission. Eyerly had been sailing the Channel since he was a sprout and proved himself indispensable to the Laconia’s coxswain. No, he had no notion as to why the man looked so familiar.

  “And Mrs. Musgrove has found that to be true, Mrs. Croft. She went back through the letters from our boy, and just as we thought, your brother here was his captain.”

  Now he had something to go on! He had met the man only in the course of commanding the son. Wentworth watched him over the rim of the cup, cudgelling his brain. The name was now maddeningly familiar...

  “…as I was sayin’, Richard was never so happy as when he was with your brother, ma’am. It was only six months and there were only two letters, but they are Mrs. Musgrove’s favourites, I can tell you that.”

  Good God, this is the sire of Damnable Dick!

  “I recall you sayin’ your son was a midshipman. I’ve always impressed upon my brother-in-law that bringin’ the mids along is one of the most important responsibilities of a captain. When they rise up in the ranks, they can be the very thing that saves you in a pinch.”

  Mr. Musgrove had no response to this piece of nautical wisdom. Turning back to Wentworth he said, “It was spring and we were returning from Clifton and decided to make a visit. You were ever so good to allow us a little time with our boy.”

  He smiled politely to cover the realisation that this Mr. Musgrove was familiar only because he had the nerve to beget a son who, by every measurable means, was the most useless, profligate, and troublesome wastrel ever to buy his way into the service of the King. A prudent captain, by and large, turns a blind eye to the petty frolics of the Boys-Who-Would-Be-Officers and allows them to settle the scores of any within their ranks who brings them undue attention. But the antics of that particular young man came to his firsthand notice too often to be ignored.

  There had been times during that six-month commission Wentworth was quite certain he saw more of that particular heathen than all the rest of the Young Gentlemen combined. Musgrove’s propensity for trouble kept him the lowest ranking midshipman of the several assigned to Laconia. Wentworth decided that any knucklehead thick enough to get himself disrated for fighting the very day a new captain took command deserved to be on the bottom of any pile. It was only a happy accident that six months later Midshipman Musgrove was again disrated and ripe for removal when Admiral Pontus Lugg was demanding men from him just as both were beating out of Ponta Delgada, Saint Michael, in the Western Islands. A happy accident indeed!

  The mantel clock announced the half hour, and Mr. Musgrove made noises to leave. It struck Wentworth as odd that a man who, by all accounts, had been anxious to meet with him, had conversed almost entirely with his sister and brother and done little more than shake his hand.

  “I don’t mean to take advantage of your hospitality and then hurry away, but I am obliged elsewhere. And if you will do us the pleasure, my wife is determined that you all will dine as soon as can be arranged.” He stood and extended a hand to the Admiral. “She’ll accept no excuses.”

  Sophia smiled warmly. “We are honoured by the invitation, Mr. Musgrove, but I am afraid that we will not be able to satisfy immediately. The soonest would be Thursday week.”

  Mr. Musgrove was disappointed by the delay but accepted the compromise gladly. Turning to the Captain, he put out his hand and said, “I am pleased to be reacquainted, sir, and look forward to introducing you to the rest of the family, particularly my son, Charles. His wife is a daughter of this house. That should give you all something in common.”

  All the proper leave-taking was accomplished, and Mr. Musgrove was shown out. Wentworth stared at his form following the footman. He was now obliged to visit Uppercross. A meeting with Anne Elliot was fast approaching. At every turn he was coming closer to her: the painting, the servants, and now the fact that he must pay a call to the very family into which she had married. There was nothing to be done for it. They would meet soon and that would put an end to the writhing. Or would it?

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  To his surprise, he slept well. He woke feeling rested and on good terms with the world. The days of travel were behind him and his normally sanguine temperament was once again in command.

  His fire was tended a bit early, and Harkness arrived accordingly with steaming hot water for his morning shave. Those below-stairs were learning his ways. This was another item to add to his cheerfulness. Living so many years onboard ship, he had taken for granted that observation of the captain and adjusting to his ways and whims, as far as tradition and life lived by the bells would allow, was customary. After his sojourn at Mrs. Bale’s, he feared he would go quite unnoticed in a great country house. At first, he had found it tiresome to be watched and measured and conjectured upon, particularly when considering that some of these people were watching and measuring and conjecturing upon life at Kellynch eight years ago. But there had been no further veiled comments from his valet, and he had no reason to think the servants knew more about his private matters than his sister or any other person in the neighbourhood.

