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Chapter One

Posted on 2013-10-29

Everything came to an end. First Sir Walter Elliot gave up living at Kellynch Hall and moved to Bath. Then, some months after he had moved there to improve his financial situation, he had succumbed to a quick illness. He had suffered as much as any sick man would, but it had been swift overall. It had left the two daughters still in his care rather surprised and unprepared. They had returned to their old home in Kellynch in the days that followed, along with the new baronet. The latter was attending the funeral and for as long as this and other business took, he was staying with the people who had leased the estate after Sir Walter left, Admiral and Mrs Croft. The middle daughter, Anne, had preferred to stay with her godmother, Lady Russell, who lived in Kellynch Lodge. She had not wanted to impose.

Anne Elliot sighed and gave her fingernails another thorough inspection. Mrs Croft had already seen her look embarrassed once and she preferred to keep it at that. It was both comforting and mortifying to have strangers understand the characters of her family so easily, but avoiding mortification weighed heavier than sympathy. She could not see herself confiding in Mrs Croft on this matter, no matter how few of the disclosures might be a surprise.

Sir William Elliot, she was quite sure, was rather enjoying his position as the new baronet, not in the least because at least two women were setting their caps at him -- a good prediction of things to come, perhaps, when he moved to a large town. Elizabeth Elliot was not as obvious as her friend Mrs Clay, but Anne did not think Elizabeth would dare to refuse him if he proposed. She was nearing thirty, after all, and still unmarried. A year ago she would have waited for a better offer, but with her father gone she might think differently. It was not as easy to go to Bath now without a father, to take a house and to receive invitations. Marrying a baronet was still better than becoming a spinster, now that it seemed that no duke or earl would have her.

As for Mrs Clay, her sole purpose in befriending Elizabeth had been to secure the attentions of Sir Walter, but he had died before she could have any significant success. She did not grieve, except when someone was listening, and she had transferred her attentions to Sir William without wasting any time or scruples. In some ways he was probably an easier target, Anne thought, because he did not seem to be as fastidious about personal beauty as her father had been. Sir Walter had often discussed Mrs Clay's physical shortcomings. In fact, Sir William seemed to be easier about most things, although that was no more than an impression. He would never admit to having slightly looser principles than Sir Walter. Anne was not even certain she was justified in thinking so.

If women fawning over Sir William was not bad enough to witness, there was the question of money -- which Sir Walter had not had, a fact that Anne's sister Mary had never accepted. She was here every day now, asking questions in an increasingly direct manner when at first she had been so circumspect that only Anne had understood what she was talking about.

And possibly Mrs Croft. Anne was unsure when that lady had caught on to Mary's preoccupation. Perhaps she had known since she moved here. Some things were regrettably more obvious to outsiders.

"But his will," said Mary, who was not poor but who could always do with more money, in her own opinion. Her husband used up a great deal, she always complained, and very little remained for her and her children to live a decent life. How was she ever going to be able to send them to a proper school? And how was her health ever to improve if she could never travel? Her health was not good, she believed, and her father's suddenly dying had not helped matters much.

"It has been read," said Sir William -- curtly, which made one wonder if he had been asked the question before.

"I cannot believe that was the real will. The real one must be hidden somewhere."

Anne was not the only one who rolled her eyes, although she did not notice. She was looking at her hands in her lap.

"There must be some money. His daughters have a right."

"His daughters would have a right if he had any money worth mentioning," Elizabeth Elliot said sharply. She too had been disappointed, but she refused to be so stupid as to show it. It was so unbecoming. Quite vulgar, too. "But it seems that after settling his debts there is nothing left for us."

Anne wondered if she had been the only one who had not been surprised by that. Did they think retrenching had been for fun? Bath had been a change of scenery, but they had not gone there to have different evening engagements. She wondered when Mary would say something about those debts. Undoubtedly she would think that shares for the daughters came first and that whoever was owed any money would simply have to forget about it. Mary was never going to let them have it if she had any say in the matter.

She got up and left the room, unable to stand it any longer. But when she was in the hall, she realised this was not her house any more and she could not retire to her room. She was living with Lady Russell at Kellynch Lodge, not at the Hall, and it might look rather strange if a guest suddenly left the house without any explanation. She sat down on the bench in the hall because she had nowhere to go. Perhaps after a few minutes she could go back.

She was surprised that it was Admiral Croft who followed her and not his wife. He was the less perceptive of the two. "Aye," said he, sitting down beside her. "It is all becoming too much, is it not?"

