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

by Susan Kaye

  Eventually it was Mary Musgrove’s turn to entertain the party. He was hard-pressed to keep his countenance as she painfully made her way through a piece he could not recognise. Thankfully, she did not sing. As his wife accepted the enthusiastic applause of the family, Charles Musgrove leant close and said, “I know it’s not the best, but she does try.” He rose to go to her.

  Wentworth guessed that a great portion of such enthusiastic praise for such a poor performance was to ward off a fit of pique that would, no doubt, follow an under-appreciated response. The inhabitants of Uppercross knew that in order to keep the peace, they must sometimes sacrifice their own opinions. He could respect this, since it was no different than aboard a ship. He stood to receive Mrs. Charles back to her seat and give her his congratulations.

  When it was proposed that Mrs. Musgrove play for her daughters while they sang, her son took great pains to distract his wife with a plate of sweets and a cup of lemonade. The trio finished to light applause.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  “So, Captain, are you interested in thinning my pheasant population?” the elder Musgrove asked.

  “Certainly, sir. I should enjoy that above all things.” The musical entertainments were finished and they were gathered around the refreshment table. “As long as your offer of a weapon still stands.”

  Musgrove thought a moment. “Now that I think about it, the Beresford is a bit heavy for pheasants. But not to worry, let me think—”

  “If it is a gun you are in need of, Captain, I am sure Charles could loan you one of his.” Mrs. Charles looked to her husband. “He has ever so many gathering dust all over the house.”

  Again a silence seemed to fall over the small group. This silence he understood perfectly. In offering him one of her husband’s guns, Mrs. Charles exposed her husband as a man who was loath to have another touch his weapons. Wentworth was certain Musgrove was as conscientious a husband and father as any man, but when it came to his collection of guns, all measures to protect them from the hands of Philistines were employed.

  “That is a very kind offer, ma’am, but I have no scruple in using the heavier weapon—”

  “No, Captain,” Charles said, putting down his glass a bit hard. “I have the perfect double-barrelled and there is no reason you should not use it. In fact, come to the Cottage for breakfast, look ’em all over and take your pick.” A curt nod said he was pleased with his generous offer. His wife smiled and made assurances he would be quite welcome to share their table in the morning.

  The Cottage was a little out of the way to the best hunting, but the Captain was interested in looking over Musgrove’s collection. Breaking his fast with them seemed the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone. The private quip brought a smile but, as he was about to accept, the spectre of Anne Elliot rose in his mind. He was not sure sitting down to a genial pre-hunt breakfast with the woman who broke his heart a desirable beginning to a day of shooting.

  Before he could voice a doubt, Mrs. Musgrove interrupted: “I think it would be best if you were to come an’ dine in the morning with us, sir. The Cottage is in a bit of a jumble these days, I think.” A careful glance at Mary came from her mother-in-law.

  “Aye, with the boy on the mend in the sitting room and all, it would be better, I think, to come here—you too, Charles—and dine at the Great House,” said the older man.

  “But I am perfectly able to see to a guest even when taking care of little Charles. I can wake him early and see that he has his breakfast before the rest of the house is stirring—” Mrs. Charles explained.

  Looks were flying between little Charles’s aunts and his grandmother. Wentworth felt a bit guilty that the situation was working so much to his benefit. The child’s health and comfort certainly were more significant than his pleasure, but he thought it best to take the advantage while it was on hand. “You honour me with your very gracious offer, Mrs. Musgrove, but I would not wish to add to your already sizeable duties just for a simple meal. I would not feel right in taking you from your son’s side.” He was again laying it on doubly thick, and while there was no discernible response to his fawning, the younger ladies moved away from the table together.

  “Then it is settled, Captain. You shall breakfast here, and Charles can bring one or two of his best pieces so that you might choosebetween them.” He sensed it was not often that Mr. Musgrove made his authority as the head of the family evident, but he did on this occasion and it ended all further discussion.

