Something Worth My Staying For

By Juliette

Posted on 2008-09-14

Wentworth fidgeted uncontrollably as he strove to focus upon the pretty Italian aria being sung underneath the glittering lights of the concert hall. He could not, however, go more than a few moments without stealing a glance at the petite figure of Miss Anne Elliot, whose mere presence in the audience tormented him. And never more so than when her oily gentleman cousin, seeking to monopolize her attentions, leaned in to whisper questions and she all-too-patiently responded. Why, Wentworth groaned inwardly, why must she be SO good-natured, so patient and obliging? She did not appear to regard Mr. Elliot with any particular favor, and yet she accepted his overtures and permitted him to guard her attention from settling on any other person. Could she be yielding to a suitor, at long last?

Her family will be pleased, he thought darkly. Lady Russell will be quite victorious. Indeed, she sat beaming contentedly only feet away, regarding Anne and Mr. Elliot with undisguised snobbish triumph in her eyes. Wentworth grudgingly credited the Lady with maternal solicitude and pride, but lamented that she would have served her goddaughter's happiness much better had she deigned to consider another eligible match, all those years ago.

And the rest of the family? The elder daughter sneered with an ill-concealed jealousy in Anne's direction, which twisted her face into a grotesque exaggeration of her usual cold blank look; the father simpered compliments to the boringly regal Dalrymples and accepted simpering compliments from Mrs. Clay in his turn. To him, his heir was merely fulfilling a family duty by being well-mannered, attentive, and most importantly, handsome and proper in appearance; there was no particular notice or regard for his middle daughter. Mr. Elliot looked determined enough, yet mixed in with his gentlemanly attentions to Anne were occasional hostile and contemptuous looks towards Sir Walter and Mrs. Clay. What could he be about? Wentworth gripped the edge of his chair, nearly sick at the thought that Anne might be persuaded into a lifetime with such a person.

It is as you should have expected, Wentworth berated himself sullenly. She is the same sweet Anne, temperate and kind, and they are the same insufferable Elliots, prideful and condescending. They might be in a reduced state now after the near-collapse of their finances (so the gossip told him, and the fact that they were here in Bath while his sister and her husband presided at Kellynch only confirmed such a report) but one would never know it from observing the airs they gave themselves. They had acknowledged him with slight pleasantries - he would grant that tiny step. They had not absolutely snubbed him. But neither would they welcome his attentions to one of their own, even if it was “only Anne”, as a candidate for marriage. Could Sir Walter bear the addition of a mere sailor to the family, even though he was a captain and quite wealthy? Wentworth very much doubted it, and cursed himself for even daring to pair the words “Anne” and “marriage” in the same sentence.

Yes, if he confessed it, he still considered Anne the most suitable, the most worthy woman for his wife and companion. Had he ever wavered in that conviction? Only in his state of rejection, only in the bitterness of his loss. With eight and a half years gone past, he might have thought that the rejection would have lessened and that many things would have changed in both their feelings and circumstances. Now it was all too clear that time had altered little. He would lose her again, and remain merely Captain Wentworth who was a nobody, without “blood or connections”.

Well! he thought angrily, I might have been connected with the family through their younger daughter by now, if the Musgroves' ambitions had been realized. Did they much prefer him to Captain Benwick as a suitor for Louisa's hand? Or would one captain do just as well as any other? The Musgroves were good, kind people to be sure - but their attentions to him had been motivated at least in part by ambition for their daughters. Was it more palatable to him because they saw him as an advantageous catch, rather than an embarrassing vulgarity? Even if he had genuinely found Louisa Musgrove a charming bride, could she have replaced Anne in his affections? He knew in his heart that she could not. She was merely amiable and pleasant, but Anne was much more. He wondered if Mr. Elliot even knew his good fortune, and became angry all over again.

These were idle reflections, accomplishing nothing, and Wentworth felt tense and suspicious as the concert proceeded. The romantic music wailed in his ears, emphasizing his emotional turmoil. He could not listen with equanimity; his despair increased with every note sung. Enough! He would go. He would not string out this charade any further.

He rose to leave, but had strode no further than the doorway to the vestibule than he was intercepted - and to his astonishment, by none other than Miss Anne Elliot.

He drew up, quite startled to find Anne before him - alone, and anxiously looking up at him. How rarely their eyes met, even when in pleasant conversation, and how much rare still was the happy situation of being alone with her. How had she happened upon him just as he was leaving? Could this have been merely chance?