Anne wondered if it was his own exasperation or seeing hers that had sent him out of the room. Or perhaps it had been Mrs Croft, who was not above giving secret nods and hand signs to direct her husband. "Yes," she sighed tiredly. "But I suppose a few days from now it will all be better."

"Certainly," said the admiral evenly, trying not to sound too eager. "Once everyone has returned to their own homes."

He was, of course, forced to put up with Sir William, which he could only think just, but Anne thought he was less pleased with Elizabeth and Mrs Clay. The latter especially had no business here. Sir William had no interest in living at Kellynch, she knew, so it was indeed a matter of waiting until they all left, but she suspected Elizabeth felt her situation too altered to return to Bath immediately. Only by going with Lady Russell could she have a semblance of her former life there. The sort of friends that Elizabeth made would care far less about a baronet's cousin than about his daughter, and she would probably fear for her connections.

"Sophy has written to her brother that we are desperate," the admiral continued. "He was detained in Portsmouth, rescuing a friend from an unsuitable woman, if we are to believe him -- but we do not believe him."

Anne's heart had stopped beating for a second at the mention of the brother. "Oh," she said stupidly. How ironic, she thought, that he was rescuing someone from an unsuitable woman, but she could never say that. The admiral had no knowledge of the past. "How noble," she said instead. She did not even know of which brother he was speaking. Mrs Croft had two.

"Sophy wrote that we have plenty of unsuitable women here as well. Plenty of opportunities for him."

"But you do not believe him, you said." She wondered what they thought instead. That he was in a situation with some unsuitable woman himself?

"Well, it has been taking rather long. Surely it could all be done in one conversation? You tell a man it is an unsuitable woman and he disagrees and that is the end of it."

Anne smiled.

"The last time I was entangled with an unsuitable woman I would not be dissuaded."

She knew, because Mrs Croft had told her. Of course Sophia Wentworth had not been unsuitable for Captain Croft, and neither had he been unsuitable for her, she would assume, but she took it to mean that a determined man would not be dissuaded from marrying a particular woman. If he was -- she bit her lip -- he had not really been as determined as he thought. Women were the same. Her smile faded, although she took care to hide it from him.

Anne had been dreading the event for months, actually, ever since she had heard who would be living at Kellynch Hall. There were not many Crofts and even fewer with links to the Navy. She believed there was only one. Once she had been engaged to a young man who had had a sister named Mrs Croft who was married to a sailor. After their brief engagement ended she had seen him no more, but she had read about him and his ships, for he had been a sailor too. She had read about his return to England and had been expecting him ever since, for it was not unusual for a man to visit his sister after not having seen her for a long time.

But for a long time he had not come. Mrs Croft spoke warmly of him, so there were no problems on that score. No, it could only be that he remembered Kellynch and that he never wanted to see it again. It had not pained Anne as much as it had a few years ago, the previous time he had been in the country without coming here. She felt herself to be indifferent now, after eight years. Of course he could ignore his sister's request as he had probably done before, but the admiral spoke as if he was certain of a positive response this time.

It was merely the possible awkwardness on his side that bothered her. She was sure she could face him calmly and indifferently, accepting that he no longer cared, but she did not know what he would do or say, or if he was still angry. And there was Lady Russell, who had been privy to many of the particulars eight years ago. Lady Russell had never mentioned Frederick Wentworth again; she had even always had the composure not to flinch when similar stories came up in conversation. The episode had been completely erased from her memory, it seemed.

Anne sometimes wished Lady Russell would ask her how she felt. Should she be in the same position again she might make a different choice, considering how things had gone. But Lady Russell never brought up the matter.

Then there was Elizabeth, who had at the time not cared to learn Captain Wentworth's name, which might well have been an act. Anne could not really understand the inability to remember a name. However, Elizabeth was not likely to reveal that she had once known him, if she remembered matters at all.

Anne decided, that as always, she only had herself.

She tried to avoid the oppressive atmosphere at the Hall as much as possible. Staying home did not always work, for Lady Russell thought she best honoured Sir Walter's memory by speaking glowingly of him and, while he had been her father, there was only so much embellishment that Anne could take. She listened for her godmother's sake, but escaped when she could.

He had had good traits, she thought as she skirted the park, but -- and there her train of thought was interrupted by seeing Mrs Clay. Now that woman was another who would not speak ill of Sir Walter to her face and Anne had had enough of hearing about the paragon for the day.