  The remainder of the evening was taken up in making the Captain aware of all the neighbourhood gossip, familiarizing him with local characters he might encounter, and generally folding him into the community of Uppercross.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  The next morning, after a brisk three-mile walk, Wentworth felt energised, keen for his breakfast, and ready to hunt anything the terrain of Somerset could offer. He was announced and found Charles and Mr. Musgrove already at the table emptying plates of eggs and sausages and racks of toast. It was a surprise to find Henrietta and Louisa at the table as well. Both were dressed for walking. He watched the sugar disappear into his coffee and wondered if, to bring luck to the hunt, some arcane family ritual compelled the women of Uppercross to accompany their men into the fields. He sipped his drink and listened to the conversation. It was soon clear there would be no ladies trailing behind them after all. This was a relief. He did not relish the idea of being vigilant over his tongue when he stumbled into the inevitable rabbit hole.

  “Charles must go to the Cottage and get the dogs, so we thought we would take advantage of the beautiful day and good company to walk over and visit Mary and little Charles,” Henrietta said.

  “And Anne,” added Louisa.

  The younger lady’s smile disappeared behind her dish of tea as she drank, leaving only her bright eyes for him to study.

  He raised a glass of water in a little salute to her. “I, for one, shall enjoy the company.”

  After setting off, the ladies walked together, leaving the gentlemen to plan the course of their attack. When they fell silent, the ladies joined on either side and brought the conversation around to their nephew.

  “Both Charles and Walter were very excited to meet the Admiral. Henrietta and I think a visit from a much-lauded captain of the Navy will cheer our dear, injured nephew,” said Louisa. She now walked beside the Captain.

  “And you must be sure to properly greet his mother as well,” Henrietta added. A muffled snort came from Musgrove’s direction.

  “I am quite certain Mrs. Charles would not appreciate an unexpected guest so early.”

  “Oh, sir, please? He is just a little boy who needs some cheering up,” Louisa implored Wentworth.

  “All right, I shall go in for just a moment, but Musgrove, you must go ahead and warn your wife. I’ll not take responsibility if she flies at you for being unprepared to receive company.”

  “A capital idea, Wentworth.” He touched his hat and trotted ahead.

  “Anne will no doubt be attending Charles,” Louisa informed him.

  No doubt. It was now clear that their desire to get him in the house had little to do with comforting a sick child. His admission of a prior acquaintance had piqued their interest. How could he blame them? It was amazing that, in this small, unvarying neighbourhood, two such unconnected people as himself and Anne Elliot would be found to know one another and now be meeting after so long.

  He steeled himself to see her, then realized this unforeseen meeting was not something to be dreaded, but embraced. The situation was all to his advantage. His hope was that with Musgrove’s warning, she would make herself busy elsewhere and there would be no meeting at all. Barring that, meeting Anne in this way, early in the morning, without anything but a moment’s notice and in the presence of her family, was perfect. It was not a proper morning call where suitable conversation would be expected. It was not a dinner or party where people would be at their leisure to observe their recently discovered ac
quaintance. And at no other meeting would he have the most excellent excuse of Charles Musgrove, impatient to set loose the dogs and hunt. The whole silly venture was brilliant. “All the more reason to do this now,” he said under his breath.

  “Did you say something, Captain?” Henrietta asked.

  Looking from one sister to the other, he said, “No, nothing really; just something about the season. Here we are.”

  Louisa opened the door and he followed her in. The entry emptied into a small dining area that was flooded with morning light. Crumbs and dishes and steaming cups testified to a meal interrupted. He greeted Mrs. Charles, taking care to say everything that was due her, all the while searching out Anne.

  “Our little Charles is in here,” Louisa said, gesturing towards a doorway.

  Mrs. Charles hurried to precede them into the room. He heard, rather than saw, toys being moved aside. As the lady of the house roughly opened the curtains, she said, “May I present my sister, Anne. But then, you two already know one another.” She continued to fuss with the curtains while motioning her sister forward.

