Precious Pride ~ Section I

By Lise

Beginning, Next Section

Posted on Wednesday, 27 June 2007

Prologue

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an admiral in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

However little known the marital state of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters. That he might not have been so considerate as to preserve his single status is too preposterous to contemplate.

"My dear Mr Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?"

Mr Bennet replied that he had not.

"But it is," returned she, "for Mrs Long has just been here and she told me all about it."

Mr Bennet made no answer.

"Do not you want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.

"You want to tell me and I have no objection to hearing it."

This was invitation enough. "Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs Long says that Netherfield is taken by an admiral of large fortune from the west of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it that he agreed with Mr Morris immediately, that he is to take possession before Michaelmas and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week."

"What is his name?"

"Croft."

"Is he married or single?"

"How can he be married? They do not have any women at sea." Mrs Bennet was all astonishment. "But an admiral of large fortune, near thirty-thousand pounds. What a fine thing for our girls!"

"How so? How can it affect them?"

"My dear Mr Bennet," replied his wife. "How can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

"His wife may like that very little."

"His wife! Nonsense; how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."

"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better. For, as you are as handsome as any of them, Admiral Croft might like you the best of the party and these sailors have no qualms about having a wife in every port."

"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be any thing extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."

"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."

"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Admiral Croft when he comes into the neighbourhood."

"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."

"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know they visit no new comers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him, if you do not."

"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Admiral Croft will be very glad to see you and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his liking which ever he chooses of the girls, though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."

"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference."

"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he. "They are all silly and ignorant like other girls, but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters."

"Mr Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves."

"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least."

"Ah! You do not know what I suffer."

"But I hope you will get over it and live to see many wealthy Navy officers come into the neighbourhood."

"It will be no use to us if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them."

"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty I will visit them all."

Chapter One

Mr Bennet was among the earliest of those who waited on Admiral Croft. He had always intended to visit him, although he had still assured his wife as he left the house that he had no intention of going.

He was not at all surprised or disappointed to see the admiral had a wife; on the contrary, it was exactly what he had expected of a high-ranking officer of the Navy. What he had not expected was that Mrs Croft did not leave the room, as Mrs Bennet would have done. She remained and talked.

Mr Bennet was a little astonished by it. He could not imagine his wife remaining in the room if a gentleman called. She would have no interest in their real conversation, but she would prefer to speculate on it from another room.

After the first exchange of trivialities Admiral and Mrs Croft proved not to be very foolish and Mr Bennet felt he could safely remark in amusement, "my wife will be sorry that you are married, Admiral. We have five daughters."

"Before you inquire, I have no sons either," Admiral Croft replied pleasantly. "How old are your daughters?"

"The youngest is fifteen." His expression made it abundantly clear that they were all of a most trying age.

The admiral understood. "I am sorry to disappoint Mrs Bennet in this regard."

"It is of no consequence." Mr Bennet waved it away when Mrs Croft looked rather funnily at him. "I am pleased to find I was right and she was not."

"That is indeed a pleasure," said Admiral Croft. "For me it is rare. My wife has an unmarried brother, however, but he is at sea. That is a pity, for he enjoys balls and assemblies as much as all the young ladies of the neighbourhood undoubtedly do and if he represents our house, we need not go."

"Your opinion of the young ladies is quite correct. For the next ten years I shall have to attend each ball in the vicinity." Perhaps Mrs Bennet's burning desire to see them all wed as soon as possible was not so bad after all.

The admiral looked very sympathetic. "I was at a ball once. I met Mrs Croft there. Oh! There have been balls since, I suppose, but I do not recall them. Every governor of this or that must give a ball in one's honour at a new posting -- very tiresome. One sees their ladies all rigged up and then they are offended if one does not recognise them a day later."

"You recognised me a day later," Mrs Croft protested gently.

"That might be because I was interested and perhaps also because you did not have enough money to disguise yourself."

"You would recognise Mrs Bennet, I believe," said Mr Bennet. He was well pleased with the admiral. He thought the man was a welcome addition to the neighbourhood, at balls especially. His womenfolk were likely to disagree, however. The admiral was too married and Mrs Croft not worthy of emulation, being older and unfashionable.

"Frederick is at sea?" asked Mrs Croft when their visitor was gone. "How could you say so when you know he is expected here very soon?"

Admiral Croft had good reasons. "The young -- and old -- ladies of the neighbourhood seem rather excitable, my dear Sophia. Name me one family who have called on us who did not have marriageable daughters."

"I am not sure I could name any, daughters or not." She laughed. "Poor Frederick. Or do you think he is ready to marry?"

"He ought to be, a man his age. I daresay he will be pleased to have so many dance partners to choose from. Have you marked the occasion on the calendar, my dear?"

"Yes, but it is of little use to you, since you will not look at the calendar, but you depend on me and my memory. If it is not in my interest to attend a ball, I may simply choose to forget. There are more pleasant ways to meet people."

"I fear we have some sort of duty. Write to the boy and beg him to bring his crew."

"Darling, what a marvellous plan!" Sophia cooed. She could not forget about the practical details. "Who would feed all those men?"

"I am full of marvellous plans," he shot back. "I should have thought of a solution. We could leave them with Mrs Bennet. Mr Bennet seemed to imply they would be welcome. All daughters would undoubtedly be married off by the end of a fortnight."

Sophia laughed at how he saved himself. "Did you not receive the impression he mocked her?"

"I received the impression you were mocking me a minute ago. When you cooed." He narrowed his eyes to pretend he was being suspicious.

"But that was lovingly," she protested. "I should not go somewhere to reveal how silly you were."

The admiral was confident. "That might be because I am not at all silly."

"That is true. But if the girls are silly as well, Frederick may not like them."

"How would he know, coming straight from his ship, what is silly and what is not?"

"Then he may learn that here," said his sister. "We are around to prevent him from being so silly as to like silly girls, are we not?"

Captain Frederick Wentworth was indeed unmarried and on his way. He had once been engaged, but this had ended very painfully and he preferred not to think of it anymore. For years Anne Elliot had haunted his mind and body, but now he finally felt at liberty to make a fresh start. He considered himself healed. The wounds left by a girl he had known for only a few months ought to be insignificant compared to those more recently left by the brutal deaths of trusted friends and brother officers. On them he had been able to depend; on a woman one could not.

Her lack of firmness and confidence in him had grieved him, but he had proved her wrong. He had been lucky in every posting and he had made his fortune.

She would be married now, to someone who had had better prospects. He ought to seek the same for himself. There were girls enough ashore and he had a clear idea of what he wanted. Firmness of character was high on his list of desirable attributes -- a young woman who knew her mind and who would not abandon him under her family's pressure.

He would visit Sophia and see if there were any nice girls in the area. She wrote there were plenty, although she had not met any yet. The admiral had added that he should bring his crew so as not to disappoint any local girls. He glanced at the carriage that followed. It was not his crew, but they would be more than welcome.

In case the girls here were all worthless, he would have company. The admiral and Sophia as he last remembered them were rather distracted by each other, though not intentionally so. To be the only other person besides them might be lonely at times, however, and he had enough of loneliness. It was one of the prices one had to pay for being a captain.

Yes, he was quite ready to share his life with somebody, but it was a little worrisome that his sister and her husband thought so too. He would not particularly like girls being thrust at him or matches being made without his approval. He had always been in control of his own life and happiness -- save for a brief episode he did not like to think about -- and he wanted that to continue.

Posted on Saturday, 30 June 2007

Chapter Two

Mr Bennet managed to conceal for a while that he had called on Admiral Croft. Occasionally Mrs Bennet complained about his neglect and his lack of consideration for his wife and daughters, but he managed to ignore her until a perfect opportunity presented itself and the entire family was present.

"Do not make that hat too fancy, Lizzy, or Admiral Croft will not recognise you a day after the ball," he said to his second daughter.

"What nonsense you speak, Mr Bennet!" said Mrs Bennet, who was still disposed to react with indignation to any mentions of the gentleman her husband had neglected to visit. She had refused to meet any of her friends, for fear of being outdone in gossip, and this had been a great hardship. "He will not know Lizzy, because you will not be able to introduce him to her!"

"I rather think he will not know Lizzy because he thinks all ladies are rigged up beyond recognition at a ball." He was pleased to notice that Lizzy at least understood him. Jane was doubting, but the others had not caught his meaning at all.

"Rigged up?" Elizabeth giggled. "Did he say so, Papa?"

"Lizzy, what nonsense!" cried Mrs Bennet. "How can your father know? He has not visited and he never will!"

"Tell me, Papa," Elizabeth continued unperturbed. "Is he young, handsome and single? Or is he, as Charlotte and I think, married and as old as the admirals mentioned in the newspaper?"

"What, did Sir William Lucas not tell his daughters about Mrs Croft?" Mr Bennet inquired.

"I have not seen Charlotte since Sir William and Lady Lucas went and as such I am not privy to what they disclosed. Is there a Mrs Croft? I had assumed that their absence meant that they were attempting to keep the admiral all to themselves." It was undoubtedly what her mother would have done.

Mr Bennet had an interested audience now and he was prepared to speak on. "Oh yes. Did I not always say there would be a wife?"

"You are inventing one to vex me," said Mrs Bennet.

"He is old, is he not?" asked Elizabeth. She was not surprised there was a wife. "And he would have been too old even if he were not married."

"It would have been a stretch," Mr Bennet admitted. "But not entirely beyond my consent, I think. For if any of you end up in a good home -- or ship -- I cannot withhold my consent. But brighten up, dear girls! Sailors have wives in every port and he may yet like another."

"Mr Bennet!" cried his wife, beside herself with shock.

Elizabeth was not affected. "Does he have sons?" This ordeal would not be over if the man did.

"No, he does not. Mrs Croft, I believe, would be too young to have sons your age." Mr Bennet smiled, knowing what was to follow.

"She must be a very dislikeable woman," Mrs Bennet decided. "To be young and to be married to an old man. Only for his money, I wager. Is she pretty?"

"I believe Mrs Croft has the right kind of prettiness for the admiral," Mr Bennet said after some hesitation. Saying she was pretty would get him into trouble and saying she was not pretty would get the poor woman into trouble.

"Depend upon it, girls!" Mrs Bennet cried confidently. "She is a fright to behold."

"Not at all," said her husband. "I managed to study her quite well, knowing you would all be interested in her appearance and sense of fashion."

"Is she fashionable?"

He shook his head. "It pains me to admit that living with six females I am able to recognise a fashionable woman, but she was not. She is a very sensible woman instead, I think, as the qualities are always at odds with one another."

"She sounds rather pleasant," Elizabeth said in a low voice. "Perhaps Mama will yet come to see that she did not marry the admiral to spite us."

Mrs Croft had indeed not married the admiral to spite anyone; she had not even married an admiral, but a captain, and although he had at that time attended a ball and enjoyed it, it had not been because of the dancing. That there was a local assembly now that they were expected to attend was rather troublesome, but he hoped their ages would be sufficient excuse not to dance.

He hoped Frederick would be in time to take care of the dancing honours for Netherfield and that he would furthermore bring some company. The locals were, in spite of having access to newspapers and London, not at all well informed about the wars. With great confidence they mixed up years and battles, and geography was beyond their reach. They had heard of Trafalgar, but did not know where it was or they did not care to know.

Sophia said he knew as little of countryside politics and taxes, so he would simply have to hope they would ever find common interests with these people.

Admiral and Mrs Croft returned Mr Bennet's visit not long after. The admiral was promptly taken away by Mr Bennet, but Mrs Croft was left to the mercy of the ladies of the house. Although Elizabeth and Jane had feared that their mother would be barely civil to a woman who had snatched away an admiral, however unjustly, Mrs Bennet was all politeness.

That she was also all ignorance did not seem to fluster Mrs Croft in the least. She reacted to the most uninformed comments and questions with remarkable forbearance.

Although Jane and Elizabeth did their best to be reasonably sensible, Lydia undid their efforts entirely. "All sailors are very handsome, are they not?" she asked.

"No more or less handsome than any other set of men," Mrs Croft replied.

"You must have enjoyed yourself on all those ships anyhow. I know I should. Do they have many balls on a ship?"

"Cannonballs."

Upon hearing that ships did not have exceptionally handsome sailors, nor many balls, Lydia lost interest. She sat by the window and looked out.

"Have you ever seen any fired?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, I have. Practice shots, of course. When it came to real action my husband always sent me below."

"Why?"

"I asked him that as well, to be sure," she smiled. "But he said he did not want to see me shot. And to be honest, having seen men who were shot, I began to understand him eventually."

The admiral stayed away only fifteen minutes. Then he returned to collect his wife and to exchange a few words of politeness with the ladies.

"Why do we never get exciting new neighbours?" Lydia whined when they were gone.

"I am sure they have exciting tales to tell. I understood Mrs Croft has seen as much of the world as the admiral," Elizabeth replied. She was sorry not to have met the woman without her mother and Lydia present. Mary and Kitty, at least, had remained silent.

"But when things got exciting they sent her away, so she saw nothing."

"A woman ought not --" Mary began, but she was silenced very quickly.

Although the Crofts had not told the Bennets they were expecting company, apparently they had let slip something at Lucas Lodge, for Charlotte Lucas brought this news with her when she visited.

"Well, if their guests are as old and plain as the Crofts themselves, they will not be of any use to us," Mrs Bennet declared.

Charlotte, being no beauty, chose not to comment and Elizabeth took her outside. "My mother was greatly affronted by the admiral's being married," she said. "He can now redeem himself by bringing a dozen handsome gentlemen, but I doubt he will seek to ingratiate himself with my mother in such a manner."

Charlotte chuckled. "My mother was disappointed, I daresay, but she has not spoken of it. We thought them very agreeable. They will make pleasant neighbours."

"Perhaps," Elizabeth said doubtfully. "To my father. I cannot see my mother strike up a lasting friendship with Mrs Croft. They seem too different."

"Your mother?" Her friend gave her a wondering look. "Oh. I spoke of myself. My mother -- if you promise to keep this secret -- celebrated her fiftieth birthday two summers ago. Mrs Croft has yet to celebrate her fortieth."

"You do not say!" Elizabeth exclaimed. Occasionally, of course, she had to be reminded that her friend was a few years older. "But that would indeed make her closer to you in age than to your mother. How do you know? Because she does not look it."

Charlotte shrugged. "They stayed over an hour and they talked a great deal."

"But how many handsome gentlemen are they bringing?"

Admiral Croft did in fact not know how many guests were coming, nor whether they were handsome gentlemen. Frederick had written to Sophia, but he had not mentioned any names. He had merely written that he was grateful he would be allowed to bring some friends.

"They had better be handsome," said Sophia. "Some of the young ladies around here want nothing else. There are some sensible girls, however. Miss Lucas was very agreeable and the eldest Miss Bennet seemed very sweet, although she hardly spoke. The second Miss Bennet spoke more and she was sensible enough."

"I hope you have not yet been looking for a sister."

She laughed. "No, not really. First I must ascertain who will be agreeable neighbours. I know you would have preferred something in the west, but this was such a good deal."

The admiral nodded. "Because it has not got a fresh coat of paint in the last hundred years."

She had noticed that, but it did not bother her very much. Their lease was too short. "We cannot see that from the inside."

"I asked that fellow for cans of paint."

During the years with her husband Sophia had developed the ability to supply names when he did not. Somehow she knew whom he meant. "Barnaby."

"Yes and when I chanced to mention it to Mr Bennet, he offered some of his daughters as painters."

"As long as you do not do it."

"I told him you were as agile as a monkey in your younger years, but --"

"You told him," she said in dismay. "But I should prefer it if you accepted Mr Bennet's offer. Elizabeth and Lydia will climb the ladder -- Lydia in particular if handsome sailors await at her the top -- and a third daughter can hold it."

"I am not going to stand at the top of that ladder," the admiral protested.

Then, finally, the day of the assembly came. There had been speculation for days. Everyone knew it more certain than everyone else -- Admiral Croft would be bringing an entire shipload of Navy captains and lieutenants to the ball, all in fine uniforms and with fine fortunes made by the war. The numbers were dazzling. They were not redcoats, but still officers of some kind, and there was one for every unmarried girl and then some more.

When Admiral Croft arrived at the assembly, however, he had brought far fewer people than gossip had promised and there were even ladies amongst them. It was soon determined who they were, for he was not at all loath to introduce them. There were but two captains -- Captain Wentworth, who was Mrs Croft's brother, and his friend Captain Harville. The latter had also brought his wife and his sister. This was considered quite unkind of the admiral, for Mrs Harville made Captain Harville unavailable and Miss Harville could not possibly not be engaged to Captain Wentworth.

This last matter was less speedily cleared up than their identities, for they danced the first dances together and seemed altogether well-acquainted. It was seen as a great pity, for Captain Wentworth was pronounced to be the most handsome man the ladies of Meryton had ever seen and the gentlemen discovered he had made a great fortune in prize money.

Elizabeth had listened to the gossip in amusement, but it gradually turned into embarrassment when her father was the one who took the greatest delight in spreading such disappointing news and her mother was subsequently one of the loudest to lament the loss of such eligible marriage candidates. It might have remained bearable had she not abused the admiral for dashing their hopes and although Mrs Croft showed no sign of having heard, Elizabeth could not be easy about it.

She had not entertained any hopes herself -- her father had sometimes spoken against the characters of sailors and she was not as drawn to uniforms as some other members of her family, not to mention that any gentleman would like Jane first. Consequently Elizabeth could look upon the loss of this prospect in detachment.

Captain Wentworth had come with the intention to amuse himself and he had almost always succeeded at accomplishing what he had put his mind to. Amuse himself he would and he stepped around confidently.

Harville had wondered what business he had at a dance at all, given his injuries, but Wentworth had assured him there would be enough time for conversation. The man needed to go out once in a while, even if it was only to look upon the dancing.

Captain Wentworth danced the first dance with Fanny. This ball was good entertainment for her as well, he reflected. She did not often have such an opportunity. There was not enough money to spare for Fanny's amusements. Fortunately she never complained and she found enough distraction and joy in reading and educating her nephew and nieces, something he admired.

Posted on Tuesday, 3 July 2007

Chapter Three

During the second dance, having no partner, Elizabeth found herself by Miss Harville, who had been introduced to them by the admiral himself when he had greeted Mr Bennet and his family. "The captain dances with another," Elizabeth observed. Mrs Croft was speaking to Mrs Harville, Admiral Croft to Captain Harville and some local gentlemen, and they had left Miss Harville to fend for herself now that Captain Wentworth was dancing.

"The captain may dance with whomever he pleases," Miss Harville said pleasantly, but there was a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

"Are you not engaged?" Elizabeth decided to be impertinent, although she kept her tone very polite. As the couple had parted after the dance, she had not witnessed any special regard in either, though it might well be that they were engaged without a very deep mutual regard, or that she failed to see it.

"To dance? No, we are not."

Elizabeth received the impression that Miss Harville was teasing her. She supposed she deserved it and she wished she did not feel so eager to discover whether the captain was truly engaged. He was, however, very good-looking and decidedly the most handsome man who had ever visited this town. "We were led to believe you were engaged to be married. The admiral said so."

"The dear old admiral is quite a scatterbrain," said Miss Harville with an indulgent look. "He sometimes leaves out crucial information. Do you not recall he said I was engaged to a captain he did not name? I am indeed engaged, but the captain in question is not present. He is a friend of Captain Wentworth's and my brother's. Depend upon it, if he were present we should be dancing together. Or perhaps sitting in a corner as the older couples are."

Elizabeth wondered if it was worth enlightening everybody about the captain's availability. She decided not. He might thank her later for the respite. Such good news would leak out soon enough. "And where is your captain?"

Miss Harville smiled proudly. "Doing his duty, but he will soon be free and then we shall be married."

"You are looking forward to it."

"Indeed I am. I have been waiting a few years," Miss Harville said seriously. "Men who serve the country are not always available and not all of them are fairly rewarded for their toils. It may take years for them to have earned enough to wed upon."

"How long have you had to wait?"

"Six years."

"Six!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I do not know if I could."

"Oh, I did see him now and then. I did not do completely without him all that time. And if he could not visit, he wrote. He is an excellent writer. One can reread letters."

"Yes, but --" She was doubtful of their power.

"I see you have never received letters from a truly romantic man."

"From none, in fact. But my sister once received a poem." She rolled her eyes.

"Oh dear," said Miss Harville most solemnly. "I see that was not a great success. I do not advocate sending poems to girls of whose regard you are not certain. Hints of despair and uncertainty might creep through. My -- Captain Benwick writes very well. Frederick -- Captain Wentworth can also write very good letters and poems, but only to mock. He has a great talent, but he uses it very ill."

"How do you know if you are not engaged?" Elizabeth liked a man who could mock, but perhaps he was not entirely proper.

"We played writing them as a game once. His closing couplets are particularly wicked."

A while later Captain Wentworth came in their direction. Although she was conversing very agreeably with Miss Harville, Elizabeth agreed to dance when her companion nudged her. She admitted she was a little interested in the man. In addition to his undoubtedly being charming, he seemed a kind friend who also found time to sit by his friend Captain Harville occasionally. Miss Harville's brother, she had seen, was a little lame and could not dance. It did Captain Wentworth credit that he remembered that in the face of such distractions.

He danced well and he could speak at the same time. "I saw Miss Harville needed to nudge before you accepted. I am sorry if you were made to dance when you had rather not."

She saw he did not take this as a slight to himself and that she needed not be concerned about her answer. "I did not want to leave Miss Harville alone among strangers, but I needed no other persuasion to dance."

He gave her an interested look. That word always caught his attention. "Do you otherwise never yield to persuasion?"

"To good persuasion I certainly do."

That was a surprising thing to him, someone who admitted candidly that she yielded to persuasion. There seemed to be a distinction between good and bad, however, which she thought an excuse for yielding. "But to bad persuasion?"

Elizabeth held her head to the side in a reflective manner. "The notion of bad persuasion is very subjective. Who determines whether it is bad?"

The dance required him to move away and he used this time to think. A particular instance of persuasion came to his mind and he frowned. He supposed someone had considered good what he had considered bad, but he would not say their opinions were equally valid. Most definitely not. He spoke when his partner came nearer again. "You will not allow for an objective existence of it?"

"No," she said with a charming smile.

He raised his eyebrows. "But people who call bad persuasion good are simply prejudiced and misguided -- or they lack understanding."

"In short, everyone who disagrees with you is incorrect."

He wondered why she smiled as she said that, or why she even came to that conclusion. "I am indeed always right."

Elizabeth perceived that again he did not appear to be offended, but that he spoke with the simple confidence of a man for whom this had so far always been true. To him it was nothing but the truth that he was always right. "How insufferable that must be to your nearest and dearest!" she laughed.

"I have never given their plight any thought," he responded, but he began to wonder if he was insufferable. "Should I?"

"Nobody likes someone who is always right."

"That applies only to people who boast of it."

"That is true," she conceded. "Confident modesty is much more palatable. It comes closer to being reliable and dependable than to being obnoxious."

"I also prefer dependable people to obnoxious ones," he grinned. "May I return the favour and say that men are more dependable than women?"

"They are not!" Elizabeth protested, but as she did not have good arguments as to why they were not and he did not want to reveal why they were, no conclusion was reached.

Captain Wentworth danced with every girl to whom he was introduced until he ran out of dances. By the end of the evening he had amused himself, but he remembered very few details.

"Which girl did you like best?" asked Fanny as soon as she was helped out of the carriage. She would have preferred travelling on the outside of it, like Frederick, but the admiral had not allowed her. Her questions had to be postponed, but she had some.

"I have no idea." He could recall names, faces and conversations, but not which went with which. There must not have been a girl who had stood out in particular. Although he told himself it was impossible after such a short acquaintance, if he examined himself he knew it could happen. It had happened once. He had remembered a girl then, her name and her words.

"I liked Miss Elizabeth Bennet quite well," Fanny spoke.

"Who was she?" His question was in earnest. The name rang a bell. There were several Bennet girls, if he was not mistaken, but he could not put a face to a name. Indeed, the face that kept coming up was one he did not want to see.

"I was speaking to her when you asked her to dance."

"As I deliberately asked girls you were speaking to, that tells me very little."

Fanny laughed incredulously, for she had not noticed such a thing at all. "You talked rather animatedly with her. She is not very tall and had a blue gown."

He said the first thing that came to mind when he remembered that particular young lady. "She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me." She had been tolerably clever and witty, however, and impertinent. Yet he had not been able to recall her instantly. He frowned.

It made Fanny gasp. "I must chastise you severely, Frederick, for that is no way to speak of a lady."

"I am sorry, Fanny. May I not comment on a lady's looks?"

"How about the eldest Miss Bennet? She is very beautiful."

He screwed up his face trying to remember her -- all mute smiles and no fire? He granted that she was pretty, but it was not enough. "Too insipid, my dear Fanny. Why are you not friends with the lady?"

"You are on to me. She is such a picture of perfection that she makes me quite…"

Captain Wentworth could be brief and decided about that. "Not a picture of perfection." He regretted his outburst, for now she would surely ask him about his idea of perfection, something he did not want to share. Fanny could be sharp if she chose.

He had known her for too long still to wonder if they suited. If they had met before Anne perhaps, but not now. He would not be satisfied with anything less than instant interest. Fanny agreed with him there; she had been struck instantly by James Benwick.

"What are you telling Fanny?" asked the admiral.

"Nothing, Uncle James," Fanny replied saucily.

He slapped her with his hat. "Impertinent chit, calling me uncle."

She giggled. "But you are a dear old man."

"I know." He would not give her the satisfaction of being contradicted, even if he did not consider himself an old man. "But what was Frederick saying? He danced so often." He could have asked his brother-in-law himself, but they had enjoyed the dark ride in silence and only now did he realise there had been an opportunity.

"He should start remembering girls if he wishes to marry," Fanny observed.

Frederick laughed at the truth of that remark. "I was just thinking the same. I do wish to marry, but I am not rash. I do not want to settle for someone inferior. One can be instantly interested, you know."

The response came quickly. "Yes, we know, but how do you?"

He realised his careless slip. Revealing too much of his past was dangerous. "You have both told me often enough." That was something they could not contradict and he was relieved when they accepted it.

The Bennet girls were almost unanimous; only Mary would not admit she was in love with Captain Wentworth. Elizabeth liked him a great deal, Jane thought he was the perfect example of what a young man ought to be and Lydia and Kitty loved him because he had spoken of pirates.

"He did exactly what one ought to do at a ball," Jane said to Elizabeth. She would have repeated her young man comment, but her sister had laughed and called him not so young.

"Indeed. He spoke to everybody and danced with as many girls as he could. He was especially good for including us among them, though he would have been even more admirable had he included Mary, Kitty and Lydia. I tried to provoke him, but he withstood me."

Jane would never provoke anybody and she looked curious. "Why? Did you tell him to dance with them?"

"No. That would have been cruel. No. He is always right, but he happens to be like that, I think," Elizabeth mused. "I should not have believed him if I had not known you."

"You flatter me, Lizzy."

"I do not, but the difference between the two of you is that you are modest and he is not. I shall be waiting for his flaws to surface. He is bound to have some, as he cannot be a man without fault."

"Do you not like him?"

"I do, but you have first rights to him as the eldest." There was yet no indication that he liked either of them, or that she even liked him in that manner, but in any case she would bear it graciously if he should come to prefer Jane.

Posted on Saturday, 7 July 2007

Chapter Four

"Frederick, come with me to the Bennets," Fanny said invitingly during breakfast. "I should like to call on Miss Bennet and you have nothing to do here. Thomas promised the children to go fishing. And --" She glanced at the admiral, but she did not finish her sentence. They all knew that the admiral had a new rowing boat which must be used, preferably with Sophia and not Frederick. The boat did not admit more passengers, even if any were so brave as to join the couple.

Frederick was not in a mood to acquiesce immediately. "I am one of the children."

"No, you are not. Besides, I need a chaperone to Longbourn, for I may lose my way."

He laughed at her, because he did not believe that for a moment. She would not set out if she did not know the way and once she knew it, she would not get lost. Fanny was not stupid. "No, you will not."

"I do not even know where it is!"

"I do not know it either." He would be of little use to her.

"Frederick, you must come along with me. The girls will like to see you, too. If only because nothing ever seems to happen here. New people are interesting to them." Because of her brother's profession she had met many people, but she knew well the days and weeks of absolute isolation. They would like seeing new people.

He sighed. "How far is it?"

She would undermine her position if she admitted she had consulted a map. "A few miles."

"Are we not better off riding?"

Perhaps that was so, but she had checked the stables and made an annoying discovery. "That would be a good plan if there were a saddle for me. If you want me to ride, you must buy me one first."

Frederick sighed again. "Well, if those girls are to be your friends while you are here, perhaps you are better off with a saddle. We shall walk the horses to Meryton."

"You must not give in to her every whim," said Harville. "She can walk. If all else fails, buy the saddle for Sophia and let Fanny use it."

"I am not at present in a condition to ride," protested Sophia. "I prefer rowing."

"But you have horses and we do not," he replied. "Fanny has no need for a saddle."

"I do not think so either," said Fanny herself. "But Frederick thinks I cannot walk. He would rather buy me a saddle than have me end up sitting on the ground screaming I am tired, but you know I am a good deal older than three and we are not taking little Freddy along."

"I do not change my mind. We shall walk to Meryton and get you a saddle," Frederick decided. "You are going fishing?" he said to Harville.

"Yes, with little Freddy, but he outgrew this behaviour at least a year ago, so you can safely take Fanny with you, as she will have outgrown it too."

"Take Fanny with me!" Frederick protested. "She is taking me!"

Fanny and Frederick walked to Meryton where he purchased a saddle for her. He had enough money, as he told her, and nothing to spend it on and to do her this small favour would be a pleasure. After asking the way, they rode the last bit to Longbourn. He wondered what Fanny was up to, if she was up to anything at all. From some of her comments and questions he had gathered that she considered him ready to marry now that he was ashore. She had often asked him why he was not engaged.

By anyone's standards he was a good catch and he had not met any young men at the ball whom he could consider his equals, neither in looks nor in understanding. It followed that any young lady around here would be rather hasty to secure him -- or rather, his wealth and appearance -- but when it came to a true test of love and trust, they might abandon him just as easily as someone had done before.

Frederick preferred to keep these matters in his own hands, although of course the girl was always an uncertain factor and these matters were never completely in a man's hands. They could be, if all a man wanted was a woman, but he wanted more than that. The topic of women had often come up at sea and among his friends, and although he had had little to contribute, he had found enough of interest to contemplate.

He would accompany Fanny and talk to all the Bennet girls. It might well be that there were some worthy young men who had not attended the ball, but attending balls seemed to be required to impress the female populace. He remembered a different young lady. She had not been like that. Conversation had appealed to her -- serious conversation with a few jokes, nothing flirtatious. He was not even sure she could flirt.

But he should not be thinking of her.

"You look so angry," Fanny observed. "Did I force you into something you would rather not do? Had you preferred to go fishing?"

"No, it was something else." He tried not to think of it again. He had returned to the country with the absolute conviction that he would never think of her again, that he would have no need to, but he kept being reminded of her.

"I am really not as intent on having my own way as I appear."

"I know." He would never think that of her. Occasional moments -- although this was not really one of them -- were allowed for anybody. Everybody should have them. Everybody.

"It will do you some good, too."

He would almost laugh. He had thought the same about her going to the ball, but he had never considered that someone might think him in need of similar charity. Frederick Wentworth, in need of such assistance? No, it was truly almost laughable.

"It will," she repeated a little anxiously.

"Thank you. I know you mean well."

"But you are capable of doing yourself good." Or so he thought, she reflected, but everyone could use a little help now and then. He was not shy, but he could hardly call on girls on his own.

"Why, yes."

"Truly?" Fanny gave him a searching glance. It was clear she did not entirely believe him.

If he had been capable of doing himself good, he would have swallowed his pride years ago, he supposed. It would have done him good. Now it would be too late.

Mr Bennet took pleasure in spoiling his family's amusements, for he beckoned the captain into his library where he treated him to a drink. "Poor man," Mr Bennet said, "to be forced to come along to this house."

"Miss Harville wished to call on your daughter, but she was afraid she would get lost," Captain Wentworth replied very politely. He was not sure what the man was about, pitying him. It could not be real pity, he decided, but he did not know what it was instead.

"Indeed. Well, thank heavens I am here to save you from their incessant chattering." He was determined to test the man and perhaps have some additional fun in seeing the captain long for the female company he was now denied.

Frederick made himself more comfortable. He was not easily daunted, certainly not by gentlemen who took him into libraries as if he was a suitor who must be cross-examined before he was granted access to a girl. He had not set his sights on any girl here. "Must you not also acquaint yourself with any gentlemen who call on your daughters, no matter their intentions? I cannot think you act only out of sympathy."

"Are you unaware that you have been the primary topic of conversation since the ball, Captain? Before they heard of Mrs Croft, it was Admiral Croft who ruled the roost."

"Now he is a poor a man! The only woman he likes is my sister. To be under discussion among females would make him highly uncomfortable."

"But you, on the contrary, are used to it." Mr Bennet raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Captains and their decisions are always under discussion," Frederick said with a smooth smile. He truly did not know whether he was ever under discussion among females, not in such a manner. He had not met them often enough and his sister did not count. "But why did they not know about Mrs Croft?"

Mr Bennet shrugged. "They did not want to know about her, but anyone who meets the admiral cannot escape her acquaintance, it seems."

Frederick chuckled. "That is correct. They are always together. But what with them rowing together, Captain Harville fishing with his children and Mrs Harville tending to her youngest, I could only go with Miss Harville." There, that acquitted him nicely of having designs on any Bennet girl. He was merely accompanying Fanny.

"You could have gone fishing," Mr Bennet pointed out with a shrewd look.

"That was my original plan, but Miss Harville was afraid of losing her way. You know how persuasive girls can be." He winced inwardly at that word. Why was every conversation reminding him of his past?

"What can your father have to discuss with Captain Wentworth, girls?" Mrs Bennet said with obvious displeasure. She did not wait for an answer, but continued. "How did you like the ball, Miss Harville? Do you go to many?"

"Hardly any, so I liked it very well. I have been to half a dozen in my entire life, I think." Fanny hoped that was not considered much, but in four-and-twenty years she did not think it was.

Mrs Bennet was gratified that Miss Harville had not come from a superior society with more balls, better dancers and more fashionable women. "And how long will you stay at Netherfield?"

"My brother found a house in Lyme, but it does not become available until next month."

"Lyme!"

"Yes, the house is currently still occupied by pleasure seekers," Fanny smiled. There was not going to be any fun or fashion, and she might not even live there herself, if she married in time. "But the quiet season approaches and he shall be quite isolated there."

"And Captain Wentworth?"

His whereabouts were far more important than hers, Fanny knew. "He has no home of his own. Apart from his sister here, he has a brother in Shropshire whom he might visit. I cannot say how long he might stay."

"Until he sets up his own home, perhaps," Mrs Bennet speculated.

"His sister does not mind having him -- and any wife he might find."

She leant forward in her chair. "Is he looking for a wife?"

Fanny caught Elizabeth rolling her eyes behind her mother's back and she was amused. She could be; she was neither Frederick nor the wife he was looking for. "Not actively, but not being on active duty he has no reason to avoid matrimony." Perhaps Mrs Bennet would benefit from a dose of reality. "They are all very dashing, these officers, but one forgets that most of the time they are away from home."

"Or they may not return," added Elizabeth.

"It is indeed a real possibility," Fanny nodded, clenching her fists. She was glad Frederick's entrance distracted her from gloomy thoughts. The faces in the room were wonderful to study.

Posted on Tuesday, 10 July 2007

Chapter Five

Captain Wentworth had at last been released by her father. Elizabeth had grown rather impatient as she had to listen to her mother questioning Miss Harville about the man. Her mother had been delighted with the news that the pair were not engaged, but thankfully she had not repeated this delight to the lady's face. From what Elizabeth had seen from Miss Harville, however, she suspected that their guest was well aware of Mrs Bennet's feelings. She was no fool.

"My apologies for having been detained, Mrs Bennet," said the captain with an elegant bow after he had entered the room.

Elizabeth was always suspicious of an excess of charm, but he was not yet in dangerous territory. He might not know her mother needed no winning over or he might simply have excellent manners. Whether he was insightful or not, he sat himself by her mother instead of by one of the girls, thereby preventing any jealousy.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything," he said.

Mrs Bennet hastily assured him he was not and she ordered Jane to pour him some coffee.