She wondered how Mrs Clay truly felt. Nobody would ever find out, but it was surely interesting. Mrs Clay was sly rather than weak; she agreed with people too often, but it did not mean she viewed their opinions as superior to her own.

There was little to gain for her from agreeing with Anne on any thing, so Anne felt she should save them both the trouble and simply avoid the woman. She went into the labyrinth -- which was not really a labyrinth but a series of hedges with private corners -- and chose the one that had always been a sad favourite with her. Once or twice she had met Frederick here. It was not the most secluded -- she would not have dared at the time -- but it offered enough cover for a pair of young lovers to speak privately.

Today she had brought poetry to read. Not as melancholy as she favoured a few years ago, but something more uplifting.

And in the distance Mrs Clay stopped to speak to a man. Anne observed it without much interest. It could be any groundsman or tradesman, as it was not in the park proper but in the lane that ran alongside it. It had always been used as a quick way to the tradesman's entrance from the village that lay in that direction. She opened her book.

"Cousin, you are so wise!" Sir William exclaimed upon a really very ordinary remark of Anne's about the statue in the corner.

She was therefore rather taken aback. "Thank you," she murmured, wondering if she failed to understand him somehow. He had come to disturb her here for a reason, she supposed. The book in her hand had not deterred him, even though she had clearly been engrossed.

"How do you know so much about mythology?"

"I have read a bit." And she knew the stories of the statues in the park. They were all Greek gods. There were books in the library that dealt with them.

"You are a great reader, I know. I wish more ladies would follow your example. I can see your sister is vexing you often. She did perhaps not have a good idea of your father's financial situation."

"Perhaps!" She did not see how there could be any doubt. Everyone knew it and it had probably been discussed in many places in the neighbourhood long before Sir Walter had eventually moved to Bath. But then, there were many things that she considered obvious that others could not see.

"I should probably leave her in the dark as to my precise situation," Sir William mused. "I should hate to appear as if I am stingy, but I would rather not have her ask for a share of the fortune that I do not have. It would be quite embarrassing if she did so in company. I hope you do not think that means I am not willing to share anything with my relatives."

Anne assured him that she did not. But she was not entirely sure how far he was willing to go to accommodate Elizabeth. He had made her a few vague promises about Bath, but they would have to see what would come of that. She understood he did not want Mary to beg him for money, but how he treated Elizabeth and Anne, the unmarried ones, would be the real test. There were many different kinds of accommodation in Bath and what Elizabeth considered proper might not coincide exactly with the baronet's opinion. Anne had heard him cleverly avoid any clear promises on the sort of street or neighbourhood in which he could get rooms for her sister, but she thought she had detected in his silence an unwillingness to spend a fortune on a fashionable address. It was quite possible that it would be no more than a respectable apartment in a back street, with no invitations or engagements to speak of.

On the other hand it could also mean he had plans to make Elizabeth his wife, in which case she supposed he would do more for her than for a mere cousin. Yet she had not detected any particular partiality for her sister. She found it difficult to read him.

"Will you remain with Lady Russell?" he inquired.

"She has said that I could." That, at least, had been a relief. Lady Russell had said it immediately; Anne had not even had to ask.

It seemed to relieve Sir William too. "I would have assisted you, naturally."

"I should think Elizabeth will keep you busy enough."

"Yes," he mused. "I am not sure Mrs Clay is suitable enough as a companion for her. I should prefer someone a little older. Will Lady Russell not take her in as well? Now that would be an excellent companion."

"She would, but Elizabeth does not see the need." And until Elizabeth was confronted with an unfashionable apartment in a street her acquaintances would not want to be found dead in, she would not see that need.

"When my father told me that one day I might be a baronet, he never told me about these things," Sir William sighed.

Anne supposed he might also have assumed that his cousins would be married by then, but she did not want to voice that thought and draw attention to the fact that she was not. She did not want him to reassure her that it would soon change, because she really did not think it would. There had been a time, a while ago, that she might have thought it possible to like him well enough, but instead of coming to know him better she had in fact come to know him less well. Or so it felt.

Apparently Mrs Croft had given Captain Wentworth the impression that she really was desperate for assistance, for a visitor went by the gates of Kellynch Lodge not a day later. Anne had been sitting on the balcony enjoying the evening air and sounds when she saw it. She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders, as if it could hide her from view, but nobody was looking up. The visitor would first be distracted by the movement of the rabbits sprinting away, not by anything happening behind him. And Lady Russell having lived at Kellynch Lodge even then, it might not be a place he particularly wished to look at.

