by Susan Kaye
“It seems that today is the day Providence has chosen to answer my prayers.” Her eyes were shining with unshed tears. For a moment she looked nearly as young as she did when he was first introduced to her. Along with happiness, he thought he saw no small amount of relief. “There is easily three months worth of food here. Longer if I am careful”
He would not admit his part in this unless forced. “My brother preaches that God owns the cattle on a thousand hills. I don’t suppose this little bit will be missed.”
She held up the bright bundle. “He even saw that the children have some sweets.”
The stove, inadequate as it might look, was throwing off enough heat to make the little room oppressive even on a dreary November day. He would help reach whatever she needed and then be gone. “And where is this canister?”
“Up there,” she pointed. Clearing a spot on the counter, she took it from him. “Not only was there food,” she said, opening the canister and dumping out the contents—he suspected this was her way of indicating how close to the edge her family was treading—“The driver made sure this was delivered straight into my hands.” She held up a brown paper packet with two wax wafers holding it closed. On it was scrawled, “Mrs. T. Harville.”
Lightly touching one of the seals, he said, “Hmm, even God knows that a bit of wax goes a long way to keeping men honest.” Their eyes met and he knew she understood.
Opening it, she discovered a small sack tied shut with an intricate knot in the string. He took the sack and expertly undid the knot. As she opened it and counted the bills and coins within, he could not miss her slow intake of breath. Without looking up, she said, “It is exactly a full year’s pay for a man of Timotee’s rank.”
“I imagine Providence knows precisely the wages of His Majesty’s officers.” He breathed a silent sigh of relief that the innkeeper had trusted his letter of credit and been his bank. Folding the little sack closed, she opened the canister and dropped it inside.
It made a muffled but satisfying thud when it settled. She caressed the canister as she replaced the lid. “Yes, I’m sure He does. But,” she said, turning to him, “we both know that all this was not miraculously conjured, that there was a human hand involved.”
He did not reply to that, but asked if he might replace it for her.
“No, I will have to find a new place to hide my bank. It would be too awkward to explain to Timotee.”
“Yes, I see that could be the case.”
“Many years ago, when Timotee first told me he was to sail with Captain Frederick Wentworth, I was ignorant of your reputation and asked him what sort of man you were. He laughed and said that when chasing a prize, you had all the cunning and guile of a Barbary pirate. But the rest of the time you had the heart and soul of a gentleman.”
“Well, there are many who would not agree with that.”
“No, there aren’t. A handful at most, and they are merely jealous of your success. I know there was a mistake and that you meant to be out of sight and sound of Lyme before all this was delivered. You wished to avoid any sort of praise, but that is impossible now. You will have to accept my very deepest thanks.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. It was a small gesture that left him undone for a moment.
“He cannot know,” he said, pulling on the string that hung from a bag of sugar.
She shook the little tin. “He will not know.” Her tone was definitive. “Were he a shiftless lout, I would shout of your gift from the housetops, hoping to shame him into action; but he cannot help our condition. I shall move heaven and earth to keep him ignorant.” Taking the paper in which the sack had been wrapped, she tossed it in the stove. “This would be the only clue and now it is gone.” She stood. “I recognised your hand from the note you sent round yesterday. Timotee would know it for sure.”
For all the years he had known Elsa Harville, their relationship had been wholly obligatory. She was the wife of his closest friend who, when he was in the same port, welcomed him to their home, fed him, and offered him a bit of domestic rest. But now he saw her truly.
“Ah, you are very clever, Mrs. Harville, but after seeing all this, I have my doubts that keeping this secret is possible.” He waved his hand indicating the bounty. “Things may have been a bit overdone.”
“You have done no such thing,” she said, holding the candy close and resting her hand on a brace of rabbits. “I can hide all this. He already thinks I am able to feed the multitudes on five loaves and two fish. With all this, the feat will just be a bit simpler.” Smiling, she took an orange from its crate and sniffed it.
“I believe you will. Perhaps one day soon, I will find a woman who will be half the wife to me that you are to Timothy.”
Her look shifted and she examined him closely. “No, Captain, you are not the sort of man who will accept less than a full measure of anything, particularly not when it comes to the woman who will share your life. But then again, neither should you.”
The scraping of chairs in the dining room made them move to the door. “Well, Captain, it is time to go out and say our formal farewells. And, if I might have one more favour from you, please entreat the gentlemen to walk a bit with you so I might put away my prize without fear of discovery?”
“Certainly, madam. Anything for a friend.”
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
The three reached a place in the long street that began the climb out of Lyme. Wentworth felt reluctant to part. They had shared the seafaring life together in many parts of the world. Now, it was clear, one of them would never enjoy that life again. Another’s future was clouded by grief and uncertainty. The third would return to the sea and, no doubt, wring out of her as much glory as she would ever allow. But, for the moment, they were three friends who must reluctantly part company.
“Now that I know where you are, the letters will not go astray.” Harville shifted on his stick and looked out to the Cobb.