He thanked her most kindly, but not, Elizabeth thought, with any admiration. She was sorry for Jane, although she did not know how well Jane liked him, and a little indignant on her sister's behalf, for she was by far the most beautiful of them and ought to have her share of admiration.

Lydia could not contain herself. "Do tell us about the pirates again, Captain! You left us at a most distressing point at the ball."

He shot a quick glance at Miss Harville, who then spoke to Elizabeth in a very low voice. "He made something up, I can tell." She cleared her throat. "Why not tell them how you were nearly roasted over a pot once?"

"That is a good story indeed," he grinned and proceeded to tell it to Lydia and Kitty, who had gasped and squealed the loudest.

Elizabeth was interested, but she was too far away. "We are not as appreciative an audience, I wager," she whispered to her neighbour. She would indeed not squeal as loudly.

"I am not, certainly," Miss Harville agreed. "It is one of those stories they tell each other after a few too many drinks. If he had gone a few thousand miles off his course he might have got himself roasted, although I will grant that he might have come across the remains of a cooking pot."

Elizabeth giggled. She was intrigued in spite of Miss Harville's scepticism. "Have you ever been to sea?"

"Nothing but the usual transports from one port to another, but the natives' cooking pots here are hardly big enough for us. If you want a more serious opinion you should ask Mrs Croft. She has been everywhere."

"Why not Admiral Croft? I cannot imagine he would allow his wife to explore countries where they roasted people, not if he would not even allow her to witness any shooting."

"I suspect that Mrs Croft is in fact a very good shot," Mrs Harville whispered. "But the Admiralty would not like it."

"Why not?"

"Well, if Mrs Croft can shoot, so could other women -- and women are not allowed on board. They might have to start allowing them if they were in fact useful. To be honest, I do not know if she can, but it would be an excellent joke."

"I am not familiar with those matters," Elizabeth said. "But I believe you instantly."

As the captain regaled the younger girls -- and Mrs Bennet -- with tales of his narrow escapes from pirates' pistols, French frigates and cannibals' cooking pots, Jane and Elizabeth told Miss Harville about the area, its sights and amusements.

"My sister and the admiral have gone rowing. I wonder where they will overturn today," Frederick said in response to a question from Lydia.

"Rowing?" asked Mrs Bennet. "In a boat?"

"Indeed in a boat." He contemplated asking her in which other contraption one might row, but then he thought such a question might not be polite. "Yesterday they came home wet."

"Both of them?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Oh, yes. My sister will jump in if the admiral falls out."

"To save him?" She was ready to laugh at an admiral who had to be saved by his wife after falling out of a rowing boat. The sort of water that was available nearby made such a thing even more ludicrous.

"I think to share the experience of being wet, rather," Frederick said in a dry tone. "They must always do the same things."

"They are adorable," Fanny said warmly. "They are very much in love. It is the kind of love extolled in poetry."

"They hate poetry," he said in amusement. They would hate to be the subject of Fanny's romantic poetry.

"But I do not!"

"I wish you did!"

"And I wish you did not!" she retorted. "Do you remember the poem you wrote that started with so lovingly we shared a kiss at dawn?"

He grinned while everyone else gasped. It was the kiss that did it, he supposed. It had done the same for Fanny once upon a time, until she had come to the end of the poem. "Yes. But do clarify that I did not kiss you at dawn."

That interpretation had not yet occurred to her and she looked taken aback for a moment. "Oh. No. But you were being very evil by making me think you were writing about a woman."

He was still grinning. "That was the point." They quizzed and questioned him as to what had been his topic instead, but he would not answer. Then they turned to Fanny, but he was pleased to see that she refused to reveal it.

He feared Fanny had not been satisfied with his closing couplet and that was with good reason, because only in the last couplet had he been able to undo the seriousness of the rest of it. It had been too well-composed to throw away at the time, although he did not have it anymore at present. Fanny, however, seemed to know it by heart. It made him wonder.

"Say, Fanny," he addressed her. "You did not by any chance keep that thing, did you?"

She smiled. "I did. I have to learn the craft from my betters."

This made him a little uncomfortable. "It was nonsense from beginning till end," he lied. He would have to persuade her to throw it away when they got home.

Her smile widened. "I should like to learn how to write nonsense."

To avoid her, he seated himself next to the eldest Miss Bennet and tried to engage her in conversation. It was difficult, for Mrs Bennet and Lydia answered instead of her. He was slightly irked by the fact that she allowed it to happen and decided she must not have a very strong character. She might be beautiful, but she was not very interesting.

Although in this family, as opposed to another, he would meet with little resistance from the parents if he proposed to one of the girls, the prospect of proposing was not very likely. He had not come here with the intention to judge them in that manner, but he caught himself doing so nevertheless -- perhaps this was Mr Bennet's fault from treating him like a suitor -- and while he was judging one he might as well judge the others.

Lydia was a strong-minded girl, he suspected, but she was not well-informed. Of Kitty he had not received a good opinion, nor of Mary, and Elizabeth -- he did not know what to think of her. She was witty and lively, but there was something lacking.

Having satisfied himself of this, he attended the conversations with interest again. Should Fanny or anyone else inquire, he knew his mind. Nothing was worse than being questioned before one had made up one's mind about such matters.

Mrs Bennet suggested that the young people go on a walk, to which they readily agreed. Elizabeth found herself near Captain Wentworth at last. Although she was less impressed by poems about kissing than her mother, who favoured the scandalous in spite of her age, she owned herself a little intrigued. "Tell me, Captain, was it a metaphor?"

He waited a little before he spoke. "It was an attempt to tease Miss Harville, rather, and it worked. I wish she would not bring it up in company, though."

"Because of the subject of the poem?"

"You did not hear all of it, Miss Bennet," he smiled. "You must not draw conclusions based on one line."

"If it started out that way," she said readily. "I can guess what it was about."

"Very well, madam. If you insist, but in that case there is nothing left to ask me, is there?" He was polite, but nevertheless determined.

Elizabeth decided she had guessed correctly. Whatever he had told Fanny, the poem had somehow dealt with a woman anyhow, because she did not know what else one could kiss. She wondered whom he had kissed, but he was not likely to answer that. Jane would not think men did such things, but she was not Jane. They did that and a good deal more, she expected -- although she could hardly ask him about it.

"How long do you plan to stay with your sister?" she asked instead.

"Oh," he said slowly. "For as long as she will have me. I shall probably travel to my brother to stay with him for a while as well. He keeps wanting to show me his new wife, who by all accounts deserves more praise than he can bestow, but after that I shall return to my sister."

"Is that not boring?"

"Boring?" Captain Wentworth seemed surprised. "Why should it be boring?"

"Well, they are so much older."

He gave her a searching look. "Not from my perspective -- and at any rate they are not boring. If we are in any danger of boring one another, we have plenty of friends to invite or to visit."

"All of the Navy," she guessed.

"Naturally. They make for the best friends."

"Are you prejudiced?"

"I am."

"Why do they make for the best friends?"

"Not for you, perhaps," Captain Wentworth admitted. "But for me. We like the same things; we live the same life; we understand the importance of being able to depend on each other."

"It sounds like a very tight circle of friends. But," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "Some of them admit women into that circle. Do they ask the same of women?"

"I suppose so."

"But you think women are less reliable." She studied his guarded look. He might not like the topic, but he was still answering. Therefore it was still safe.

"Indeed. That may be why I am not married. I have not encountered one on whom I might depend." He smiled, but it was a faint smile.

"But your circle of friends does not exclude them."

"My sister proves that they do not. So do Mrs and Miss Harville."

She switched topics when she deemed a question about the attributes of a good Navy wife would be considered odd. "Your adventures with pirates notwithstanding, was there ever a moment that you thought you would never return home?"

He considered it. "No. There were moments that I did not care if I returned, but never moments that I despaired."

Elizabeth looked at his proud face and believed him. He would have been confident. "And Miss Harville's captain?"

"He is on his way and for her sake I hope he will arrive safely."

Posted on Saturday, 14 July 2007

Chapter Six

When the younger girls had thrown their bonnets into a tree and Elizabeth ran ahead to help them, Frederick stood watching with Fanny and Miss Bennet. Mary Bennet stood a little away with a disapproving frown. "Such behaviour is not becoming in a female," she said.

"Nor in a male," Frederick agreed cheerfully.

She had not expected his reaction and she gave him a stare, though stares were equally unbecoming.

Frederick observed the girls' antics and of course they were coming no closer to untangling the bonnets, for the branches of the tree were not coming any closer to the ground. Since they seemed to have fun nevertheless, he saw no need to interfere.

"I wish they would come down," Miss Bennet said a little anxiously. "Lydia will be quite upset if she cannot get her bonnet back. She spent much time on it."

Frederick gave her an incredulous look, but he said nothing. If she had spent so much time on it and she would be upset to lose it, she should not have thrown it into a tree. Perhaps this was not evident to a girl, but it should be.

"Oh, Frederick," said Fanny after they had been watching the fruitless efforts for another while. "Go and make yourself useful. You fail to read their unspoken minds."

As Fanny was very likely better at reading a girl's mind, he sighed and picked up a branch. With that he angled the bonnets out of the tree. It was so easy. They could have thought of this themselves. They could even have done it themselves.

"That is very clever of you, Captain," Elizabeth praised.

"Is it? It appears practical rather than clever to me."

She whispered. "That you avoided lifting one of them up."

He was surprised. "It was not conscious avoidance on my part, I assure you. This was much easier to think of." Lifting them up would have come last.

"I thought you would climb the tree, Captain," Lydia said saucily when she had fastened her bonnet again. "I am sure you can and I should have liked to see it."

Although he had previously been thinking of Lydia as merely a silly young girl, there was something in her tone and expression that he recognised. It gave him pause. One expected that from a serving girl in a public house, or from some other woman who lived off her flattering skills. He had not expected to find it here.

As he studied her for further evidence, she let out a childish giggle and chased after Kitty. Perhaps he was wrong and she was still a child, unthinkingly throwing her bonnet around, but the last time he had been addressed this way it had not been so very innocent.

"Close your mouth. You look quite…" Fanny observed softly. "Has nobody ever flirted with you, Frederick?"

He glanced around, but they could not be overheard, he hoped. There were advantages to walking with girls who kept running around. "The last time someone was as saucy as that to me, she named her price."

Fanny was not beyond being shocked.

"Although I do not suppose she is like that," he said hastily, fearing he had been too harsh about Lydia.

She was not shocked at that, but at something else. "Do they really do that to officers?"

Frederick had always thought Fanny was informed enough to know. It was one of those things everyone knew. He therefore looked a little amazed. "Yes."

Her eyes were large and anxious. "Do the officers ever…pay?"

"Some do. Do you mean to ask me whether I did? You can ask me that directly. I do not mind answering." Frederick gave a wry chuckle as he thought of Sophia. She had asked him often enough, with varying degrees of directness.

"Jimmy?" she whispered the name.

"I see you care less about me than about him, which is as it should be, I suppose, but I can only reply truthfully with regard to myself. He does not need to share these things with me. That I do not know of him doing it does not mean he never has," he warned. He had never cared to wonder and he did not want to be drawn into speculating now.

"Oh."

"Would it matter?" he asked stupidly. It had slipped out of his mouth before he realised how stupid the question was.

"How could you ask?" she flared up. "Would it not matter to you?"

"Perhaps this is not the best moment to discuss this, Fanny," he said when the running girls came nearer again. This was not a topic that was suitable for their ears. He had his doubts whether it was even suitable for Fanny's, but she had brought it up herself.

She hissed at him. "But I want to discuss it now."

"And what will you do if he is not pure, break your engagement?" Somehow he could not see that happening. They cared for each other too much. She had waited all this while; she would not throw that away now.

"No, but I shall be miserable and give him a good slap across the face."

He laughed, but he hoped Benwick would be spared this fate. Given his love for Fanny, he probably would.

"And you? Are you pure?" she demanded.

He hesitated. "Are you going to slap me if I say no?"

"Frederick!" she cried in shock.

"You are," he deduced. The party had resumed walking and they were the last two. If they walked slowly they could not be heard. What was pure? "I am not entirely pure, but you knew that from my poem."

Fanny gasped.

Frederick thought she was being very girlish and silly. "Fanny, really. What is next, a swoon?"

"I shall leave it to your wife to slap you," she said with a dignified look. "Because I am sure she will if she finds out."

"That depends on whether she is like Sophia or like Edward. Sophia applauds displays of affection; Edward abhors them." As he mentioned his brother he had to wonder about that wife of his. Had this changed his brother in any way?

"And you?"

He had known there was no getting away from the question. "Under the right circumstances, I applaud them," he said with a challenging look.

"But since you are not married to the recipient or recipients of your affections, do you regret them?"

He winced at not being married. No, he was not -- something had happened to prevent that. He was not sure whether he regretted his displays of affection, which she correctly considered in a dubious light. "Fanny, do not be so sharp."

She gave him a sharp look nevertheless. "You disappoint me."

Frederick sighed. He was almost certain her disappointment was merely a ploy to get him to talk, but he could not let her keep thinking ill of him. "I was engaged once and when engaged -- as surely you know -- much is allowed. Happy now? This is all I will tell you." It gave him a headache.

"You do not look happy," Elizabeth said to Miss Harville. She supposed it had something to do with the whispered conversation with Captain Wentworth.

"It is nothing. I want my Jimmy."

Elizabeth felt sorry for her earlier words. "I apologise if what I said earlier gave you cause for concern. I did not intend it. I merely wanted to make my mother understand that it is a dangerous profession and that she needs to look beyond a fortune and a pretty uniform -- which she may not however often she is told."

"I am often concerned, so do not fear."

They neared the others again because they had stopped. There was a stile and of course Lydia and Kitty could no longer climb it on their own. Captain Wentworth was begged to assist and he gallantly lent them a hand. Mary declined very primly.

"It is not very becoming in a lady to refuse assistance from a well-meaning gentleman," he informed her.

Mary was so amazed that she jumped down from the stile and would have fallen if he had not caught her. This unsettled her to no end and she quickly walked on.

"You are very bad, Captain," Elizabeth chuckled when she reached the stile. "Distressing my sister so. But you must not think us all so incapable of climbing." She nevertheless allowed him to jump her down. It was very agreeable.

"Do not deny me my feelings of usefulness! I must find something worthwhile to do now that I am ashore."

"It is extremely worthwhile," she assured him, but promptly the captain's services were needed on the other side of the lane as well. Mary had already climbed over on her own, which made her laugh. Many things could make her laugh, but she sensed that for all his charming gallantry the captain was merely trying to laugh and not enjoying himself as much as he wished. He frowned now and then.

"What is he doing talking to Mary?" she asked Miss Harville incredulously. There were more amusing sisters, she would think, unless he meant to give each one of them equal attention, something Mary would not care about in the least.

Mary's firm notions of what constituted proper behaviour had intrigued Frederick for some reason. Although her opinions sounded as if they came straight from a book, she must agree with some of them. He questioned her on some insignificant matters and although she was reluctant to answer at first, she eventually did.

It was easy to steer her towards a certain topic; she was too caught up in expressing her opinions to notice. He ended up asking her something he had never doubted enough to ask. "Should a girl listen to her parents after she has received a marriage proposal?"

"It is her duty to do so," Mary said seriously.

"And if they do not approve, do you think she ought to break it off?"

"Yes, she ought."

He realised he had expected no less from her, given her replies to other questions, and that it was not surprising that everything here conspired to make him question his own behaviour in the past. It gave him such a headache to think he was deliberately giving himself pain and that he could not stop himself.

It was disheartening to find that she was still everyone's superior, uniting so many good qualities in one person. Not only was she superior, but her decision to break her engagement was considered absolutely correct by at least one person here.

He did not speak much for the rest of the way, because he would only get himself drawn into more of such conversations if he kept comparing these girls to her.

"You will catch a cold, riding everywhere," Mrs Bennet said to Frederick when almost the entire family accompanied Fanny and him to their horses. She had already issued a very important invitation to dinner -- twice.

"This weather is nothing to an ocean storm," he replied carelessly. Although he felt a little unwell, it was not due to the weather. It was all because of his past and the implications it had for his future. It was not even raining.

Frederick had expected Fanny to speak to him as soon as they were out of earshot and so he was not surprised when she did.

"So…" she said meaningfully.

Precious Pride ~ Section II

By Lise

Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Posted on Tuesday, 17 July 2007

Chapter Seven

"None of them," Frederick replied to Fanny's unspoken question. They had just left Longbourn, so her question could only pertain to the young ladies there and his opinion of them.

"That is not what I wanted to ask first!"

"Second then! But I shall answer it first. What did I think of them? Let me see…" He made a show of thinking to tease her, although there really was not very much to think about. Even after such a short acquaintance he was certain that he knew his mind. He always knew his mind and this was not a subject he had never thought about before. On the contrary, he had thought about it so often that he now had a clear idea of what he wanted. "They each have something, but none of them have everything."

"Your standards are high," Fanny remarked.

"Indeed they are." He had never known how high until now, because he had not met many women in the past years. It had been easy to dismiss a small number because of their small number, but now he realised he could meet hundreds and he would still have a difficult time finding her equal.

She had been perfection at the time and for a long time afterwards, until he had told himself it had very likely been his own youth and inexperience that were to blame for the impression she had made on him. While he would not detract much from her perfection, other than her weakness, he had then been certain there were more women like her. He had told himself there must be.

Fanny still seemed impatient. "But that was not what I wanted to ask. You mentioned you were engaged…"

He glanced aside and saw her interest. "I do not want to speak of it, Fanny. I have a headache as it is."

Thankfully she left him alone, but her probing had made him think of it again nevertheless. He wondered which conclusion he should draw from being reminded of her all the time. Yes, he was ready, even longing to settle, but not with her, he should think.

Even if he had wanted that, she would be married. He did not see why she would still be unattached. She would have accepted someone with better prospects, since that seemed to have been of the highest importance to her family. They preferred that to love -- and so did she.

He had loved Anne deeply. It was the first time he allowed himself to use her name consciously. It had always been there, but in the back of his mind, as if he feared that by using it he would admit he still thought of her. And who would want to admire a woman by whom one had been rejected?

Perhaps, if he kept looking, he would find a close approximation. He could compromise a little on beauty and demand more strength of character. Such a woman ought to exist. She would not be perfect, but he would respect her and she would raise his children well. He had just been in company with a few young ladies who each had several good qualities, as far as he could tell at a glance. Why could he not like them?

A moment later he believed he would never compromise and his feeling of discomfort increased.

"He will catch a cold," Mrs Bennet repeated to her daughters. She was very concerned for the captain's health.

"If he does, so will Miss Harville," Elizabeth pointed out. Her new friend stood an equal chance of catching a cold, if it was at all likely. It was not even raining yet.

Her mother ignored her and Miss Harville's health. There was something that was more important. "He will not come to dinner if he does."

"I am glad he is excused if he is ill, Mama."

"Do not be impertinent, Lizzy. He looked quite ready to fall ill to me."

"Then I suppose we shall not see him for a week," Elizabeth replied in a cheerful tone, although she would regret his absence. "What did he say to you, Mary?"

Mary, proud at having had someone interested in her ideas for once, was not ready to reveal all of her secrets. Only one. "He asked my opinions."

"Perhaps he wishes to lead a more moral life," Elizabeth chuckled. "Papa says sailors are quite immoral." It would amuse her father that the captain had spoken to Mary, although Mary did not appear to have preached and the captain did not appear to be very immoral.

"I do not think his morality is lacking," Mary said seriously. "The questions he asked were not of a kind to make me suppose he was in need of guidance."

Her sister was incredulous. "You must have missed that he writes poems about kissing women." That could not have failed to fill Mary with abhorrence.

Oddly, Mary did not seem to care. "While the captain had better choose a more suitable topic -- and essays or prose instead of poems -- a poem is not a diary."

Elizabeth was still guffawing about her sister's reply when she accompanied Jane to the room they shared. It was not often that Mary was able to stun her. "A poem is not a diary!"

"You cannot argue with that, my dear Lizzy, and you are far too curious about their conversation. The bits I overheard would, I believe, support Mary's opinion of his morality."

"Yes, you would believe so. You would believe it of everybody. Do you still like him?"

Here Jane withdrew a bit. "He is very agreeable."

"Certainly he divided his time well, giving all of us some attention. That was very agreeable of him." She studied her sister closely. Jane had received less of a share than Lydia, which was odd. Of course Lydia begged for hers repeatedly, whereas Jane would never do so.

"He did not single anybody out, you mean."

That was indeed the effect of giving everybody attention, she realised, and very likely it meant he did not have a favourite. "If one does not count Miss Harville, who is engaged to another man, he did not. This would disappoint Mama a great deal. Poor Mama."

"Are you not sorry?"

"A bit," Elizabeth admitted. Such a man would not quickly be thrown into their paths again -- wealthy, handsome, charming. "We must, if we care about our future, all be sorry, but we cannot force him to like anybody."

"Look!" Fanny pointed. "It is your sister and the admiral between those trees."

"Leave them there," Frederick advised. He was not in the mood to talk to them and possibly be subjected to even more questions. "They do not hide unless they have a good reason."

She did not think they were hiding. They seemed to be rowing. "I think they are in their boat still."

He regretted suggesting that they go left. If they had continued to follow the road, they would not have come near the river, but it would have taken them longer to get home. Nothing was ever perfect. "Leave them."

"You are very grumpy," Fanny complained.

"I do not feel well," he said curtly.

"Were there too many chattering women?"

He tried to smile at her compassionate tone. Fanny was a good girl and she did not deserve to suffer from his bad mood. "That too."

"I shall be silent and ride on hurriedly," she promised. He did look a little flushed, she noticed, as if he felt a little warm. Too many talking women and too many questions might indeed have worsened his condition. "I am sorry I asked you questions."

"You could not know."

As they rode on in silence she thought about his revelation. He had been engaged once. That had been quite a shocking thing to hear, although if she thought about it, it fit in perfectly with his usual reticence about women. An engagement that had come to nothing was not something of which one wanted to boast. She would expect complaints in such a case.

Fanny wondered what had gone wrong. The girl could have died or their engagement could have ended for other reasons. However, if she had died, there would not have been any shame in mentioning her. Or was there merely pain? To what did his silence point? She imagined the girl running off with another man, or perhaps saying she did not want him anymore. That would be painful. It would also fill someone with anger. She had never seen Frederick angry and she could not say how he was. However, silence was not unthinkable in the case of anger.

He could have abandoned the girl as well, but she did not think he was such a dishonourable rake. No, the girl had abandoned him, either by dying or breaking her engagement. She winced. Poor Frederick.

She reviewed what he had said today. He had high standards. Of course -- he did not want to be abandoned again. None of the girls here had everything. That implied that his girl had been a sort of paragon. She sighed. Yes, a paragon would be difficult to find again.

Frederick retired to his room when they arrived home. He had appreciated Fanny's silence, but he had forgotten to thank her. It cost him some effort to get ready for dinner and he hoped he was not really falling ill. It was better to be ill here than on board, but he disliked being confined to his bed all the same. To have to lie still with nothing to do and only his thoughts for company was never a desirable prospect, certainly not given his recent thoughts.

But no matter how he would dislike it after a few days, he longed for his bed now and especially for the opportunity to shed his clothes. He felt hot.

When he arrived at the dining table, he found that Fanny had informed the others, but he brushed off their concerns. "I am fine. I shall go to bed early." He was convinced it would help.

Her brother's condition only having got worse overnight, Mrs Croft was very concerned. He had come down to breakfast pretending all was well, but she could see it was not. "Go back to bed," she urged. "I shall bring you whatever you like."

"That is not necessary," he protested.

"You have a fever," Mrs Harville spoke. "I can see it."

"She is an excellent nurse," said Harville.

Frederick was not too unwell to roll his eyes. She had nursed her husband well indeed, but in his gratitude Harville awarded her too much praise. It did not mean she could spot fevers from across the table, he should think. Perhaps he did feel a little feverish, but that did not mean it was visible.

"Bed," said the two married ladies and there was no arguing with wives and mothers.

"Is it my fault for having taken him to the Bennets?" Fanny wondered anxiously when the ladies had escorted their new patient upstairs.

"We may at times pretend that an excessive number of silly women makes us ill, Fanny," said the admiral. "But it does not truly affect our health. Do not tell Sophia."

She laughed for a second, but then she was concerned again. "Then it cannot have been my fault?"

"No, it was not your fault."

She was not entirely certain of that and she hoped he would improve soon. "I thought he might have felt worse because the girls there liked him more than he likes them."

"Although I wish he would settle, I am glad to hear he is not in a rush to marry the first girl who smiles at him, although if there are five smiling at him at once it may be difficult to make a choice as well."

"Our examples are too good, I hope," said Harville.

Admiral Croft reflected on their examples and the goodness thereof. He gave a good-natured snort. "We picked them up in ports, man!"

Captain Harville was unperturbed. "But I gave her several months to dwell on my goodness before I returned to Cork."

"Now that I am older I recommend such a course of action, although if I ever have a daughter I am not altogether sure I should allow her to take a fancy to a sailor who was in port for only a week and who might return." He thought of the places where he had been only once and to where he could not return even if he had desperately wanted to. There were too many.

"You would prefer her to sail instantly with said sailor."

"Not even that, I confess. I think I should prefer sons."

Fanny had been listening quietly. Perhaps something of this sort had happened to Frederick. He had met a girl somewhere and he had never returned, or her father had objected. It was all too possible. The profession was full of uncertainties and any father would be justified in having his doubts. Even these two gentlemen here seemed to have changed their minds, despite what they had done themselves. "But if you are concerned about a brother, would you not be concerned about a son?"

"Yes, because he might bring home the most frightful --" the admiral coughed. "The younger, the more prone to making mistakes they are, and the older, the more prone to settling for something inferior."

"He is not yet that far gone," Fanny believed. He would not settle for someone inferior.

Posted on Saturday, 21 July 2007

Chapter Eight

Because Sophia and Fiona took turns tending to Frederick, it was Fanny's task to see to the children. She loved them and she was used to teaching them, but at the moment she was too worried about Frederick to enjoy it. Fevers had carried away her parents and she did not trust them. She was glad she did not have to look after the youngest, a very mischievous toddler, but only after Lucy and Freddy. Her mind was not completely on her task.

She did not see Frederick until dinner, when he came downstairs and said he was fine. He looked ill, however, and while she would believe he felt better after having been in bed all day, he was not truly fine. After dinner he was sent to his bed again by the two other women and he complied far more readily than Fanny had ever expected him to comply.

The next day he did not come downstairs at all, although Sophia reported that he ate his meals fairly normally, if a little less than usual. Fanny was nevertheless convinced he was getting worse.

If he had asked for her, she would have visited, but Fiona said he would much rather be left alone. He was too proud to be seen in a bad condition, even by a close friend, and he tolerated his two nurses only because he must. Not even the two gentlemen were encouraged to visit. They were more philosophical about it than Fanny and repeatedly reassured her that Frederick was in good hands.

But now she had two men to worry about, for Captain Benwick had not yet arrived. Her worries about him increased every day as well. He could have been here already and she kept fearing something had happened to him or her letters. But as her brother kept telling her, he would make inquiries even if her letters had all got lost for some mysterious reason. It was but a small comfort that she had sent far too many for such a thing to become plausible.

Mrs Bennet had extended the dinner invitation to the entire party at Netherfield, although the chief object of her hospitality was of course Captain Wentworth. It was a grave disappointment to her to receive the news that the captain would not be coming to dinner because he was ill.

"Ill! We should have kept him here," she repeated numerous times. "I saw he was going to be ill. He should have stayed here and he would not have fallen ill."

"My dear Mrs Bennet," said Mr Bennet, who doubted the veracity of this statement. "Why, if you saw he was going to be ill, do you think this could have been prevented by keeping him here?"

"Oh, do not vex me so! You care nothing about his condition."

He would not deny the truth of that remark. "I rather think he would have fallen more seriously ill if he had remained here. Who would have nursed him back to health, do you propose? As I should not have allowed any of the girls to do it, only you and I are left, and in my care he would surely have expired."

"Mr Bennet!" Mrs Bennet was vexed beyond belief.

"What was so odd about my words, Lizzy?" he asked his daughter. "Is it so odd of me not to wish any of my daughters near a young man in a bed? Had he been poor, I might have considered it. But a wealthy man, no. It could only lead to trouble."

She laughed. "But Papa, you must not make fun of his condition, for I am certain it is serious. The note said that Mrs Croft is staying behind to nurse him and no grown man would require that normally, would he?"

"I thought the same," said Jane.

"Well, my dears, I stand corrected if you both say so. I hope for your sakes he is not dying. It would surely give us less to talk about."

Although Mrs Bennet's evening was a little spoilt, it was by no means spoilt entirely. Wealthy young men or not, she always took pleasure in giving dinner parties and putting her best dishes on the table. It was possible that Captain Wentworth would make inquiries of his friends and he must be told good things.

Admiral Croft had come and he had brought with him Captain and Mrs Harville, and of course Miss Harville. Not only was Captain Wentworth not among them, but his sister had also remained at Netherfield. Her absence would hardly have been noticed if it had not been for the admiral announcing it himself repeatedly. Captain Wentworth was more sorely missed by everyone else.

There was some talk of the captain at first, but Admiral Croft assured everyone that Captain Wentworth was not dying, that he had a fever and that he had a devoted sister feeding him and cooling his brow. He furthermore added that he had firsthand experience with Mrs Croft's good care and that he was living proof that she was good.

Elizabeth had been studying Miss Harville, however, and seen too much concern in her face to believe the admiral. When they had the opportunity to converse privately, she seized it instantly. "You are concerned."

"Yes, I am. It is probably nothing," she said to give herself courage. "But my parents died of a fever. I should feel better if Jimmy were here."

"I am sorry. But the admiral says the captain is in good hands."

"Yes, he says so." Miss Harville looked doubtful. "I know they are good, but what can they do against a deadly illness if it is deadly? And what if Jimmy contracts a fever on board? He has no sister there to take care of him."

"The odds of two friends falling ill at the same time in two different locations are very slim," Elizabeth believed. "He will return to you."

"I shall cling to your idea of the odds, but it does not improve Frederick's health."

Elizabeth did not know what could, other than Mrs Croft's good care. "Is Mrs Croft not sorry she could not come along?"

"His sister is the only woman they could have left with him. I offered to stay, but she would not hear of it. I wonder why," Miss Harville said.

"But you are engaged to another man, Miss Harville." That ought to make it different.

"Yes -- call me Fanny -- I do not think that sitting with the invalid merely involves handing him a cup," Fanny said with a significant look. "There are all the things he used to do on his own that he now cannot, if you catch my meaning. And an unmarried girl is not supposed to see that. He would not want me to. He does not even want Sophia to help, but he must, and he must allow Fiona because sometimes Sophia needs rest."

"It does not sound very…" Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.

"Not very romantic, I agree. Nobody is sitting by his bedside reading poetry indeed. It is all buckets and towels. It is almost as bad as when my brother came home injured."

She had seen him limp. "I saw he still has trouble walking. Was it very bad?"

"Yes," Fanny said simply. "But he loved us and would not leave us."

"Can we speak of something pleasant?" Not only was Elizabeth not fond of such topics, but Fanny was clearly not made any happier by dwelling on them. "It will be better for you."

Fanny thought for a few moments. "I am going to have another niece or nephew, did you see?"

"Yes, I had been suspecting that," Elizabeth smiled. It was more likely to suspect that in a woman Mrs Harville's age than something else. "How many do you have already? I have never seen them."

"Lucy, Freddy and Mary. They are quite small, so they have not been off the grounds. I gave Lucy a music lesson this morning. We have no instrument of our own, so I seized the opportunity. I doubt there would be any money to send her to a music master. Fortunately she does not seem very talented. It would be a great pity if she were talented and there was not enough money." She paused. "Although it depends on Jimmy's fortune, we might be able to purchase an instrument. I should like that. And of course Lucy could always practise on it. Do you play?"

"Only a little. I do not practise often enough."

"Have you or your sisters any new pieces? The ones I know are all very old. Five years at least."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, we are so fashionable that ours may be four years old! But I am joking. I think we have a few newer pieces. Come with me to the music room."

"This is lovely. There is an instrument but no music at Netherfield," said Fanny. "And until I am married I cannot afford either."

For a while they were engaged in examining music sheets and playing little bits. Elizabeth thought that if she could have such a friend nearby, she might practise more. It was certainly more pleasant to play with Fanny than it was with Mary, the only other in the house who played well enough. "Is there anybody else at Netherfield who plays?"

"Frederick does, a little, but he is a better listener."

"You and he are good friends, it seems."

"He is like a second brother -- and in times like these, when everyone else is married, we are in the same position. It does help that we are both somewhat clever. If I had been Thomas' slow little sister he would want nothing to do with me."

Elizabeth had to laugh again. "Ah, he is like that, is he?"

"Are you not?" Fanny countered. "He has enough patience with everyone, but he prefers a certain kind of people, I know."

At Netherfield, Frederick was far from being happy. It was not because he missed the excitement of dining at Longbourn, but because he felt utterly helpless and mortified at all the assistance he needed in addition to feeling very ill. Fortunately it was his sister providing this help and he begged her not to leave him to Mrs Harville's care, but firmly yet kindly she told him there was no other possibility than leaving Fiona with him sometimes.

"She does not care about those things," Sophia reassured him.

"But I do!" He did not want to be seen in this condition by anyone. He knew he must allow one person to help him, but he did not understand why it must be two. This was one of those times that he really wished he had a wife. It must be so different from a sister or a friend's wife.

"It is temporary and you know you cannot do everything yourself." She had seen him try.

"I wish I could!" he sighed. "This is horrible."

She stroked his hair. That he thought it horrible was plain to see and she pitied him, which he would undoubtedly abhor as well. "Well, my dear little brother, had you thought I enjoyed it?"

"Probably not."

"It is my duty and I will do it gladly for as long as you need help," she promised. "But you must forgive my grimaces now and then."

"And you must not treat me like your little brother."

"But you are," she laughed.

He did not like that either. "But I have not been little and helpless in many years, if I ever was."

"I know that and I am trying to make it bearable for you, but you must accept my help. You are very different from my usual patient. He loves my care."

"You must not think me ungrateful, Sophia," Frederick said a little contritely. He did appreciate her presence, which he hoped she knew, but to be taken care of by a wife was very different. "You are very good, but all the same I wish I did not need you."

"Then accept it and soon you will not need me anymore. Not because you are dead, of course," she added with an encouraging smile.

"You would joke by someone's deathbed."

"I am used to a different patient, I said, but perhaps I was wrong," she observed. "Deathbed indeed!"

Posted on Tuesday, 24 July 2007

Chapter Nine

Fanny could not contain herself and peeked into Frederick's room when she saw Sophia leave it for a few moments. After hearing his condition had worsened and that his fever had gone up, she had to see for herself that he was not dead.

He was not. He was moving in his sleep with agitated movements. There were sounds -- moaning and incomprehensible words. And then a name, loud and clear: Anne. It was followed by more moans and incomprehensible words.

Who was Anne? Fanny was shocked enough to close the door and to withdraw, as if she had intruded on a private moment. Who was Anne?

She quickly left the antechamber so Sophia would not find and berate her. For some reason Sophia did not think it appropriate for her to be there, not if there were two married women at hand who could take care of the patient. How would it look indeed if they let Fanny do it? She agreed, but while she would not volunteer to nurse him if there were others who could do it, she had wanted to have a look all the same.

Frederick was not well at all. Who was Anne? It could be the woman to whom he was once engaged. That must have been before she knew him, five to ten years ago. He would have been quite young. This Anne would have been quite young as well.

Of course it was possible that he had been engaged to someone else, not an Anne, and that he had met an Anne later, but it was odd that Frederick would have such a large collection of women in his past about whom he refused to speak unless he was delirious.

The delirium was not good. It worried her, but to keep herself from fretting she ought to focus on that Anne. He called for her. He needed her. The mysterious Anne might bring him out of his delirium. Unfortunately Fanny could not see any support for that notion among Netherfield's inhabitants, who were mostly sensible and practical and who would send for the apothecary or the surgeon first. But what could they do?

She would have to try her idea out elsewhere before she took any action. She had her horse saddled and she rode to Longbourn.

"Captain Wentworth was thrashing in his bed and moaning for Anne," Fanny whispered.

"Anne?" Elizabeth repeated. Although she had not truly entertained any hopes, she was a little sorry to hear it nevertheless. "Who is she?"

"That is what I should like to know as well." She paused to glance about, but nobody was listening. "He was engaged once. One assumes it was to this Anne. He would not give me any particulars. I could not ask for any, because he was already feeling unwell."

"What happened? Did she die, do you think?"