She sat for a long while after he had passed, unable to move. It was silly, for she had no idea who the visitor had been. It might have been someone else entirely, she reasoned.

The next day started out as usual, with her and Lady Russell having breakfast. Even the fact that a note was delivered was not odd; it often happened. It had actually happened with greater frequency after Sir William and his entourage had arrived. Before then, Admiral and Mrs Croft had enjoyed each other's company and had not required additions every day. Since they were obliged to entertain now, they preferred to add guests of their own choosing. Anne wondered if this note was another invitation.

Lady Russell, to whom the note was addressed, read it and shared its contents. "Mrs Croft's brother arrived last night."

"Will we now no longer be necessary?" Anne did not know why she was speaking so sharply. Perhaps it was because she did not know what she preferred, being needed or not. Captain Wentworth might now be all the sensible company they needed. She assumed he was still sensible, at least.

But he could not possibly have asked his sister to invite them so immediately. If this was an invitation, he knew nothing of it. She winced at the unpleasant surprise he might receive, to be forced into the company of the woman he never wanted to see again. Or perhaps he did not care.

She had thought herself indifferent, but she was not at all at ease.

"It does not say." Lady Russell laid the note aside. "She lets us know so that we shall not be startled by seeing a strange gentleman in the park."

"I am never startled by seeing strange gentlemen in the park," Anne muttered contrarily. "I always assume they are acquainted with the admiral. He lives there now and it is his business to rid the park of strange gentlemen, not mine." The Crofts had allowed her access to any part of the grounds and she was grateful to them, but she could no longer think of it as her home. They lived there now. They were taking care of the house, the grounds and the tenants in a much better way than her father had done.

Well, she told herself, they would see soon enough if they were invited to Kellynch to meet the captain.

Chapter Two

Posted on 2013-11-05

"I am going out to read," Anne announced. She could not make up her mind between reading or walking, and this way she could do both.

"Oh, please not to the labyrinth," urged Lady Russell. "Those naked men are not a suitable environment for an unmarried young woman, as I have told you before."

Anne suppressed a smile. Lady Russell had indeed told her -- and Sir Walter -- numerous times before, but interestingly enough Anne agreed with her father on this point. She had not realised it before, but now that she did, she felt she must honour the very little they had had in common. "They are beautiful."

"Beautiful," Lady Russell spluttered.

"You know how Father liked them." That might persuade her.

"He did."

"Besides, they are gods. I like to speak to them." But that, perhaps, was undoing the progress she had just made. Anne regretted saying something so unusual.

"Anne!"

Anne shrugged. She had on occasion spoken to Poseidon and Athena, though she could not say so now. "I find it is actually a better explanation of the state of the world to have many gods with conflicting interests, do you not?" But she was not certain of Lady Russell's precise knowledge of mythology.

Lady Russell looked blank. "You are teasing me."

"And Athena is dressed, actually."

"You are too lonely," her godmother decided with a look of concern. "Speaking to statues. I should take you to Bath or London, so we can speak to real people. Once the appropriate amount of time has passed, naturally."

An invitation came a day later. Anne had not been in the park in the meantime. She had wanted to avoid meeting Captain Wentworth without company or preparation. Now they were invited over for tea. It was not as formal as a dinner and not everyone might be there than were staying at the house, which made it less daunting. But then again, more people might be there, because her sister Mary had been making it a habit to call on Elizabeth -- or was it Sir William? -- every day. It was one of the reasons steady Mrs Croft was losing her patience. Mrs Charles Musgrove was not one of her favourites. Then there was Charles Musgrove himself, Mr Shepherd, the lawyer, and a few other useful people who were often there to ingratiate themselves with the new baronet or to do business with him. Any one of them might be there around tea time.

Anne did not pay any special attention to her appearance; why should she? She would not be trying to attract the captain's attention -- and although she had no reason to think him married, she knew he was not coming here for her. In fact, the less attention she drew, the better for everyone. It struck her that he might no longer be the handsome young man of eight years ago. He might well be missing an eye or a leg. She shuddered.

Arriving at the Hall, she found that Mary was there, but none of the gentlemen were. That was a relief, for it was unlikely that Captain Wentworth would join a bunch of ladies for tea all by himself. He was probably with the admiral, Anne thought.