  The light was a bit bright, and perhaps that accounted for the fact that Anne did not look directly at him. “Yes, Miss Elliot. Good morning.” He bowed and she curtsied, murmuring something appropriate. She looked past him and took a blanket from the back of a chair near the sofa and began to fold it. Never did their eyes meet.

  Speaking a greeting to the boy, he wished him a speedy recovery. The boy said nothing but nodded vigorously and smiled widely. He glanced over at Anne. She had come to sit on the edge of the sofa and was smiling and nodding along with her nephew.

  “There, you have made a little boy very happy,” Louisa said, tilting her head in a very pleasing way as she looked at him.

  “It is my aim to make as many happy as I am able.”

  Before he could feel completely the fool, a knock on the window reminded them that Charles was waiting. “I must be off for the hunt. Ladies, Mrs. Charles; a pleasant day to you all.” He glanced at Anne. She was busy attending the boy and said nothing. As he was going to the door, Louisa announced it was her intention to follow the hunters to the edge of the village, and Henrietta agreed.

  Immediately they joined him, Musgrove began talking about guns and dogs. There was no need for a response other than a well-placed nod or murmur now and then. This allowed him to consider Anne. He could not help being shocked by the alterations time had made in the woman he’d once held so dear. Her person was always slender, but now he would call her thin. Her youthful complexion was now drawn and pale. This made her eyes more intense, but they were no longer the bright, sparkling windows of curiosity they had been. She would not look at him, though he admitted he gave her little chance.

  “So, what did you think?”

  Obviously Musgrove was finished with him and Henrietta was now seeking his opinions. “Pardon me?”

  “What did you think of Anne? Has she changed much since you knew her?” Both she and her sister were looking at him with expectation.

  He could not bring himself to speak the truth, so he instead replied, “Time makes many changes, and I think it would be foolish to expect none over so many years. I will freely admit she is altered. Were she to go by me on a busy street, I dare say I would not have known her. And I hope I would not be offended when she passed me by as well.”

  He was grateful that this answer pacified them and there were no more questions. The ladies left them to return to the Cottage and the gentlemen began to cross a field heading to the hunting grounds.

  “Thank you for doing the polite and paying your compliments to Mary. The boy was carrying on last night and this morning. It’s put her in a bad mood. Having people stop by helps lift her spirits.”

  “Well, I hope I should know what is due, particularly when one considers the generosity of your family.”

  Musgrove brightened at the mention of his liberality, then set down his pack, and declared this the spot where the finest hunting was to be had. Wentworth was offered the choice of several shotguns. After hefting and looking down the barrel of each, he realised he much preferred the heavier Beresford. He chose one that was the most similar. While taking a few practise shots to acquaint himself with the piece, he considered the morning visit to the Cottage.

  He felt natural sympathy when he thought of her standing there, studiously looking away from him. The feeling angered him and he shoved it aside while he took aim on a withering apple hanging from the limb of a nearby tree. As bits of fruit and leaves settled to the ground, he thought she had no right to look so worn and used up. It was the first thing in the morning, and housebound women, in particular, had no reason to look as though they had worked the night through. What could be her excuse? Even the mother of the child looked remarkably well rested. If the mother could look so well when the child was in a bad way, what was the excuse of the aunt?

  The groom handed him his weapon reloaded.

  She stood there doing nothing but tidying up, folding a blanket. Her hands so sure in the task she barely looked at it. Sighting in another apple, he then saw clearly the truth of the scene. Mrs. Charles looked well rested because she had passed the night in her own bed, while Anne had used the blanket as she sat the night by the side of her sisters’s injured son.

  He pulled the trigger and recovered his sight in time to see bits of apple raining down onto the brush below. Handing his gun to the groom, he saw the beaters were in place and the dogs were restless and ready for employment.