"He should be able to speak of her if she had," Fanny reasoned. "Yet he cannot. I depend on very small clues such as frowns and looks."

Elizabeth was fascinated. "She broke it off. She must have. When was this?"

"Years ago. It was not while I knew him, at least. He would like to see her again and she would make him better. We should find out where she is!"

"Where!" Elizabeth smiled at Fanny's eagerness. "Should we not first find out who she is?"

"Yes, but how?" Fanny's face fell a little. "Do you think it will be difficult?"

"Your brother! He may know. She may be married, of course," said Elizabeth, checking her excitement. "If she could turn down Captain Wentworth, she must not have despaired of her prospects." It led her to wonder what she would have done. She would have been a fool to reject him, since she liked him well enough. Everyone did, although she was not sure how much of that was because he was rich. He would have been charming enough while poor.

"Or she did not want a long engagement with a sailor. Years ago he may not have been made captain yet and he might not have been able to support a wife in the manner to which she was accustomed, yet a long engagement is painful. I speak from experience. One must make a choice."

"She is a lady then, not accustomed to poverty. It would have made no difference to a poor girl."

"Perhaps. But lady or not, she may have needed a wealthier man all the same if she was not bringing much into the marriage."

"We all need a wealthy man."

"A handsome, intelligent, wealthy man." But then Fanny sobered. "Of course she may well have jilted Frederick for an admiral."

"Ugh!" cried Elizabeth. She would disapprove of such a mercenary action. "I should not prefer a man twenty years my senior to a young man my age, no matter how rich he might be."

"Oh, you could even get admirals fifty years your senior. Admiral Croft is quite young," Fanny said very dryly.

Elizabeth did not want to say she did not think the admiral was quite young. "Fanny, you are horrible," she said with a shudder, but she liked Fanny's penchant for humorous dramatics.

"I so love to be horrible now and then, when I am feeling worried especially. But I could not imagine abandoning my poor Jimmy for a decrepit admiral -- one eye, one leg, one arm."

Elizabeth, although she had never seen Captain Benwick, could not imagine that either. She trusted her friend's taste. Captain Benwick would be a perfectly good-looking man. "But what about Captain Wentworth now? What if he does not get to see that Anne before he dies?" She did not know whether he was critically ill, but his condition might well worsen. It did not sound very good.

Fanny considered it. "We could write to her, once we know who she is. What if she has been waiting for him to return, as I have been?" She let out a sob.

"But if she jilted him, why should she wait for him?" Elizabeth wondered. "Would she think he would ask her twice? Would he?"

"Frederick?" Fanny considered it. "Never. That is why he is not married to her. Oh, it is so clear to me now. We must help."

Full of good intentions Fanny returned to Netherfield. She found that Sophia and Fiona were quite busy and that the children had been with their father in her absence, although they had looked for her. "Had you wanted to do anything?" she asked him.

"No," Captain Harville replied. "We had perfect fun here. They do not know how ill Frederick is. It is not a common cold."

She knew that already. "To whom was Frederick engaged? Where did she live? Who was she? Why did it end?"

He was wary. "Why do you think he was engaged? Did he speak of it?"

"Was her name Anne?"

He looked very serious now. "Fanny, how did you come by this rumour?"

"Observation and speculation and he told me himself that he was once engaged. Do you know anything?" She had hit upon a secret; he was too serious for her to be wrong.

"He does not like to speak of it, certainly not these days," her brother said carefully. "But I believe there was a girl once. Her father was a baronet and Wentworth had not yet made his fortune."

She tried to look calm and not as excited as she was. He would ask questions. "Where?"

"Somersetshire. Fanny? Why?"

"Thank you." She ran away.

"Is Captain Wentworth still alive?" Mrs Bennet asked most anxiously when a note was delivered from Netherfield for Elizabeth. Naturally any note could only be pertaining to Captain Wentworth.

Fanny had been concise and cryptic. She knew perhaps that Mrs Bennet was curious and to prevent anyone from understanding, she had only written down two words. Baronetage. Somersetshire.

Elizabeth puzzled over this for a while. She supposed that the clue to Anne's identity was to be found in that particular volume, though what Somersetshire had to do with it was not yet clear. She had no idea what was contained in the baronetage other than presumably information about baronets. It implied that Anne's father was one.

She would like to know how Fanny had discovered this. If all she had been told was 'Baronet from Somerset', his name might be found in the baronetage, but would his daughter's name be? Suppose there was more than one baronet there. Would Fanny write to all?

Then she spoke. "Papa, may I go and ask Sir William Lucas if he owns a copy of the baronetage?"

"He is not a baronet, so he may."

"Would you know if he owns one?"

"He and I are not wont to discuss such volumes, but you may of course try. Why do you need it? Is the Navy not enough for you?"

"No, I do not think the Navy is for me," she said calmly.

"Is it not?" He raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that all of you liked the man."

"Papa, you forget that he must like us too."

"Well, Lizzy," he said eventually. "I hope this realisation did not break your heart. You can always take solace in the fact that sailors are always off to sea and that he would not be much good to a wife anyhow."

Sir William Lucas did in fact own a copy of the baronetage. He was out, but Charlotte was able to point Elizabeth to it. She was curious, but her friend did not enlighten her about her precise reasons for needing it.

"I heard Captain Wentworth is ill," said Charlotte. "He did not visit here this morning, although some of them did."

"Did nobody stay with him?" Elizabeth asked absentmindedly. She was eager to take the book home and to start her research, but it was not fair to abandon Charlotte so quickly. "When they dined with us, Mrs Croft did not come."

"I think she would much rather have stayed behind, because she was very quiet. Who else would have looked after the captain?" Charlotte looked doubtful. "Is that proper?"

"Apparently. You must know that Mama would have looked after him herself if he had been so considerate as to fall ill at our house."

"How inconsiderate that he did not!" she smiled. "But yes, I suppose someone must take care of him."

In the absence of a wife, someone certainly must. Elizabeth would almost tell her of the broken engagement, but it was too much of a secret to reveal.

"Are you concerned?" asked Charlotte. "Do you like him?"

"Oh, no. I am setting my sights on a baronet." She tapped the book with a cheerful smile.

Elizabeth had spent a long time searching, well into the night, but eventually her eyes had fallen upon an entry that looked very favourable. The repeated occurrence of the word Somerset had made her go back to the beginning of the entry. Elliot of Kellynch Hall -- and there was an Anne among the daughters listed. This Anne was the right age, but Elizabeth still had to work through the entire volume to rule out the possibility of there being more baronets in Somersetshire with daughters of a suitable age named Anne. She hoped she did not overlook any in her excitement.

The book was too old to list any marriages of the daughters. That Anne Elliot had not been married at the time of printing said nothing about her current state, or whether she was even still living. Nevertheless, Elizabeth copied the most relevant details for Fanny.

Elliot of Kellynch Hall. Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760, married, July 15, 1784, Elizabeth, daughter of James Stevenson, Esq. of South Park, in the county of Gloucester; by which lady (who died 1800) he has issue Elizabeth, born June 1, 1785; Anne, born August 9, 1787; a still-born son, Nov. 5, 1789; Mary, born Nov. 20, 1791. Principal seat, Kellynch Hall, in the county of Somerset.

Fanny would have to decide what she wanted to do with this information.

Posted on Friday, 27 July 2007

Chapter Ten

Elizabeth wondered for whom she had made such an effort researching when she woke tired. She had let herself be infected by Fanny's eagerness without thinking, but she supposed it would have been an exciting puzzle even if there had not been any chance of helping Captain Wentworth with it. Briefly she considered what her mother would think of her efforts to find the captain another woman who was not a Bennet. Her contribution to this scheme was best not revealed.

She wondered how she should contact Fanny about her discoveries. There was no time to lose, because a letter would take a while to reach Miss Elliot -- assuming Fanny wished to write -- and then it would take several days for her to travel here, during which time the captain might well die.

However, she did not have to take immediate action, for it was Fanny who rode over to Longbourn in the morning before breakfast. "I have little time, as I am commissioned to take Lucy into town to buy shoes. I came to discuss what we should do with what I found," said Fanny rather breathlessly. "Am I ever grateful to Frederick for buying me a saddle! I do want to give him something in return."

"I finished searching early this morning," Elizabeth yawned. She was glad that Jane did not have an inquisitive nature, or she would not have been allowed to read for so long. As it was, Jane had not displayed any interest in her book at all.

"Searching? For a copy of the baronetage? I had no idea where to find one."

"No, searching in the baronetage. Sir William Lucas owns one." She could not keep herself from looking triumphant. It had been a brilliant idea to think of Sir William. "But I think I found it. Anne Elliot of Kellynch Hall. She is twenty-seven. How does it sound?"

"That sounds good. The admiral is from Somerset. Did you know? I remembered that last night. I do not know where it fits in, however. What shall we write to this Anne Elliot?" Fanny was ready to deal with the matter at once.

Elizabeth took her to a writing desk and sat down. She would write; Fanny was hopping about too much. "That her former beloved is dying?"

"If he were dying there would be no need for her to come, as he might already be dead if she arrived -- if he were dying, which I hope he is not."

Very well, she would amend. "He would die if she did not come."

"Yes, but how to say so?"

"Literally?" Elizabeth suggested. She did not know how else it could be said, unless it was with synonyms.

Fanny waved her hands. "But in a letter one must be more poetic, more descriptive…"

"She must understand it clearly."

"She may be like Sophia," Fanny agreed. "She says I ought to write a novel and I do not think it is a compliment."

"Dear Miss Elliot, Captain Wentworth would die if you did not come to Netherfield, near Meryton, Hertfordshire." She quickly wrote that down. It was only a draft and it could be crossed out if necessary.

Fanny looked over her shoulder and provided the next line. "He is delirious and calls out your name. You must come at once if you care for him. Your old school friend, Miss Frances Harville."

"That is very short," Elizabeth remarked. Miss Elliot would think it an odd epistle, because she was undoubtedly proficient at writing polite and conventional letters to whomever a baronet's daughter was wont to write.

"It was your idea."

"Then you must elaborate and turn it into a novel," Elizabeth smiled.

Fanny took a deep breath. "Dear Miss Elliot, forgive me for writing so impertinently as I am sure you do not remember me. My brother and I are staying with the sister of Captain Wentworth, who has been seized by a most dreadful illness."

"Which?" Elizabeth interrupted.

"We do not know. A dreadful illness. He suffers from a high fever and he is often delirious. We need some company to cheer us up, because he is often calling --"

"Often?"

"Once," Fanny admitted. "He is often calling for the woman he loved and I am very concerned that she may be the only one who can cure him. Come and cheer us, my dear old friend."

"Why are you so circumspect? You are not saying Captain Wentworth mentioned her name in particular. Now it is not clear why you mention him at all, because she is your school friend and not his. Would she know a friend's brother? Would she understand that he is calling for her?"

"I have to watch my words because of her father, of course. Fathers are worse than brothers. They remember suitors, but not school friends. Miss Elliot will know what we mean. One mention of Frederick and her heart will be aflutter." Fanny's hands fluttered in front of her chest.

"Or so you hope!" Elizabeth hoped there was nothing that stood in Miss Elliot's way, such as a husband, a second attachment or an uncooperative father. She would think it strange if a father read letters addressed to a daughter of that age, but one could never know what happened in other families.

"If she loves as he does…"

"Did she even go to school?"

"A baronet's daughter?" Fanny did not doubt it. "Of course she went to school and of course she loved poor Frederick."

"If she is so romantic, perhaps you had indeed best write something more romantic to appeal to her."

Fanny closed her eyes, laid her hands on her heart and began. "My dear Miss Elliot. I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has been a long time since we spent our school days together. I look back on it with such fondness and I have been utterly remiss in not writing to you sooner."

"Only about ten years," Elizabeth muttered.

"Since the death of my parents I have been living with my brother, Captain Harville, and his wife. The Navy, despite their many virtues, are never settled in one place as they ought to be. Currently we are enjoying the hospitality of Admiral and Mrs Croft, who is the sister of a good friend of my brother's, Captain Wentworth. Quite a merry party, one would think, but Captain Wentworth has now been seized by a most dreadful illness. He suffers from a high fever and is often delirious."

"Will it become romantic soon?"

"We fear for his life. He often calls out the name of a woman; only she can save him with her love. Of course we have no idea how to contact her. Perhaps if you know some other Anne who once knew him, you could tell her to come speedily."

Elizabeth snorted.

"Well, that was worth a try, my dear old friend. You can also come yourself to cheer me up. I am very sad. I am engaged to Captain Benwick, the most wonderful of men, except that he has not yet returned from the sea. I shall go mad with worries for both these gentlemen if you do not come to distract me."

Elizabeth had struggled to keep up with the dictation. She finished the last sentence and then spoke. "Because you have no female friends here."

"None indeed," Fanny agreed solemnly. "And I am also not the sort who can make do with male friends. I am so lonely."

Her friend snorted again.

Fanny had a splendid plan all of a sudden and she gasped. "Should we include Frederick's poem? She might recognise it and up to a certain point it could be about a woman."

"Up to a certain point. And after?"

"You must see for yourself." Fanny took a piece of paper from her pocket. "I have kept it. Here."

So lovingly we shared a kiss at dawn
I was half sleepy, half alert before
But all my hesitations are now gone
And your embrace has made me wish for more

It is yet dark but may as well be light
Your sparkling eyes illuminate my way
Fatigue evaporates through your delight
So much your wordless greeting can convey

Enveloped by the fog we are alone
You need no other company but mine
When our appreciation has been shown
We take advantage of this morning fine

I wave a stick; you bark in utter bliss
Oh, what can be more wonderful than this?

Elizabeth read it attentively. "This Miss Elliot must be a peculiar creature. She barks? At a stick?"

Fanny laughed. "I think twelve lines are about Miss Elliot and two are about some dog. Do not forget that he and I were writing for fun and he wanted to tease me. Well, it worked. I screamed when I read about the barking. I demanded that he tell me what it meant in sailor speak and he fell off his chair laughing."

"What would Miss Elliot think if you included the poem? Would she like that he wrote about her? Mocked her? Turned her into a dog?"

"I cannot say, but I could write to her that he wrote this a few weeks ago, so that this is further proof that she is still on his mind. Write it out neatly and I can send it as an express when I go to town. We cannot waste any time."

Posted on Monday, 30 July 2007

Chapter Eleven

During the next days Mrs Croft and Mrs Harville grew very tired and anxious. They had been taking turns sitting with the patient, but they had also taken occasional breaks. Now his condition no longer allowed that and they were required to sit with him during the night as well. Such a task could not be left to a maid. Sophia, as Frederick's sister, felt it should be her duty to take care of the most difficult hours, but although she mostly slept by his bedside during the night, her worries still made her very tired indeed.

"Can you not take over?" Fanny anxiously asked the admiral. "Sophia will fall ill too if she keeps this up."

"I have offered," he said with a grave look. "But she insists. It is her brother, she says, and if I sit there, she will simply come and sit with me. However, I agree with you that she is almost too tired and I shall lock her up soon. She has been expecting him to get better and he has not."

"We are all worried. If only she would allow me to do my share."

"You are doing your share, Fanny."

For a moment she feared he knew of her plan, but then she supposed he must be referring to her keeping the children occupied.

She took them to Longbourn to get them away from an atmosphere that was slowly beginning to be oppressive due to everyone's fears and worries. They took the carriage and Lucy and Freddy were delighted. They were not often taken on trips.

"I have new shoes," Lucy announced as soon as they set foot in the Bennets' house. She was so proud of them that she would share it even with people she did not know.

Miss Bennet took the children away for a game and Fanny was free to answer Mrs Bennet's queries about the captain. After a while, after explaining and repeating what he ought to have done or avoided so he would not have fallen ill, Mrs Bennet went away to see to other matters.

"I sent the express," Fanny could finally say to Elizabeth. She had been pleased to see that Miss Bennet immediately claimed the children, but then Mrs Bennet had come to delay everything. It would not have been so bad if the woman had not had a habit of repeating herself. "Now we wait. But she must come quickly, because he is not doing well at all."

"Is there no improvement?"

"No -- and what is worse is that his nurses are growing tired. They each spend twelve hours in his room in addition to their other duties. I have offered to do my share, but they will not hear of it. Frederick would very likely not like it if I were to take care of him, I agree, but he is ill and is therefore in no position to make demands."

"But you take care of the children," Elizabeth pointed out.

Fanny felt frustrated at not being able to do more. She wanted to do something that was directly helpful to Frederick. "That is what they say as well, but it does not help."

"And you sent the letter."

"Yes…" she sighed. Although she knew it was too soon, she had been hoping for a reaction already.

"Perhaps we shall need you shortly to help us with our visitor. We received a letter from our cousin Mr Collins," Elizabeth said in a lowered voice, although nobody was near.

"Oh, why do you speak in so ominous a tone? Is he horrid?"

"We do not know him, but his letter promised a man of little sense."

"Oh, I am glad you told me beforehand. I may now choose to stay at Netherfield," Fanny laughed. She felt her laugh was insincere because she could not really be merry. "Do warn me when he arrives, although you can visit if you do not bring him."

"My mother thinks he may want to marry one of us, because our estate is entailed to him. She is very excited already. Another young man!"

"Is your cousin in the Navy?"

"No, he is a clergyman."

Fanny gave an elegant shudder. "Do not marry him. I always find clergymen indescribably dull."

"His letter did indeed not sparkle with any particular sort of wit or sense of humour. You are all for the Navy then?" Fanny's prejudice amused her.

"Oh yes. You must come to stay with me after I am married. I am sure we could introduce you to many very nice officers. Because of the peace many will be looking for a wife."

"I shall give it some consideration," Elizabeth promised. "Though I cannot say I am already ready to marry. In return for my telling you Mr Collins has arrived, you must inform me when Miss Elliot comes. I am sure she is more interesting than our cousin."

A few days later towards the end of the day a Miss Elliot was announced and most of the party at Netherfield were confused or surprised. Fanny, the only one who was neither, jumped up. She was so excited she could hardly speak. "That is for me."

"Fanny?" her brother asked sharply. "Who is she? I did not know you were expecting anyone."

"Nothing, dear brother," she said airily. She had quickly recovered and realised she must involve her hostess and Frederick's sister, but also that she did not want to explain matters in front of everybody. "Sophia will you come with me to the blue drawing room to receive my old school friend?"

Sophia was curious and assented. Their confused-looking visitor was taken away before the gentlemen got a good look at her.

Sophia very curiously looked at the young lady in the blue drawing room. If she was not mistaken she was a few years older than Fanny. How could they have been at school together? This woman was close to thirty and nothing about her indicated that she was happy to see her friend at last. Something about this situation was very strange.

The young lady looked mortified when she perceived her curiosity. "Did you not tell Mrs Croft?" she inquired of Fanny.

That surprised Sophia. "Are you acquainted with me?" They might well have met once, although she could not remember either face or name. The woman was a delicate thing who would not have lasted overseas, yet for the last few years that was where Sophia had been.

A blush spread over the young lady's pale cheeks. "You are Captain Wentworth's sister."

"Indeed I am, but how did you know?" Sophia's eyes travelled to Fanny. There was something she had not been told, which might explain why Fanny had wanted her to leave the room with her. "What did you need to tell me?"

Fanny looked flustered. She had not considered at all that Sophia might be critical. "This is Miss Anne Elliot. Anne."

The emphasis was no great help to Sophia, yet it mortified their visitor. She took pity on her. "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Elliot, but I am afraid I do not understand what Fanny is about."

"Have you not heard him say Anne?" Fanny was almost desperate.

"Who?"

"Frederick!"

"No. When am I supposed to have heard that?" Sophia took pity on the two desperate-looking girls. Fanny's plans had evidently gone slightly awry and Miss Elliot seemed to be an innocent victim of them. And what did she have to do with Frederick or he with her? "Right. Let us start at the beginning. A minute ago I first heard that an old school friend had come for Fanny."

"We never went to school together, although you wrote that to me," Miss Elliot said to Fanny. "I assumed it was a pretence for writing about…the other matter."

"Yes. Oh, please do not send her away, Sophia!"

"Do you know each other?" Sophia inquired. She began to suspect that the only one who knew Miss Elliot was Frederick.

"Not at all," Miss Elliot replied. "Before now."

"Yet you know me." But if she knew Frederick, he might have told her about his sister -- not only that he had one, but her name and description, for Miss Elliot had not had to guess at all.

The reply was given very softly. "I used to know Captain Wentworth."

"Ah. Matters are beginning to clear, perhaps. Fanny wrote to you about him, pretending to be an old school friend, and you came here, pretending to be an old school friend." It still did not tell her why, but at least it cleared up the how.

Miss Elliot could only nod.

"Fanny, did you write that he was dying?" Sophia saw Miss Elliot flinch in response. Obviously that would not be a good development, as far as Miss Elliot was concerned. It was not odd that Frederick had made a conquest somewhere, but Miss Elliot looked so very little like the silly girl one had to be to travel to see a man one had once liked. Sophia wondered if she was even pretty. She was thin and pale and had dark rings around her eyes. In a happy state she might be pretty, but she was clearly not happy.

"No, I wrote he moaned her name. I wonder why you never heard it. I only went in there once and I heard it," Fanny said unhappily. She had assumed that mentioning the name of Anne would make everybody understand. He would not only have moaned in her presence.

"Is he dead?" Miss Elliot had gone as white as a sheet.

"I do not think so," Sophia answered and she hoped she was still speaking the truth. "He was not dead an hour ago. Would you like to tell me when and how you knew him?"

"We were engaged once."

"Engaged?" Sophia felt shocked.

"Although I cannot and do not expect he has forgiven me, I felt that I must see him one more time and say I am sorry and sit with him, perhaps." Her tears rolled down her cheeks. "I had not thought of what I should do after I had told him. I merely wanted to see him. I am sorry."

Sophia was still not over her shock. She had barely heard what the girl had said. "When was this? This is a great surprise to me."

"Eight years ago. He never came back, even after he had money, and I could hardly have gone after him. I am not sure he would not resent my coming now, but Miss Harville wrote that he spoke my name." Her voice dropped to a mortified whisper. "I am sorry. I am not usually insensible or rash, but I cannot go on wondering if he will ever return. This time I need to know for certain. Perhaps not all hope is lost."

"My passionate heart was pierced," Fanny declared. Her eyes were as shiny as their visitor's.

Sophia was not impressed with such a display and she silenced her with her hand. "Fanny…"

"What was that?" Admiral Croft bemusedly asked Captain Harville.

"Fanny is up to something," the latter replied with a shake of his head. "I do not know of an old school friend. I am sure she had a few, but she has not to my knowledge invited them here and she cannot possibly do so without asking your permission."

"She can, because she did." There was one in their blue drawing room at present.

"I hope Sophia will say something about it."

"About one girl? I think not." He was not sure Sophia or he would have anything to say about it. Perhaps he trusted the good sense and manners of his guests. They would be reasonable.

"But what with Frederick being ill…this is hardly a good time to be inviting friends," Captain Harville protested.

It had been difficult enough to get the Harvilles to accept the invitation, the admiral remembered. Harville had his pride as well. He would rather be poor than be a burden. Although Harville would invite all of them and their friends, he had trouble being a guest elsewhere. Telling him his sister could do with a little fun might not be received well, since it implied he had no money to provide her with any. "We shall see," he said therefore. "Leave it to Sophia."

Posted on Thursday, 2 August 2007

Chapter Twelve

"May I see him?" Anne felt it to be a hopeless request and she was not sure why Mrs Croft honoured it, but the lady simply nodded and took her by the arm. Miss Harville was sent away as if she were a little girl, but she gave Anne a sort of helpless grimace that indicated she would like to talk to her later.

Anne was not yet over her mortification. "I did not mean to impose on you unannounced. I assumed Miss Harville had settled everything with her hosts. It never occurred to me that you might not know." She did not blame Miss Harville, who had acted in perfect goodness, if not in perfect openness.

It was as if Mrs Croft had not even heard her, because she looked aside wistfully. "Engaged? What happened?"

"I was nineteen. My father would not give me any money and Frederick had none. My godmother persuaded me that it would be better if I broke off the engagement. I thought it was for the best, but it has not made me happy. I hoped --" She swallowed at the painful memory and the uncertainty about Mrs Croft's opinion. She might well side with her brother without any regard for the circumstances. "-- he would return for me after I had read he made a fortune, but he did not. He was very angry when we parted."

"He has never spoken of it," said his sister. "But to Frederick, who has been successful in any thing he undertook, this must have been a blow. I can see why he would not gladly speak of it, but why did he not return?"

"He would have been successful two years later," Anne said sadly. "I had by then long realised what I had given up. I supposed he did not love me anymore, but I could not forget him so easily. I still love him. When I heard he mentioned my name, my hope returned."

"You speak very calmly."

Anne gave her a weak smile. "I have practised this over and over again on my journey hither. I did not know which explanations were required precisely and I preferred to think of explanations than of his condition. Miss Harville seems to know something of our past, but I do not know how much. Some explanations were evidently required."

"Miss Harville is a clever girl," said Mrs Croft and she looked a little hurt. "But how could she know anything, if I, as his sister, did not?"

Anne could not answer that, but she could say something else. "When I knew him, he was very fond of you." She had not remembered everything he had said about his sister, but the general impression had remained. Now that she could judge for herself, Mrs Croft seemed as agreeable and sensible as her countenance indicated. Anne had thought she was only a few years older than Frederick, but she looked older than expected.

"Still he never told me."

They walked in silence for a few moments. "I do not want to inspire sympathy or compassion," said Anne. "And I do not want to impose on you by having arrived without notice. I shall look at him, if you allow, and then leave. Miss Harville did not write of it, but I could not be certain he does not have a wife."

"He does not."

Anne was grateful, but to what or whom she could not say. They met a gentleman in the corridor who looked at her curiously.

"Sophy…" he said to Mrs Croft.

"Yes, my dear," she replied in a mild voice. "I shall be with you after I have taken Miss Elliot to see Frederick."

"Miss Elliot," he said with a bow, although quite clearly he understood nothing.

After such an intimate way of addressing him Anne could only think he was Mrs Croft's husband, Admiral Croft. She knew his sister was married to a rear admiral of the white who had been in the Trafalgar action as a captain. He had since then been stationed in the East Indies.

She could list all these facts if she was asked, not to mention the names of the ships he had been on, but as all this information came to her in a flash, she felt embarrassed by having the knowledge. How could she explain that she had followed his movements as well as Frederick's simply because he was married to Frederick's sister?

Anne curtseyed and could not keep herself from addressing him as he deserved. He seemed a nice man. "Admiral."

"She knows me," he said in surprise. "Tell me about that later, Sophy."

"Yes, darling." She waited until he had passed. "How did you know?"

"Navy List. Newspapers. Frederick," Anne mumbled. Mrs Croft's inquisitive stare made her blush. It was made worse by the hint of surprised approval, of which she could yet not be certain.

Mrs Croft opened a door. She led Anne into an antechamber where a maid was working and through there into a bedchamber. There was a woman sitting by the bed. She got up when they entered. It was not a servant and Anne was glad Mrs Croft had just said that Frederick had no wife. The woman was young enough, perhaps her own age, and expecting a child.

Had she found a wife here, in such a condition, she would have gone away and not given her any pain. It would pain the wife as much as it would pain her, yet the wife would not deserve it. Anne was glad there was none.

"This is Mrs Harville," Mrs Croft explained in a very low voice. "She and I have been taking turns sitting here. Fiona, this is Miss Elliot. She -- I shall explain it to you outside." They retreated and left Anne alone.

This surprised her. She needed a few moments to adjust herself to Mrs Croft's unusual kindness. That she was allowed to look at Frederick was one thing, but she had certainly never expected to be left alone with him.

After a few moments she dared to look at the bed. She recognised him. He had changed very little if one did not count the consequences of his illness. She supposed, at least, that he would normally shave. His face was not pale and sickly, but it was reddish. So was his sister's and it might therefore not be due to his fever. His eyes were closed. He did not see her and he did not wake.

Seeing him so powerless and incapacitated almost made her cry. She knew at the same time that she could not be powerless and incapacitated, but that she wanted -- no, must -- do everything in her power to make him better. Although her feelings had overwhelmed her initially, soon they settled into something calmer and more determined.

She approached the bed, but dared not speak. What if he woke and became angry with her? Yet she had come here to offer her apologies and if she left without doing so, she would regret it. No, she must go through with this. She touched his hand, softly, but he did not move. "Frederick? She whispered. Perhaps he was not ready to wake. "Frederick? Can you hear me?"

She stood there a long while until he stirred. His eyes opened, but she was not sure he saw clearly.

"Thirsty," he said, sounding as if he would rather not speak. It seemed to cost him trouble.

Anne glanced around, eager to help. There was a glass on the table and she gave it to him. She had to hold it for him, because his grip was weak.

He emptied it. "More."

"Yes, yes, just a minute," she said anxiously, looking around the room. There was no jug anywhere. She opened the door to the antechamber. "He asks for water and the glass is empty."

The maid handed her a jug. "I am sorry, madam. I had not yet brought it in."

Anne went back into the room before Mrs Croft could say anything. She refilled the glass and wanted to put it to Frederick's lips, but he was asleep again. She did not have the heart to wake him and whispered. "I am sorry. Frederick, I am sorry. I should have maintained our engagement. You may not forgive me, but I wanted to let you know that I love you and that I always will."

She felt foolish speaking such words to someone who could not hear her and she left the room. Mrs Croft and Mrs Harville sat waiting in the antechamber. She wondered how long they would have sat there and if they would at some point have got her out. "I had my chance, I suppose, although he could not hear me. I am very grateful that you would give me the opportunity to see him and to speak to him, even though --" her voice faltered a little. "-- he did not hear me. Perhaps if he wakes you could tell him I was here. I shall take a room in the village and await the morning so I can travel home."

"You will do no such thing," spoke Mrs Croft in a decided voice.

Anne felt a little desperate. "But I stole my father's carriage."

"Is that stealing?"

"I took my father's carriage without his permission."

Mrs Croft gave an inquisitive little shrug. Seemingly asking permission to use a carriage was something she considered ridiculous.

"I practically stole it and he -- he does not walk." He would be angry enough at having to do without his carriage for a few days. She could not possibly prolong the inconvenience by keeping it away longer.

"Is he an invalid?"

"No, he is…" Anne considered it. "A baronet."

"My dear girl! A baronet!" Mrs Croft was astonished. "And he cannot walk, yet you took his carriage without his permission? But -- but if he does not walk, he never would have given that permission!"

Anne faltered at such logic. "This was important. But now I must return home. My father will be angry with me. The carriage will be needed." She did not want to leave Frederick, but she must. She had seen him and there was nothing more she could do now.

"Send the carriage home."

"But what shall I do?" Anne did not understand what she could mean. It seemed she was not yet allowed to leave, but she did not see why. Mrs Croft could not know how she felt.

"You will remain here until you are satisfied. I do not think you are yet."

"No, but…" She did not know what to respond. "I had not counted on…this."

Mrs Croft rose. "Neither had we. I have just conferred with Fiona and we think it is best that you stay."

Anne thought of it only now, when Mrs Harville rose gingerly. "Forgive me for saying so, Mrs Harville," she said a little anxiously, not knowing how her words would be received. "But if you are expecting a child you should stay out of the sick room. Could Mrs Croft not do it alone?"

"You would tell me to stay out of there as well," Mrs Croft said wryly. "Do you propose we let Fanny do it?"

"I can do it," Anne said bravely, her heart beating in her throat. "I should do it gladly. I should be glad to be of use to Frederick. I have no other purpose."

"Have you any experience in a sick room?"

"My sister is always ill, but I should prefer to look after somebody who was truly ill. But I am a stranger to you and I should understand perfectly if you did not want to leave it to a stranger. An unmarried stranger," she added softly. What was she offering to do? She had not thought that through before she spoke. She had only thought of her need to help him.

"We had not thought of our children, but you are right. Frederick was our first concern. He ought to remain our first concern. You were engaged to him," Mrs Croft said thoughtfully. "I can have no objections to your sitting with him."

"Thank you. Do you have any other children?" Anne asked bashfully when she could think of nothing else to say other than a repetition of her thanks.

"No, I hope this will be my first."

"That is wonderful. Frederick always wished --" she broke off her sentence with a self-conscious look. She should not speak of him in such a manner. It was too presumptuous.

"What did he wish?"

"That you would have them."

"Did he wish that for me?" Mrs Croft seemed surprised, either that he had wished it or that he had shared that wish.

Anne nodded. "But what do I do now?"

"You go back in. Polly will be here if you need anything. I shall have a room prepared for you."

"A simple bed on the floor here will do," Anne said hastily. "But the coachman…"

Sophia saw her husband and stopped him. "Could you speak to Miss Elliot's coachman? She took her father's carriage without asking and she thinks he will be angry if it does not come home straightaway."

"That depends on where they live."

"I did not ask," she realised. "But of course it would make a difference if she took it for three hours or for three days -- although I cannot imagine she would travel for three days."

"To see Frederick? Why indeed? When you told me you were taking her to see him, I tried to imagine why. I assumed it was a local friend of Fanny's who had once met him, but it all remained very questionable." He had never known Sophia to have such patience with silly girls. "I can imagine that many girls would want a look at him, but why you condone it is incomprehensible."

"They were once engaged."

"Frederick was once engaged?" The admiral was incredulous.

"Yes. Could you discuss with the coachman whether it is best to send the carriage home without Miss Elliot? We can always send her home later. She thinks she should go home, but I think she does not want to."

"Where is she now?"

"With Frederick."

He could not believe his ears. "Sophia…"

"No, I am not out of my mind. She said it would not be good for the child if I spent any time in the sick room." She gave him a very persuasive look.

"Well, she is a sly one indeed," he spoke. "Very well. I shall speak to the coachman if you get that girl out of there."

Precious Pride ~ Section III

By Lise

Beginning, Previous Section, Section III, Next Section

Posted on Sunday, 5 August 2007

Chapter Thirteen

Anne took a seat and sat on it stiffly. Frederick was not awake. That was a relief when she still dreaded his reaction. Any second she expected him to wake and to send her away. Why had she come?

She reviewed her feelings upon receiving the letter. Its beginning had confused her, but the mention of the Crofts had given her a shock. It was too much of a coincidence to read their name and she had read on with trembling fingers, hoping to see his name as well.

It had come eventually, but it had brought even more of a shock. He was seriously ill. The letter did not devote many words to it, but it was a very odd letter. She did not know Miss Harville and she supposed someone -- Frederick himself? -- had told her her name and where she lived. Frederick could not have any knowledge of this letter, however. She did not think he did.

Why the letter was so odd she did not know. There was all that talk of being a school friend that was untrue and the mentions of friends a real school friend would not have cared for. Perhaps Miss Harville, who seemed as much a friend of Frederick's as her brother was, did not know if she was married. Indeed, suppose there had been a husband? An all too clear plea to visit a former beloved would have not been well received by him at all.

The poem had made her gasp. It was written in Frederick's hand and according to Miss Harville he had done so a few weeks ago. Only a few weeks ago he had still remembered her well enough to write about her, even if it ended rather strangely, making it appear as if it was not about her at all. But she had met him at dawn long ago, although he had never thrown a stick for her.

The letter was not what she had been hoping for all these years. She had been wishing for a communication directly from him, or better yet a visit, but by now she was perhaps happy with even a message from an intermediary. Miss Harville seemed to think he thought of her still. As uncertain as it was, it was better than nothing.

She had had to travel here, of course. There had been no doubt. He was ill and he might be made better if she visited. She could not let him die. Not all hope had been lost and she could not live without taking any action. Should this fail now, she would give him up forever, but at least she would have tried the one thing this Miss Harville seemed to think could cure Frederick.

As she sat here now, she wondered if she would have gone had she not had any desire to see him. She was here partly for selfish reasons. Suppose he had asked for her and she had not thought of him in years? What would she have done then?

Admiral Croft went into the servants' quarters to find Miss Elliot's coachman. Two men, far better dressed than his own servants, though hovering on the edge of foppiness, were seated behind steaming mugs and entertaining the maids. Upon the admiral's entrance, the maids dispersed with a busy air, which suited him well.

"Who is Miss Elliot's father?" he began. Obviously it was a gentleman who ensured his servants were well-dressed.

"Sir Walter Elliot, Admiral."

"Hmm." He sat down and helped himself to a mug. It made him think of his early days on board and he was not at all inclined to leave quickly. The mug was also much easier to hold than a dainty teacup. He reflected on the sir in Sir Walter Elliot. "Miss Elliot thinks he will be angry that his carriage disappeared."

"That is possible," the coachman agreed cautiously.