He made an appearance some ten minutes later with the other gentlemen, chiefly to please his sister, she suspected. He would already have met Miss Elliot and Mrs Clay, staying in the same house, but Mrs Croft would not know he had once also met Lady Russell and Miss Anne Elliot, and she would have asked him to meet their neighbours.

Captain Wentworth was all politeness, but there was something lacking. Eagerness, perhaps. He did not look as if he expected to find good company here, but he was hiding it well. Only if one had once been privy to his whispered comments did one know. But she must be wrong, Anne told herself. She must be thinking of his former self and what he would have thought then. It might not have anything to do with what the older Captain Wentworth was thinking. After all, she could not really account for his staying away until now either.

She had suffered the introduction composedly, she believed, although she had not been as indifferent as she had hoped. Captain Wentworth had remained a handsome man in spite of his years at sea and by now he had every right to a confident air. Eight years ago he had still had to prove his worth in people's eyes, but after his successes at sea that was no longer necessary.

Lady Russell seemed not to recognise his name. Her blank politeness had relieved Anne. Of course the new baronet was of greater importance to her, because she could not decide whether Elizabeth or Anne most deserved to be the next Lady Elliot. Elizabeth was the eldest, but Anne was most like her mother. In short, Lady Russell had little time to devote to a brother of Mrs Croft's.

Anne sat quietly by Mary, who had called at exactly the right time. Elizabeth turned up her nose at a coarse sailor, but Mary was full of questions. She soon got company from Mrs Clay, who did not see her attempts at winning over Sir William progress as well as she wished. Although modestly dressed, Mrs Clay knew how to exploit her best features and she leant over too many times.

Mary's game was less transparent. It took Anne some time to work out. Perhaps it was connected to her husband's sisters? They were of a marriageable age and a marriage to a wealthy captain would provide Mary with some interesting connections. Certainly Elizabeth and Anne were not trying their hardest on that score either, and Mary would feel she had no choice but to arrange herself to what she had a right. Sir William was definitely a connection, but perhaps Mary sensed that he would not readily invite her to London or wherever he was going to live.

She would choose London herself and would not understand any other decision. "Will you take a house in London?" she also asked of Captain Wentworth.

"I have not yet decided where," he replied. "But I doubt it."

"Of course you might find a wife with strong ties to another place," Mary nodded.

"Anything is possible," he agreed, although Anne thought she discerned some contempt for wives with strong ties to a particular place -- or family. He probably believed they should all be ready to follow their husbands, no matter how their families felt. "I might go back to sea and need neither house nor wife."

Anne thought that given the present situation in the world his going back to sea in the immediate future was unlikely, but Mary would not know.

"Plenty of young ladies everywhere you go," the admiral cut in jovially. "As he has already noticed, I am sure."

The captain replied gravely that he had indeed noticed that a significant portion of the population ashore was female.

Anne wished that the people around her did not question him so. It made him look at them and possibly at her -- and she had no wish to be looked at. Fortunately he seemed to have no wish to study her in detail. He avoided looking at her. Only once had their eyes met by accident and each had looked away instantly.

Sir William sensed his lack of interest perhaps, because he engaged her in conversation. She was grateful for the rescue. It was not distracting enough, however, to miss that Mrs Clay was all admiration for Captain Wentworth.

"Sailors are so handsome," Mrs Clay said to Mrs Croft when the gentlemen had left the room. She was quite right -- Captain Wentworth was a handsome man.

"They can be," Mrs Croft conceded. Perhaps she was thinking of acquaintances of hers who were particularly ugly.

Miss Elliot did not look pleased with the turn the conversation was taking. Sailors might be handsome, but they still remained sailors and she had no interest in them. She was clever enough not to say anything of the sort to the wife of an admiral who was also her hostess, however.

"Your brother will probably turn the heads of all the young ladies in the neighbourhood," said Mrs Clay. "He must be looking for a wife now that he is ashore. Plenty of young women to choose from, I should say."

"He did say that marriage might be one of his objectives," Mrs Croft replied calmly. "But I do not know where he might be looking. He did not specify."

Anne started paying attention. It made sense that Frederick Wentworth would now want to marry. He was rich and he had nothing to do -- other than solve problems for his relatives and friends -- and he was of an age to marry and have a family. But the admiral had called all young girls unsuitable women, had he not? It amused her that the admiral had apparently looked. Or perhaps girls were simply unsuitable until they proved otherwise. She got along with him very well and she believed he liked her, but he always seemed bemused by other women, the young ones especially. He could never remember their names or anything else about them. The admiral, at least, was not eager to welcome any of them into his family.