  “Musgrove,” he called out, “I am quite ready to kill some birds!”

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  The Kellynch residents were arranged comfortably in the Bower Room after a fine meal of pheasant. He took a drink and waited for his sister to continue the genial harassment that had begun at the table. “So how are you when it comes to hunting rabbits, Frederick?”

  He thought a moment. “Not good at all, Sister. Birds we have at sea, and I enjoy the occasional practice on them; but rabbits are another matter entirely.”

  “I was just thinking that since you seem to be making yourself at home, perhaps you could hunt to help divert the costs of feeding you and supplying you with wine.”

  “Ha! In the last two days I have only eaten twice at your table. At this rate, you should be sending a little something to the Musgroves for my care and feeding.”

  She smiled in a way that made him nervous. A low snort from the direction of the Admiral told him he had reason. “Yes, that is precisely my point. I think Mrs. Musgrove sets a very interesting table to entice you away from us.” Her face was fixed with a slight smile, and her eyes were trained on his with brilliant intensity. His sister was doing a little hunting of her own.

  The day had been a long one. Having begun with such an emotional scene and the physical exertions of hunting with a stranger in unfamiliar territory, he was drained and suddenly his stock felt like a noose. He got up and went to the window. For all the world, he wished he could look out and see the churning wake that was his accustomed view from the stern windows of Laconia.

  “Frederick, did you hear me?”

  “Yes, Sophia. I heard you.” He found himself resting his hand on the mantel, his fingers excruciatingly near the portrait.

  “Well, tell us, Brother, what is being served up at Uppercross that is so appealing?”

  He glanced up at Lady Elliot as he turned. Pulling back his hand, he leant against the mantel and said, “Mrs. Musgrove offers simple country fare; good and wholesome, nothing exciting. But it is always in good quantity.” He turned back to the window, hoping the interview was ended.

  “Well, yes. There are two of them after all.”

  It was clear to him now what she wanted. Before he could answer, the Admiral interjected. “Leave the man be, Sophy. He has a right to make up his own mind without any interference from his older sister.”

  Yes, he needed no interference from anyone. The last time he was interfered with he lost quite a valu
able prize. He was determined that should never happen again. There was no reason he should not take advantage of the peace and marry, and there was no reason that either of the Miss Musgroves should not make settling down a pleasant proposition. There was no reason almost any young woman in the area could not do so. And there was no reason his sister should not know it.

  “Yes, here I am, Sophia, quite ready to make a foolish match. Anybody between fifteen and thirty can have me for the asking. A little beauty, and a few smiles, and a few compliments of the Navy, and I am a lost man. Should not this be enough for a sailor, who has had no society among women to make him nice?” He ended his farcical speech with hands open wide and an expression of pure innocence.

  Her good-humoured look faded quickly and she said, “I shall not take your bait, Frederick. You and I both know you are good. You are in fact too good for some women. Do not allow haste and desire to drive you into a union with someone you will find unsuitable.”

  “I am not foolish, Sophia. I know what I want in a wife. A strong mind and sweetness of manner is what I want. Either of the Musgrove girls is strong-minded and sweet enough for the likes of me.”

  “But, Frederick, they are not the only young women in this neighbourhood.”

  He wondered if she had any notions of presenting Anne Elliot as a candidate for his approval. Before she could say anything of the kind, he concluded the discussion. “This is the sort of woman I want. Something less I shall of course put up with, but it must not be much. If I am a fool, I shall be a fool indeed, for I have thought on the subject more than most men.” Again he presented the open look of one imparting objective truth. Sophia shifted in her seat and looked at her husband.

  He was about to bid them a good night when she asked, “And why is that, Frederick? Why have you thought so much on the subject and yet done nothing about it?”

  Though they were only fashioned of paint and canvas, he was acutely aware of Lady Elliot’s eyes resting on him. It was as if she too were curious to know his answer.