"Is she not allowed to take it?" And why did Sir Walter Elliot not have several carriages?

The coachman and the footman shared a look. "She is allowed to take it on short trips, but she has never travelled this far."

"Where does she live?"

"Somerset."

Admiral Croft raised his eyebrows. That was several days away. That this Sir Walter Elliot was going to be angry was very likely indeed. "Will he be angry with her or with you?"

The men shifted. "We have talked about it, to be sure, but Sir Walter would be angry in any case -- if we did not serve Miss Anne and if we did -- depending on the effect on him. I do not think he ever said to Miss Anne that she may not borrow the carriage, but Miss Anne is not her sister and as such she never claims the carriage for long trips."

"Miss Anne paid for proper rooms for us on the road," said the footman appreciatively.

"But as I was saying," the coachman continued. "Miss Anne never gave him any reason to think she might ever need a carriage."

"And Miss Anne being the paragon that she is, you would drive her everywhere," the admiral concluded. He took over their habit of referring to her as Miss Anne, albeit slightly mockingly. "My wife says Miss Anne must stay, but Miss Anne says the carriage must return as soon as possible. How will you defend yourselves without her help?"

They seemed more concerned about something else. "You cannot send a lady like Miss Anne home by post."

"I have a carriage." He would send Miss Elliot home in a proper manner, either in a carriage or with a manservant. "And what has Miss Anne come to do here?"

"Did she not say?"

"Perhaps she told my wife." What the girl said was not necessarily the entire truth. Sometimes better truths were obtained from the servants.

"She did not tell us," said the coachman. "So we cannot tell Sir Walter. If it is something a father may not know, however, it will be involving a gentleman. We have since we got here heard which one."

"You speak with such certainty. How often are you asked to convey Sir Walter's daughters to see gentlemen?"

"Never," he said with equal certainty. "Miss Anne would never do such a thing."

"I forgot that she was a paragon -- who is nevertheless doing such a thing now."

"We are here because she never does it," the man agreed. "She must have had a good reason. And she is certainly not meeting any gentlemen where she lives. She will never be married if she does not go beyond the next village."

This dubious logic gave the admiral pause. "And Lady Elliot?"

"She passed away almost fifteen years ago."

He wrapped his hands around his mug and stared at them unseeingly as he thought. Miss Elliot's situation seemed rather bleak, despite the splendid livery of Sir Walter's servants -- an inconsiderate father, no mother and a broken engagement. She had only made it more bleak by coming here.

"Where is Fanny?" Sophia asked. She had expected the girl to go here, but only Captain Harville was still seated where he was when Miss Elliot had arrived. Everyone else had left.

"Is she not with her school friend?" Captain Harville wondered. He briefly looked up from his work. "I must apologise for her action. She should not have invited anybody if she is nothing but a guest herself."

"Do not fear. I only have a few questions for her at present." While she was looking at him, she got another idea. He was a good friend of Frederick's and had been for a long time now. It was more likely that he knew anything than that Fanny did. "Did you know Frederick was engaged once?"

He waited a few seconds before he spoke. "I did."

She felt hurt again at having been left out of the secret. "What do you know?"

"That the girl's father was a baronet from Somersetshire."

She could vent her displeasure at not having been told, but she did not blame him for never having told her. One did not betray one's friends. A man would certainly not tell a woman about her brother's disappointments in love and she ought to keep that in mind. After an indignant sniff she therefore moved on to practical matters. "We now have a baronet's daughter upstairs."

Captain Harville sat up straight. "Are you saying Fanny's school friend was the girl she was asking me about a few days ago?"

"Yes, I suppose. I do not yet understand how she found her, though." She sat down. "Could you tell me what you know?"

"I only know what he once told me when he had had too much to drink. He did not mean to tell me as much as he did -- and it was very little. I never got anything out of him afterwards. That her father was a baronet from Somersetshire was all he revealed. At the particulars I can only guess. Although, given when this occurred, I can make a pretty good guess. Baronets would like more for their daughters than captains without money. It is understandable to some extent, but he took it very badly."

"That more or less fits with what she told me," Sophia mused.

"Why did she come? It was years ago."

"She loves him still. Fanny is all admiration."

"Yes. Fanny." Her brother sighed. "He took it badly. He was successful at sea because he had no particular wish to live. He took risks that sensible men would not have taken. This may not have been such a good plan of Fanny's."

"Fanny said something about him moaning the girl's name." If that was so, Frederick had not forgotten the girl, even if it was years ago and he had at first been so hurt that he would not have cared about his life. But he had lived and perhaps he had grown calmer. Nevertheless, Sophia's heart ached for all the pain he must have suffered and for the support she had not been able to give.

"That is exactly the sort of thing Fanny would like to hear," said Captain Harville. "She is too romantic for her own good. If she does not hear it, she will imagine hearing it. I say, if he loved her so much, he should have married her. Yet he did not."

Sophia agreed with him, though she was still in doubt. "I shall have to keep a close eye on things. He could have gone back when he had made some money. You and she both think he could have. He could have thought of that himself as well. She seems a good girl, perhaps a little too timid for him. I must have a word with her about this, because I cannot set up a girl for heartbreak."

"Admiral," Anne said respectfully when he entered the room.

He surveyed the action his entrance had interrupted. It looked rather improper. "What are you doing?"

"I noticed he had to be cleaned, Admiral," she said very quietly. He did not look as if had any sympathy for that, but perhaps he had simply not realised what she was doing. It had looked strange, perhaps.

"How would you notice that if you did not look first?"

Anne hesitated as she wondered how to phrase it. "One can smell." And then one looked.

Admiral Croft looked suspicious. He even sniffed. "Why do I not smell anything?"

She knew she was not lying and she could look him straight in the eye. "Because I have washed him, changed his sheets and opened the windows, Admiral."

The window was indeed open. He glanced back at the bed and then at Miss Elliot. She was not strong enough to lift a grown man. Not at all. Yet this was somewhat required to change his bed sheets. "Changed his sheets? Without help?"

"He can roll over if you tell him to."

"Roll, Frederick," he ordered, but there was no reaction. He had not thought there would be. The man was not awake.

"He listened to me," Anne said defensively. She had nudged him a little and he had moved to wherever she wanted him to move. It had made her task less difficult. "He was a little conscious."

He did not know how else she could have done it, yet there was a messy pile of sheets beside the bed, so he supposed he ought to believe her. "And you washed him."

"I did."

"If I am not mistaken, this requires…" He did not know how to say it delicately. She could have washed his face, but faces did not smell.

"Fortitude and experience with small children. I have nephews. Only…" she hesitated. It might seem indifferent of her to move on directly to another topic, but perhaps it was more politic to appear indifferent. She had not possessed quite as much fortitude as she ought and she might be sent away if they found out. "My nephews do not yet require shaving and I should really like to see him shaved."

Admiral Croft was astonished. "He is ill; he is not a fashion plate."

She would not be insulted, but returned his look with dignity. "I should like it all the same. Do you have a manservant, Admiral? Or does he?"

"For what does he need one?"

"To shave him."

He gave her a funny stare. "Does your father not shave himself?"

"His manservant does." Anne wondered who shaved the admiral. It sounded as if he did not have a manservant at all, yet he was clean-shaven.

"Erm," he said, but his face spoke volumes. "And you insist on seeing Frederick shaved?"

"Please."

Posted on Wednesday, 8 August 2007

Chapter Fourteen

Fanny had hidden in the nursery after Sophia sent her away. She might be found in her own room and this one was at least near enough to Frederick's. Lucy and Freddy knew nothing about Miss Elliot and they did not care either. They were only all too glad for the distraction, keeping Fanny so busy that she could not even peek out of the room, let alone go to the sickroom to see if she could have a word with Miss Elliot.

When her sister-in-law arrived in the nursery, Fanny began her interrogation. Fiona had been with Frederick, but evidently someone else was there now. "Where did Sophia take Miss Elliot? Were you not supposed to be with Frederick? Did Sophia take her there?"

"Easy, easy!" Fiona smiled. She first lifted up her youngest for a cuddle.

"What happened?" Fanny was too anxious. "Is she now with Frederick? You cannot have prevented it."

Her sister-in-law was unfazed. She was rather shy as a rule, but she knew that was not what was meant. "Fanny, sweetie, are you still not reconciled to my dubious ancestry?"

"You do not even know what you are," Fanny said with a heightened colour. She had not intended any slight towards Fiona's parents, but it was a fact that they had not exactly belonged to the gentry, nor to any country in particular.

"On the contrary. I am the mother of these children and the wife of your brother." It was all the allegiance she needed to feel, although perhaps she had some loyalty towards the Navy as well, considering her husband's friends her extended family.

"I meant that you do not even think you are English! Or Irish! Or Scottish! But even that is not what I meant."

"I also have some French blood," Fiona supplied helpfully. "And no English blood at all. But I do not see why it should play any role in this case."

Fanny felt uncomfortable. "Well, growing up where you did and as you did, you cannot have had any objections to leaving Miss Elliot with Frederick. That is what I meant. I did not mean it slightingly, because I very much want her to be left with him."

"It was a very respectable tavern in which I grew up."

She was not going to argue about the respectability of a tavern she had never seen. "But is she with him or not?"

"It was Sophia's idea to leave her with him, because Sophia is very…" Fiona considered it. "Kind? And of course she is terrified of losing her child and your friend Miss Elliot very politely told us it was not good for us to be in a sickroom."

"I do not suppose it is, but Sophia -- did Miss Elliot ask to stay?"

"No, Sophia told her to stay. Despite my unrespectable upbringing and ancestry I did not influence Sophia at all." She smiled. "She is very capable of making improper decisions on her own, you know."

"I meant no slight," Fanny said unhappily. She did not want to upset her sister, even if Fiona remained calm. "I was merely hoping you would help."

"I did not dissuade her, so perhaps you would call that help. Fanny, if you are trying to run a respectable tavern…"

"I have never wanted to try."

Her dignified manner turned her sister into a tease. "Benwick might want to run one if the peace goes on long enough. He might like your assistance in that case."

"I should talk him out of it!" Fanny cried. "But do you not think that the presence of a beloved can make a man better when a mere nurse cannot?"

"Only if she is a good nurse as well as a beloved. Is that why you sent for her?"

"Yes, of course." Fanny thought it was obvious.

"What took you so long?" Sophia inquired of her husband. She thought he had only gone to speak to the coachman.

"When I could not find Miss Elliot, I went up to Frederick's room -- from where you had still not banned her, my dear, even though I told you so -- to tell her that her carriage will be going home tomorrow. She asked me to shave Frederick," he said solemnly, but he was quite clearly suppressing his laughter. "How long had she been in there alone? An hour? Well, when I appeared she had already managed to wash him from head to toe, only the stubble gave her pause."

"From head to toe?" Sophia cried. She wondered if she had done wrong in leaving the woman with Frederick. There had been no talk of undressing or washing him.

He nodded. "Indeed. And should I add she changed his bed sheets as well? I wondered how such a slight girl managed, but she replied that Frederick was not unconscious. I, by the way, noticed no signs of awareness while I was shaving him."

"But from head to toe?"

"Apparently having very small nephews prepares one adequately for that." He shrugged. "Leave the girl, Sophia. She looked quite pale and sickly when she arrived, but she already looks different now."

"But you wanted me to send her out of the room!" His change of heart confused her.

"Yes, I changed my mind. Leave her there. She is certainly never going to be married if she does not go beyond the next village, says her coachman. Tell me how she knew me. She may be from Somerset as well, but I did not think I was so very famous at home."

"She was engaged to Frederick. I assume he told her that I was his sister. She reads the newspapers and such," she said hurriedly. Other things were more important. "But my dear, if she could ask you to shave Frederick, why did she not ask you to wash him?"

He wrinkled his nose and blessed his good escape. "Perhaps she knew that we men are not cut out for that sort of thing."

She knew of what he spoke, since she had tried to get him to help her the week before. "That -- and her being from Somerset -- reconciled you to her being in his room?"

"I am a simple man, my dear," he grinned.

"Miss Elliot?"

Anne had heard the door open and she had turned around. Mrs Croft remained on the threshold, so she approached her. "Yes, Mrs Croft?"

Mrs Croft looked uncomfortable. "I heard what you did and I do not think…"

Anne coloured. She knew exactly what was meant. "Under ordinary circumstances I should never have done such a thing, but I cannot leave a man to perish because he is not a pretty sight when his clothes are off."

Sophia's heart skipped a beat as she had visions of scars, remnants of vicious wounds that had given her poor little brother pain. "Has he been wounded in battle? He never told us."

"No, I did not see signs of a wound. Men are never a pretty sight, I suspect, wounded or not, but I could not tell the admiral so. The admiral is a man himself and he might feel offended. The admiral may think I coldheartedly undressed him, but in truth I was having some trouble being cold-hearted."

"The admiral," she repeated foolishly. "What did he say?"

"He said nothing about the washing when I explained why it was necessary, Mrs Croft." Anne grew a little more confident. "I did not tell the admiral that I fabricated a sort of napkin to keep the sheets clean next time."

"You should have," Mrs Croft said after some hesitation.

"I should have?"

"That is just the sort of thing that would amuse him."

"But it is not amusing," Anne protested. She had done it because it was practical, although any victim of such practicality would object. He was not a baby.

"We had best not tell Frederick when he recovers, I agree."

"I do not know if he noticed…" She had first kept looking at him to see if he would wake, but he had not. Eventually she had turned towards the window and she had been looking out on the park, turning only when she heard a sound. Even that had become less when she had begun to recognise certain sounds as innocent.

"If he did not protest, he did not."

Anne was silent until she remembered what she had wanted to ask. "May I speak with Miss Harville?"

"Miss Harville will not be allowed in here," Mrs Croft said warningly. "You will have to leave the room to speak with Fanny, but she is hiding herself. The room I have had prepared for you is the last door on the right."

"Thank you," Anne replied, but she did not think she would make any use of it. There was a perfectly usable sofa in here.

Mrs Croft seemed to guess her thoughts. "You may wish to change your clothes in there and not in here. You must know that I am too tired to have a very proper opinion on your staying here. I only want him to get better. Once he is better he can resolve the engagement pains with you. What if he will be angry with you?"

Anne tensed. She had asked herself that same question about a hundred times. "I have wondered, but I had to take the risk. Is knowing he is angry not better than not knowing anything at all?"

Mrs Croft gave a slight nod.

"I never really wanted to consider this part of my life finished, so when I received Miss Harville's letter I knew I must finish it, one way or the other. It would be no less painful than not knowing."

"I suppose…" She looked doubtful. "Did my husband speak to you about your carriage?"

"Yes, he did. He said he would include a note for my father to explain where I am, not what I am doing here." She must be grateful to Admiral Croft for his consideration and kindness in being willing to write a misleading note.

"It is indeed best not apprise your father of your improper activities here."

"Do you disapprove?" Anne was a little afraid. It would be very bad for future family relations if Frederick's sister were highly disapproving of her -- if there were going to be future family relations in the first place.

Mrs Croft sighed. "I sometimes believe the end justifies the means. Sometimes."

Anne had been summoned -- she could only call it that -- to dinner along with the other occupants of the house. Surprisingly being among people who knew her story was not as uncomfortable as she had imagined it would be. She supposed, at least, that all would know why she was here by now, as one of them must have told Captain Harville.

Mrs Croft had given her fifteen minutes to change her clothes in her own room and the lady had been very punctual in collecting her from there. Fifteen minutes were enough for Anne, but they certainly would not have sufficed for Elizabeth, she thought, but then, her sister would never had got herself into a situation like this.

It had not only been Mrs Croft who escorted her downstairs, but also the admiral. Anne had felt like a prisoner, being made to walk in the middle. They had assured her that Frederick would not die during this hour of her absence, but they were evidently not sure she was voluntarily accompanying them to dinner. She had indeed said she was not hungry, but that had not been entirely truthful. At present she felt too many worries about Frederick to feel whether she wanted to eat, but should she not eat now, she would feel very hungry later on.

She was inclined to think the Crofts very kind. They could of course only treat her with some reserve because they did not know her, but they had done so with much less reserve than she would have expected.

The admiral had been very obliging, shaving Frederick and showing her how to do so, even if the sharpness of the knife would not entice her to try it on her own. He had furthermore teased her a little about young ladies' preferences for tidy appearances.

Mrs Croft, for her part, had allowed her to stay with Frederick. That she had come upstairs to inquire about the washing had merely been a matter of form, because after having been so proper as to make a comment on it, she had abandoned the subject altogether.

At the dinner table she had been made to sit to the admiral's right, across from Miss Harville. This at least offered her the opportunity to study the young lady more closely, although she wanted to study all of them more closely. These were Frederick's family and friends, and good friends they were. They were very concerned for him and they had so far treated her very kindly, even if she had so far not done anything to deserve it. Coming here could easily have made her the object of ridicule in other company.

Captain Harville addressed her suddenly. "Were you ever acquainted with Mr Wentworth?"

She was startled, as she had not expected him to be the first to say anything. "H-H-His brother?"

"Yes, Edward."

"Yes, he was the curate of Monkford for a while, which is near us." That, she supposed, explained adequately how she had met Frederick.

This had a surprising effect on Mrs Croft. Her dark eyes flashed indignantly and she nearly rose from her chair. "Did he know? He must have known!"

"Flog him!" the admiral remarked in a tone of perfect unconcern.

"James, do not be so cool!" she chided. "They all knew and nobody told me. But before I get James to flog him, Miss Elliot, did Edward really know?"

Anne looked uncomfortable. Mr Wentworth had been an amiable man and not one she would like to get into trouble because of something she said. "Before I say anything," she said to the admiral, "would you really?"

"He knew," he deduced.

"He knew and he did not stop the travesty!" cried Mrs Croft. "Had I been there in his stead…"

"Yes, my dear, but you were not."

This silenced Mrs Croft, although she was silently fuming and obviously composing an irate letter to her other brother in her mind.

Anne hoped nobody would now speculate on how differently it might have gone; she had done so often enough and it was no use. Her sad face possibly alerted Mrs Croft, for the lady kindly apologised and said it was not her intention to have anybody flogged at all.

"She loves them too much," the admiral nodded. "Besides, they are stronger. Even Edward, though a clergyman, is probably stronger than his sister."

Miss Harville had been listening in concern. "I am truly sorry for throwing you into this kind of company. It is all my fault."

"I am glad I came. I did not expect it to be easy," Anne replied. It was not easy to sit with Frederick and to change his clothes; perhaps it was easier to sit here with his family and friends. They did not blame her for not having told them, at least.

Posted on Saturday, 11 August 2007

Chapter Fifteen

After the first awkward beginning, Anne felt rather comfortable at dinner. For a while people left her alone and then Miss Harville took it upon herself to ask a little about her family. "Did you get in any trouble with your family over my letter? I tried to word it very carefully."

"Very carefully indeed," Anne smiled. Miss Harville was fortunate that she had understood it at all. "But nobody has any interest in the mail I receive. I am more likely to get into trouble because I stole the carriage."

Miss Harville gasped. "Whose?"

"My father's," she said gravely. She was still worried about his reaction, but there was nothing she could do about it anymore. The carriage was going home in the morning, so he would have it back very soon. That she was not in it would not matter very much to her father, she believed.

"But that is not stealing."

"My father may not agree with you."

"Did you drive it yourself?" Miss Harville looked impressed. "It cannot be difficult in itself, except for people's comments."

Anne could not imagine herself driving the carriage on her own. The idea drew an involuntary smile. What would she have done if she had not succeeded in persuading the coachman? Thankfully she had not had to contemplate that. "No, I stole the coachman and a footman along with it."

After she had spoken she hoped she did not sound too impertinent and indifferent. It was unlike her. She had really not so coldheartedly decided to take the carriage, but it had in fact cost her a great deal of distress. She had never done such a bold thing before and her uncertainty had only been made worse by the absolute necessity of succeeding.

"Miss Elliot steals in style," Admiral Croft declared. "Were they your father's coachman and footman or did you procure them elsewhere because of their pretty livery?"

"I did not know they had a pretty livery." She tried to remember what it looked like. Perhaps it was indeed pretty. Her father did want his servants to make a good impression.

"Was the poem about you?" Miss Harville asked in a whisper.

Anne self-consciously glanced at Admiral Croft, who could hear every word. He might wonder which poem and he might ask and then she might have to produce it, hidden as it was in one of her pockets.

"Uncle James is deaf to female conversation," Miss Harville assured her. "And he dislikes poems. Was it about you?"

After another glance at the admiral, who was making a show of not listening, she decided to answer. "I cannot be sure, but I think it was. Except for the last lines."

"I knew it!" Miss Harville said triumphantly. "It was so romantic."

"Was it?" Anne was a little surprised, because the last two lines especially had been as unromantic as could be. They changed the direction of the poem completely.

"Please," said the admiral. "No talk of romance right in front of me and certainly no talk of romantic poems. I am not as deaf as that. And I am not your uncle, Fanny."

Miss Harville gave him her most flattering look. "You are much nicer than my uncle."

"I am not so nice as to want to listen to talk of romance."

"You cannot be as unromantic as you pretend to be. Because you are married and Sophia behaves very nicely to you." She looked towards the other end of the table at Mrs Croft, who had not heard their conversation.

Admiral Croft smiled. "Perhaps that is because Sophia is very nice. You must give her all the credit for behaving nicely to me."

"What is that?" Mrs Croft asked from the other end of the table.

"Fanny thinks you behave nicely to me."

"I behave as you deserve."

"That is what I call romantic," Miss Harville declared with a passionate look.

The admiral looked as if he very much abhorred behaving in a romantic fashion. "Miss Elliot, let us talk of sensible matters. Our native county. Do you know of any nice houses there? We could not find any when we looked and we therefore took this one."

When Anne returned to Frederick's room, she was relieved to find him still alive. Mrs Croft, who had accompanied her, was equally relieved. Anne asked her if there was anything particular she needed to do during the night, but the answer was simple.

"Sleep," said Mrs Croft. "I suspect you will not go to your room. I slept on the sofa when I was here." Her facial expression became a little funny. "Now I see why my husband was so quickly won over to this plan, though he told me it was because you are both from Somerset."

"Is that not reason enough?" Anne smiled. She would not question the admiral's ulterior motives, if he had had any at all. His reason for allowing her to stay had hopefully more to do with her competence.

"I cannot stand here forever," Miss Croft decided with a sigh. "Good night."

When Mrs Croft hesitated nevertheless, Anne felt she was perhaps still a trifle worried about her brother and leaving him in the care of a stranger for so many hours at a stretch. "Where is your room so I can call you if necessary?"

"By the table with the large vase. You may disturb me at all times. I would rather be disturbed than have him get worse without knowing."

"I will call you," Anne promised. "I understand. I am not here to keep him to myself. Before I came I did not think of doing this and when I offered my assistance, I only did so because it would be better for you. I would never have been so presumptuous as to --"

"I know and I am very tired, but if I do it, I know at least that I am doing everything in my power."

"You are not failing him by getting some rest," Anne said softly.

"He should have been better already. Perhaps I have failed him." Mrs Croft almost wept.

Anne realised his sister was more concerned than she had let on before. She had then been calm and strong. "He will recover."

"How do you know?"

She did not. "It is what we must think. I shall tell him he must."

Fanny thought Miss Elliot was different from what she had expected, although of course she was still quite the thing for Frederick. She imagined them embracing at dawn. Miss Elliot was probably not one to complain about the early hour. She did seem proper and well-mannered, yet she might not have objected to a kiss. Fanny considered herself very proper and well-mannered as well, and she never objected either. She, however, had been engaged for several years now and kisses seemed to last longer each time she met Jimmy.

Thomas had been very silly to her, scolding her for inviting Miss Elliot. She had shrugged him off, since neither Sophia nor the admiral had said anything to her about it at all and it was their house. Her brother did not have to be afraid of anything.

She hoped Fiona would speak to him, but very likely Fiona would not think of it at all. She had three children to see to at bedtime and by the time she had kissed them all goodnight she would be exhausted. There would be no opportunity to defend Fanny's cause.

Tomorrow morning she would ride to Longbourn to tell Elizabeth that Miss Elliot had arrived. During the past few days she had not had the opportunity to go there. She wondered how long it would take for Frederick to benefit from Miss Elliot's loving presence. Could she slip away tomorrow without missing anything?

After having debated this for a while she supposed she could, if she went early enough. She did not want to be away when he woke. He might be surprised to see Miss Elliot. It would be odd if he was not. He might therefore not propose instantly. She would be back from Longbourn before he did.

Frederick was indeed still very far from proposing. He was even very far from noticing very much or even holding a conversation. If he noticed anybody by his bedside at all, he did not acknowledge it.

Anne therefore felt at liberty to slip into her nightgown. She checked once more if his shirt was dry, if the jugs and buckets were full of water, and if the maid was not leaving the antechamber. Then she lay down on the sofa.

A few seconds later she got up when she realised she had not spoken to him at all. It was difficult to do when one was not used to it and when one's patient did not appear to be listening. However, it could do more good than harm. She approached the bed and took his hand. "Good night, Frederick." When he did not stir, she almost pressed a kiss to his forehead, but she was not certain her lips touched his skin. "I am here. You will get better. You must. For your sister, for her child, for me."

Then, despite her worries, she slept rather well, knowing she was at last in a position where she might do something and having drawn the sofa very close to the bed, she could not fail to hear the slightest change in Frederick's breathing.

Posted on Tuesday, 14 August 2007

Chapter Sixteen

When it was still dark Anne was woken by a clattering chamber pot. She sat up with a start and got her legs tangled in the blanket in her haste to leave the bed to see why the pot had fallen over. There was a weakly uttered but colourful curse that gave her pause and then a thud on the pillow.

"Yes?" she said anxiously as she approached the bed. The single candle still burning did not illuminate much. If he could curse, he must be awake. It filled her with dread. "Frederick?"

His eyes were closed and he had fallen back onto his pillow after an apparently fruitless and exhausting attempt to reach the chamber pot. "Pot."

"L-L-Let me help you." She stuttered at first, but soon she grew more assured. This was like her little nephews. It must be treated similarly. She had managed yesterday and she would manage now.

After this episode Frederick slept on, but she did not. He had not recognised her. He had not even seemed to care who was with him. She was glad that he did not yet seem very aware. This was not a good moment to notice her. She would prefer his first conscious words to her to be something other than a curse or a request to hand him the pot. He would undoubtedly agree. He would not want to be caught saying either thing to a lady, or so she hoped. As long as she was not yet entirely comfortable here in this room and with these tasks, his unawareness was still a relief of sorts.

His shirt was soaked again and she changed it. The dirty linen and water she placed in the room where the maid was still sleeping. Because Polly had worked hard, Anne did not yet wake her. She returned to Frederick's room and tried to sleep some more.

When this did not prove successful, she peeked out after a while and Polly woke. "Oh, madam!" said the maid when she perceived the pile. "You have been busy already."

"Yes, a bit. I should like some new water and some sort of broth. Is Cook up?" Anne put in a few more requests. Then she had nothing more to do and she brushed her hair. Twice she was alarmed by sounds from the bed, but it turned out to be nothing.

Miss Elliot appeared not to have stirred from Frederick's room all night. The maid who posted in the antechamber confirmed that. Since Miss Elliot had arrived, she had been sent for water, for a chamber pot, for clean linen, for a broth and she could not remember what else.

"A demanding lady, is she?" Sophia was bemused. Miss Elliot was certainly taking her task seriously and she appeared to be rather competent. Nothing she had asked for seemed to have been for herself. Yesterday evening she had not even wanted to eat her dinner.

"No, Mrs Croft. She is very polite, but she insists we wash our hands after every thing and all towels are to be boiled and such. I am to see to it myself."

"Thorough," she said, but she approved. She felt a little guilty for not having been quite as thorough, but of course Frederick had not been the only thing on her mind. Miss Elliot could afford to be thorough, not having a husband and an unborn child and guests. "Would you call her for me?"

"Yes, madam." The maid went into the room and soft voices could be heard.

A moment later Miss Elliot emerged. She looked even more tired than yesterday and Sophia wondered why James had said she already looked better. She did not. "You look tired."

"It is nothing," Miss Elliot said dismissively. "I merely woke early."

"How is he?"

There was a slight smile. "He did not die in my care."

"I am glad." Sophia blushed a little, although she hoped it was invisible in the bad light. She had of course come to check on that and she had put off her visit until a more reasonable hour, not directly when she had woken. James had not allowed it. He had nevertheless not been able to stop her from going here in her nightgown, something Miss Elliot had undoubtedly noticed and interpreted correctly.

"His condition is not changed," Miss Elliot said warningly. "Not worse, but not better either."

It had been like that for a while and she was used to it. Perhaps one of these days there would be an improvement. Meanwhile she ought to keep Miss Elliot in good health as well. "If you have even towels boiled, Miss Elliot, you ought to take a bath each day."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "But -- yes."

"And Polly. My husband will sit by the bed while you two take your bath." They had arrived at that arrangement as part of a compromise -- he had not really wanted to sit here, but she had really wanted to check on Miss Elliot much earlier.

The maid looked surprised. "Me? But it is not Saturday."

Anne was refreshed by the bath. It had been a very good idea and she was glad she had not protested. She was well-prepared for anything Admiral Croft would say when she returned.

"I smell something," said he.

She wondered how long he had been smelling it. Very likely he had waited for her to come back. She could not make any remarks on his reluctance to act, however. He was her host. "Will you or shall I?"

"You, you, you!"

She could not help making him think a little. "But what if you are out with your child before it is dry?"

He patted her shoulder. "You may laugh at me then."

"That implies that you will take action," she said, a little surprised. She would otherwise not laugh.

He gave her a surprised look in return. "What else could I do?"

Anne gave him a wide smile. "I am glad to hear it. I do not mean to influence you in any way, but my brother-in-law does nothing. He says he does not know how, so he refuses to do anything. And then his sons cry, unless someone else is with them."

"Sophia would have forced him. She forced me to do this last week."

As she worked, she thought about the admiral. He always seemed to be in good spirits and he had much more patience with girls than they deserved. Miss Harville's inviting a guest had not met with his disapproval. Said guest's improper behaviour had merely elicited a few questions and then, when he was satisfied, it was all approval. Frederick was fortunate to have such relatives. She was happy for him. "Is Frederick pleased that you married his sister?" she asked.

He was still there, watching and undoubtedly rejoicing in the fact that she was not making him do the work that in spite of everything had to be done. "Sophia and I are; good brothers then follow suit."

"Is he a good brother?"

"He is tolerable."

She hoped Frederick was not stealthily listening, but she believed he would make it known if they were speaking about him. "He must be a good friend as well if Miss Harville decided to risk disapproval by inviting me."

"He is a good friend -- and Fanny is of course very sympathetic to separated lovers."

Anne realised she did not yet know much about Miss Harville. She only knew what had been in the letter. At dinner there had not been much of an opportunity to ask anything. "How long has she been engaged?"

"A few years."

"A few years!" Anne echoed. She could have had that. Evidently there would have been chances of it turning out right. "Her family had no objections?"

"Do not think of that," the admiral advised when he saw her reaction. "I had practically no engagement and it turned out to be fine as well. It is impossible to tell in advance."

"But perhaps you had money."

He laughed softly. "No. Do not ask me, because it will only make you wonder what you could have done differently. That is not what you should do."

She knew it was not, but she had no idea how to suppress those thoughts and what she ought to do instead. "What should I do?"

"Help him. It will make you feel better because you are doing it yourself. Or does that reasoning only apply to Sophia?"

"She has come!" Fanny said, unable to contain her excitement. She was happy Elizabeth met her at the gate. There was nothing that stood in the way of her revelation. She did not have to be polite to the rest of the family first. "I did not think she would!"

Elizabeth set down her basket. Her work could wait. This news was far more exciting. "Tell me all about it!"

"Yesterday evening a Miss Elliot was announced. She is not at all what I had expected."

"No? But if she is Miss Elliot then at least she never married," she realised very quickly.

"She would not have come if she had married. Oh. But perhaps she is exactly what I had hoped nevertheless. She is so pale and thin. She must have been longing for him all these years." Fanny's affectionate heart burst with sympathy for the unhappy couple.

Elizabeth was less impressed with that than Fanny. "She has wasted away," she spoke dryly.

"Not entirely, but it has taken its toll on her, I think. She must love him as much as he loves her."

Her friend began to doubt. Captain Wentworth did not look as if he had wasted away. He looked very much like a strong, healthy and happy man. "Do we know for certain that he does? Perhaps we acted in haste. What did she say?"

"That she wanted to see him and say she was sorry."

"For what? Breaking her engagement?"

Fanny looked regretful. "She did not specify. Sophia took her upstairs and sent me away."

"The stranger -- to his room?"

"Why, yes. That is what she came for. I hid because I was afraid Sophia would take me to task for arranging it. She has not done so yet." She had slipped away very early, fearing Sophia might have put it off until today when they had more of an opportunity to be alone.

"You get all the fun," Elizabeth said a little sadly. "We get Mr Collins."

"Is he no fun? Oh, wait -- he is a clergyman. They are never fun." Fanny gave her a commiserating look.

"Will you come in to meet him?"

"Do tell him I am engaged. Although I would by no means steal a suitor of yours."

"You would have been welcome to him," Elizabeth said with a groan. "I fear he indeed thinks of himself as someone's suitor. But not mine, I beg you."

Mrs Bennet had been informed about a strange carriage that had passed through Meryton. Its driver had been so good as to ask Mrs Philips for directions to Netherfield Park, whereupon she had of course been impressed by the coat of arms on the vehicle and she had asked the coachman about his master. Mrs Philips had then been able to tell her sister that a Sir Walter Elliot was visiting Netherfield. Mrs Bennet's first reaction had been to ask if he was married, but to that question her sister could not give any answer and they could only speculate on what Sir Walter might be doing at Netherfield.

It was, however, not half as interesting as dissecting the character and appearance of Mr Bennet's cousin Mr Collins. Said gentleman had arrived the day before and he had so far answered very much to Mrs Bennet's wishes. To be sure, he could be richer and more handsome, but he behaved with perfect civility and great respect. He had even almost said literally that he meant to choose a bride from among the young ladies at Longbourn.

Now that Miss Harville was brought into the house, however, Mrs Bennet remembered Sir Walter and she immediately set to work discovering his business.

Posted on Friday, 17 August 2007

Chapter Seventeen

No matter how many times Elizabeth had suggested that Sir Walter himself needed not have been in that carriage, Mrs Bennet still believed that he had and even Elizabeth could not have been certain that the man had not accompanied his daughter. Perhaps he had travelled here to have a serious word with a dying captain.

Now that Fanny had come, she at least knew Miss Elliot had been inside that carriage, but Mrs Bennet did not yet know. "Did a Sir Walter Elliot come to Netherfield?" Mrs Bennet inquired, very greedy for news that would amaze her friends in Meryton.

Fanny was a little nonplussed. "Sir Walter? No, he did not."

"But his carriage did. Was it empty?"

"Oh, his carriage! It contained his daughter."

"His daughter!" exclaimed Mrs Bennet. "What has she come to do?"

"Mama!" said Jane in embarrassment. She was not the only embarrassed one, but the others would all like to hear the answer. Any new arrival was interesting, if only for a few moments.

"She is a friend of Mrs Croft's," Fanny fantasised. It might not be a lie; they might well be friends by now. Shared worries were always good for creating bonds.

Mrs Bennet was surprised. "I did not know Mrs Croft was so well-connected."

"An admiral is a fairly good connection," Elizabeth muttered. She shared a look with Fanny.

"Indeed, but she is attached to the admiral, not connected. And Sir Walter is but a baronet," Fanny said teasingly. "Though I heard from the admiral that Sir Walter's servants have pretty liveries."

"Why did you not bring Sir Walter's daughter?" Mrs Bennet asked. She would have liked to boast to Mrs Philips of having Sir Walter's daughter to tea, even if she had no interest in the woman as a person.

Another lie was inevitable. "She is with Mrs Croft."

That was very inconsiderate and Mrs Bennet was reassured by the fact that Sir Walter's daughter was at least not in Meryton visiting Mrs Philips. "We have a guest too, Miss Harville. His name is Mr Collins. A very pleasant young man. He will inherit this estate upon Mr Bennet's death, but he is very pleasant."

"Being pleasant is always a pleasant characteristic in a guest," Fanny said with a polite look.

She was forced to listen to information about Mr Collins, his living and his noble patroness. When the man himself came in, she expected a change of topic, but it was not to be. He was as proficient at speaking about himself as Mrs Bennet was. He was furthermore of the disposition to enjoy a young, female audience -- the more, the better.