"He is a very handsome figure, that captain," said Sir William. "I expect the women around here will like him very much. He can be charming if he likes."

Anne preferred people who were naturally charming. She said nothing. She wondered if Sir William felt this took the pressure off himself as far as women were concerned, or if he saw the captain as a rival. She was not in Poseidon's corner, but still he had found her when she had hoped to be alone.

"Well, can you blame the women of the neighbourhood who have never been out of Somersetshire if a man comes along who has not only been to other parts of England, but also to other parts of the world?" she reasoned. She remembered when she had been a girl. It had certainly been true for her, even if she had occasionally left the county.

"A man who has been to other parts of the world will hardly find his wife in the first village he visits," said Sir William.

"Unless it is the last village, but I do see what you mean." She really did not want to discuss Captain Wentworth's marital prospects. Or even anyone else's, but every thing seemed connected. "Lady Russell has tried to speak to Elizabeth, but Elizabeth spoke of an allowance to allow her to live in Bath. I do not like to be involved." Sir William, Elizabeth and Lady Russell should discuss this together, not use her as a go-between. She was determined to cut all of them off if they tried again.

"Yes, an allowance." Sir William sighed. "I am busy paying off your father's unpaid accounts."

That was a kind description of debts. "I understand," said Anne. He had not reckoned with unmarried cousins and he was still trying to decide what he ought to do for them -- or trying to ascertain what people believed he ought to do for them. He very likely had a preference already. It would be much easier for him if Lady Russell took care of his cousins.

If he planned to marry Elizabeth it would also be easier if Lady Russell left her some of her fortune. Anne did not know how Lady Russell wished to dispose of her fortune. She was comfortably off, but she was not entirely without relatives. There were nieces and nephews and more distant cousins, too.

Anne saw from her window that Captain Wentworth walked around the park with Mrs Clay, although she could not fathom why they were walking where she could see them. There was nothing of interest so near Kellynch Lodge and it was far from the best walking paths. In fact, they were not even on a proper path. She glanced at them for a few minutes and then turned away. If they wanted to walk, they should, but she did wonder how he came to be walking with Mrs Clay. This was puzzling, because Mrs Clay offered agreement and admiration, but nothing original in the way of conversation. It must become boring.

She went back to the window and thought she could detect that it was Mrs Clay who talked and who decided where they went. It was certainly the more lively of the two. Apparently Mrs Clay did have some original conversation then, but it was something she had never revealed to Anne.

It was good that she had gone back to the window, for now she could witness them meeting Mary who had two sisters of her husband's in tow. They too came from a wholly illogical direction, because Uppercross was the other way. Had they circled the house until the found the captain?

Louisa and Henrietta Musgrove had obviously been told about him and expressed a desire to be introduced. It would not surprise Anne, at any rate. The last time she had spoken to them they had been full of handsome men and the shocking lack of them in these parts. They were dying to go to a large town and see these wonders for themselves. It was even better to have such men come to them. They would be thrilled.

Anne would have felt better watching if she had been in their company, but secretly observing them from a distance did not feel good. It was that, she was sure, not the fact that Captain Wentworth was suddenly in the company of four women. She did not care about that.

Mary stopped by later to tell her how wonderful Captain Wentworth was. Henrietta and Louisa could only add their agreement. They were clearly half in love already. Anne was amused for their sakes, but not so much so for Mrs Croft's. It would mean even more casual visitors, because the girls would happen to walk past by accident as often as they could now.

And indeed, when she next saw Mrs Croft that lady nearly complained. "If I did not think they would still be there when we returned, we should take a long trip to my brother Edward's house," she said. "I must be growing old, for I find I enjoy my solitude. I am sure that if we had had children those people would already be gone."

"Certainly if they were anything like my little nephews," Anne said with a smile. "I love them, but they are are a handful." If similar boys had been living at the Hall, Elizabeth would never have chosen to stay there. She was never complimentary about her sister Mary's offspring.

"I met them a few times," Mrs Croft said diplomatically, "but I will not be like those people without children who always know best how children ought to be raised."

"I never asked if you had any," Anne mused. She had always assumed there were no children, but perhaps the Crofts were old enough to have some who were already grown up. It was hard to tell Mrs Croft's age; she could well be much older than Captain Wentworth.

"Have you wondered?"