“Captain,” Anne said breathlessly, as if she had been running. “You are leaving?”

Despite this rare opportunity, he had not the least intention of staying. It was folly to continue to pursue her in this bumbling, embarrassing fashion, and he was sure to fail in the end, just as he had done before. And then what? I cannot bear another heartbreak, he thought frantically. I will not!

“Is the music not to your liking?” Anne was inquiring anxiously, drawing a bit nearer. She reached out tentatively and for a moment, it seemed their hands would brush. No! He drew back in terror.

“I neither know nor care,” he growled, determining to depart immediately and forget her presence, forget everything. But as he moved past her, she placed her hand on his arm, exclaiming, “Captain! Please! This is all too sudden!”

The touch of her hand, as he had feared, undid all. He was thrown into a great confusion, feeling weak and vulnerable. “Miss Elliot,” he gasped, not daring to meet her concerned gaze, “I cannot possibly - you must see that I - that is - I am not well, please excuse me!” And with that, he bolted for the door, until Anne called after him,

“Forgive me, I overstep. If I have offended you with my impropriety - “

“Forgive you?” He paused and turned toward her, and now it was Miss Elliot's turn to blush and stare at the floor in confusion.

“Yes,” she whispered, in a voice so low that he could barely hear. She played nervously with the edge of her shawl, twining the lace around her fingers. “I - I have desired your forgiveness for some time, Captain. For these eight years.”

She stood there, suddenly looking forlorn, and he was seized with a great desire to sweep her up in his arms and - He quashed the thought quickly, willing himself to be sensible. “You have my forgiveness, not that you need it,” he cried, stepping toward her but pausing when she blushed again and even appeared to tremble slightly. Did she fear him? What were her thoughts? “Surely you must know that I - you must have seen how I - “ He broke off again, cursing his own cowardice at not stating the truth. “Oh, Anne. Do not look so despairing. Of course I have forgiven you.” And as he said it, he knew that he meant it.

When had he forgiven her? Truly, he did not know. Certainly he had still resented her in the early days at Uppercross, and had often thought how much he would prefer a decisive, even stubborn woman, over one so willing to sacrifice her own happiness - and his! - for the snobbish considerations of those who merely tolerated her in the family. In recent weeks he had come to see the uncharitable, impractical side of this view, for after all there had been few guarantees of happiness in his situation in the year '06. And he had learnt to appreciate the quiet, flexible strength of an Anne Elliot in contrast to the brash impetuous willfulness of a Louisa Musgrove.

And now here she was before him - pressing her point, refusing to give up. Perhaps some things HAD changed.

“It is I who should be asking forgiveness now,” he went on, gazing at Anne's lovely hair which was adorned with simple shining pearls - for her head was bowed and he could not see the precious face that had so haunted him. “My conduct towards you at Uppercross, even at Lyme, was unpardonable. It is no wonder that Mr. Elliot - “ He broke off suddenly when Anne's head shot up and she fixed him with a look of surprise. “His manners, his gentlemanly conduct, these must be in most marked contrast to my own sulking and neglect.”

“Captain,” Anne began, but was overcome and began to softly cry, turning slightly away from him.

“No, no,” he murmured, clenching his hands to quell the impulse to embrace her. “Please, Anne. I can't bear it. You are too good and I - look how I have made you unhappy. You do not deserve it. This is wretched indeed!”

“Miss Anne? Is all well?” a most unwelcome baritone cut into the conversation. Anne whirled around, and both she and Wentworth beheld Mr. Elliot rushing toward them, all concern and solicitude.

Wentworth gritted his teeth as Mr. Elliot went on, “Come, Miss Anne, the next set is beginning. Lady Dalrymple most particularly wishes to know what she is to hear, and your Italian translations are most enlightening. I know not what this - gentleman - has said to offend you, but be assured - “

To Wenthworth's surprise, Anne wiped her eyes, stood straighter and regarded her cousin with a frank, composed gaze. “You are most obliging, Mr. Elliot, but everything is well. Captain Wentworth and I were just discussing that most unpleasant accident on the Cobb at Lyme, and it brought back some disturbing memories.” She glanced at the Captain, who inwardly admired her quick thinking. He was determined to keep his feelings private from this interloper, who was clearly beginning to size him up as a threat.