Elizabeth took Fanny away as soon as she could. She sighed. "Pity us! He is not yet leaving! And I believe he means to leave with one of us, too!"

Fanny did not think the danger to her friend was very great and so she merely laughed. She could, when this was very likely the only exposure to this Mr Collins that she would have. "Who is Lady Catherine De Bourgh? I have never heard of her, but it seems I should have."

"You will never forget her now!" The two girls giggled and then Elizabeth remembered why Fanny had come. "What of Miss Elliot? What is she doing with Captain Wentworth?"

Fanny gave her a demure smile. "Let us not wonder…"

They giggled again, Elizabeth a little more shocked than Fanny. "I assure you I could not begin to wonder, because I am not engaged."

"Neither are they, so there will be nothing to wonder about."

When Captain Benwick was announced at Netherfield, the gentlemen's first thought was of Fanny, although Benwick himself lacked the courage to ask about her instantly. A servant was sent away to find her while Admiral Croft and Captain Harville greeted him.

The only ones who were found were the wives of the gentlemen, not Fanny. "She rode to Longbourn," said Fiona. Fanny had been so kind as to tell her that she could not play with the children.

He looked disappointed. "Longbourn? Where is that? When will she be back?"

"I do not know. She is hiding from Sophia."

"Why?"

"Yes, why?" Sophia echoed. She was genuinely surprised to hear it.

"She thinks you have been putting off reprimanding her," Fiona said gravely.

Benwick dreaded the answer, but he had to ask. "What did Fanny do?"

"Frederick is ill with a high fever," Sophia explained. "So she invited the woman to whom he was once engaged." This was too much news at once for him to speak. She therefore continued when she received no reaction. "And apparently she thinks I am now angry."

"Are you not?"

"No."

"But…" Benwick clearly needed more time to make sense of it all. Wentworth was ill. He was engaged. Fanny was meddling in it. "I did not know he was engaged. Is he very ill? Is that woman now here? And when will Fanny be back?" He hoped he did not sound too pitiful, but he longed to see and embrace her.

"Yes, that woman is here. Perhaps you should ride to Longbourn to get Fanny."

"I am tired." He had ridden day and night to see his Fanny and when he finally arrived she was out. He could not muster up the energy to get on a horse again and he sunk down onto a chair. He ought to go, because she would expect it.

"Besides," the admiral spoke. "You might miss her coming back. Men and women always have different notions of what is the quickest route."

"You must have something to eat first," Fiona said in concern.

Admiral Croft was amused. "I warn you, Benwick, there are two expectant mothers in the house and food is always the first solution to any problem."

Benwick did not look any less confused. "Fiona and…?"

"Well, you need not worry that it is Fanny."

"Wentworth's woman?" His eyes were large. Any man, he supposed, could make a mistake, even if he had never supposed it possible that such a thing could happen to Frederick Wentworth.

"You are teasing me," Sophia said incredulously. Was there not a more likely candidate in the house? She was at least married, if old.

"I cannot believe it of him, but perhaps it was her fault. I cannot even believe he is engaged." He rubbed his eyes in fatigue and offered his congratulations to the Harvilles.

"Perhaps, Jimmy," said Sophia. "You should not congratulate Miss Elliot, because she will have no idea of what you are speaking." It might even be a little insulting to her, given what she had been doing. Miss Elliot would not stoop to taking advantage of the situation in such a manner. She could not believe it.

There was something in her tone and perhaps in her figure that alerted Benwick. He jumped up in consternation. "Mrs Croft! It is you!"

"Why, yes. It is."

He turned red. "I had always thought -- please forgive me. I had always thought -- but this is very good. You are very good to children, as I well know." He offered his warmest congratulations to her as well. Despite his being a captain himself now, he still addressed his former captain's wife very respectfully, as he had done when he had been but a child himself.

Anne had slept a little. There had not been much to do. Frederick had slept as well, rather more quietly than the day before if she might tentatively think. Of course just as she was dwelling on that, he began to move more violently and this did not stop until she had cooled his brow. Then he drifted off into a calmer sleep again and she stood by the window.

She was just opening it to let in some fresh air when there was a loud scream from the park. A horse with a wildly squealing girl on it approached the house at a fairly high speed. At first she wondered if Miss Harville was injured, but the man who ran towards her could not have known that. She deduced they must know each other and it could therefore only be her captain, whose name she had forgotten.

The letter that contained his name was safely in her pocket along with the poem, but Anne could not tear her eyes away from the scene below. His name could wait. Miss Harville jumped off her horse and the pair gave a shocking demonstration. Anne could still not look away. She was embarrassed as well as amused, for Miss Harville was jumping about so wildly that she could hardly be kissed.

Anne turned away when Miss Harville calmed down sufficiently for an exchange of affections to take place. She had never been as unreserved as that herself, yet it brought back memories. Under Frederick's influence she had done much more than she had thought she dared. He had not been very reserved when they were alone, but while he had been an unreserved suitor, she had been an unreserved nurse.

She sat by his bed when she felt a sudden need to be near him. He could not do anything to her now, unreservedly or not. Though it was presumptuous of her to wonder if it helped, she rested her head on his chest.

When she woke again, surprised that she had dozed off, there was one hand on her hair. It had not been there before, but although her neck hurt from having lain in an odd position, she did not move.

"The Meryton surgeon is here," Sophia hurriedly said to her husband. She had just been informed of his arrival, but instead of going to him directly, she needed to speak to her husband first. "But Miss Elliot is with Frederick."

"Obviously a Miss Elliot cannot be with Frederick." He thought quickly and hit upon a solution. It was too easy. "She must be Mrs Wentworth."

She stared. "I was counting on your saying we must get her out of there as soon as possible or not show him up."

"If Miss Elliot wants to play Mrs Wentworth, she must also pass the surgeon test."

"She is not playing Mrs Wentworth and it is not a test! Besides, we have not called for this surgeon and I really do not think we should pay simply to have gossip spread. We sent for Mr Bateson last week and --"

The admiral laughed. He was still amused by the fact that it was his wife who preferred naval surgeons and not he, but it was of course her brother who was ill. It had cost more to send for Bateson than it would to pay this surgeon, too. "Perhaps he heard and he is offended. Very well. I shall speak to him. You speak to Miss Elliot."

Posted on Monday, 20 August 2007

Chapter Eighteen

Anne raised her head quickly when she heard voices in the outer room. She must not be found like this, lying half on Frederick. Her neck was sore, but the hand on her hair had made up for that discomfort. Now it no longer worked and she massaged her neck.

Mrs Croft appeared in the doorway not two seconds later. Anne joined her there, as she had done before.

Mrs Croft began speaking instantly and she had much to say. "We have had to tell the surgeon that you are Mrs Wentworth. We could otherwise not explain what you have been doing. He is not the surgeon who was here last week. We had sent for a naval surgeon then. We have not sent for this man and we have no inclination to pay his bill and my husband is telling him so, but perhaps if he promises not to send a bill he may have a look at Frederick. Evidently he is counting on our being so concerned as to admit him anyhow, which is a very underhand method to come by his money, if you ask me."

Anne would agree, although she was still dwelling on having been called Mrs Wentworth.

Frederick's sister continued speaking when there was no interruption. "So you are Mrs Wentworth if he comes to see you."

"Oh." It would be nice to be Mrs Wentworth, even if it was not true. It would be very nice indeed. It was also very nice that Mrs Croft could say so in a perfectly friendly manner.

"That requires the least explanations."

Perhaps with an incapacitated Captain Wentworth Mrs Wentworth had some power as well, despite not being real. Anne acknowledged that Mrs Croft held the true power, yet she could not tell the surgeon so. This matter must be settled beforehand, before any questions might arise. "Could I, if this surgeon suggests bleeding, tell him no? My book, you see, advises bleeding, but I am not fond of it and to be asking you in front of him would appear odd."

"Your book." Mrs Croft stared.

"I brought a book on medicine. I am no medic, but I do not think that taking so many fluids from the body would be beneficial in this case. I also should not like to see holes being made in Frederick," Anne added in an embarrassed whisper. That was of course a far more important consideration. She would not be able to bear seeing his life seep out of him.

It cost Mrs Croft some trouble to reply. "The naval surgeon did not bleed him for that very reason last week. Or was it the week before?"

Anne was hesitant. Reasoning sensibly she could only think of one reason, but even she was not reasoning sensibly. "The fluids or the holes?"

"The holes." She shuddered.

The discovery that Mrs Croft was possibly as silly as she was, was an astonishing one. Anne felt a smile creeping onto her face.

"Men have no patience for such reasons," Mrs Croft warned, but she smiled too.

"I thought even women did not." But she was infinitely glad that she had met one who did and who understood her.

"No holes in my husband and brothers. I hear them," she said hurriedly. "Stand your ground, Mrs Wentworth. You will be alone with him."

"But may I really…" Anne did not know what she wanted to ask precisely. The charade was only for the surgeon's benefit. She had not thought she would be given the power to make decisions on behalf of the patient, nor that she would be alone.

"You can call me if you are in doubt. I shall be next door."

The surgeon was a little miffed that the Crofts would refuse to pay any bill, or perhaps that they had accused him of having a tactic to come by his money. He nevertheless came upstairs to examine Frederick, asking Anne what she had done for him.

He called her Mrs Wentworth and did not seem to suspect that she was not. The first few times he used the appellation she froze and she could not resist anxious glances at the bed. Frederick might wake and ask who was passing herself off as Mrs Wentworth. Mrs Croft had not thought of that and Anne herself was sure she could only stammer if that came to pass.

But Frederick hardly stirred. He did not lie motionless in shock, nor did he jump up and cry out that he had no wife. He was simply as he had been before.

When Mrs Wentworth refused to have the patient bled, the surgeon became even more miffed.

"No," she repeated, knowing she had no good arguments to defend her opinion. He had better not ask her for any. "I do not want it."

"But Mrs Wentworth, you know nothing about medicine," he said in exasperation.

"I do not want it." Had she not just spoken to Mrs Croft, she might have given in, but now she stood her ground firmly. They were united in this. One person might be silly, but not two.

"He will die."

"I do not want it," was all she could say. She derived some strength from the fact that the naval surgeon had not bled him either and that he had not died. Frederick had lived for a week or more after not having been bled. He would not die now. She took his hand. "He will not die."

The surgeon, evidently extremely exasperated with her stupidity and unwillingness to listen and comply, left after having told her to do some things to the patient that she had already done. Anne could not help but feel a little smug. Perhaps she did know a little about medicine.

"Well?" Sophia was on the threshold not long after the surgeon had departed. She had been good and left him to James.

"He did not suspect me. He did not do anything I did not want -- we did not want."

She was relieved. "Thank you, Miss Elliot."

"Oh no." Miss Elliot would not hear of it. "You must thank the admiral, since he told the surgeon I was…Mrs Wentworth." She could barely say the name out loud.

"And what do you think of his condition?"

"Well…" She seemed to hesitate. "I should like to say he is improving, because I want him to be, but is he really? Am I not interpreting the slightest move as an improvement?"

Sophia felt instant hope. "What did he do?"

"He…moved his hand."

She was a little disappointed. "But he moves all the time."

Miss Elliot looked very uncomfortable. She even coloured. "Er…onto…er…me. I ought to think it a coincidence. It was."

"He never moved his hand onto me at all," Sophia said with a hopeful frown. It was of course possible that Miss Elliot had placed herself in a good position under his hand, but why would she do so?

Miss Elliot remembered something else. "And this morning he cursed."

Sophia's face lit up. "He has not spoken for days. I do not care that it was a curse. Do you?"

"I think I shall be able to forgive him."

"We had best not tell Fanny that his first words were not romantic." Fanny would not be able to believe it and it might actually be amusing to see her reaction.

"Would she still care? I saw from the window that…"

"Oh, did you? Her brother had a fit at that display, but we thought it was rather funny." Perhaps, given how hesitantly Miss Elliot spoke, she had also had a fit. "Perhaps you thought it was improper."

"No, I was very happy for her." There was a faint smile. "And slightly envious."

It was not until a good long time after arriving that Captain Benwick remembered Captain Wentworth and his condition, not to mention his engagement. "What of it?" he asked his Fanny, who was as near as she could possibly be. They were in one of the public rooms, so they could not be suspected of bad intentions. That nobody wanted to sit with them was not really their fault.

She turned large, innocent eyes on him. "He moaned her name. What could I do but send for her?"

"Indeed!"

Fanny beamed up at him. Here was the one person who understood her perfectly. "You think I did well?"

"You can never do wrong," he said warmly. "Because I love you."

She gave that the appropriate response and then continued speaking. "Thomas knew he was once engaged. Did you?"

"No, I did not."

"I am sure he loves her madly."

Benwick was more undecided about that. "I have often wondered if he could love a woman as much as his profession."

"He loves his profession because he could not love her. But there is nothing to love about his profession now, so he can love her completely." Fanny could imagine it completely and she looked very appreciative.

"Yes, well…" He looked hesitant.

"Do you not agree?"

"My darling, I agree with everything you say, unless you want us to wait a week or more so we can have a double wedding." He would speak up and disagree.

"Oh!" Her eyes brightened. "I -- but you do not want it."

"We should be married as soon as possible, Fanny. You cannot keep a man waiting, especially not a man who has just come from the sea. I spent all that time thinking of you and thinking of…you. A week would be much."

Chapter Nineteen

There were never any secrets in Meryton. It did not take long for Mrs Bennet to hear there was a Mrs Wentworth. The surgeon's wife, who had no daughters, was not personally affected by the discovery and she had no qualms about spreading the news that she had heard from her husband, who was quite unaware of it being news and who had merely vented his exasperation about such a stupid woman to his loose-lipped wife.

Such news naturally necessitated a conference with Mrs Philips, but they could not solve the problem. Captain Wentworth had been single before he fell ill. At last Mrs Philips hit upon the answer. "He is dying and she is with child!"

Elizabeth, who had been wondering silently along with them, rolled her eyes. Although she had not been able to come up with a good solution -- she would have shared it otherwise to end the discussion -- she was sure this was not it. She had thought of Miss Elliot, but why that lady would pass herself off as Mrs Wentworth to the surgeon was something she could not explain to her satisfaction. Admiral and Mrs Croft could not possibly condone it.

Mrs Bennet loved her sister's theory. It had the right mix of scandal and romance to appeal to her and she added special licences and local clergymen to the story. Who was most likely to have performed the office?

Elizabeth did not think Miss Elliot was with child. There had not been time. Miss Elliot and Mrs Wentworth might well be one and the same, but there had also not been enough time to make her a legitimate Mrs Wentworth. If necessary she could ask Mr Collins for the precise amount of time that was required to pass in that regard. Then she realised he would very likely think she wanted to marry him as soon as possible and she guffawed.

When her mother and her aunt cared only for embellishing the story, she realised she was on her own in wondering how Miss Elliot had come to be Mrs Wentworth, not to mention what the lady was doing in the captain's room being stupid and contradicting the surgeon. The latter amused Elizabeth greatly. Anyone who was not used to being contradicted deserved to be so and therefore she applauded Miss Elliot. Fanny had told her that Miss Elliot was pale and thin and had wasted away, but evidently she still had her spirit.

She wished Fanny would visit so she could ask her about Mrs Wentworth. Her mother and aunt turned out to have that same wish. They even attempted to get Mr Bennet to call on Admiral Croft, but he saw their purpose and refused.

"Did I not warn you about sailors?" he said to his second daughter.

She cried out in shock. "You believe Mama!"

Admiral Croft had eventually decided that the two lovers had had enough time to themselves and he had taken it upon himself to separate the two, making them sit at different ends of the table. He sat the gentlemen near himself and inquired about Captain Benwick's journey and his ship.

Anne had met the captain briefly before dinner, which she was again forced to attend. There had not been any time for conversation, but now that the admiral was talking to him, she could observe him. He was a friend of Frederick's too and therefore he needed to be studied. He beamed when he laid eyes on Miss Harville and she did the same in return. Anne liked it. They were very much in love and their long engagement had not weakened their affections. It might have been like this had she remained engaged.

The captain had looked at her curiously too, but with far less curiosity and far more acceptance than she would have imagined. Had somebody told him she was Frederick's wife, he would have regarded her in the same manner, she believed. But if Miss Harville had spoken to him, she might have persuaded him of her romantic notions.

After today's positive developments, which she would yet hesitate to speak of to anyone but Mrs Croft, Anne felt quite energetic. She was better at eating her dinner, but she knew that the closer they got to Frederick's full recovery, the more trouble she would have again eating. She would then fear what he would say to her. This was as yet not a great worry. It did not look as if he was going to be aware this evening. His fever must go down first.

But what would he say? Everyone else here seemed to take her presence in stride, but he would not. She did not expect him to greet her as a long lost friend he was glad to see again.

There was another reason than the acceptance why she felt comfortable in this company; they were all sensible people. There was good conversation and at any joke she could smile.

Suddenly their agreeable dinner was interrupted and a servant came in with two people. Anne recognised the man as Mr Wentworth, Frederick's brother, even before he was announced as such.

Miss Harville leant towards her. "Big bellies are all the rage this season."

Anne had noticed that too in the lady she assumed was Mrs Wentworth. Mr Wentworth had not been married when she knew him, but that was years ago. It was to be expected that his situation had changed. Hers had not. "I am not in any danger," she whispered back.

"Oh, you sly girl!" Miss Harville sounded delighted. "Was that an emphasis on the pronoun?"

"Er…" She had not intended one, but if one examined the matter, she was indeed less at risk than Miss Harville.

"But you are right. I must marry quickly, for 'tis in the nature of love to be in danger."

The conversation with Miss Harville had drawn her eyes away, but when she looked back at Mr Wentworth, she saw he was staring at her curiously and with recognition.

"It is such a long time since I was a poor curate at Monkford!" he said, evidently putting off the burning question of who or what he was right now. "But I recognised you instantly."

She blushed, for how was she to explain her presence?

Mrs Croft saved her. While Anne had been talking to Miss Harville and Mr Wentworth had been studying them, she had been speaking to Mrs Wentworth, but she was now done and caught the last words. "I had already heard you knew all about Miss Elliot, Eddy, and I think you are a dreadfully bad boy."

Mrs Wentworth looked astonished at hearing her dignified husband thus addressed.

He nearly smiled. "Are you speaking of that, Sophia?"

"That, which everyone knew except me!"

"But it seems to have come right?" he said inquiringly.

"No, not at all," said his sister. "Frederick has no idea that Miss Elliot is here." She beckoned for two chairs to be pulled up to the table.

He had already inquired after his brother upon his arrival -- the servants would know -- so he was no longer as anxious as he had been and he could focus on other matters. "There also seem to be things here that everyone knew except me," he retorted. "You may have been a dreadfully bad girl."

"Are you speaking of this, Edward?" She laid her hands on her abdomen and looked shocked. "I have been bad indeed, but I never thought you would mention it at the dinner table!"

He changed colour and said nothing.

There were some chuckles from the other end of the table where the sailors were seated. "I think, my dear, you were bad because you had not yet told him," said the admiral. "Not because you were bad; indeed, you were very good." He grinned.

Mrs Croft was not affected by his grin. "I had every intention of telling you eventually, Edward, but I thought you would be shocked and James is much better at telling you shocking things."

"You have guests," Edward spluttered.

"But they know," the admiral said with a questioning look. "And if you are speaking of Miss Elliot, nothing shocks her."

He was speaking of her, of course, Anne knew, and it might seem as if she could indeed not be shocked. She hoped the admiral would not share those details.

"Why is that?" whispered Miss Harville.

"Why do you not tell me why it is in the nature of love to be in danger?" Anne countered. She had never known she could be so bold. Or was it merely clever of her to distract Miss Harville with such an attack?

An inveterate romantic such as Miss Harville was far from shocked by the question; she was even prepared to answer it to the best of abilities. "Because I really want to run around the table and throw myself into his arms, you see."

"Is that dangerous?"

"I do not believe your innocence," Miss Harville said after a moment. "If you had to meet Frederick at dawn, you could only have had naughty things in mind."

Anne's eyes opened wider. "Well…"

Precious Pride ~ Section IV

By Lise

Beginning, Previous Section, Section IV, Next Section

Posted on Tuesday, 4 September 2007

Chapter Twenty

Anne escaped having to give Miss Harville any details about her past, because Mrs Croft spoke. "Does your entire family know, Miss Elliot? Or have you also been keeping your sister in the dark?"

"Oh, I must suffer now," said Mr Wentworth humorously.

Anne knew of what they spoke: the engagement. Yes, Mr Wentworth had kept it from his sister, but that had been in keeping with their brother's wishes, she would think. Mrs Croft had not been left out of the secret on purpose. "I have two sisters. One was at school at the time and she was never told about it." She wondered if Mr Wentworth had come because his brother was ill. He must have. Did he think his brother was dying? He was too cheerful for that. It was his nature to be calm, but he was not sad.

After he was settled in his chair, introduced to everybody and their purpose, Mr Wentworth could ask more particulars about his brother. "Is he getting any better?"

"I have had good reports from Miss Elliot," said Mrs Croft.

Anne was embarrassed at what was about to follow. Her role would be explained and all would stare. She did not even have any real reports to share, certainly none that were reliable. All she would be able to do was blush.

Mr Wentworth replied something surprising, however. "You were always reputed to be very capable."

At this praise she cast down her eyes and she felt very hopeless. Frederick's relatives were so welcoming and accepting that it was tempting to trust that it would all come right, but that was too easy. It would not happen that way.

Mrs Croft rose and announced that she needed a turn about the room to relieve her restless legs. She beckoned Anne and gave her her arm. "Your dinner is not important."

"Oh." She did not think she ought to take that literally, but how she ought to take it instead she did not know.

"You see," the lady said as she took Anne towards the windows. "I am not at all confident about my little one."

Anne did not think she meant Frederick.

Mrs Croft obviously expected her meaning to be clear. "I am delighted, I feel perfectly fine, but rationally I know it is not as easy for me as it is for some other women."

Mrs Croft's fears and doubts were not so different from her own and Anne sought to reassure her in return. "If the fault lies with the admiral, you have nothing more to fear now."

Mrs Croft looked interested. "With him? I had not considered that."

"I know a farmer who bought a useless bull once." The comparison could work, if only to prove that sometimes the male of the species was at fault. It was perhaps not very kind to Admiral Croft, but that could not be helped.

Her companion indeed spluttered at the thought of the admiral being a useless bull, but she took no offence. "But he is very sweet and I would rather have him than fifteen children with another man."

"You will have one with him."

"And how could you fail to have Frederick?"

Her spirits sank again. "I hurt him. He was angry." He had been too angry to come back. If he had not done so then, why should he do it now?

"I have better hopes for you than for myself," Mrs Croft said softly, patting her hand. "Let us sit down again."

Fanny ran after Miss Elliot when she returned upstairs. The poor girl had barely finished her dinner and already she left to go back to her nursing tasks. They had not even spoken in private yet, had they? "Wait. Talk to me. The others will want to talk about babies!"

"You may have one next year."

"La!" She was not yet interested. "In that case next year is early enough to start talking about them. Are you going straight to Frederick?"

"That was my intention."

"I admire you," Fanny said warmly after she had decided that Miss Elliot was simply dutiful and not avoiding company. She was also purposeful rather than unkind. "To forsake good company for his sake."

"It is indeed good company, but I should not allow myself to become too attached to them. I may never see them after Frederick recovers." Her voice was calm, but began to tremble a bit towards the end of her speech.

"How can you talk so?" Fanny cried. "He would be a great fool to let you go. And he is not a fool. Besides, I should take you under my wing and let Jimmy find you a good captain. Let us see how Frederick takes that! He will want you back before the banns are read. Or an admiral? Do you think them too old? Admiral Croft is about forty." She looked at Miss Elliot appraisingly and calculated whether something like that would do for her.

"Forty?"

"Oh, yes. Sophia once told me so when I spoke of him as old. I thought they were both fifty at least." She knew how to draw reactions from her audience.

Miss Elliot looked shocked. "Was she angry?"

"No, though she did not believe my excuse that I thought fifty came before forty."

Now the girl laughed. "But more seriously, I must decline your offer of a good captain as long as Frederick lives."

"He will. You are here now." There was no doubt in Fanny's mind.

Frederick was indeed still alive. Polly said she had not heard a word and Anne sent her to the kitchens to eat and to bring up something for the patient when she was done.

Tomorrow she would ask the admiral to shave him again, she thought as she stroked his cheek. Then she set to work. When Polly returned she was just depositing dirty laundry outside the door.

"I hope he will not spill his soup, madam, for the house is running out of clean sheets," said Polly.

"They may have stains, as long as they are properly washed," Anne said with a shrug. "I have money to buy new ones, too."

Edward wished to know all the particulars when the ladies had left them. "I had not expected Miss Elliot here. She is that, is she not? Not Mrs Wentworth?"

"Only to the surgeon."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We have had to tell the surgeon that she was Mrs Wentworth." Admiral Croft spoke as if this was a perfectly ordinary thing to do.

Edward was silent for a few moments. "Was that an attempt to protect her reputation?" If so, he would almost say with certainty that it had failed. He lived in a small town too.

"Of course." The admiral looked smug.

Given his brother-in-law's innocence, he did not yet want to enlighten him. Perhaps more information was required. "Why did she come here to endanger it?"

"She is in love with Frederick. Fanny was so kind as to write her that he was ill. I believe."

"Madness." Edward shook his head. He did not understand how Fanny had come to know, but that was not important. "What did he say?"

The admiral coughed. "He does not know. The ladies fear for his reaction, but he is not a fool. A man should haul in an excellent nurse instantly. What say you, Harville?"

Captain Harville, who had been listening quietly, smiled. "They come in useful."

"I know what you expect me to say," Edward said slowly. They would be expecting disapproval and frowns and more of those things. "But you have the wrong impression of the clergy."

"I know they are human," the admiral said readily. "But most do not own it."

He was forced to make an observation they would expect him to make. "Most sailors are all too human."

"We, however, are nice."

He would not enter a discussion of that, so he merely nodded his assent and returned to important matters. "Is he truly doing any better?"

"She wants it and she fears it, the poor thing. I believe so. She has no problems making him do her bidding when she wants to wash him."

Edward pulled a face. He would not have the obvious reaction drawn from him again, but he did suppose it was rather inevitable. "But an innocent girl…"

"Your sister was an innocent girl. Miss Elliot has too much sangfroid to be pitied."

When Anne managed to sleep through the night without waking, she began to suspect there was some real improvement in Frederick's condition. He seemed calmer and more at ease, though not awake. She felt his forehead, but it no longer burned. It was still hot, but she believed she discerned a difference.

Silently she said her thanks, but she did not know how to proceed now. Relief and anxiety fought for prominence. She held his hand -- it might be the last time he allowed it. It was not enough. She wanted more than simply his hand, but his heart and mind were out of reach.

She should tell Mrs Croft about his improvement as soon as possible -- after she had had her time with him, of course.

"I do not think I should be there when he…" Anne said hesitantly.

"It is such good news."

"But…" Anne wondered if she had even heard her last words. She had just told Mrs Croft that her brother was improving, news that had been received with great joy. It was understandable that any communication about herself should be overshadowed by it, yet the matter was of great importance to her. She did not want to sit here and see Frederick notice her. Somehow she felt he should be recovered first.

Mrs Croft had heard her after all. "I understand you. Do you think it safe for me to take over?"

She did not know when the danger would have passed entirely. "Perhaps the admiral…" He had not minded taking over for half an hour here and there. There was not much more time now until it was no longer necessary at all.

"He must. But leave Frederick to wake in a dignified manner. Remove all the extra cloths and whatever you have been using."

"Yes," Anne promised. She tidied the room and then left with a heavy heart. Her own room felt cold. She had hardly been here, but now it must be her refuge from where she must not venture until someone had informed Frederick that she was here.

She must ask herself how she wanted to proceed. There was no doubt that she would be allowed to stay until she wanted to leave and having come this far, she was loath to go. Suppose Frederick wished to throw himself into her arms, but only if she was still around?

She must not be so silly, she told herself.

Frederick woke and felt disoriented. He remembered falling ill, but not much after that. It must be a while since then, however, which was odd. He was never ill for long and he never had such an unreliable memory afterwards. He would ask about it if someone came to see him. Better yet, he would get out of bed. But when he tried, his legs would not bear his weight and he fell inelegantly, sliding from the bed to the floor.

Perhaps he had best pretend he was still too unwell to get up until he had practised enough to stand and walk properly, he thought in annoyance. It was mortifying to discover his weakness and he did not want anyone else to find out.

Did everything else still function? He checked.

Sophia was too busy to look at Frederick directly. She wanted to and she was on her way, but she came across little Mary wandering the halls on her own. After ten minutes an anxious Fiona appeared and the two women agreed that Mary was a naughty little girl to have escaped.

"How is Frederick?" Fiona asked.

"I am just on my way to see him. He is doing better."

"I am glad. We should have been sad to lose a dear friend. Frederick better and Jimmy returned! And Miss Elliot?"

"She is happy, but afraid for his reaction when he finds out. If he does."

"Someone will tell him."

"Yes." Sophia supposed the task would fall to her. She could not imagine anyone else doing it well. "She is a nice girl. I do not want him to be angry with her. Just think of what she risked by coming here!"

"I waited for a few months, you know," said Fiona. "Though he did warn me it might be ten years before he came. Oh, how afraid I was! For him and for myself. I was not allowed near any sailors, but it had happened on a day that one of the maids was ill."

"What happened?" Sophia asked suspiciously. She often received the impression that Fiona voiced only half of her thoughts, which sometimes led to incomprehensible stories.

"Oh, Sophia! My seeing Thomas, of course."

"You did not say. Why were you not allowed near him?"

"My father's logic," Fiona said with a shrug. "When Thomas returned my father was not even angry. But what about her father?"

"Her father is nothing," Sophia believed. She still did not quite follow Fiona's father's logic when it came to sailors, but it seemed Fiona did not either and so she did not ask any further. "It is Frederick who worries me."

"His pride and his memory -- but he remembers the good as well as the bad."

"That he does," his sister agreed hopefully. "And the good must have been considerably good, if her behaviour is any indication. But I do not know how to tell him." She ought to wait until a good moment presented itself, but then he would undoubtedly be angry that she had kept it from him for so long.

"Do not let me do it."

"Never."

"Is it my accent?"

"No, you are about the worst explainer in the world."

Posted on Friday, 7 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-One

Although she had wanted to go directly, Sophia had put off going to see Frederick for an entire day and she was proud of her restraint. James had been to see him, but to her dismay he had quickly left, saying the boy was fine. While she liked hearing that he was fine, she did not trust it until she had seen it with her own eyes. After a day of sending in her husband and seeing him exit almost instantly -- or so it felt to her -- she finally dared to go in herself.

Miss Elliot had been keeping to her room, only venturing out for meals and shrinking in her chair whenever somebody entered the room. This was worrisome and Sophia did not think that either party would benefit from an unexpected encounter. She was glad Frederick was still keeping to his room as well.

Frederick was not awake when she went to see him and she was at first disappointed after all the favourable reports, but he soon opened his eyes. After suffering his sister's effusions, which she knew he found embarrassing, he was ready for more serious conversation.

"You do not know who was here," he said. "Or what a feverish mind may imagine. It may be embarrassing, but it has been bothering me enough to ask. Was there ever a surgeon?"

"There was." She did not understand why this had bothered him, unless it was because he could not trust his memory.

He looked a little surprised. "Ah well. That was not such a strange thing for my mind to have imagined, though my image of the surgeon may well differ from the real one. And a woman he called Mrs Wentworth? I am not married, am I?"

"You are not."

"I thought as much. She seemed, however, very real and she looked very much like --" But then he stopped.

"Like whom?" she asked as if she did not already know.

"Someone," Frederick said evasively. "But the power of the mind is strong, because that cannot be. Mrs Wentworth was a vision of loveliness. Her hands were deliciously cool and her voice was warm. Just as it should be."

Sophia stared at these descriptions and the warmth with which they were uttered.

"I wonder why I conjured her up." He frowned. "Because she was not real. Yet she did some very real things." Thinking of those real things brought a look of horror to his face. "Did somebody really wash me?"

"Well, you were out for more than a fortnight…" He ought to be able to draw conclusions from that himself. Of course someone had washed him.

He hid his face in his hands. "I see."

"What do you see?"

"The vision. I thought she was there, but she was not. It was someone else and --" He still looked horrified.

Sophia looked anxious. "What do you mean?"

"I invented her to reduce the horror of the situation. It was not the vision; it was you or Fiona. Please do not speak of it any more." He almost hid himself under the covers.

"James washed you." That was not a lie. He had done so before Miss Elliot had arrived, as Frederick might remember. She did not know when he had stopped noticing things.

"Even in a feverish state I can tell the difference between a man and a woman. It was a woman."

"But why is it so horrible to be washed by a woman?"

"Not any woman! You or Fiona!" To him it was obvious how horrible that was.

"Would you prefer a stranger?" She raised her eyebrows. It was evident that he had enjoyed the vision's attentions and perhaps it was indeed rather upsetting that in retrospect the vision had been his sister and not a beloved -- or so he thought. She gave him an affectionate look.

He looked pained in return. "The vision was not a stranger."

"Oh, she has done it before?"

"No! I do not know. Not to me. But she was very good at it, so she must have some experience -- because it was you or Fiona and you must be doing it all the time."

Sophia decided not to explain how infrequently James was ill and how little she really had to do on such occasions -- of course what he made her do was something entirely different. "Is care from an experienced nurse not to be preferred over care from some lovely vision?"

"You are not to see me in such circumstances," he said with an angry frown. "I do not care that it was necessary. It does not lessen my horror and mortification at being seen one bit!"

"I know, I know," she soothed and could not resist a teasing remark. "I thought that being a sailor --"

"We are at sea," he snapped. "Imagining it is mostly as close as we get."

She chuckled at his vexed tone. "But let us talk about whom you would have liked to take care of you instead. Who was your vision?"

His face clouded over even more. "No. And you are not to speak of this conversation to anyone. It is bad enough that I had to be washed, but it is even worse that I had visions."

"And that you enjoyed the vision." That, she supposed, was the worst of it all. He had enjoyed it and thought of her as Mrs Wentworth because the surgeon had called her thus and then it turned out to be his sister. It was horrible indeed.

"I did not."

"Oh, of course," his sister said sweetly. "Cool hands and warm voices are very horrible. Or is it hearing that you imagined a Mrs Wentworth that now sends the inveterate bachelor into hysterics?"

He glared. "Do not tease me or I may still die."

"Fiona and I were not with the surgeon. We are with child, you know, and someone said we should not be in the sickroom." She smiled and stood up. She could not take it any further. He was confused and should be given some time to recover his mind. If she said any more now, he would lose it completely.

After his sister had left, Frederick dwelt some more on the vision. She had looked so real and although Sophia had not really ridiculed him, he knew she had no sympathy for such intangible matters. He had never taken visions seriously himself either. What did it mean that he had had them now? Of her, no less?

He had dreamt of her before -- something he had always resented, notably the less than honourable settings of the dreams -- but it had always been disjointed and there had always been an element of the unreal. There was none of that now.

Of course had she been his wife he would have felt less embarrassed about her taking care of him, but the vision was not his wife, whatever his memory might say with regard to the scene with the surgeon. That his memory was so unreliable and gapped was another source of vexation. Whatever else they had done, Sophia had said that Fiona and she had not been with the surgeon, but he remembered someone. Or had he gone completely crazy?

Were visions conscious of what they did? How had she known what to do? He had not known and he had therefore not been able to create the scenes. Something must have guided her. Was she an angel? He felt a feverish shudder at the thought that Anne might be dead.

It made some sense, although it was still unacceptable to his rational mind. She had come to make his passing go as smoothly as possible -- because she was the only one who could. But he had not passed. This realisation gave him pause. Anne the angel had come and he had stayed behind. If she had the powers one would suppose an angel to have, why had she failed her task?

He sighed and took care of some earthly business first. The heavenly nonsense could wait.

Fanny had taken Jimmy to Longbourn as soon as she was at liberty to remember the Bennets. Any new face was welcome there, though he would have had a warmer reception had he been unattached and more outgoing. He was in comparative luck, however, for only Elizabeth and Jane were present -- and a girl reading a book, but she was not attending to their conversation.

"Is he not darling?" Fanny whispered to Elizabeth and Jane.

Jane, as she usually did, merely smiled, but Elizabeth in fact had an opinion. "One would not jilt him for Mr Collins."

"And is Anne not darling either?"