"I assumed you did not, because there was never any mention of them -- although I am rather sure my father rarely mentioned me and yet I exist, so that is not always a good indication. But I also think you could not have travelled so much with the admiral if you had a child to look after."

"That is true. I could not have gone with him then. I quite liked it this way. Of course," Mrs Croft said mischievously, "I could be too vain to admit that have a daughter in the West Indies who has already made me a grandmother."

Anne laughed. "You do indeed strike me as very vain. But it is not true, is it?" she asked, just to be sure.

"Oh, I should think not; I have only been married for fifteen years. I merely met someone like that one time who had that secret. And thinking logically it could never have happened, only if I had invented a great many of my stories."

"I have never caught you doing so," Anne assured her. "But will you visit your brother once everyone is gone? He recently married, did you not tell me once?" She had at the time feared it might be Frederick of whom Mrs Croft had spoken and she had been relieved to hear it had been Edward.

"Yes, and I have still not met his wife. First the weather was bad and we put off going and then your father died. I cannot put it off another time unless I have a very good reason. He is very eager to show her to us. She is apparently perfection itself."

Chapter Three

Posted on 2013-11-11

It was a beautiful morning. Anne had enjoyed it, standing on her balcony with a cup of tea, and she had seen nothing out of the ordinary. No captain. There were the usual birds and rabbits, and she even thought she caught a glimpse of a fox. She infinitely preferred this to Bath, where, any time you looked out, you saw houses and people. When she was at breakfast with Lady Russell two hours later, the butler came to disturb them.

"A servant from the Hall came to say that a dead body has been found in the pond," said the butler. It clearly cost Danvers a great deal of trouble to pass on such an unfounded sensational rumour to his mistress. Or perhaps he could hardly believe it was true.

"A dead body?" inquired Lady Russell as if to make sure she had heard it correctly. It was indeed something very strange and unexpected, and at the Hall, of all places. "Dead?"

"Whose body, do you know?" asked Anne. She had a few people she would not like it to be. But no matter who it was, there might be something that had to be done. The person might have a family, she told herself.

"John said the gardeners would not say. He has been sent to fetch Mr Grant and Mr Stanley and stopped briefly on his way, because he thought we should like to be informed. But he thinks it was a woman." Clearly the butler did not enjoy passing on what John thought. Perhaps John had not been very certain of the facts, or he was not a trustworthy person. And perhaps the butler did not like the fact that John had told him in the first place, leaving the difficult decision whether to share such gossip with Lady Russell with Danvers, who could not very well keep it from her, but who clearly disliked speculating.

"That is terrible," said Lady Russell. "Do you know anything else?"

The butler seemed relieved that he did not.

"Do keep us informed if you hear any more." The servant retired and she looked at Anne. "What could have happened? How could a dead body end up in the Kellynch pond? The Kellynch pond," she stressed, as if bodies were found weekly in other ponds. "A dead body?"

"I do not suppose someone came by and disposed of a body in there, so I assume it is a case of drowning." Anne had been going over possibilities in her head, but this was all she could think of at first. "Bodies are buried otherwise, are they not?" The last body had been Sir Walter and as far as she knew he had been safely buried.

"How does one drown in the pond? And who? Was someone fishing?"

Anne had no idea.

"And when? Look at the time! I have just got up. During the night? I did not know there were people up and about then. People who might fall into the pond. In the darkness." Lady Russell was clearly baffled.

"You do not think it could have happened this morning? Someone who got up early?" She had chosen to stay in her room and on her balcony, but she could easily have walked out that morning. There had been plenty of time, because Lady Russell was never early. Perhaps she should be glad that she had not; she might have been the one to find that body.

"It is possible. When do they fish? And how could it be someone who was fishing if it was a woman?"

Anne wanted to point out that nobody but Lady Russell herself had mentioned fishing, but she refrained. Her words were very likely not going to be heard.

"A kitchen maid gathering herbs?" Lady Russell tried again. "Do they grow by the pond? What a terrible accident. It cannot be anyone we know, can it?"

Anne hoped it was not.

Anne decided to walk over to the Hall, however much Lady Russell disapproved of such an action. She knew Lady Russell must be just as eager for news, but people might simply forget to inform them, being a little out of the way. Mr Grant the physician had been sent for and Mr Stanley and very likely his assistant, and there were all the current inhabitants of the house. It would be so busy there that nobody might think of telling Lady Russell anything. And really, perhaps Lady Russell had no immediate business knowing anything. The accident was very probably not connected to anything or anyone at Kellynch Lodge. No servants were missing from there, or Danvers would have told them.