“Ah yes, of course. A most tragic occurrence - I do hope she is recovering speedily,” Mr. Elliot said charmingly. “Dreadful indeed that better care was not taken to safeguard the lady's safety,” he added darkly, his eyes narrowing very slightly as he met Wentworth's cold stare.

Wentworth could have burst out with some very fierce language at this moment, but again Anne Elliot spared him the trouble. “Indeed, you are mistaken, Cousin,” she cried warmly. “I myself felt perfectly safe and protected. One must attribute the accident to Miss Musgrove's determined youthful spirit, not to the neglect of her companions.”

Wentworth looked down at her with growing agitation, his heart pounding rapidly. She was defending him! After his behavior towards her, after the way he had discomposed her just now? Did she really feel safe and protected with him? And what of her understanding with Mr. Elliot? Surely she would not jeopardize such an eligible match on his account - but then why would she take his part in the argument?

Mr. Elliot's chin rose haughtily and he stepped forward, offering his arm to Anne. “Her Ladyship awaits,” he said quietly, with as much politeness as he could muster despite his obvious irritation with her at defending another man at his expense.

Anne curtsied. “Pray give my apologies to Her Ladyship - I will be delayed a while further,” she said boldly.

Mr. Elliot looked startled, and opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. He glared poisonously at Wentworth for a brief moment, then bowed imperiously to Anne and stalked back inside.

Anne turned back to face the Captain and, noticing his stern expression, began to stammer. “That was most unpleasant,” she whispered.

“And surprising,” Wentworth replied in wonder. “Why did you not return with him to the concert? I know your enjoyment of music - you are missing the next song as we speak.”

“Yes,” Anne said. “But songs alone are not worth my staying for.”

Wentworth sucked in a deep breath, then stepped forward so that he could almost touch her. He gazed down into her beautiful face, still streaked with tears. “And what, if I may be so bold… What is worth your staying for?”

“There can only be one thing,” said Anne, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Will you enlighten me, Miss Anne?”

“I thought you already knew,” she whispered.

“I think I may,” he murmured back, “but I would never presume to take such knowledge for granted.”

Anne smiled - and his heart fluttered in his throat, so that for a few desperate moments he thought only of controlling his feelings so that he would not burst or humiliate himself by flinging himself at her feet, or catching her up and kissing her. Instead he could only stare, and listen as she said -

“You would not be presuming, Sir.”

Good Lord! Wentworth nearly shouted for joy. She was not lost to him after all - she was nearly inviting him to declare for her and ask for her hand! But before he could be carried away in exultation, he unluckily recollected the hostile glare he had received from Mr. Elliot, and knew that there were still obstacles to be overcome. Would she be persuaded to accept her cousin and his insufferable superiority after all? He forced himself into speaking. “Then you are not - you have not accepted an offer from Mr. Elliot?”

“Goodness!” Anne exclaimed, “How miserable it is that everyone assumes I shall marry him! It has caused me much vexation with my family and friends.”

“Who approve of the match, no doubt,” he interjected sourly.

“Who know nothing of the matter,” she replied firmly, taking one of his hands boldly in hers.

“Then - you defy your family's wishes?” he asked, clasping her offered hand in both of his own. “You would refuse to oblige your father?” She nodded speechlessly, gratifyingly affected by the sensation of his hands caressing hers. “Even Lady Russell?”

“Yes,” she responded vehemently, “I have all but told her as much. She has been attempting to persuade me to accept Mr. Elliot and become mistress of Kellynch Hall in my mother's stead.”

“But,” he murmured lovingly, drawing her hand to his lips, “you were not persuaded?”

“I was not, and shall not be,” Anne declared. “As much as I love my home, I would leave it all and not look back if - “ She broke off and blushed very becomingly, looking modestly at the floor.

There was only one thing for it. Wentworth knelt before her, so that her gaze again rested on him. “Anne,” he said, looking up at her in adoration, “my dearest Anne. Let us look back no longer. I cannot offer you Kellynch, merely my everlasting love and admiration. Will you marry me?”

The lady did not hesitate. “Yes,” she cried out, almost weeping with joy.

After several more declarations of love and devotion, they embraced in joyful reunion, failing entirely to notice that the concert had let out and most of Bath was emptying out into the vestibule where they could easily observe the two happiest people in the whole of the town. Not a few remarked that this was a most inspirational ending to a beautiful evening of romantic music - and that such an ending was eminently worth staying for

The End

© 2008 Copyright held by the author.

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