Because Anne seemed to have locked herself into her room with a pile of books, Fanny had asked her to come and surprisingly she had complied, although walking so many miles had fatigued her. Fanny's euphoria still prevented her from getting tired, but she had graciously offered Jimmy's arm to Anne.

Anne had so far been silent and although she was still not very much inclined to speak, she blushed violently at such praise. She had come because she had known an outing was good for her, but she had not wanted to be the subject of the conversation. Walking with two lovers had suited her very well.

"Oh, you are!" Fanny said with a nudge.

"Indeed," added Elizabeth. "My mother has mentioned you so often that she will regret having gone to Meryton with Mr Collins."

"Her regret cannot be my fault alone."

Fanny was delighted. "La! You wittily abuse Mr Collins without ever having seen him. You and Frederick are perfectly suited."

She was shocked. "Does he abuse people?"

"We always know exactly whom he dislikes." Fanny narrowed her eyes. He had never mentioned Anne. "So he does not dislike you."

"I was not worth mentioning," was Anne's modest reply.

"Too darling for words."

Fanny would share Anne's concerns if she considered them the least bit realistic, but she did not. Regrettably she was not Frederick's sister. She would not have allowed Anne to leave the sickroom as Sophia had and she would also not have left Frederick in the dark about Anne's presence. It was clear that nobody had informed him, for he had not stirred from his room and he had not shouted.

Now Mr Wentworth had come and sister and brother could solve it together, although Fanny did not know whether Sophia trusted Edward's opinion as much as her own. She giggled at how he was sometimes treated. "We have a clergyman of our own in the house now, by the way."

"No!" Elizabeth cried. "Who?"

"Mr Wentworth, Captain Wentworth's brother. He travelled here with his wife, presumably because Frederick was on the brink of death."

"Oh! That must be the Mrs Wentworth who has been confusing the village."

"Confusing the village?" Fanny wondered. "She has not yet left the house. How did she manage?"

"The surgeon spoke of a Mrs Wentworth and my aunt and my mother assumed that she was with child --"

"She is," Fanny could nod.

"-- and that she had come here to marry the captain to make her child legitimate. They wondered who could have married them, but now that I hear you have a clergyman in the house, it all fits."

"Like a square block through a round hole," Fanny said solemnly with another nod.

"It will be enough for my mother. Though why was his sister-in-law in the sickroom?"

Anne had paled. "I was. But I am not with child and perhaps now the village will --"

"Are you certain?" Fanny interrupted. "Because you did spend a great deal of time with him undisturbed."

"Fanny," Jimmy chided. He had let the girls chatter so far, but now he felt he must interfere.

"Is that not what the village will think?" she said defensively. "And I should certainly be with child if I had been in such a position."

"Fanny, please do not talk such nonsense," he said with a deep blush.

Mary Bennet closed her book loudly and left the room with an annoyed glance at them. Elizabeth giggled. "Oh dear. My sister thinks we are all very immoral and depraved. We are not to wonder where children come from. They are an overnight blessing. Or more likely a burden, in her opinion."

"I should like to talk to your sister," said Fanny, but Jimmy pulled her back by her skirts.

Anne had been wondering about the gossip in the village. Evidently they now knew of a Mrs Wentworth who had been with the patient and some believed she was carrying a child. Such a misconception might eventually be cleared up by the arrival of Mr Wentworth and his pregnant wife, but that still left the matter of Frederick's wife clouded in mystery. "What do I do now?"

Fanny shot one last dark glance at the door behind which the judgemental Mary Bennet had disappeared. "I think you must make sure your father does not find out. I say, Anne. You did not come here because of the reason Mrs Bennet supposes, did you? Because that would be a real shocker."

"I am sorry. I did not. I last saw him eight years ago and I have never heard of it taking so long."

The other girls looked shocked, but Jimmy choked.

"Oh," Anne said a little bashfully. Such playful company was making her a little unguarded in her comments. She had intended to voice a serious argument. "I did not mean -- I was speaking of theoretical possibilities, you know."

"The admiral was right about you," said Jimmy.

"Does he think I am a…" She looked afraid. "I am not."

"He implied you would not behave like a shocked, innocent girl."

"Because he thinks I am not?" Anne was still afraid.

"I rather think he thinks you would be more practical and honest than that. Now Mrs Croft, apparently, was an innocent girl."

"Oh, do tell," Fanny said eagerly. "Because she is the opposite now. And how is it not honest to be shocked?"

"You must ask him."

"Why was I discussed?" Anne was not sure she could be relieved yet.

"Er…Mr Wentworth had some reservations about your tending to his brother, I believe. But he did not say much about it and the admiral did not say much in return."

"Could we speak of something else?" she requested.

Posted on Monday, 10 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-Two

Anne was not spared the acquaintance of Mr Collins. Mrs Bennet returned from Meryton with him and her two youngest daughters just as the party from Netherfield were about to leave. She did not think he was quite so bad as the other girls had made him out to be, nor was Mrs Bennet. Her own family also left much to be desired in good sense now and then.

She was glad when Mrs Bennet focused on her father. "He is not here," she was happy to say, but she wondered why nobody in the village had seen her father's carriage leave again the next morning. She supposed the coachman had not had to ask the way again.

Mr Collins had been all bows and smiles, but then he spoke. "My noble patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, also has a daughter named Anne." He orated pompously about the beauty and elegance of the bearers of that fine name. Apparently there was much to praise and for no other reason than that they were both named Anne.

Anne was lost for words. Perhaps her first impression had been too generous.

"I concur wholeheartedly, Mr Collins," Fanny said enthusiastically.

Anne wondered if she was going to try and make Frederick jealous by setting Mr Collins on her trail. If so, she must have a word with Fanny. The plan would fail -- Anne would lock herself into her room -- but it would be vexing enough that there was such a plan.

"Do you ever write poetry?" Fanny asked Mr Collins.

"A man in my profession prefers more solid and edifying reading material," Mr Collins said with a solemn air after his initial look of distaste. "Such as --"

"Oh," said Fanny, cutting him off in case he wished to come up with a list of titles. She had no interest in boring texts. "I thought, given your poetic praise of the Annes, that you might have a sort of talent." No sensible person would ever have found any reason to say that to him, she supposed, for he looked amazed and not a little flattered.

"Perhaps," Anne interrupted her in turn. She was afraid to hear him recommend texts she had found useful over the years. Some had been edifying and she should hate to share a taste with Mr Collins. If he had been boring but sensible, it would not have been such a problem. "We should start walking back if we want to be home before darkness."

"But are there not --" Fanny said and then she fell silent with a sheepish look. "I have never been out in the country."

"I have."

"I know. At dawn. Also at night?"

"Not for the same purposes. For family engagements only." She wondered why she kept revealing too much.

"You said you would find me an admiral, not a parson!" Anne burst out when they had left Longbourn. She was not particularly affected, not yet, although she did not think Fanny would take it much further.

Fanny only giggled.

"But what about Wentworth?" Jimmy asked. He had been told Miss Elliot had come for Wentworth and he did not understand any talk about other men for her.

"He may need a little jealousy to drive him into Anne's arms."

He had some advice for her if that was her plan. "Then make it a seaman, not an admiral. He may respect the latter and his claims and leave him be."

Fanny could be equally silly. "Does the parson not rank below the lowest seaman for being a landsman?"

"True," Jimmy conceded. "But I advise you not to play with his feelings too much. He will not like it." About certain subjects Wentworth did not like being teased. This might be one of them.

"Perhaps Anne also needs some incentive to drive her into Frederick's arms. What better incentive than Mr Collins?" Fanny said airily.

Anne shook her head. "I need no incentive. The matter is in his hands, not mine. I am sure he has spoken to his sister."

"She will not have told him anything, or he would have left his room already."

"He may be avoiding me."

"He would never stay in his room like a coward."

Only she would, Anne acknowledged. It was all so very difficult. She was grateful to Fanny for having taken her out. It had been a much-needed diversion and although she had been very busy in the past week, even with the window wide open, walking in the open air was pleasantly different. Nevertheless she would be returning to the same situation as before they had walked out, unless Frederick had found out about her in the meantime.

The anticipation and fear were the most difficult parts. She thought she would be able to face him, whatever he would say, but the uncertainty was wearing her out. It had been easier when he had been ill, surprisingly, because there had not been an immediate threat then. Now, he might find out any second.

Frederick had dragged himself towards the window because there was not much else to which he could drag himself. He felt he walked worse than Mary Harville, but he nevertheless had to try. Lying in bed made him feel edgy and helpless and he was not.

He paused to catch his breath, but something outside took his breath away again instantly.

"Frederick!" an ethereal voice called.

The park at Netherfield, despite its name, had no particular style, which meant there were trees everywhere obstructing his view. The figure of a woman darted through the trees in the fading light. He caught glimpses of everything but her face, yet the picture looked familiar. She was his vision.

Just when he realised that, she disappeared and she did not come back, not for the next half hour at least. He waited all that while, eager for another glimpse of her dark cloak and long hair trailing down her back, but there was nothing.

Then he gave up, deciding he must not yet have recovered completely. There was no reason why Anne Elliot should be running through the park here calling for him -- with her hair down, no less. There was no reason except his ill health and fallible memory. He had best not ask anybody about this vision, not even Sophia. She would give him a compassionate look and deny it, of course.

First everyone must speak about Anne and then he must see her everywhere. What did it mean?

He had not been wrong, for Anne had indeed been running through the park. Returning from Longbourn, they had happened upon Lucy and Freddy playing and they had joined in. She had taken care not to venture to the side of the house where Frederick had his room, but the house was large and outside she could not precisely tell where everything was inside. And then Freddy had run off.

Freddy and she returned to the house with a large detour. She was exhausted, first from the walk to Longbourn and then from running after Freddy, who had turned it into a chasing game. He had especially liked the circuitous route through the shrubbery.

She felt her hair, but her ribbon had gone missing. Somewhere she had felt a pull on her hair, but she had not stopped. She would look for it tomorrow, if she could remember where she had run. It was a treasured ribbon, given to her long ago. She wanted it back, but it was too dark now.

Admiral Croft had been sent to the patient with his dinner plate because his wife feared she might say too much. It served her right that she now heard nothing. A Frederick who had not been able to speak for a fortnight had much to say, he discovered.

"I have been thinking," Frederick said, idly pricking at his food with his fork. His appetite was returning, but not quite re-established. "The peace turns every man onto his wife for entertainment."

"Is that so? I have always had my wife with me for entertainment, peace or no peace."

"But she was never -- look at all the pregnant women in this house. Is that not a consequence of the peace? Their husbands had nothing more exciting to do. I am not sure what to think of that."

The admiral laughed in spite of the stupidity of such reasoning. "For two women it may be a consequence. Not for the third."

"The third? Fanny?" Frederick's eyes grew wide. "What happened during my illness?"

"Did Sophia forget to tell you that your brother has come? Or did she assume I did so?" He looked vague. "She must have. In any case, your brother is here, with his wife. She is expecting as well. Fanny did not make any announcements, but of course she would not dare."

Frederick's plate nearly slid off the bed in his agitation. "My brother? You have kept from me that my brother is here? Has he not asked to see me?"

Edward had asked that, but he had not pressed now that the danger seemed to have passed. Perhaps he had known about his brother's pride. "He said he would wait until you were well enough."

"I am well enough! Send him up directly."

"You could also go downstairs yourself," the admiral suggested. He suspected that this was not yet possible. Frederick had also not left his bed to eat at his table, but he had remained in it, as if he could not walk.

"No. Not yet."

"Why not? Not quite well enough for that?" He did not expect an honest admission.

"Perhaps. Why did my brother come?"

"Because you were in a bad condition. You were nearly dead. Of course he came here."

"Why did I not die?"

"Good care, perhaps," the admiral said after a little hesitation.He had best not mention Miss Elliot. It was bad enough that Edward's arrival had been kept from Frederick. And there was also Benwick, but that was safe to reveal. "Your brother was not the only one who arrived in your absence. So did Benwick, though he came for Fanny and not for you."

"Benwick. She will be happy. Everyone happy. Do you believe in visions?"

"The products of a creative imagination?"

"I thought as much," Frederick sighed. "I am not speaking of the imagination, but of real visions. The ones one has when one is nearly dying."

"Of laughter?"

"No, of an illness," Frederick snapped.

"Do not tell Sophia, but I have never nearly died of an illness. She treats me very nicely if I seem to, however, so do not tell her. I have no idea what you are talking about. Visions," he said with a frown. "What kind? Of what?"

"Forget I mentioned them. I want to see Edward and Benwick as soon as possible."

"Yes, Captain," the admiral said dutifully in response to his tone. If Frederick had ever been dying, that moment was not going to return any time soon. He was glad. "Together? Separately?"

"Separately."

"And Mrs Edward?"

He seemed to have forgotten about her. "I do not know her. What is she like?"

The admiral did not yet know that well himself. "The idea behind meeting her is that you would get to know her."

"Not yet. Not in here. She would not get to know me properly in a sickbed."

"On the contrary." Admiral Croft laughed. "All the qualities you usually keep hidden are surfacing here."

Posted on Thursday, 13 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-Three

Edward Wentworth was sent upstairs without delay and he obeyed. Anne was slightly worried. Frederick could well come downstairs at any time. He seemed to have recovered well enough if he could issue such orders. "Would you bring him down without notifying me?" she asked the admiral bashfully. She would rather not have a confrontation in public. They might feel more comfortable in private.

"Do you see these tablecloths?" Admiral Croft answered, patting the table. "They are especially in use for you. They are long enough to hide anyone under the table from view."

With a startled expression she contemplated sliding under the table if Frederick approached. She wondered if she was desperate enough. The admiral could not be speaking in earnest, but when she studied him she observed some wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that could not wholly be ascribed to having lived out of doors.

"We should be better off under the tables!" Fanny cried. "For then we could overhear what they have to say."

"James, Fanny," Mrs Croft reprimanded. "Do behave."

The admiral obeyed, for he turned towards Mrs Wentworth, who had been left behind with people she did not really know and who was looking a little shy. "He does want to meet you, but not until his feet are as quick as his tongue and his grumpy mood has passed."

"I understand," she said softly.

"He is a bad patient. Tell me, Sophy, am I bad as a patient?"

"Not as bad as Frederick," she conceded. "But you have never been very ill."

He protested against that and they spent some time good-naturedly bickering over his illnesses. Anne listened in amusement. She would side with Mrs Croft if she was asked, because it did not sound as if the admiral had ever been very ill. He thought otherwise and he tried his hardest to make his wife agree. It was pleasant to sit here with them. It would be pleasant to spend a lot of time with them, as a sister would.

She wondered about Frederick's grumpy mood. It had something to do with not being quick on his feet, she assumed. He would not like being slow and weak. It was not like him. And he would not meet Mrs Wentworth in such a state. Anne pitied her a little, although it looked as if she really did understand. Perhaps Mr Wentworth was similar.

Edward cautiously entered his brother's room. He was relieved to find Frederick awake.

"Why did you not come earlier?" Frederick cried. "I am locked up in here and no one wants to see me."

"I heard you have only been on the road to recovery since yesterday or so and that before then you could not even have spoken to anybody." He did not say that Sophia had discouraged him. She had wanted to keep them from revealing the secret to Frederick for as long as possible, at least until she had by devious means discerned what his feelings were on the subject. How Frederick was to reveal his feelings on a subject that was not to be broached, Edward did not understand. He supposed he was not as devious and skilled as Sophia.

"Surely you had wanted to look into the room at least to see that I was alive?"

There was a trifle too much uncertainty in that question and Edward sighed. "Sophia's reports were very thorough and her concern was equally admirable."

"Yes, she is admirable, but it must also be understood that I am very lonely here all by myself! I want to be visited by family."

"Only family? Is that why you would not see my wife?"

"Are you offended? I meant no slight. I am merely not well enough to receive her. I should prefer to make a better impression than I can make at present." Frederick looked a little worried that Mrs Wentworth might be feeling slighted. "You must tell her so. Is she nice?"

"No, she has the most despicable character imagineable," Edward replied. "That is why I married her."

His brother stared.

"Your sense of humour, Frederick."

"Why is everyone teasing me?" he groaned. "I have just returned from the brink of death and I deserve better."

"Perhaps we express our affection by it."

Frederick scowled, though he looked a little less chagrined after that. "But you have a nice wife then?"

"I do. And did Sophia tell you I am going to be a father?" Sophia had so much on her mind that he could not be certain of it. It might not have been important to her, but it was to him. He was exceedingly proud of the accomplishment.

"My congratulations, Edward. Was it a consequence of the peace?"

"No, of being married, I daresay." Edward raised his eyebrows. What did the peace have to do with it? It had not affected him in the least.

"But I hope you do not only think your wife nice because she is expecting."

"She is expecting because she is nice." He wondered if he could say such a thing, but apparently he could -- he had already said it.

Mr Wentworth returned to the others with a grin. "He is eager to be well. All this lying in bed does not agree with him. His recovery is too slow to his taste."

Anne had flinched and ducked behind the admiral when someone entered the room. She was hardly aware of having done so until Mrs Wentworth whispered at her.

"What is wrong with Edward?"

"No, no, it is Captain Wentworth I fear."

"Ah. Nobody explained the situation to me precisely."

Anne explained it to her to the best of her abilities. Mrs Wentworth's comments were sympathetic and sensible. Mr Wentworth had done well. She kept her story brief and then inquired what Mr Wentworth had done after leaving Somersetshire. This kept them occupied until bedtime. Mrs Wentworth had not been a person to ask and Mr Wentworth not a person to tell her about his brother's history. The young woman had nevertheless been interested in a brother-in-law she had never seen, but about whose successful career she had heard far more than about his personal life.

"Perhaps, like Edward, he had no life," were her last words. Anne had liked them.

Naturally Mrs Wentworth had also dwelt on the conversation. She even mentioned it to her husband. "She asked about you. Did you never consider marrying her?"

He smiled. She needed not fear for that. "I thought highly of her as a sister."

"Do you still?"

"If she has not changed -- and why should she -- she is still what he needs."

"I said that perhaps like you he has not had a life outside his profession," she said a little uncertainly.

He laughed now. "Why did you have to tell her that? It was my secret."

Frederick decided to leave the house in the morning when he woke. He would go where he had seen the vision run and look for signs that she had really been there, which he did not expect to find. Visions did not leave traces.

He ran into Harville at one of the back doors. "Out for a walk?" he asked in surprise. His friend did not walk well enough, he had thought. He had expected to conduct his little search all by himself.

"I was wrestled out of bed," Harville said wryly. "One moment you are asleep and the next there are three children separating you from your wife. They were sorry to see me go, but my night was over."

They left the house and Frederick directed their steps towards the trees. "Are you real?" he suddenly asked.

Harville looked a little bemused. "As real as you would like me to be."

"Are you not a figment of my imagination? I realise you are talking, but you might be responding with answers I created." He might be imagining his friend as well as the conversation with him. That was worrisome, for nothing was real in such a case and he was completely alone. And if he was alone, what was he doing here?

"Surely you could create better ones?"

"But what if none of this is real? If none of this exists outside my mind? You seem to be there, but really you are not. My mind created you and everything you say. My mind created everything it sees."

"What about my mind? Or do I not exist outside your imagination?"

"That is the crux of the matter. Perhaps you have no experiences that do not involve me." Perhaps if he turned away Harville would cease being. He would fade into nothing and re-emerge when needed.

Harville scratched his head. "The three children in my bed were not really there? Why did you not come to tell me that before I left the bed? I could have stayed then."

Frederick gave him a long stare. "I could be imagining your having experiences with your children. I could be imagining your having a life of your own."

"Let us sit down at that table over there," Harville pointed with his walking stick. "Two pints of ale for our convenience on the table too."

This confused Frederick. "Table? Where?"

"Between those trees there." He pointed again. "Come. And a buxom serving girl for your benefit as well."

"You are jesting." He did not even like buxom serving girls, yet Harville was speaking with the utmost seriousness. The man ought to know him better than that.

"Are you not? Did you imagine yourself ill as well?"

"I must have." He was not certain about it. He had felt ill and if he had been imagining it, it would not have felt that bad. He would have had some compassion for himself.

"Why?"

"I do not like being ill, so it must have been for my own good."

"Precious little good has come from it. You seem to have lost your mind. Now I understand your sister's reticence," Harville mused.

His sister's reticence? He did not know what was meant by that. What was she supposed to have said? "What? Why?"

"In this frame of mind you would very likely stare and contradict her. The truth would not enter your mind."

"My mind is the truth."

"Some of us seem to have different truths. Have you seen my table yet?"

"No." He had not seen the table because there was none. Harville was ridiculing him, an old friend. It was rather disagreeable. He was struggling with the truth and reality and he was only being ridiculed.

"There. That is what I mean. I have a different truth."

"Are you sure you were not shot in the head as well?" Frederick inquired crossly and then he saw something hanging from a twig that stopped him in his tracks. "Oh!"

Harville observed it with interest. "A ribbon."

He dared not touch it yet, notably because Harville saw it as well. It probably meant that it was really there. "But of course you would see the ribbon. My mind is telling you to."

"Take it down. Lucy might like it. Come to think of it, it might even be hers. She is forever losing them."

"No, it is --" He stopped. "It is -- is it real?"

Harville pulled it down. "It is. A good quality blue ribbon, but old. A little frayed at the edges. Why are you quivering at a ribbon?"

Frederick suddenly looked pale. "Damn it. I need your table. And something stronger than ale."

The ribbon was real. A real woman had walked here. He recognised the ribbon, too. He had bought it once. He had bought it for Anne Elliot. Although there must be thousands of ribbons like this one, it was no coincidence that he found it here, where he had seen her. She had walked here and lost it. It had got stuck on a branch and her hair had come loose. He had seen her like that. It all fit.

Anne was real. She was here, somewhere, although he could not begin to guess why she had come or what she was doing. Had she been Mrs Wentworth to the surgeon?

"That you do," Harville agreed. "You are insane enough for me to allow it at this early hour. Let us walk back."

Posted on Sunday, 16 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-Four

"She is here," said Frederick when he had swallowed the contents of the glass Harville had poured for him. It was the only conclusion he could logically draw. He wondered why he had not drawn it before, because nothing else was remotely logical. Why had he reversed the matter? Instead of thinking he had seen her, so she was here, he had thought she could not be here, so he could not have seen her. It was no wonder that Harville thought he was insane. If he could have such illogical thoughts, perhaps he was.

He was capable of thinking more clearly now. "Why is she here? Where is she?"

"Who is she? Just to be clear on that."

"Anne Elliot. You will not know her." He did not think he had ever mentioned her name to his friend. He had spoken of the episode in general only.

"Unless she is indeed here."

Frederick put down his glass with a bang. "Is she?"

"There is a Miss Elliot here," Harville replied after a moment. Mrs Croft and her protective concern for Wentworth's feelings be damned. He deserved to know before he lost his mind completely.

"Pour me another," Frederick ordered. "What is she doing here?"

"Fanny sent for her."

"Fanny!" He could recall Fanny's interest in his engagement before he fell ill, but he did not think he had told her enough. He had told her about an engagement, but he had not mentioned Anne Elliot, as far as he knew. "And she is Miss Elliot?" He remembered assuming she would be married by now. If there was a Miss Elliot here, she was not married. Not married. Why not? It had been eight years.

"Yes."

An unmarried Anne Elliot, who had come here after eight years because Fanny had written. Edward had come because he had been very ill, but would Anne care? And precisely why did she care? "Why did she come?"

"You had best ask her that." Harville leant back. He could not answer these questions and contemplated joining all the little Harvilles in what had once been his bed.

"Take me to her," Frederick decided. He did not want to spend another minute speculating. He had exhausted his mind long enough with thoughts about his visions.

"She will be in bed," Harville said warningly.

"Did she nurse me?"

"Yes."

"Then her being in bed is of no consequence. Take me to her." He needed to know why she had done so and why she had been allowed to do so. Instantly.

"No."

"I shall find her myself." He got up, determined. It could not be very difficult to find her. He would simply look into every room.

Harville did not move. He called after his friend, however. "If you chance to find Fanny and Jimmy together, do not tell me about it."

Frederick was not interested in Fanny and Jimmy, together or separate. He hoped he would not find them together, or he might nevertheless be expected to care.

Anne had been with him. She had always been so proper. How the proper Anne had managed to wash him in spite of that, he did not know. He had fleeting memories of it, however, and it really seemed to have been Anne and not someone else. Sophia had said it was James, but he did not know why she had lied. If even Harville knew that Anne was here, so must his sister and she had deliberately kept it from him.

After checking a few rooms, he found Anne's. Harville needed not have been worried -- Fanny and Jimmy were the only ones who had been sleeping alone, except for Anne. He now understood why Harville had got up and why Sophia was still in bed, all things he ought to forget given this far more important matter. He had not even wanted to delay seeing Anne by questioning his sister.

Frederick poked a hesitant finger in her ribs. It met with resistance. She was indeed real, although he ran his hand over her figure to be even more certain. "What are you doing here?" he asked when he realised his touch had woken her.

"Captain Wentworth?" she asked sleepily.

"No!" Such formality was ridiculous, considering what she had done.

"Admiral Wentworth?" was the hesitant reaction.

She was really not trying to tease him, although he seemed to think otherwise. Calling him Frederick would be presumptuous and so she did not. What was he doing here by her bed? She raised herself on one elbow, but it was too dark to see his face. This was the confrontation she had dreaded and she knew she had been right in thinking she should not waste so much time imagining it beforehand -- this was nothing she could have thought of.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated.

Because he was impossible to read, she was cautious. "Here in my bed or here in this house?"

"I can imagine what you would be doing in your bed," he nearly snapped. "In this house! What?"

Anne deduced he was more impatient for her answer than angry. It relieved her a little. "Miss Harville wrote to me. She wrote -- if you make some light you can read her letter for yourself."

He fumbled a bit, but soon there was enough light by which to read the letter. He seemed to read it a few times. "I am not aware of having done that."

By that she supposed he meant uttering her name. She could study him now. He looked better, almost well, and he was dressed as if he had been out already. He inspired other feelings in her than before and she struggled to answer with composure. "I did not hear you do it," she assured him.

While that was a relief, there was more to be worried about. "What did I do?"

His aggressive impatience had waned and although she supposed he was still curious why she was here, he no longer seemed to want a direct answer. He was more concerned about not knowing what he had done when he had not been able to control himself. She could easily answer him about that. "You slept."

"You washed me."

"Did you notice?" In retrospect she was perhaps not surprised. The admiral had already indicated that Frederick reacted differently to him. He must have noticed a little bit in spite of everything. Not enough, she would say, or he would have spoken up if he had been able.

"Vaguely," he admitted. "But you had done it before! You had no delicacy at all."

"Delicacy. In a matter of life and death," Anne said a little contemptuously. She did not see how she could have refused to help him. "You were dirty and you smelled."

He flinched.

"I could have left you as you were, but I am not sure that would have been very healthy. Had you wanted me to sit wringing my hands till somebody came? They would never have allowed me to remain there. Do not remind me of it. It was a duty and I took no pleasure in studying you." Frederick seemed to be at a loss, she noted. There was still no trace of anger, only of embarrassment. She was reassured by it.

"I found your ribbon," he said, pulling it from his pocket.

"Thank you," she said shyly when her hand touched his upon receiving the ribbon. "I lost it yesterday when I ran after Freddy."

"Freddy!" He had forgotten that she had called his name. It had not been him, then, but Frederick Harville she had been calling. "Was he running from you? Why?"

"Does not everyone?" She bit her lip after speaking. That had slipped out so easily and it was untrue. She had broken her engagement to Frederick first before he had run. She had been to blame.

Fortunately he did not take that any further. "I am not sure I could have washed you had our situations been reversed. How did you do it?"

"I started at the face and then I worked from clean to dirty."

"But you ought not have been familiar with the male --" He stopped when she chuckled. His expression became angrier. "You have no right to laugh."

Anne coloured. "And you have no right to question my familiarity with -- with Walter and Charles and my failure to faint upon seeing you."

"Walter and Charles?" Frederick inquired through clenched teeth. "On the contrary -- I have every right. Does this explain your lack of delicacy?"

She knew she must not ruin it, but he was being too presumptuous. "I was gentle and that should matter most."

"Walter and Charles?" he demanded.

She gave in. "They are two and three years old and my sister's children. My sister, when she feels unwell, often lets me take care of them."

Frederick glared at her and left the room. Anne sank back in the pillow and wondered if she had ruined it after all. She did not know how else she should have handled it, though. It was very complicated to navigate through Frederick's mortification and anger -- and now, jealousy. Perhaps he would come to his senses if he reflected on their conversation.

Anne Elliot was the most unreliable minx he had ever encountered, Frederick fumed. Not only had she most cruelly abandoned him eight years ago, but she had turned into a completely different, utterly shameless and indelicate creature now. She undressed men without giving it any thought, as if she did it every day. She embraced impropriety with zeal and took pleasure in making him jealous.

How had it come to that? He conjured up the image of how she had been in the past. Apart from being weak and easy to persuade by the wrong kind of people, she had been full of good qualities. Where were those now? What would the old Anne have done? Such a proper and dutiful girl would have refused to sit by his bed. She would have met him outside at dawn, but not inside. No, she had known what was right.

A nagging voice told him he had not been seriously ill then and her arguments for tending to him had been rather convincing. The old Anne would also not have sat idly by while he -- he flinched again in mortification -- soiled himself, but she would have called for somebody. This new Anne took action herself.

Frederick reviewed the new, action-taking Anne who discarded any delicate feelings when duty demanded it. Disregarding her reasons for coming here, she had employed her time here well. If he was honest, he could understand why his sister had let her stay. Cleaning him up was not the most enviable of tasks, he would say. That Anne had wanted to take it upon herself would have been considered a blessing.

Perhaps he could be grateful to her. She had taken good care of him and without complaints. He would have preferred not to have been humbled by her again, but perhaps this had not at all been like a rejection.

He might feel some grudging respect for the new, improper Anne. She was honest rather than improper, perhaps. Walter and Charles had been very proper experiences, it seemed, and he had only run off -- again, he realised -- because he had felt foolish for having thought them something else.

Now he was stuck, of course, for how could he go back? He never liked admitting a mistake, even if this was not really a mistake.

While Frederick was morosely studying his shoes as he sat on the stairs, there was some commotion near the front doors. He was not interested in deliveries, but after a moment he realised it was commotion at the front entrance, not the back. It must be a visitor, who was undoubtedly being told that nobody was up and who did not appear to accept that. Who could be so rude? Frederick was already toying with the idea of rescuing the poor footman, but when the caller raised his voice and announced his importance, he knew beyond a doubt that he must.

"I am Sir Walter Elliot! Where is my daughter?" said the voice. "She stole my carriage!"

Yes, he should definitely descend and confront the man. He walked down and saw the look of relief on the servant's face when he came into view. He gave him a nod. The situation would be handled. The footman hurried off instantly, though he undoubtedly remained nearby.

Frederick's dislike of Sir Walter Elliot had never disappeared. Never would he forget the man's cold indifference and disapproval. It would be a pleasure to put the man in his place. It struck him briefly that it must have been worse for Anne, something that had never occurred to him before. She had in fact merely been the messenger of that final, damning communication. Her father had had the final say. Frederick acknowledged his unjust condemnation of Anne, but her father deserved no kindness, the pompous fool.

"Sir Walter," he said with a cold and civil bow.

"My daughter! She stole my carriage."

"Your daughter stole your carriage, sir?" Frederick inquired. "And what business is this of ours? Your carriage is not here." As he spoke, he marvelled at this new Anne, this creature who stole carriages and washed men. He should not; he did not approve in general, but perhaps because he knew her better, he did. It was a little confusing, but definitely intriguing. Bless Anne. He had been shocked by her, but this was all very good.

"But my daughter is. Are you Admiral Croft?" Sir Walter squinted.

Too vain for spectacles, Frederick assumed. "I am not."

"Who is he? Another obscure man risen to undue distinction in the Navy? Where is my daughter?" he repeated.

"What is her name?"

"Miss Anne Elliot."

"Oh, that is my wife," Frederick said matter-of-factly. He did not know who was the most shocked: he or Sir Walter.

Posted on Wednesday, 19 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Your wife?" Sir Walter was incredulous. "And what of Admiral Croft?"

"He is not my wife." Evidently it only mattered whom Anne had married, not that she had married at all. Frederick had no qualms about not giving serious answers. He also needed to think how to extricate himself from this situation. Given the mood he was in he was likely to entangle himself only further.

Sir Walter turned red at this utter lack of respect.

"He has a wife of his own." Frederick wondered why he expected the admiral to have something to do with Anne. Who had told him about the admiral? How had he known where to go? "Why did your daughter steal your carriage? Did you not want to lend it to her?"

Sir Walter's colour heightened even more upon being accused instead of Anne. "She did not ask! Instead she took it. It returned home accompanied by a note from some admiral announcing he would take good care of her."

Frederick could not help laughing, though James, if he had truly written it like that, ought to have known that others did not always think like him. In fact, most others did not. Their sort of good care would be different from his, especially where young ladies were concerned. "Did you not trust him?"

"Young man!" the baronet exploded. "It is clear I could not, if she is married."

"Are daughters not a burden one is glad to be rid of?"

"My daughters shall not marry simply anybody."

"I am not simply anybody." Not anymore. He could be proud of who he was and what he had achieved. It had all been his own doing, compared to a baronet who had merely inherited a title and a house. His lips curled up in contempt for people who thought they deserved respect when they had done nothing to earn it.

"Where is my daughter?"

"In my care, as my wife." He smiled pleasantly as he said so. How easy it was to lie!

"And who are you?"Sir Walter inquired, full of suspicion.

Frederick knew his appearance was in his favour -- tall, handsome and well-dressed. He was impressive, even if he was recovering from a serious illness. "Your new son-in-law," he said with a tantalisingly wicked grin. It served the man right for refusing to recognise him. That was something he did not quite understand. Eight years ago they had met repeatedly. Either Sir Walter refused to acknowledge that, or he had never paid any attention. Either thing was strange.

"I order you to desist from this disrespectful talk, young man."

Not yet. He would almost forget his still slightly feverish feeling like this. Sir Walter could try what he liked to put on an air of authority, but he would not succeed. He would not be able to stop Anne from marrying this time -- if Anne wanted to be married. It was a sobering thought. She might simply enjoy nursing half-dead men, although marriage could never be worse than cleaning them up.

Did he want to marry her? He would ask himself that later. First he must deal with Sir Walter Elliot. It was easy to postpone the question. "What have you come to do? Get your daughter back?"

"It is clear that this was a matter of deception and coercion. Where is she?"

She was upstairs in her bed without any idea of being married to him. What would she say? Perhaps she would never find out, though he supposed he could not send Sir Walter out of the house directly. A good son-in-law could not and he was pretending to be good, was he not?

"Perhaps, Sir Walter, you would care to step into the parlour?" Frederick said invitingly. It would have pained him to say anything friendly at all if he had not had a purpose. It was not a friendly purpose, however. He was most certainly out to annoy the man.

Sir Walter, provided with a glass of something that was far too strong for the hour of the day, felt he was being treated slightly better.

"What had you planned to do with your daughter if you found her?" Frederick inquired. He poured himself a glass of water. It would not do to become inebriated; he already felt lightheaded from what he had drunk earlier. It had not been much, but his illness and the early hour conspired against him.

"I am going to take her home, of course. Suppose it became known that a daughter of Sir Walter Elliot's were here in the house of an obscure admiral's!" Sir Walter shuddered in horror.

"Admirals are never very obscure because there are not very many of them. One must watch out for captains. There are far too many of those," Frederick informed him in a pleasant tone. He did not feel quite as pleasant, for it sounded as if only Sir Walter suffered and not the poor young woman. He supposed, at least, that no young woman would willingly enter the house of an obscure man. "To be snared by a mere captain is certainly a very obscure fate for a baronet's daughter -- or does she have a price?" Anne would not, but her father might.

"A price?"

"There are wealthy captains, you know. With a great fortune in prize money. They might make your daughter a good husband. The admiral might well be useful in throwing your daughter in the way of some such gentlemen."

"Sailors are not gentlemen," the baronet wished to point out.

"Who cares, if they are rich?" Frederick reasoned with a smile. He was a gentleman and he looked like one; he even had the money to continue looking like one. "Besides, if you had had a younger brother, Sir Walter, he might have distinguished himself in the Navy." He thought he recalled that the man did not have any younger brothers, but at the time he had not really cared to find out who the man's heir was.

Sir Walter contemplated this with a look of horror. A brother, in the Navy!

"Or would he have lived off an allowance you gave him?" He doubted that, considering that the man had not even wanted to give his own daughter any money.

"No, no."