“And I shall do my best to be a faithful correspondent, but have a little mercy; I am used to having the services of a secretary. Unless I am able to convince my sister to take the post, everything will be up to me.” They all laughed with the dread of the inevitable.
Benwick extended a hand and said, “Captain, it was very good to see you. I shall write as well, but I’ll not expect completely equal replies.”
“Thank you, James. You will probably not be disappointed with that attitude. Timothy.” He touched his friend on the shoulder.
Harville turned and smiled. “Both Elsa and I want you to know that you are welcome here any time. Please, do not hesitate to come to us.” He took Wentworth’s hand and shook it as firmly as possible.
“I will not hesitate, I assure you.”
“Well, come, James. We shall go back to the house and see what sort of trouble we can stir up.” The men waved and watched one another for as long as duty required. Wentworth turned and entered the inn.
All was as he left it. He took one last look out the window. It never stopped, the sea’s advance and retreat, but it was soothing to watch and hear. Since his arrival, the company of his good friends had washed any cares aside, and he was feeling a bit morose at leaving. But there were things to do back at Kellynch and, particularly, Uppercross.
Wentworth thanked the innkeeper and his wife in the most appropriate way, collected his gear, and departed the establishment. After he had mounted, he looked over the water and watched the cloud shadows move across the ever-churning sea. Lyme was beautiful in its own way, and he was determined that he would visit again as soon as possible. He urged the horse on, took a last look at the sea, and headed towards home.
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
His arrival at Kellynch was greeted with a kiss from his sister and an offer from the Admiral of something to “take the edge off a long ride.” He welcomed them both. Standing by the fire in the Bower Room, he answered Sophia’s questions about Harville.
“I had feared a reduction,” he told her. “Lyme is not a place
I had ever heard to be popular with well-off sailors. Unfortunately, I was correct.”
“Well, one can’t blame the Admiralty,” the Admiral said. “There are too many healthy fellows wanting ships to consider a man in Harville’s condition.”
“There is no blame cast on Harville’s part or mine. I did what I could, but it is not enough to pull them off the rocks. Something will have to happen eventually.”
“So, did you see anything of great interest while you were there?” his sister asked.
“Anything of interest? Not really. As Timothy said, it is a raggedy place that smells of fish most of the time. But the ride there and back was good for clearing the head. I have decided to go to Edward’s for a fortnight or so.”
“Really? By all signs, you were content to stay here. What precisely has changed your mind?” The question was worded to convey disinterest, but Sophia watched him closely.
“I have made him beg my company long enough, don’t you think?” He looked at the Admiral and laughed.
“Yes, I suppose you have. He’s come very close to accusing me of keeping you prisoner here. When will you leave?” his sister inquired.
“Soon. I thought I would send a letter off today, give it a day or two head-start and then be off.”
“That is quite soon. Almost as if you want nothing better than to get away from us.”
“No, nothing of the sort. It is just that the longer I delay, the closer I am to bad weather. Don’t the rustics say, ‘Make hay while the sun shines’? I think I must make miles while the rains hold off.”
“Very wise, if you ask me,” the Admiral said.
“Yes, a very wise decision indeed.” Sophie’s tone was bursting with insinuation; her look was doubly so.
“Well, you were not the only one busy with friends. Mr. Musgrove came to call yesterday, him and one of his daughters.”
“And how are the Musgroves?” Wentworth asked. He purposely avoided asking which daughter, as there was no need to guess. He knew his avoidance would smoke out his sister’s true intentions.
“They are very well, Frederick, although a little surprised you’d not been around. They worried you might be ill.”
“They are very kind people,” he said. Taking a drink, he turned away and faced the portrait. He felt the brown eyes scolding him for teasing his sister in such a horrid fashion. “I should go over later and tell them of my plans.”
“Yes you should. They have extended to you more deference than politeness would dictate.” To the Admiral she said, “Dear, do you remember which of the girls Mr. Musgrove brought yesterday?”
“No, can’t say as I do. You know I can’t tell them apart. There are such a number of names that I can’t remember a quarter of them. Parents would be wise to name their girls Sophy and save us all the trouble.” He touched his wife’s hand as he rose to fill his glass.
Frederick decided the game was up. “I would think it was Miss Louisa who accompanied him. Henrietta was no doubt otherwise engaged with her cousin.”
“So it was, Miss Louisa. She is the talkative one. Anywise, she wanted me to tell you particularly that you have been sorely missed at Uppercross.”
There it was. The small nugget she wished to present him. Now he understood her favourable tone concerning his decision to visit Edward. For whatever reason, she seemed to have little taste for the idea of him pursuing either of the Miss Musgroves, and since his own notions were no longer firm on the matter, it would seem that his leaving the area was just the thing to please them both.
~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~
Dinner with the Admiral and Sophia had been full of her reminders of little chores that needed doing before he should leave. It struck him as ironic that she was now the one who seemed to be hurrying him out the door to their brother. He could not help but wonder how dinner might have gone had he announced his earlier decision to pursue Louisa Musgrove. No matter how he turned it in his mind, the picture was not pleasant.