  It occurred to him that he did lead a rather cosseted life. In all his years in command, only twice had his quarters, along with most of his books, clothing and important papers, been blown to bits. While it was true that occasionally he had had to endure stitching-up after an injury inflicted by an enemy blade or flying splinter of oak, he’d had a remarkably easy time of it.

  Filling his plate with another round of eggs, ham, sausages, and potatoes, he thought how he should best enjoy himself. He knew that once he was installed in the second-best bedroom at his brother’s, all these luxuries would change. While his standing as a captain in the Navy might at first impress his new sister-in-law, she was certain to take her lead from Edward. He would be treated no differently than any other younger brother. There would be little to set him apart from any other poor relation come to beg a room. He took up a newspaper from the sideboard and continued to stuff himself.

  Just as he thought he would pass the morning without seeing the Admiral or his sister, Sophia entered. Her face was high in colour and she seemed out of breath. Folding the paper, he rose, waved off the footman, and put her in her seat. “Let me get you some coffee, Sister. You look as though you’ve run a race.”

  “Thank you, Frederick. It’s not me; it’s the Admiral. He was up all night long with his legs.”

  As he poured, he could not help seeing a preposterous picture of the Admiral and his torso in one chair, calmly chatting with his legs in another. He took hold of his thoughts and set the cup before her. “It’s being on land. I was wondering if he might not have trouble.” After months at sea it was difficult for a sailor to accustom himself to the hard, inactive ground. For older men, it was nearly impossible. “What has been done?”

  She savoured the first drink and set the cup down wearily. “Last night, just after we retired, he said he had some pain and that he was glad to go to his bed. But in the middle of the night, he woke and was beside himself. Right now I am rotating hot and cold cloths on the legs.”

  “Will you bother with a doctor?”

  “Not likely. What would a landsman know about a sailor’s complaints? No, I shall see to nursing him.” She filled a plate and began to break her fast. He was glad to see that being put ashore and living in a fine country house had done nothing to dull her good sense. If her husband was down for any length of time, she would need to keep up her strength; starving herself, either because of affectation or neglect, would do him no good.

  “Is there something I might do to help?” He certainly was not fond of the sick-room, but if the Admiral needed company, his might serve.

  “No, he’s sleeping now, dear man. I think the pain is easing up. If that’s the case, he will be sleeping for some time.”

  “Well, if I can be of no use here, I thought I would repay Mr. Musgrove’s visit. We hardly spoke, and I am curious about him.”

  “Why is that?” He explained a
bout Richard Musgrove and that he was curious to see what sort of family could breed such a man. “I think you will find them rather ordinary. Perhaps even common. I have observed nothing that would lead me to think there is anything about them that would mould a man in such a way. Some men are bad for their own reasons, Brother.”

  “True, but still, I am curious…and a little bored.”

  “Ah, that is it. Well then,” she said, finishing her coffee, “I shall drive you over myself.”

  “With the Admiral down, do you think it wise to leave him?”

  “I will check him once more before we set off.”

  “I am content to walk.”

  “Nonsense. I will send word for the gig to be readied.”

  “As you wish, ma’am.” He knew from experience it was useless to argue with Sophia when she had made up her mind.

  Setting him down before the Great House, she asked again if she might not send a groom back with the gig. He refused her kind offer, and before she drove away, he teased her, saying he did not wish to hear tales of her racketing about the countryside and bring censure upon the good name of Kellynch Hall. At this, her smile eased the lines of worry. Promising her best behaviour, she tapped the flanks of the horse and set off.

  The announcement of his visit brought a welcome worthy of someone very grand indeed. Upon his entry, the servants fairly exploded with activity. Mr. Musgrove was happy to greet him, explaining that his wife was visiting her sister nearby and his daughters were making morning calls, so the Captain found him alone.