"Thus it is very likely that a younger brother of yours would have become an admiral, especially given that he would have been older than Admiral Croft. Mr Elliot the parson? Mr Elliot the colonel? Does Admiral Elliot not sound infinitely better?"

"But," said Sir Walter with a confused air, "you said Anne was already married -- and not to an admiral, because you are not Admiral Croft."

He had indeed strayed from his initial message and he was surprised that Sir Walter had noticed. "I may be another admiral."

"Do not tease me so, young man. Admirals are old and weatherbeaten." It was clear that he knew that for a fact and would not be contradicted.

"Very well. I am a rich captain, young and handsome."

"And you are married to Anne?" Sir Walter looked doubtful of what his reaction ought to be. "How rich are you?"

"I am rich in good qualities."

"The more you say, the more I am convinced you are in fact Admiral Croft's valet or some other such insignificant fellow."

Frederick laughed at that ridiculous comment. "I can assure you that I am not Admiral Croft's valet. Nor am I an insignificant fellow. Let us return to the subject of your daughter. Why did she come here?"

"If she married you, I expect I ought to call it eloping. She went here to elope with you." Sir Walter pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket and gave him a good scrutiny. "I say, you are not that fellow, are you?"

"Which fellow?"

"The insignificant fellow she wished to marry long ago."

"I have never been an insignificant fellow. Why did your daughter not marry him?" Frederick refilled the baronet's glass. If one did not need anything from the man, it was in fact amusing to lead him on. This time he needed nothing from him. He was in a position of perfect independence.

"How could you ask?" Sir Walter said with a contemptuous snort. "An insignificant fellow? Marry my daughter?"

"Were the objections not personal then? It was merely his lack of fortune and connections?" he pressed. The same objections could not be used against him again. He was curious if he was more desirable now.

He had always sworn he would not beg for Anne, but perhaps he had always said so because of the fear he would be rejected again. Today he felt very certain he was not going to be rejected. Anne had come here for him. He had not asked her outright -- he would still not ask -- and she had not said anything outright either. He was only dependent on Anne, if he wished to marry her, not on her father. But did he want to marry Anne?

"Goodness, do you think I cared to remember?" Sir Walter took an indifferent sip.

"Well, your memory might come in as useful as your spectacles if you believe me to be the same man."

"I do not see how two different men could be pursuing Anne," said Sir Walter in disbelief. "Anne!"

Anne had wondered what she might do, but she was determined not to speak to anyone else about the interlude. She was curious who had told him she was here, but at this early hour she settled for getting dressed. It took her a while. Frederick had not seen her at her most favourable after this long time and she was more anxious about her appearance than she would customarily be.

He had looked very well himself, no longer a boyish man, but a handsome man. With his eyes open this was all a little more apparent. The expressions in them were half the attraction and she regretted that it had been too dark to see very much of his eyes.

Frederick had saved her the trouble of having to go out to look for her ribbon, which she did not mind. It was growing colder and it looked to be chilly outside, not that she would have gone just yet. He seemed to be a little favourably inclined towards her, given that he had returned her ribbon, although it could as easily have been a pretext for coming to see her.

He had not asked much, but he had nevertheless been jealous. Why did he think he had any right to be jealous? She was interested in knowing whether he still felt that way after hearing he was jealous of two babies. He would probably not tell her. It had been unkind of her, perhaps, not to let him know directly. She was uneasy about it, but it had not been the easiest subject to discuss. It might even be easier to wash a man than to speak of doing so, to the man in question especially.

She had no idea where Frederick had gone and what he might be thinking, but she was hungry. First she would eat and then she would decide on a course of action -- or pursuit, more likely. She made her way to the breakfast room, which was ready in spite of there not yet being anyone ready for it at this hour. At least nobody had been the day before. She did not mind eating alone. At home it happened more often than not at breakfast and today especially she was too caught up in her thoughts to have much attention to spare for polite conversation.

There were voices coming from the room, however, animated and cheerful voices. When she pushed open the door, she halted in surprise.

Frederick, who had become hungry, had managed to take Sir Walter into the breakfast room. The display of foods, while not as grand and elaborate as at Kellynch, had met with his approval and he had sat down. He had partaken of his favourite dish and soon felt very much reconciled to his new son-in-law. Here, in the better light of the breakfast room, it was a very handsome young man indeed. He wore good clothes and one should not be ashamed to be seen with him.

The matter of Anne had gone quite ignored -- until she entered the room and gave them a most unbecoming open-mouthed look.

"Do close your mouth, Anne," Sir Walter said sternly. "I hear you are married."

Anne could only stare.

"But you are in remarkably good looks. What do you have to say for yourself?"

She had very little to say for herself. Perhaps he ought to be questioning Frederick and not her. She knew nothing of what had been discussed and she looked uncertain. Frederick's expression gave her no hints. It was completely blank. "Have you been to Meryton, sir?" It was the only thing she could think of.

Sir Walter looked perturbed. "Meryton? Where is Meryton? Why?"

"The people of Meryton think I am married."

"And why should they not think so?" her father reasoned. "I hope you have not told them whose daughter you are, for they would surely have questioned my absence."

"No," she answered in confusion. Frederick was still looking blank. Why had she been thinking highly of his expressions? "Given what they think, Papa, I am sure they understand perfectly that you were absent."

"What do they think?" Frederick cut in.

"I c-c-cannot say." She felt the full force of his no longer blank stare. He wanted to know, but she was not going to tell him. "Will somebody not tell me what you are doing here, Papa?" And why he was having an amiable breakfast conversation with the man who ought to consider himself his worst enemy on dry land?

"I am breakfasting with your husband here," Sir Walter told her. "He has informed me of your scandalous conduct, Anne. However, I am in a forgiving mood, because these small sausages are delightful. Just small enough to give one a good taste and not too big to cause any weight gains. Delightful. I have just ordered some trousers, you see."

"Then there is nothing more for me to say?" Anne wondered. She wanted to ask about her scandalous conduct, but not in front of her father.

Precious Pride ~ Section V

By Lise

Beginning, Previous Section, Section V

Jump to new as of October 11, 2007
Jump to new as of October 15, 2007
Jump to new as of October 24, 2007

Posted on Saturday, 22 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-Six

Anne sat down. She followed her father's example and had some sausages. Frederick was watching it all with interest, though he refused to meet her eyes if she tried to look at him. He was not at all sure what she was thinking. She might be full of disapproval, although she was sitting down calmly enough and could even eat. He had tried, but he could not eat any more at present.

He had not counted on Anne to appear. He now wondered if the situation was going to become worse, with even more people appearing before he and Anne had solved this. It would be extremely embarrassing if another person came in and his lies came out. His victorious feelings would disappear entirely. Before then he must try and salvage the situation.

Anne was thankfully not questioning her scandalous conduct, though he had seen it puzzled her. She knew what she had done, of course, but she did not understand why he had mentioned it. He had not. She must be puzzled most of all by the apparent good understanding between him and her father. So was he.

Sir Walter spoke again. "You are really in good looks, Anne. Have you had this sort of breakfast every day?"

"Yes, Papa," she said after a moment.

"You were quite miserable and thin before you left. I could hardly bear to look at you."

Frederick felt rather indignant at such a heartless comment. He had studied Anne, naturally, after such a long period of not seeing her and he had found her very pretty. She was indeed thinner than the other women in the house, although he had not seen them together, but she was not carrying a child.

"Thank you, Papa," Anne murmured. "I am glad to be in better looks."

Frederick pondered the apparent improvement in her looks. Was it due to him? And how frightful had she been that her father could hardly have borne to look at her?

"Sit on the chair next to yours, young man," Sir Walter ordered all of a sudden. "That awful painting of that boat might well be hidden from view then."

It was the chair next to Anne's and she had been keeping that one empty between them for some reason. He did not want to go against her wishes now, but her fathered ordered. He moved up a seat. Sophia was fond of snug meals and she had chosen not to have the table lengthened when the number of guests increased. His knee nudged Anne's by accident and she started. Sir Walter, engrossed by his sausages, did not notice.

"It is not a boat, Sir Walter. It is a sloop," Frederick said with a glance over his shoulder.

"Well, well, what might a sloop be, other than simply another type of boat? One boat is very much like another to me."

Frederick stared at him incredulously. "Would you not see the difference between a sloop and a first rate ship-of-the-line?"

"I beg your pardon?" Sir Walter had never seen either thing.

He attempted to phrase it in language Sir Walter could understand. "If you can tell the difference between a small sausage and a large one, you could. A sloop is a small sausage."

"Why should I care? It is a frightful painting."

"Very true to life," Frederick said with another glance over his shoulder. "But the waves can be frightful indeed."

"I hope you will not think of taking Anne onto a sloop. Where is your second daughter, Sir Walter? She is on a sloop with a sailor." He shuddered as he imagined having to give such a reply. "That is impossible."

"A sloop?" Frederick laughed mockingly. "Do not think me still in command of sloops, sir!"

Sloops, boats -- he still did not see the difference. "A boat is no place for a woman."

"I might agree with you there, Sir Walter. However, she would not exactly be on a boat with a sailor."

"On a boat with a great many sailors, I presume. That is even worse. But Anne, I trust, would not embarrass her father to such an extent."

"I cannot make the decision on my own," she replied quietly. "I should have to be invited by the captain."

"And he will not share you with his sailors," Frederick said without thinking very deeply. "Er...I mean that he is not likely to invite you," he added hurriedly. "If he has any respect for women and the comforts they require."

The glance Anne gave him was not devoid of mockery. "It would be a great comfort to me to know I should not be shared, but which other comforts do women require?"

He did not understand her feelings on the subject, but he suspected that if he were engaged in a discussion, he would lose. It made him rather uncomfortable. "Well, er...a comfortable place to sleep?"

"Your sister, I believe, has travelled extensively," she replied. "The places to sleep that were available to her must have been sufficiently comfortable."

"She was married."

"Why do you presume I should allow a captain to invite me if I were not married to him?"

He had been right -- he had lost, or so it felt. He disliked the way she arched her eyebrows, yet he found it intriguing as well. Then he remembered they were married, as far as Sir Walter knew, and the man was still listening. "Quite obviously I should not allow my wife to be invited by other captains," he said after a moment.

Anne did not appear to find fault with that. "I deduce a captain has a sufficiently comfortable bed for his wife, or only an admiral?"

"Anne, one does not discuss beds," Sir Walter spoke.

"A captain and an admiral both have comfortable beds -- an admiral's must be better than mine -- and where they leave their wives I leave to you to determine," said Frederick, ignoring the baronet. He was not really sure where the admiral left Sophia, but he had always assumed it was somewhere within his reach.

"Where she wishes to be left, surely?" Anne wondered.

He wondered where Anne wished to be left, but he chided himself for that thought a second later. He had not even settled the question of whether he wanted to be married to her. What had he thought of her a while ago? A cruel and unreliable minx? One did not want to marry such a woman. One ought not.

Unfortunately, faced with the woman in the flesh, he knew she was neither thing and that his judgement was unjust. Perhaps he might even be able to bring himself to say so. He hoped it was not necessary. They might, by some kind trick of fate, end up past that point unnoticed.

And where did Anne want to be left? He wondered again and this time he could not put off the question. "Where is that?"

"That depends on the available space," she said cautiously. "I should be practical above all."

Yes, he supposed she would be indeed. She would choose an uncomfortable place if she believed she needed to be out of everybody's way. "Utile dulci," he tried.

"I did receive an education, you know," Sir Walter said with a suspicious look. "There is no need to speak sweet words in foreign tongues. I rather wonder at your having received enough of an education to speak them, Captain."

"How else am I to order a drink in a foreign port?" Frederick reasoned.

"But the second part of your question..." Anne hardly dared to look at him. "Is it compatible with the first?"

He caught some very promising glimpses of her face. "Always, I assume, or someone would not have coined a phrase about it."

Unfortunately everything promising was nipped in the bud when more people decided to come to breakfast. That they had escaped this before had been sheer good luck; the table had been set for half an hour at least. Frederick had been hoping the first would be anyone but Fanny, whose tongue was too unguarded to be safe. Thankfully it was his sister, though that she was closely followed by her husband was less good.

"Good morning," Sophia greeted. She was clearly astonished by seeing Anne and him together, as well as by seeing a stranger at the table.

"Good morning," Admiral Croft echoed.

"May I --" Frederick and Anne said simultaneously, both getting up. Then they faltered. Frederick nodded at her. She could do it if she wished. He should probably keep his mouth shut for as long as he could manage -- or restrict himself to Latin phrases.

"Papa, this is Mrs Croft and Admiral Croft. Mrs Croft, this is my father, Sir Walter Elliot."

Greetings were exchanged and Sir Walter looked no less astonished than Admiral and Mrs Croft. "Admiral?" he said in a slightly disbelieving voice. "Are you certain?"

"Quite." The admiral shot a glance at Anne and then at Frederick, but since he was not being addressed he felt he could safely look away.

"I received your note, Admiral," said Sir Walter, intending to discuss the matter immediately. "My daughter looks very well indeed. I may forgive the matter of her marriage, because she is much improved in looks."

The matter of her marriage was less surprising to them than he would have thought, Frederick noted. He wondered why.

"I thought it was a brilliant idea," the admiral nodded. "And I am glad you forgive me for it."

"Indeed. The captain has quite a fortune, he assured me. And he seems to have some education as well."

Eight years ago, Frederick reflected, he would have been very offended by such a remark. Today he could simply acknowledge that the man did not know any better. He had not his daughter's mind.

The admiral nodded again. "A brilliant match, really, only the two are --"

Sophia cut him off. ""Do sit down, my dear. Will you take my seat or shall I?"

"I think, for a fair division of ladies and gentlemen at the table, that you should take it," he said with a gracious bow. "I can observe Sir Walter from this end. Tell me, sir. Have you come to collect your daughter?"

"I had, but I now hear this is not necessary. Admiral, these sausages you serve are really delightful. I must compliment you on them."

"I am glad you find your journey satisfactory in one regard. You are of course welcome to enjoy my hospitality for as long as you desire, Sir Walter," Admiral Croft said with an amiable smile. "And my cook's sausages."

Anne was trying not to betray that the invitation startled her and that her father would be very much in the way if he stayed. He did not yet know the truth. She tried to discern whether she wanted him to leave without ever learning the truth. It was certainly to be preferred, at least for the moment. Later it might not matter very much when they had actually married. Later. Such as after his death, she thought wryly.

If they were to be married at all! There was always that question to consider. She frowned. Frederick was certainly not behaving as if he was opposed to it. One of his hands had disappeared under the table and was giving her leg a vicious squeeze. Oddly enough she could understand his message very well. Her father must not stay.

She pondered his staying. There was nothing she could do to prevent it. She could hardly steal his carriage first and send him away later. He was her father. Whatever she might prefer and Frederick might want, if her father chose to accept the invitation, he would stay.

Perhaps Frederick could continue to impress him. They seemed to have an amazingly good understanding at the moment. She hoped it was not based on lies, as the information about their marriage was. She hoped Frederick had not doubled his fortune in an attempt to impress her father. Too many lies would only complicate the situation even more.

One of her hands disappeared under the table to remove the hand that remained on her leg. The first part of Frederick's message she had understood -- the squeeze -- but the meaning of this second part eluded her. He responded by catching her hand and holding it. This, while secretly pleasant, was inconvenient for somebody who was supposed to have decent table manners.

"Thank you, but I am on my way to London," was her father's reply, for which she was more grateful than she ought to be.

She could not get rid of Frederick's hand, though.

Posted on Wednesday, 26 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"My dear," Sophia said to Miss Elliot after some deliberation over how to address her. If she was not mistaken, Sir Walter believed the two were married. Seated side by side with each a hand missing, it did appear that way. Calling her Miss Elliot now might blow away Frederick's flimsy veil of deception. "Would you mind taking a turn about the room with me? My legs are restless again."

"Of course," Miss Elliot said readily. She waited until they had taken a few steps. "I am glad you did not address me by name, unless you said Anne, because my father thinks I am married."

"Ah." Sophia felt smug for having seen that correctly. "That is what I wanted to talk to you about. How did it happen?"

"I found them together. The damage was already done. I cannot understand it. Wait. That is not entirely true. I knew he was up and walking, for he came to see me in my room this morning. Frederick, that is, not my father. He asked me what I was doing here and I showed him Fanny's letter."

"And?" Sophia pressed. She was too curious about Frederick's reaction. If his current behaviour was anything to go by, it must have been positive, yet it was odd that Anne was so uncertain. Where had that hand of his been?

"He was not pleased I had taken care of him. I think he would have preferred me to faint."

"My dear, I hope I do not shock you if I say he spoke to me of the caring in glowing terms. Faint indeed!" What a fool he was. What sort of girl did he want? Did he not know he would not at all prefer a girl who fainted? Perhaps he would like her to faint at other men, but not at himself. He ought to like a girl who could speak with apparent seriousness and who would have sounded mocking if it had not been for her uncertainty.

"I think he was uncomfortable with his assumption that I was experienced in the care of men." Anne bit her lip as she glanced at her companion. "I appear to have been good. He seemed rather worried. I felt he had no right and I delayed the revelation that they were babies. But then..."

Sophia was delighted with her. It was exactly what she would have recommended. "You are a very bad girl. What did he do?"

"He left the room. And when I next saw him, he was having a cosy breakfast with my father. I do not understand how my father came to be here, nor how they could be sitting down together. Frederick has hardly opened his mouth since I came in, only to speak of ships."

"Well, ships are very important to a captain," Sophia said with a smile. "They should at most times be more important to him than women."

"But I am confused. I was afraid of saying something wrong, but I have absolutely no idea which game he is playing. And, I hope I am not too suspicious, but I believe my father has had a few drinks too many."

Admiral Croft was left to study the quirky looks of his brother-in-law and the delight Sir Walter took in his breakfast. He did not know which of the two intrigued him more. The two ladies, he knew, were up to no good. Restless legs was a euphemism for a private chat about one or more of the gentlemen. He knew his recent conduct gave no rise to gossip, so they were very likely talking about the others.

"Frederick," he said, just when Frederick was attempting to turn his eyes as far to the side as he could without moving his head. This made for a rather idiotic image. Glancing at ladies who would not even notice they were being observed could be done in a much easier way.

Frederick's eyes turned back. "Yes?"

"You will go cross-eyed or your eyes will disappear in the back of your head and never come out again. Sir Walter, whereabouts in Somerset do you live? I am from the north of the country."

Sir Walter was never opposed to telling anybody about Kellynch and his estate and although he in all politeness made an effort to remember any Crofts, he could not. His impression of the admiral was influenced more favourably by hearing the admiral's father had an estate of his own, even if it was likely to be small and insignificant.

"Might you have heard of any good houses being for rent in Somersetshire?" the admiral wondered. "This, though at a good price, is at a bad location."

"I am not certain that a man who wished to rent out his house would advertise the fact," spoke Sir Walter.

"A woman would." The admiral was not out to offend the man and this seemed the only polite reply that held a modicum of good sense.

"That is true. Women advertise anything. They are notoriously indiscreet."

"Perhaps you have heard someone speak of renting out or selling. This is a rather shabby house, which explains why it was so cheap and so available. Nobody has lived in it for years. I am still waiting for a definitive calculation of my fortune, but something a little better-looking and closer to my family should be available at around the same cost, or so my wife has assured me, if we have the time to look about." They had felt some urgency to find a place, although they would never say so out loud for fear of making Captain Harville quite uncomfortable.

"Your wife!" Sir Walter was all astonishment.

"Yes, yes, do not think an admiral capable of handling such business immediately when he is turned ashore. You have no idea how busy we are. An admiral of good fortune is always in want of his wife. We must let our wives handle land matters. And I have only one wife."

"Surely the matter is too important to be left to a wife?"

"It would be, if I had several wives, but I only have one."

To this Sir Walter could not reply anything and Frederick's attention was still more on the ladies than on the conversation before him. The admiral thought it very boring and he felt very much in want of his wife. "Sophy," he therefore called. "You need to eat properly. If you need a walk I shall take you out after breakfast."

She gave him what might to a bystander look like a meek smile and sat down again.

Anne, not called by anyone, sauntered towards the window. She was in all honesty a little afraid to sit down again. Someone else was bound to come into the room very soon and she would rather not be here then. Captain and Mrs Harville were the least dangerous; at least she did not think they would say very much because it was not in their natures to say very much at any time. Mr and Mrs Wentworth were equally quiet people, though as Frederick's brother Mr Wentworth might venture a comment. Fanny and Captain Benwick, on the contrary, were highly dangerous, Fanny especially. She would look and draw immediate conclusions.

Frederick pushed his chair away from the table and bowed. He walked towards her. "Had you finished eating? We need to see to our correspondence."

This was the first direct communication to her in this room, she thought, and she was consequently a little affected. He almost looked her in the eye as well. She was afraid she had a very wild and startled look over her and she tried to compose herself. "Our correspondence. Of course."

He led her out of the room into the study. Anne wondered if he really meant to write letters. She could not think of whom or what to write, but he did not direct his steps towards the table. He approached her and embraced her passionately. This, in addition to taking a while, also required some moments to recover from.

"That was very pleasant," he said in a breathless voice.

In spite of having been squeezed almost flat, Anne shared his sentiments to some extent. She was unable to say so, however.

"You must forgive me. Eight years without is very trying for a man."

"Without what?" It was too soon to feel relief or joy.

"Without embracing a woman." Frederick looked a little ashamed of having given in to his desires. "You may not understand. Women do not have such feelings."

"What do you know of women's feelings?" Anne cut in, sounding sharper than she had intended. She was pleased with him on the whole. It was not his fault that he did not understand women completely. "If women act upon their feelings, you accuse them of acting indelicately. You want me to understand, but not to reciprocate."

"Reciprocate?" He said the word slowly, as if he was imagining possibilities at the same time. His eyes brightened as a result. "I do. And I promise I shall not call you indelicate."

Anne was not yet ready to do anything. She took a step back and felt she must be a little firmer until they had solved the problem of her father. "Evidently I am not willing to relieve your suffering yet. You spoke of embracing a woman, not of embracing me in particular. What did you tell my father?"

He gasped and was unable to speak.

"You told my father we were married," she continued. "Why?"

Frederick looked doubtful. "There have been other men I did not like, but I have never felt the need to tell them I was married to their daughters. I was shocked to hear myself say it. It was quite despicable of me to get my revenge on the man at your expense. I am sorry. Now I do not know how to solve it."

Anne took a deep breath. If he did not know, she must. It was rather a change, from taking care of a helpless man to dealing with one who was in full possession of his powers, including the power to make mistakes. "You must go back and say you made a mistake in your haste. We are not married; we are engaged." The same points must still be counting in Frederick's favour: his handsome appearance and his fortune. Not much could go wrong if Frederick was also charming.

His eyes brightened again. "Engaged?"

"He will find out sooner or later that I have not been gone long enough to be wed," she explained quietly. She was glad he did not seem opposed to the idea of being engaged. "You may have given him too many drinks, but he is not entirely stupid. Do it now before it is too late and he thinks you have been making a fool of him."

"But I have! And I am likely to make a mess of it if he makes one more comment about hardly having been able to look at you," he warned vehemently. "I should have liked to throw his precious sausages at his head!"

"I will reciprocate if you speak to him calmly without throwing anything at his head. And then we must talk," she added, wondering if the order should not be reversed.

Frederick found Sir Walter still seated at the table. To complicate matters, however, his brother had arrived and he could see the questions in Edward's eyes. Of course he had recognised Sir Walter and he would now be wondering what the man was doing here, if he had not already asked. He would connect it to Anne, who he probably knew was here, and wonder what Frederick would say.

Speaking to Sir Walter could obviously not be done in company. "Sir Walter," he said therefore, ordering himself to speak calmly. Anne would give him a wonderful reward if he did. Her expression had been very promising. "May I ask you to step aside with me for a moment? It concerns a matter of great importance."

Sir Walter complied.

Frederick spoke when they were in a corner. "I am not yet married to your daughter. She reminded me that I was giving you the wrong impression, but I got carried away in my enthusiasm. I was already thinking of her as my wife and treating her as such, you see."

Posted on Saturday, 29 September 2007

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Have you lived with my daughter as husband and wife?" Sir Walter demanded. He was wise enough to keep his voice down, but anyone who could see his face from afar would know he was ready to burst.

"Lived? Oh, you mean shared a bed? I think not, though it is always difficult to know when one is --" He saw Sir Walter turn red and realised that he should not make too many mistakes. "Most certainly not. I am most decidedly against the practice. In fact, I doubt I will change my mind after marriage. I meant I treat her very kindly, or I intend to do so."

Sir Walter looked approving. "I do not hear many young men talk such sense. They usually fail to realise that sharing a room leads to very bad nights, with a consequent loss of looks. People underestimate the power of sleep."

"I do not, certainly!" Frederick cried. "But did you understand that Anne is merely engaged? I was getting ahead of myself in my enthusiasm. As usual."

"That may be so, but --" Here Sir Walter displayed a remarkable perceptiveness. "-- I cannot see my daughter return to Kellynch with me."

Frederick had not thought that far ahead yet, but he did not like the prospect of losing Anne again so quickly. Perhaps, if Sir Walter raised the matter himself, he was amenable to a gentlemanly settlement. "If you do not really need her there, I should like to keep her here, if I may."

"I do not think anybody needs Anne at Kellynch. You may keep her here, though not in your room, of course."

Frederick smiled politely. She had just spent several days in his room, if he was not mistaken. And Sir Walter said nothing about Anne's room. Sir Walter was a very generous father, even if he did not care a bit about his daughter. "Of course."

He returned to Anne a happy man. "It is all settled. I may keep you here, as long as I do not keep you in my room. Mind you, he did not forbid your keeping me in your room." He sat down in one of the chairs and placed his hands under his legs. Anne would reciprocate and he must not interfere with her intentions.

"How can I embrace you if you are in a chair?" she asked in dismay.

"Ask Sophia how she manages that. I have seen her do it."

"How?"

"Usually I flee the room. I do not want to put any ideas in your head, but she sits in his lap. And then I flee the room." Anne took up an awkward position in his lap after some hesitation. At least, from her face he could tell she thought it awkward, but he would disagree. It was surprisingly pleasant. "Does that not give you better access?"

"But to sit on you!" She was not yet convinced.

"It gives me better access, whatever you think of it." He pulled her nearer. "I should talk to you, should I not? About what I did while I was away." And why he had not returned. Why he had thought of her and yet done nothing about it.

"Yes," she said slowly, looking a little fearful.

"When I was not abusing you as the most unreliable woman who ever lived and the last woman I ever wanted to see again, I was dreaming of you," he whispered in her ear. "And we were doing things like this. How angry I was every time I woke! I could not get rid of you, no matter how I tried."

"Did you really dream of me?"

"Yes. Stop dreaming of the woman, I told myself, but it would not work." It seemed as if the more he had said it, the more he had dreamt of her. And having her sit here now, looking so surprised and shy, she had not at all changed.

"And we did this?"

"Yes. Imagine the punishment. Reminding me I had been too proud to write to you and what I could have enjoyed if I had." Frederick smiled wryly. "My conscience knew. I could not once dream of you normally! We must always be kissing, cuddling and loving."

She was a little anxious. "I hope I did not do anything strange."

"Not until you came here," he assured her.

Anne looked shocked.

"When may I fall ill again?" he said teasingly, kissing her cheek. It had been strange, but pleasant, the little he had been aware of. She did not have to worry about that.

She embraced him rather tightly. "You may never fall ill again. I am willing to take care of you if you feel well as well. All I could do was wait for you, only to be told after so many years that you might be dying. Not again. I could do so little while you were away. Although if I could come here now, could I not have come to you sooner? What would you have done?"

From the tightness of her grip he sensed her longing. It made him feel guilty and happy at the same time. "We shall forever be wondering, but now, at least, I am not in any immediate danger of being sent to sea and it is a rather good moment to --"

"Here they are!" cried Fanny as she threw the door open. "Oh, Jimmy! Look! Look!"

"Good grief," Frederick muttered, but he would not let such interruptions happen without proper consequences. "I need a word with you, Miss Harville!" He gently set Anne on her feet, kissed her and made a dash for Fanny, who ran away screaming.

Anne was left to face a startled Captain Benwick. She was not yet prepared to speak to anyone, as she was still thinking of Frederick's dreams and what she had been doing in them.

"We are the more thoughtful ones in our relationships, it seems," said Captain Benwick with a sigh.

She would agree, but something else caught her attention first. Far away she heard Fanny's screams. Perhaps she was slowly dying a tickle death, such as she sometimes administered to Walter and Charles. "Do you not have to help?"

"Help?" He laughed. "Oh, no. Fanny can take care of herself. I am sorry she insisted on opening the door. I do not think she had expected to find anything."

"I am sorry for what she saw," Anne replied with a blush.

"Think nothing of it. Fanny and I are no better. Even the admiral and Mrs Croft are no better. They have not grown out of it with age. I served in his cabin as a boy, you know. It may in fact only have got worse."

Anne smiled. "I do not think they are very bad, because I have never seen it."

"Well, that is the difference between you and Fanny. You leave closed doors as they are, but Fanny -- and Frederick, too -- open them."

"True." She smiled some more. "He opened my door this morning."

"He opened all doors this morning. So that was what he was up to!" He had sharp ears, for suddenly he held his head to one side and listened. "The little Harvilles have joined in. That was to be expected. They do not often get the chance to tumble and roll, what with Thomas' leg and Fiona's baby. Although Thomas and Fiona...er..."

Thankfully Anne's attention was drawn to the breakfast room, from where her father exited. She hurried towards him, ready to makes excuses for the racket, in which she suspected Frederick had a rather large involvement.

"Anne," said he. "Elizabeth and I are for London."

"Elizabeth?" She had not seen her sister, but perhaps it was not so surprising that Elizabeth had preferred not to stay behind. She would not like having to visit the house of a sailor.

"She chose to remain in the carriage. We are off. I shall let you know in which publications you must advertise your marriage."

"That is very kind," she murmured. She had not thought of doing so, yet she supposed she no longer had a choice. The selected publications must carry the news of their marriage. She listened to what she must do in Bath and London if she ever went there, which she hoped not.

Admiral and Mrs Croft, who had also come out to take their leave of Sir Walter, were very civil in their goodbyes. Anne feared her father would withdraw his consent when Frederick remained absent, but he did not.

"Where is Frederick?" Mrs Croft nevertheless asked when the door was closed and they were alone again.

"He is making that noise upstairs." She almost felt she ought to defend him for it and she waited for a reaction, but surprisingly making noise was considered very ordinary.

"I should like to ask him what this was all about. Your father made us none the wiser, although he seemed quite taken with Frederick. I thought this very strange, considering his opinion years ago."

Anne realised she had not yet asked Frederick either. "I sent Frederick to correct my father's mistaken impression that we were married before we talked, but after that Fanny interrupted us and he chased after her. I know little more than you do."

"I thought you went away to speak to Frederick."

"Yes, but..." Anne blushed fiercely. "We also..."

"There was so much to speak of that they spoke of something else first," Admiral Croft said with a helpful wink.

"Indeed." Her cheeks grew even warmer, even though he was winking in sympathy and understanding.

"Of the more important things. What are they doing upstairs?" He looked towards the stairs longingly.

"Go," Mrs Croft said with a nudge and he wasted no time. "Boys. Noise and action always sound so alluring to them. Why did your father leave you here if he knows you are not married?"

Anne felt shy and proud at the same time. "We are now engaged."

"I was hoping you would say that." Mrs Croft smiled. "But would you really like to join a family like ours?" She gestured upstairs, where the racket was only growing worse now the admiral threatened to join in.

"Surely there are quieter members? Mr Wentworth, your other brother? I cannot imagine he is with them."

"He must now be Edward to you and you must not think he is a saint. He may well be rolling over the floor like a savage with the rest of them. Come and sit by me and tell me more. I had ordered everybody to keep quiet about you until I had read his feelings, but he was still too confused for me to do so."

"He seems a little confused," Anne agreed. She followed Mrs Croft to one of the rooms. "But not quite enough for me to say no to him."

Posted on Wednesday, 3 October 2007

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"What is next?" Sophia -- who was now determined to be addressed as a sister -- had asked and Anne and she had spoken about that for a while.

Anne had expressed some concerns about gossip in Meryton, which already had her married to Frederick and expecting his child into the bargain, but it was only with Fanny's entrance that a solution presented itself. "I cannot marry him twice. Even they would know that," Anne was saying. "Yet they know I was with him at his sickbed."

"Even they would know that you cannot have been with him if you were not married, so that if you turn out not to have been married, it follows that you were never with him," Fanny replied. She did not look as if she had been taking part in any wrestling and perhaps she had simply stood by to cheer. "Life is astonishingly simple in these parts. They have nothing very serious to worry about while our loved ones fight for their country and consequently they have not our deep understanding of the world."

"Your understanding is extremely deep," Sophia said with a hint of sarcasm. "But if you believe your idea will work, do help Anne."

"We shall have to go to Longbourn and feed Mrs Bennet new information. Mrs Wentworth? Oh no! Oh no! That was Mrs Wentworth of Mr Wentworth, not Mrs Wentworth of Captain Wentworth! Captain Wentworth's wife with child? Oh no! Oh no! That is the wife of Mr Wentworth. Or would you mean the wife of Captain Harville? Or Captain Wentworth's sister?" Fanny's eyes sparkled. "So much room to err. I really do not blame her for having got it wrong."

"Could it be so easy?" Anne wondered. Perhaps she was in luck today. The situation with her father had sorted itself out very easily as well.

"It is better than nothing. Besides, they have never seen you in Meryton, because the first time you left the house was a few days ago. We shall drag our gentlemen to Longbourn."

The gentlemen, it turned out, were less eager to go than she had expected. Only the prospect of a long walk with a private conversation and hand-holding could persuade them. The other couples accompanied them part of the way, thereby unfortunately reducing such opportunities for mischief.

Captain and Mrs Harville and the three children turned back first, for the captain and little Mary could not yet walk very far. The second to abandon them were Admiral and Mrs Croft after Mrs Croft complained of having to carry her belly with her hands. Mr and Mrs Wentworth were the last to leave them. They sat down on a tree trunk with only a mile to go and they urged the others to go on without them.

"A mile of straight, open lane," Frederick complained. "He picks his moments very well."

"But we have serious business to handle," Anne said gently. For her part, she had derived enough enjoyment from being on his arm and being the recipient of tender looks and smiles.

"Such as?"

"The people of Meryton think I am Mrs Wentworth and expecting your child," she blushed. "Fanny thinks that by calling on the Bennets and telling them something else, people will no longer think so."

"But you will be both in a few weeks, will you not?"

Anne drew in a sharp breath, both at the question and at the look that accompanied it. "Really?"

Frederick looked helpless and abandoned her for Jimmy, whom he rudely separated from Fanny. "Talk to Anne," he ordered her. She looked surprised, but evidently there was enough of interest in his odd reaction for her to obey and to ask Anne what had prompted it.

"Where to start?" Frederick said to Benwick. "It seems the town thinks Anne is Mrs Wentworth and expecting my child." He thought he had finally recovered his wits after all the confusing events of the day, but it appeared he might be faced with another problem. If he had known what Mrs Bennet was thinking, he might not have agreed to walk out. He had wanted to walk with Anne, not call on people.

"Oh yes, Anne came here to marry you just in time," Benwick nodded. "Because you were dying, you see. I did not know you had met her some months back."

"I did not know that either." He sighed. "I told her she would be both things in a few weeks and she gave me such a look at this unguarded comment that I -- I came here." He had not known what to make of her look. Did she approve or not?

"Unguarded? Is it not the plain truth?"

"Except for the expecting, I expect. It took my sister years." Frederick knew it was not as easy as getting married. This part of his remark must have accounted for Anne's look, since he was certain she wished to be married.

Benwick shrugged. "It took Fiona merely hours after Harville came ashore."

"Hours?" Frederick was horrified. Harville had been more injured then than now, though perhaps it had kept his mind off his leg. Was it even possible with a leg wound?

"Not literally hours! I was not there, so I cannot tell you how many days, but Fanny says --"

"Fanny! What does Fanny know about it? Does she meddle in everything? I should not be surprised if she locked them up together."

"Fanny did not do you a disservice."

"I have already thanked Fanny for her service," Frederick said sarcastically. "She was fortunate that I reacted according to her predictions, because I could easily have felt differently." He saw Benwick's slightly mocking look and decided to keep his tongue.

If Anne had not come, what would have happened? He had not given that much consideration so far, but without Fanny he might have continued as he was. He might never have investigated whether Anne was married. Even if he had investigated, he might not have sought her out. It was difficult to imagine now that he might not have taken any action.