He wrote to the Musgroves later that day, and thought how it was a shame he could not thank the Harvilles for helping him to see his error. Aligning himself with the Musgroves would do a disservice to Louisa and to himself. Watching Timothy and Elsa Harville, as anxious as their lives had become, still caring for one another, still reaching out for one another, made him long for that solid, comforting sort of love. It had been his once, and he would somehow find it again.
Dismounting, he handed the horse over to a boy and walked to the door of Uppercross Mansion. He removed his gloves, thinking that, had he not changed his mind, the house could have become a fortress where he might have spent a lifetime hiding from his true feelings.
Before he could knock, Louisa opened the door and greeted him with a mild scold. “We were worried when you failed to appear yesterday.”
She stepped aside, allowing him in. After she took his hat and coat, he said, “I found I had the opportunity to visit a friend and decided it best to go immediately. It is hard to believe that my absence would be grounds for such concern.”
“Oh, but it was! We were desolate without you.” Shoving his things into the hands of a manservant, she took his arm and propelled him into the sitting room where the elder Musgroves and her sister were assembled. He was greeted warmly by them and was soon seated in the room’s second-best chair and swamped with offers of tea and any other food he might wish. Refusing all but the tea, it was not long before he was relating everything concerning his trip to Lyme.
During the early part of his recounting, the residents of the Cottage arrived and joined the party. Anne, he noticed, disappeared while her sister and brother-in-law availed themselves of the refreshments. When they were settled, Charles asked about the horse he’d seen out front. Once Wentworth laid out particulars of the purchase, Louisa begged that the Captain should continue with his account of his travels. Even so, he was not allowed a word before she saw that his cup was refilled.
While she returned to her seat, he looked past her into a mirror that hung near the doorway and realised he could see Anne perfectly. She was seated on the piano bench, looking through pages of music. His account of Lyme seemed of little interest to her, but it gave him the perfect opportunity to observe her.
“Never been to Lyme. What’s it like?” Musgrove asked through a bite of cake.
He described the bay and the Cobb and the cliffs to the east of town. “It is the sort of coastline that, if one is not on board a ship of any real size and looking for safe harbour, is beautiful even to the eyes of a sailor. I am surprised Lyme is not more popular. Even at this time of year it has a great deal to offer the visitor. I shall return as soon as I am able.” The room remained quiet. Normally, he was not put off by their deference, but now he felt as though he was rambling and wished that anyone else would relieve him. A glance in the mirror showed him that Anne was listening. No one rescued him, so he ploughed on. “It is particularly so if one is inclined towards more sedentary pursuits: reading and writing and the like. I suppose that is why the place seems a perfect fit for my friend.”
“So this Harville is a real head-piece?” Musgrove said.
“Harville? A great intellect? No, no, I meant a mutual friend of ours who is living with Harville and his family—a Commander Benwick. He was my First Lieutenant some time ago, probably my finest. He was engaged to Harville’s sister, and they would have been married by now had she not died in June. They had waited for him to gain a promotion, which he received this summer, but it was too late. A sudden fever took her.” The faces around the room were sympathetic. “I believe that few men have ever suffered so heavily at such news.”
Wentworth could not help but remember binding the injured hand of his friend after imparting the news. The tearing of a man’s flesh was nothing to the tearing of his soul. Draining his cup, he gathered his thoughts and avoided looking at Anne’s reflection.
As the others began to exchange their own ideas on the merits of Lyme, Wentworth made his way to Mrs. Musgrove, who
poured him another cup of tea. After refusing, for the third time, anything to eat, he walked to the window. He would miss the lively chaos of the family, but after this visit, he knew more surely than ever that he must go quickly to Edward’s. The easy care and affection witnessed between Harville and his wife stood more and more in stark relief against the measured practicality he saw in allying himself with the Musgroves.
“Lyme sounds to be such a lovely place! Perhaps you would consent to join us in a trip there come summer, Captain?” Mr. Musgrove said, joining his reverie.
“Ah, summer, well that—” he began.
“Papa, why could we not go now?” Louisa’s voice raised above all the others. Before her father could answer, she leaned towards the Captain, a very pretty smile spread across her face. “It is only seventeen miles. I looked it up after Mrs. Croft told father and me that you had gone there,” she said. “And though it is November, the weather has been very good. I spoke with one of the gardeners, and he said that all the signs are for a very late winter; nothing alarming until after the new year.”
“I know that Maddox sets much store by his caterpillars and sheep’s wool, but I am not prepared to risk my carriage to a freak rain—or snow, for that matter.”
“But, Papa, what is thirty-four miles? We could easily go and return in one day. And if the weather was a worry in the morning, we would not depart.”
“Louisa, you do not realise the time it takes to travel so far. Thirty-four miles would mean—what Charles—six, seven hours there and back? The horses would barely be rested before they were summoned into action again. No, dear, I cannot consent to that.”