"Did he know what we were talking about?" Fanny inquired of Anne. "Frederick interrupted us so brusquely, yet I do not think he could have overheard."

"He was getting away from me, not interrupting you." Anne supposed he might have interrupted a similar conversation. They were in rather similar situations, after all -- both ready to marry after a long separation, though Fanny and Jimmy might well have had these conversations in the past few days already.

"You do not ask me of what we spoke."

"No, I do not."

"Perhaps you overheard. We were speaking of the two of you. How well you look together, how sweet the looks that pass between the two of you!" Fanny said, all warm enthusiasm. "I did well, did I not? Despite Frederick's taking me to task this morning for having meddled. I know he is delighted, though."

"Tickle death?"

"Tickle death? No, he would not touch me, but he threw things at me. Pitchers of water. Well, the water from the pitchers -- and vases. But I am glad he does not have to aim cannons, for he would surely miss," Fanny spoke smugly. "But you really do look well together."

"And separately? My father thought me much improved in looks. I do not know. I have not had time to look in any mirrors." She realised that was not true, because she could have spent hours gazing into a mirror while she sat by Frederick's bed. It had never been her habit to study her appearance extensively, however, and she had not cultivated it now.

"You are improved in looks! In fact, when you came here I thought you were the perfect example of someone who had been pining away, so pale and thin, but how does your father know?"

"He was here this morning, but Frederick flattered him and he went away satisfied." That, at least, was what she supposed to be the best summary of events. He had not been able to give her a better one himself. It seemed he had made one foolish comment that had influenced the rest. She could smile at it now.

"It is all settled, then. You can marry as soon as possible with the approval of your father that you do not really need."

Anne knew that was true. At her age she did not really need his approval, but she would like it all the same if it could be obtained at little cost. And she was not aware of having gained any weight. "Am I now no longer thin?"

"You are, but thinness in combination with such pallor speaks of ill health, whereas thinness in combination with rosy cheeks speaks of..." Fanny paused to think of something. "Energetic good health, I suppose."

Anne smiled.

"But who notified your father? I did not."

"Admiral Croft sent him a note."

"Oh, he is not to be trusted, did you know?" Fanny cried instantly. "It is no wonder your father came to see for himself. I cannot be surprised."

"Not to be trusted?" Anne was a little confused. "He has always been very kind to me."

"Perhaps there was too little to make fun of in your case. I wish Mrs Croft's belly had not fallen out! The admiral would certainly have liked Mr Collins and Mr Collins...ah, so many naval officers for him to frown at."

"What is wrong with naval officers?" Her acquaintance with them was limited to the few who resided at Netherfield. They were all gentlemen of good character, as far as she could judge.

"Nothing. I am very fond of them myself. I know none with bad habits and I know quite a few."

"Why do you dislike Mr Collins so?" She was not acquainted enough with the man to have formed a good opinion, but perhaps such reasoning did not apply to everyone.

"As if you like him! I support a friend's dislike of him. He means to marry one of those girls, poor girls, as if he will take anyone between fifteen and thirty as long as their name is Bennet. Perhaps even that will not matter to him if they all refuse him! A few smiles, some compliments to the clergy and they are Mrs Collins! You cannot tell me you like him."

"I have only met him once, but he is certainly nothing like Frederick."

"I am glad you say so, my dear Anne, because I was fearing for you. Liking Mr Collins indeed!"

"But there is a difference between not liking and disliking." And expressing it, she added to herself.

"Very well. I shall say I am perfectly indifferent to the man when he is not near, but that I shall be perfectly indifferent to good manners when he is near. I shall think it very justifiable to leave him to his own company when his lack of sense offends me."

Anne smiled. "Would you also be so unkind as to leave him to my company in such a case?"

"That question no longer applies," Fanny said after a moment of thought. "Because Frederick would never leave you alone with Mr Collins."

"I should hope not. Would Jimmy leave you?"

"No, but Jimmy knows to follow me if I leave."

They had covered some distance as they talked and were now very near Longbourn house. Some of the girls could be seen in the garden and Fanny whistled. The sudden sound startled Anne, but she recognised that it was effective when one of the girls waited for them by the wall.

"Ah! Elizabeth, get your gentleman and the six of us can walk on a little," Fanny cried.

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder after she had greeted them. She could speak safely. "We have no gentlemen in the house save for my father."

"I was speaking of your cousin."

She laughed. "I have deflected his attentions and he is now quite cross with me. I am sorry. Do I need a gentleman to walk with you?"

"We were in fact coming for a visit. But only if your mother is home. May we come in?"

"Oh. How kind of you to think of my mother. She will be glad to receive you." Elizabeth looked from Anne to Frederick, not very openly, but enough for Anne to notice.

They were not walking together, so perhaps it was not yet clear, Anne thought. Leaving everything to Fanny, however, was very dangerous. She ought to whisper a few words in Frederick's ear before they went in. They must not let Fanny talk on and on.

Posted on Monday, 8 October 2007

Chapter Thirty

Fanny had been in luck; Mrs Bennet was home. She met them most civilly, for so many new people had arrived at Netherfield lately that they could only have interesting news to share. Captain Wentworth and Captain Benwick were furthermore far more handsome than any local gentlemen. That notwithstanding, the question of where Mrs Wentworth was, was not long in coming.

"I am puzzled, madam," Frederick said after a few moments, but nobody else wished to answer in his stead, not even Fanny. "You are too hasty. I am not married; I am merely engaged."

This puzzled Mrs Bennet exceedingly. "Engaged?"

"Of course. To Miss Elliot."

Anne did not like all the looks that were suddenly directed at her.

"She never told us," Mrs Bennet said somewhat accusingly.

"But they were not engaged the last time she was here," said Fanny.

Frederick was glad Fanny had saved Anne, though he would not want her to say too much. He had better say something himself. "In fact, we got engaged this morning and I am not sure she knew it was imminent."

After some congratulations had been offered, Mrs Bennet spoke again. "But who is Mrs Wentworth? There is one, I heard. Is she your mother?"

"Yes, yes," Frederick replied eagerly. This was even better than saying Mrs Wentworth was his brother's wife, even if his mother was dead and she could not be shown to anyone. "But she has left again now that I am well."

Mrs Bennet was a little disappointed at how simple it really was. The only shocking thing that remained was the captain's quick betrothal, about which some interesting things might still be said. "Does your mother know about your engagement?"

"Of course. She chose Anne herself and thought she would make me a suitable wife. Mothers ought to be trusted in these matters." As he spoke, he saw something in Anne's face that gave him pause. Of course, he thought, she had once trusted her godmother and he had been angry about it. He was not angry anymore; it was amazing what an engagement and a passionate kiss could do. He gave her a smile.

His mother would really have approved of Anne, he thought. Sophia always said she was like Edward, or rather, that Edward took after her most. That had to do with the quiet sort of accomplishments, of course, for in looks he had always imagined her much like Sophia. He could not really remember. It had been months since he had last thought of her and she had been dead for twenty years.

And he was not lying very much, was he? It was not his mother who had left, but Anne's father. Perhaps to Mrs Bennet this would be about equal -- a parent and that parent approved.

"And when are you to marry, Captain?" she inquired.

"A week after us," Fanny said quickly. "Or two, if he does not hurry. We shall be married in a fortnight."

Mr Collins, who had been present so far without opening his mouth other than for noises of agreement or astonishment, declared that he had married no less than three couples in the preceding year. "My patroness, Lady Catherine De Bourgh -- I daresay you will have heard of her, Captain -- encourages marriage wherever she can. She has advised me to seek a wife myself and I am inclined to follow her good advice as quickly as I may." He cast a few knowing glances around the room.

"I have never heard of Lady Catherine De Bourgh," Frederick replied. "I do not know any captains or admirals by the name of De Bourgh."

Mr Collins looked astonished. "Sir Lewis De Bourgh was not in the Navy, of course."

"Was he not? Poor man." His comment made Fanny giggle and he was glad to have amused at least one person. Mr Collins, he could see, was not amused.

"Lady Catherine would not have --" But there he stopped. Perhaps he realised the gentlemen of the Navy might not appreciate hearing they would not have been good enough.

"Lady Catherine, from what I have heard, would have made a good captain herself," remarked Elizabeth.

"Lady Catherine would be successful in any thing she undertook," Mr Collins said with a serious nod.

"How wonderful for Lady Catherine," answered Frederick, who thought the man was very peculiar indeed. "I am pleased to hear she would encourage my marriage. I should not have slept soundly if there had been any hint of disapproval from that quarter. I trust you will be able to report favourably of the persons and characters of Captain Benwick and me, and of course of our ladies."

Mr Collins would never disagree, at least not to their faces. He nodded even more vigorously. "Lady Catherine always says that the Navy has its use."

"The Navy was most instrumental in winning the war," said Anne.

Frederick was delighted with her support, in particular with the slightly indignant tone in which she spoke. He beamed at her. Not only did she come to his aid and to that of his profession, but she was also better informed than this fool here.

As they walked back, Frederick felt he should inform Anne of his delight. "It was very kind of you to come to my assistance. What a fool. The Navy has its use, indeed!" The Navy deserved more than such a derogatory comment. That man, and his precious Lady Catherine, did not deserve his respect.

She smiled a little and squeezed his arm. "I thought you might be tempted to say something you had better not."

"Most things I did that I had better not do in fact turned out quite well," Frederick spoke confidently, but he was secretly pleased that she knew him so well. "And who is Mr Collins to me? I could err or lose his good opinion without consequences."

"Do not discount the influence of Lady Catherine," Anne said with a cough. "She appears to be quite influential."

"In her parish," he said with a scathing look, but then he grinned. "Fanny said we are marrying a week after her, but how do we go about arranging that?"

Anne glanced at Benwick and Fanny. "I do not think they would mind terribly if we went to arrange that on our way home. I am sure they could walk on unattended."

Nobody had reacted with any curiosity to Frederick and Anne's late return, although they had expected otherwise. They looked a little guilty for being so late, which they believed was solely due to a few embraces along the way. In reality, of course, it mattered more that they had taken a detour to speak to the nearest clergyman in function. And they were not even very late -- Frederick thought they must be, because he was so fatigued, but he had already forgotten he had been ill.

"Three weeks," Frederick sighed at the dinner table. He had been dwelling on it for a while, but he could not see any practical reasons for such a delay. "Why does it have to take three weeks until you are allowed to marry?"

"Good question," said the admiral. "It did not take that long in my days. A week, perhaps."

"My dear, you had a licence," said his wife.

This had passed Frederick by entirely at the time. If it took only a week with a licence, why did he not have one? Where could they be obtained? "Did you? Why?"

The admiral looked vague. "Because I did not want to take a Miss Wentworth on board with me. And your father would have objected to his daughter's becoming a captain's mistress, even if Sophia herself did not."

They all stared at Sophia, with feelings ranging from surprise to amusement. "You did not?"

"Not in the least," she replied very calmly and equally calmly continued eating. "Not that I am now unhappy to be Mrs Croft, but I think I should have been happy in any case."

"You are not serious!" cried Frederick. "You would have been happy to -- to -- to be one of those --" He could not even explain what they were, not in terms suitable for ladies' ears and there were far too many ladies present. Anne must not be made to think he frequently spoke of such women, because he did not.

Sophia was still unfazed and apparently very serious. "I should have been the same woman and he would have been the same man."

"I am glad he had more sense than you!" He was still incredulous.

"The secret comes out," the admiral said in satisfaction. He raised his glass in her direction. "I have more sense than Sophia."

"Frederick, do pull yourself together," admonished his sister. "It never happened. Why can you not wait three weeks?"

"It is a useless wait! How do you manage?" he asked Benwick.

Benwick shrugged. "I do not think it a useless wait."

"But if it can be done by some without the wait, it is a useless wait," Frederick maintained. "Edward, I am sure you can tell me why it is considered a useful delay."

"Not at all," replied Edward, who clearly expected his opinions to be challenged if he replied otherwise.

"We can have some sensible conversation now," Sophia said when the ladies retreated after dinner. She feared the three weeks would again come up. Frederick had not been satisfied with his brother's answer, she had seen, and some of the other gentlemen might join in as well. "The presence of so many foolish young men is very bad for James, I fear."

Anne looked surprised. "Is it?" She did not know who were considered foolish and how this affected the admiral.

"He takes some delight in baiting them. Baiting me, I fear, no longer works. Why is Frederick in such a hurry to marry you?"

"I do not know. Well, I should not have minded getting married tomorrow, as I have nothing to prepare, but I am sure I could survive three weeks. We are in the same house."

"Yes, perhaps that is what he would find trying. Though Jimmy does not seem to think so at all." Jimmy was more quiet, but he had seemed rather content, as far as she could tell. "Perhaps Jimmy and Fanny do as they please in secret, and Frederick would not?"

"They have been engaged for years..." Anne said hesitantly. "But I cannot say whether Frederick would not. Perhaps you should ask me in a fortnight."

Sophia laughed. "No, I will not. How did you fare at Longbourn?"

"Mrs Bennet now thinks that your mother was here with Frederick."

"Well..." Her mother had been Mrs Wentworth as well. It might therefore work. "We shall not be living here for very long, I think, so it does not matter very much. We are thinking of moving closer to my husband's family. I do not know what you and Frederick would prefer. You may want your own house. Or you could come with us and be close to his family as well as yours." She saw she had surprised Anne, so she tapped her arm in a comforting manner. "Think about it."

Posted on Thursday, 11 October 2007

Chapter Thirty-One

Because the talk among the ladies appeared to be wholly about babies, before and after they were out of the womb, Fanny took Anne to the music room where they might enjoy some entertainment that was more suited to their tastes. Anne had not thought the conversation was as bad as Fanny made it out to be, although there had been two or three subjects that involved infants, but she would like music just as well as company. Fanny would sing if she played. That arrangement suited Anne and they were occupied for more than an hour until they had worked through their entire repertoire twice without anyone coming to see them.

Fanny yawned and looked at the clock. "Do we play so badly that no one dared to come near? Or are they still discussing babies? What about our gentlemen?"

"They must be talking still."

Fanny draped herself across a sofa. "I must say I was surprised this morning when I found the two of you in that chair together. Did he also tell you everything that is good and sweet or did he merely kiss you?"

"Yes, of course." Anne did not lie down; she sat on a chair, though she reclined in it a little. She was still mortified at having been seen like that, no matter how ordinary the action seemed to be among the other couples in the house.

"What did he say? Tell me."

"He told me some things as we walked back from Longbourn." He had told her some before, of course, but they had been interrupted all the time then. She remembered the last things best.

"Yes?"

"Some very nice things."

"I hate you, Anne. Be clearer, if you please."

Anne smiled. Fanny must understand it was difficult, just as she understood that Fanny might think it very interesting to hear particulars. She made an effort to speak without blushing. "I had hurt him eight years ago and he was too proud to ask me again, even when his circumstances changed. He told himself I was either married or not likely to accept him and he did not want to be rejected again."

"Poor boy," Fanny said feelingly. "The pain of dying alone is far worse. Or had he wanted to marry someone else? Someone he would consider inferior? Do not tell me he knows himself so little. He is too proud to be happy with a second choice."

"The same pride that kept him from me, saved him for me?" Anne pondered that idea. "It makes it more precious to me."

"We have tried to interest him in girls, you see, but there was always something wrong with them. It was not until we came here that I knew what it was! They were not you."

Anne blushed. "But I am hardly --" She did not know what, but she was too modest to acknowledge her superiority outright. It had even been difficult to hear him say it. But he had said it and she had not contradicted him.

Frederick peered around the door a few minutes later. "I am going to sleep. Would you like to bid me good night?"

Fanny pulled a pillow over her head. "Go ahead, Anne. I am blind."

Anne would, however, not do it in Fanny's presence, pillow or not. She stepped out of the room and into Frederick's arms. "Good night. Did you not stay up too long? Why did nobody join us?"

"Do you still play so well? I heard music, but we have only just now come out of the dining room."

"Only now?" She was amazed. "Did it take so long for you to be reconciled to those three weeks?"

Frederick laughed. "We spoke of that at first, I admit, but it did not take all that while for me to accept it. I like to take action once I have made up my mind. Such a delay does not suit my nature. But we shall not be closely chaperoned, so it will not be a hardship."

"Not closely? Not at all," she would dare to guess.

"Really?"

"I do not think your sister will be so illogical as to impose restrictions now when she did not last week."

"Certainly not if she would not have minded being a captain's mistress!" he exclaimed.

"Does it still shock you?" She had merely taken it as an indication that his sister was very happy if she did not contradict the admiral.

"Yes!"

"But if I may be honest," Anne said thoughtfully. "If you had now received a posting and had to depart instantly, I could see myself choosing to go with you."

His eyes widened. "Unmarried?"

"Would you leave me behind? If you, say, had to go to the East Indies?" She knew how long the admiral had been there and she would not be parted from Frederick for so long again.

Frederick screwed up his face. It was not easy to come back from the East Indies. He would have been there several years, time that could be shortened considerably by taking his mistress along. "That would have been a dilemma indeed."

"You could have married me on board," she said as a concession to his sense of propriety.

"I could have made an exception for you, I suppose. Not then," he emphasised. "But now. How weak I was, thinking I was strong!"

"When?"

"When I vowed I would never do this or that. I may change my mind about women on board, though I still believe that the comfort I could offer you is far less than what you deserve."

"It may be enough to satisfy me nonetheless. If you could live with it, so could I."

Although he was pleased with such a reaction, he could not bring himself to believe it. "I think it is good that I am not going anywhere."

"I forgot -- your sister spoke of moving to Somersetshire. She asked me if we wanted to come with them. Do you?"

"Do I? Do you? I hope you do not think that I shall insist on making such decisions on my own without consulting you," he exclaimed. "We shall move to wherever you wish. One house is very much like another to me."

"No," she said after a moment. "I cannot believe you. They are not ships, but surely you see differences between houses, more so than between ships? And you will like some things better than others. Do you not think this room should be larger or that room should be elsewhere? I think it here and when I am home, I think it is perfection."

"I may have established a good footing with your father," Frederick spoke warningly. "But I am not sure I should be able to maintain it if we moved into his house, perfection or not."

She remembered something. "He is in debt. He may be forced to quit it. He ought to rent it out, but he would so far not consider the degradation. Pride, you know." She could not resist pointing out a similarity between the two. It was amusing.

"Madam, do you mock pride?" he teased.

"Some kinds are better than others," she teased back. "But I wonder if he spoke of his house to the admiral. If the admiral does not want it, you must take it." Her face brightened. She would love to live at Kellynch with Frederick. It would be more than perfection.

"Well," he said, suppressing a yawn. "I must not overdo it. I am all too likely to, so I must force myself to go to bed. I shall think about the idea. I rather like the irony of becoming the master of the house of a man who did not think me good enough for his daughter. I shall feel rather smug as I walk through the master apartments. Indeed!"

"I should be happy to take my mother's rooms." Anne did not mind fantasising a little, although her father might never condescend to leave his house and she might never become mistress of it. "Or do I take my old one?"

"Neither, I should think."

She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"Anne, once we are married, I should like --" He paused. "You are welcome to share my..." He gave her a very earnest look. "...bed."

Anne felt herself blush. "Bed," she repeated, uncertain of how she should react to that.

"It will be fun," he said reassuringly.

"Will it?" She was not convinced. Mary's complaints had never given her any reason to think that. True, this was Frederick and not Charles, which might make a difference. Charles was not overly attentive, she supposed, if that was required at all.

"I have that directly from someone who is experienced in bed-sharing."

"Who?" She expected him to name his brother-in-law, or perhaps Captain Harville.

"A woman in the streets of Plymouth."

She took a step back and her expression changed.

"You are just like Fanny!" he cried. "Do you expect us all to have been chaste?"

Anne choked and ran away. She heard him call her name, but she did not look back. She did not like the thought of women in the streets of Plymouth and even less of his confident grin as he spoke of them. That was not the Frederick she wanted.

"Anne!" he called, but he called in vain. He would not run after her, but he remained where he was, undecided and confused.

"What is the matter?" Fanny came out of the music room looking concerned.

"She ran away from me. I asked if she expected us all to have been chaste and she ran. Why?" He looked hurt.

"Because you implied you were not. Idiot. You immense idiot." Fanny looked ready to hit him. "I may not hit you if you assure me you are, but you are a blasted idiot in any case."

"Why?" He did not understand. "I only mentioned a woman in Plymouth who --"

"What did you do with her?" Fanny's eyes shot fire.

"Nothing! But I used what she said to me as an example to persuade Anne of -- of something that is none of your business."

"We do not want men who have been up to things with other women," Fanny said crossly. "Anne and I. It is so much to ask of a man? We do not go about doing things with men in the street either. Ha! You would not even want us if we did, yet it is fine if all of you engage in such immoral activities? It is unfair. I hope you see it is unfair, though nobody else seems to see it -- except Jimmy and Thomas and the admiral, of course -- and I hope you realise that if you ruined it, Anne can always marry Mr Collins. There can be no doubt of his chastity, I am sure. He will be ten times the man you are!"

Posted on Monday, 15 October, 2007

Chapter Thirty-Two

Frederick stared at Fanny in disbelief. He did not understand why she was so vicious. "How could you expect a man to have remained pure in thought and deed? It is simply unreasonable of a woman to expect such a thing. Am I to leave the room every time there is talk of women?"

"Ah, you are becoming more open about the matter already," Fanny said in satisfaction. "You do not understand us fully. We are not men. You do not need to impress us with your exploits. You do not need to be vague about them to escape censure. In fact, we shall be delighted with complete clarity about your lack of exploits."

"Complete clarity?" he spluttered. This topic should not be discussed with ladies at all, let alone with complete clarity. It was shocking enough that Fanny insisted on speaking of it herself. He could not imagine Anne doing it. Old Anne would not. New Anne might. He doubted. New Anne had spoken of Walter and Charles, too.

Fanny spoke on. "You have been away and seen the world. We have lived quietly at home. We can do nothing, yet we hear about all the things you may do and all we can do is hope that you did none of them."

Frederick reminded himself that he was not marrying Fanny and that he owed her no explanation. After a glare at her he walked away in search of Anne. Anne deserved some clarity, perhaps. Although he would not admit so to Fanny, she might have had a point. Her last words were spoken with the utmost seriousness and not with any desire to put him in his place.

He had never considered how it really was for girls. He should not think of his sister; she had not stayed at home passively, but she was of course an exception. Girls like Fanny and Anne did not travel. They depended on publications and on gossip for their information. Some of this information might be distressing. It was short-sighted of him to assume that only the heroic deeds of the Navy found their way to the general public, which he admitted he had been doing. Fanny more so than Anne, who lived further away, might hear some of what he occasionally heard about bad practices on board or in ports.

They ought to have more faith in him than to think he was in any way involved in such practices, he thought indignantly, but a moment later he realised that his own words had been suspicious.

He found Anne in her room, rather sooner than he wished, for he had not yet decided what he wanted to say. She was sitting by the fire, on the floor and all curled up, and this shocked him. "Anne?"

She did not turn her head, but instead bent it down even more.

"Anne?" He sat down beside her and took her hand gently. She did not pull it away. "What is wrong?"

She said nothing.

"Tell me," he insisted.

"I have no right to ask."

"But it bothers you." He could see the matter bothered her rather more than she felt was justified. He sought to reassure her, although he did not know if he could. "What should a man reply to a woman informing him of her price?"

"What did she say?" She looked up.

"She told me how much a fun time would cost me."

"A married man should walk away." Anne lowered her eyes.

He understood her and he spoke gently. "But you do not think you have any right to expect too much of an unmarried man?"

"He has no obligations, except to himself and --" She shrugged.

"You think men are too weak to keep those. We may be so strong as not to marry another, but we --" Frederick swallowed. He had stressed he had never loved another, but he had never told her what it truly meant. "Oh, Anne! This applies to many men; that is true. Not to me, however."

She looked confused, not yet relieved. "Then why was I not allowed to expect men to have remained chaste?" She sounded as if she did not even think she was allowed to ask the question.

"In thought as well as in deed? That is impossible." No man could remain chaste in thought, unless he was the only man in the world. She could not expect him to have shut his eyes, ears and mind. It was impossible.

"I do not equate the two." There was some hopefulness in her voice now.

He smiled in relief. She did not equate the two! He might not have committed an offence. "I did, because I was not sure what you would think. You are always so proper and excellent. I cannot say I have never had any improper thoughts. I have even had them about you."

Anne coloured.

"But that is all."He was more confident now. "If someone informs me of her price, my reaction depends on several things. First of all, who am I with? Some men should not know that I always decline --"

"How deceitful," was the soft comment.

Perhaps it was because she was sitting in front of the fire, but her eyes glowed more all of a sudden. It was very tempting and he forgot to continue his list. It was pushed to the back of his mind by a few improper thoughts. "I am not deceitful. I shall not keep from you that I am now wishing you would offer yourself."

Anne looked anxious. "I do not do such things."

"Very well," Frederick sighed dramatically. He stretched himself out on the floor. "I must do it. I am now yours to do with what you like, to answer any question you might have, to -- I think that covers everything."

Fanny was not sure it would all end to her satisfaction, but neither Anne nor Frederick returned. She joined the others, but most of them were conversing agreeably. Jimmy looked up and smiled when she entered, but she smiled back and sat by Admiral Croft. Jimmy, bless him, did not always need her around and he was reading a book. Although she would not have liked him to choose a book over her, he should be able to entertain himself if she was not there.

She had only recently met Admiral Croft for the first time, though she had heard much of him before. The Crofts had left for the East Indies before she had first met Frederick, although she had heard of him before then as well. This had made it all seem as if she had known the admiral for longer and she generally had no problems speaking to him like an old acquaintance.

She did not know what she wanted to say to him now, but if Mrs Croft would not have minded to be his mistress, perhaps he was the better choice to speak to about matters of morality.

"Do you remember the lecture you gave Jimmy?" she whispered. She should probably not be aware of Jimmy's lecture, but she had of course questioned him as soon as he had arrived to make sure he had never done anything wrong. He had told her about his captain's lecture. "When he was but a boy? About women?"

"Do not remind me of it," he sighed. "There was nothing I disliked doing more."

"I must thank you for it." Although Jimmy had been mortified and she had giggled, they had both been happy after having talked.

"She was right then," he observed. "But she always is."

"Who?"

"Sophia. She first forced me to lecture Frederick and from then on every boy she liked." He gave Fanny a pitiful look. "It was awful, but I am happy to hear that in one case at least it worked. I was sure it was useless, as boys generally do the opposite of what they are told. You really have Sophia to thank, not my clumsy efforts."

"Mrs Croft!" That was surprising, but it led to another thought. "Would she also know how not to have babies?"

She had been wondering about that. The incessant talk about the little creatures had made it rather clear to her that she was not ready to join in yet, in spite of Jimmy's return. If it was at all possible, she would like to postpone that part of marriage for a while. Fiona did not or did not want to know how, that was clear, but Mrs Croft might. It was possible that she had simply been very fortunate all these years, but if there was any information to be had, Fanny would like to have it.

"Perhaps the contents of my lecture were not so clear after all," the admiral said, raising his eyebrows.

Fanny fled. He made sense, of course.

Since Jimmy patted the seat beside him, Fanny sat down there. She let out a deep breath, only to have him ask what was wrong. "Oh," she said with another sigh. "I thanked the admiral for his lecture to you, but if I understood him correctly he lectured Frederick first."

"That is possible." Jimmy placed his bookmark between the pages of his book. If Fanny started talking he might not have the chance to read on soon. "It does not make sense to talk to me and not to him, does it?"

She supposed that was true and she leant back in her seat. There was nothing she could do, but she could not help wondering if all was going well upstairs. That Frederick had been lectured was a comfort, even if it was years ago and he had since then been engaged and rejected.

She should stop thinking about them, though, and focus on the present. "Do you like children?"

"I am sure I will if we have some."

"But will we? Perhaps I would rather not." She coloured when he laughed at her. "Oh, do not laugh at me. I am serious. I realised I take no interest whatsoever in all the conversations about babies around here."

He did not think that very meaningful. "But you like teaching Lucy and Freddy."

"Because they are not mine. I can always leave them to Fiona or the nursery maid."

"We shall see," Jimmy said comfortingly. He was a little worried about becoming a husband himself and he had not even thought about becoming a father yet. Perhaps he would come to feel the same way, although he was more likely to take things one at a time. Being a husband and finding a house were first. "I am sure you would adore your children."

"Should we not ask Mrs Croft how she has been avoiding them?"

He looked serious. "Fanny, my dear, has it not occurred to you that she might not have been avoiding them voluntarily? You would be asking her an insensitive question in such a case. She may have been trying very hard."

"She is having one now, so I doubt she tried at all before." Fanny was aware of sounding unreasonable, but perhaps Jimmy would let it pass.

"Leave it to me." If it mattered to Fanny, which he did not yet know for certain, he might take it upon himself to make some tactful inquiries. Or he would tell her he had made some without having done so.

She let out a snort. "Yes! You would not ask anything and then tell me there was no way."

Jimmy laughed. "You are on to me. But it is better than hurting people."

Chapter Thirty-Three

Posted on Wednesday, 24 October 2007

"I realise this may be one or several nights too late, young ladies," Sophia spoke in the morning after breakfast. She took both Anne and Fanny by their arms. "But it has been brought to my attention that one or both of you may be in need of some information."

If Jimmy and Frederick had been thinking they would be allowed to walk their girls to church, they quickly had their minds changed. They were forced to walk together, though they had the admiral join them because he had no one to walk with either. "I wonder what they are talking about," said the latter. "I suppose she is telling them how to be good wives. In that case you are very lucky, as they will be hearing it from the best wife there is."

Frederick pulled a face. "I am sure Anne does not need Sophia's advice. My notions of a good wife may differ from yours."

Admiral Croft was all astonishment. "But all men of sense have the same notions."

"I thank you for considering me to be a man of sense," Frederick said graciously. "But our notions may still differ."

"I cannot believe it." The admiral was silent for a minute as he pondered his disbelief. "You will not take your wife to sea, you always said, but you get off easily there. You are not going to sea. Nevertheless, there are considerable advantages to taking one's wife to sea."

Frederick cut him off before he could list them. "And not going to sea I shall enjoy all the advantages and none of the disadvantages of having a wife."

"There are no disadvantages to having a wife," said the admiral decidedly. If he could not instantly think of any, there were none. Disadvantages to having a wife? What a preposterous notion that was! "Why are you smirking, Jimmy?" The young man was far too quiet. He preferred men who shared their thoughts over ones who kept him guessing, yet he could guess that Benwick was smirking at him and his notions, which was rather disrespectful.

"I am amused, Captain."

"Admiral," the admiral corrected. "There has been promotion."

"I forgot. My apologies, Admiral."

"But it is not necessary to call me Admiral, as long as you do not call me Captain."

"But if you insist on the distinction in rank being preserved," Frederick remarked with a puzzled look. "How could we call you something else? Something that does not at all distinguish you from us, lowly captains?"

"That is for you to decide. However, if you cannot remember that I differ from you, perhaps you had best call me James or Frederick. Though Jimmy and Freddy are for little boys. Jimmy, I advise you to switch to James."

"I had switched to James, Admiral," Jimmy replied very seriously. "As there has been promotion here as well. But Fanny and you and Mrs Croft insist on not using it."

Whether Sophia had paused her lecture during the service was unclear, but the gentlemen supposed she had, for she continued it directly from the church door. Anne and Fanny seemed enthralled by the information coming their way, leaving their suitors to feel neglected. A touch of the hand and a glance had come their way, but not more.

Admiral Croft was forced to suffer their complaints, predominantly Frederick's. Jimmy was still rather quiet, although that did not mean he was content. "Well," said the admiral in response. "Did you think wives were...wives and that was that?"

"I have no idea what you are trying to say," Frederick said after a moment. "I hope you were trying to say something, at least. Are you saying that being a wife is so difficult that it requires a lesson of at least an hour?"

"More, preferably."

"Who taught Sophia?" She had not had a sister at the time. In fact, she had not had a female around her at all, yet she seemed to have become perfection. It followed that one did not need another woman. Anne was surely as capable as Sophia when it came to learning.

"I did, in those instances that she was not self-taught."

"Why can she not leave it to Anne to teach herself? Or to me?" Frederick had enough faith in Anne to think he would not have to make any contribution. There was nothing she needed to change.

"To you!" The admiral laughed as if this was a preposterous notion. "But to tell you the truth, Frederick, I have no idea of what they are speaking. They may well simply be gossiping."

"I cannot imagine Anne interested in gossip."

"When things change in her life she may well become interested in different things. Sophia was never interested in all that female talk either, but now she is exposed to Mrs Harville and Mrs Wentworth, they never stop talking." He shrugged. "Some of it is useful, I daresay."

Anne and Fanny had been all interest and they were sorry to see Netherfield Park loom up again before them so quickly. "It was most informative, thank you," said Fanny.

"You are welcome," Sophia responded with a smile and she went to find her husband among the group of people waiting to enter the house.

Fanny and Anne were not yet ready to do the same. They stood at the end of the line and watched. Frederick and Jimmy looked rather eager to speak to them, but they made no moves to approach them. Undoubtedly they were waiting until they were inside where it was warm. "It is as she said," Fanny observed. "They now feel left out. How did she know?"

"She knows them," Anne guessed.

"They will want to know, she said, but what shall we say?"

"I received the impression she tells the admiral everything," Anne said, wrinkling her nose uncertainly. She did not know if she was ready to do the same. Sophia was remarkably at ease with any possible subject, something that did not yet apply to her.

It took rather long for the footman to divest everybody of their coats, but Frederick and Jimmy were standing by to perform the service for their own ladies. This earned them gracious smiles and the promise of private conversation over a hot drink. The drawing room was large enough for that.

Although Fanny and Jimmy managed to get away, Edward Wentworth drew his brother away by the arm before he had managed to secure Anne's company. "Now you are not dying, I suppose I must return home," said he. "My conscience forbids writing to my curate to extend my stay."

Frederick drew a deep and rather frustrated breath. He had hardly spent any time with his brother at all so far, yet he knew he must before Edward left. Anne must wait. It was fortunate that she was so understanding and that she would not mind. She saw them together and she smiled, at any rate.

It was much later when Frederick had Anne to himself. He was glad this was in her room, so they could not be disturbed. He could not think who would: most of the ladies had retired for some rest and the gentlemen would not dare to venture in here.

"Would you like to get some rest?" he asked when he realised he had followed her to her room like a puppy. She had not invited him to come, but neither had she sent him away.

"No," she smiled. "I do not need any."

Frederick sat down. He supposed his leaving her at a decent time the evening before was to be thanked for that. But if she did not need any rest now, he might stay and he made himself comfortable. "What did Sophia tell you?"

"Oh," she said vaguely. "Very much. It is too much to repeat at once. I had better do so when it becomes relevant."

"Is nothing of it relevant now?" He could not imagine that in their long conversation they had not covered the subject of entertaining unmarried gentlemen in one's bedroom. In fact, he could not imagine what else they could have covered.

Anne was annoyingly not disposed to be very much clearer. "Perhaps. She said you would want to know. Most of it was about the admiral."

He looked surprised. "Not about me?"

"No. She spoke of him to give us an example of how things may go wrong or right."

"Wrong," he repeated. He was not sure his sister could mention many things that had gone wrong in her life, or even why she would mention any. And how could her life have any bearing on his?

"They have had little things go wrong when they started out, but she talks to him a lot and he listens well, so it was not often."

"If you do not talk to me now, things may go wrong as well," Frederick said as a half-hearted threat. "I can listen well too, but if we are to listen, why are you receiving the lecture? What did she say about having unmarried men in your bedroom?"

"Nothing," Anne said after a moment. "As for married men in there, their presence does not have to be fatal."

"Fatal?" he exclaimed.

"That is how Fanny put it," she giggled.

"Fatal to her reputation?" He did not understand.

"Fatal to her childlessness," Anne said gravely. "But Sophia reassured her in this regard. Men in one's bedroom are not necessarily fatal to one's childlessness. But I already knew that."

"Did you?"

"I had already spent some time in your room without coming to any harm," she pointed out. "I like your sister. She was quite specific about the good as well as the bad things and that the bad things become much less bad if I tell you about them."

"May I tell you about my bad things as well?" asked Frederick, who felt slightly uncomfortable with the notion that only Anne could experience bad things, whatever they were, and that he would be to blame. "Not that I think I could ever be displeased, but just to be fair?"

"You may always tell me about them," she promised and she leant forward for a kiss

The End

© 2007 Copyright held by the author.

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