Anne wished to ascertain that the dead body was not Mrs Croft. Or Admiral Croft, if the body was not that of a woman and John had got it wrong. And perhaps she would not like it very much either if it was Captain Wentworth, but for some reason she could not imagine him drowning in a pond if he had survived the high seas. But then, the same would apply to Admiral Croft, she thought after a second. Sailors could not drown ashore. It would be impossible. The Kellynch pond was calm and pretty shallow.

This led to the shocking conclusion that perhaps she would not care very much if it was Elizabeth or Sir William, because she had not thought of them first. She wondered if she would have walked over for their sakes. She tried to assuage her guilt by arguing that Elizabeth would not have set a foot near the pond, either during the night or the early morning. Elizabeth would rather not be reminded of the fact that she had swum in that same pond until she was about twelve. Ladies did not swim.

As for Sir William, she had no idea how he felt about water. He had undoubtedly come near it in the past days, but she did not know how near or how he would manage if he fell in.

Anne was shown in and she quickly noticed that all the principal people were in the room. Nobody seemed to be missing. Except Mrs Clay, she realised a few seconds later. That was odd. Unless...

Mrs Croft walked towards her. "Have you heard?" she exclaimed. "There has been an accident. The gardener found Mrs Clay in the pond this morning."

So it really was Mrs Clay. Anne struggled with the feelings of relief. She was shocked too, but she was rather glad it had not been someone else. Mrs Clay was really the best choice, if it had to be someone. "H-H-How did that happen?" she asked unsteadily, feeling herself to be a terrible person and hoping they could not read her thoughts.

"We do not know yet. Mr Grant and Mr Stanley, I believe they are called, they are looking. We have been asked to wait here. Suppose there is a dangerous situation..."

"A faulty bridge or whatnot," supplied Captain Wentworth with a frown. "They do not want other people to fall in and drown."

Anne assumed he was frowning because she was here and he did not really enjoy speaking to her. In that case she would not say that in her opinion there were no dangers around the pond. Mr Grant and Mr Stanley would find that out soon enough. There was no use in giving her opinion. Nobody ever minded her opinion, even if it later turned out she had been right.

"Here, sit down," Mrs Croft pulled her onto a sofa.

"Has Mr Shepherd been informed?" asked Anne. "He is her father. And she has children."

"She does?" Captain Wentworth was surprised.

"They live with their grandparents," said Sir William.

"Yes, Mr Shepherd was informed," Mrs Croft said to Anne. "But he has not arrived yet."

They were all waiting for information, Anne supposed, and looking incredulous. Elizabeth was even looking decidedly sick. Nobody had been saying very much to each other, she suspected. Either they had nothing to say, or they considered it bad manners.

Sir William, who was seated not very far from her, addressed Anne. "I am very sorry that such a tragic accident should happen in a place you always called home, and so shortly upon your father's demise. You must be very affected."

"I thank you for your concern," Anne said in a small voice. She did not want to appear more affected than she really was, but this business was truly very shocking. There had never been a fatal accident here before. People had always died of natural causes.

After a while Mr Stanley appeared and asked the gentlemen to follow him out of the room. Anne could hear him ask the admiral for an appropriate room in which to discuss the matter.

"Why only the gentlemen?" Mrs Croft whispered with a vexed look. "Are they going to take a look at the body? Does he not know I have seen more dead bodies than he?"

"You have the advantage of having the admiral who will tell you what they discussed." But Anne winced at the idea of Mrs Croft having seen a multitude of dead bodies. Of course she had known people died at sea, especially in battles or when illnesses broke out, but she had never really wondered what happened to their bodies or who might see them. "Of what did they die and how did you see them?"

Mrs Croft smiled a little. "Of every conceivable cause. I did a bit of nursing now and then to make myself useful. You must not think that on every stroll across the deck we came upon a dead body."

"That is a relief. But what could they be talking about?"

"Anne," Elizabeth said in an annoyed voice. "Do you thrive on scandal and sensation? Why did you come here? Why are you so curious? It was not even your friend and yet you want to know all the gruesome details."

"I do not!" Anne protested.

A blow to the head, probably from a rock under water, had been Mr Grant's verdict. Anne could not discuss it with him, because as far as the man knew she did not know what his verdict was. He had only shared it with the gentlemen, but clever ladies had their ways of finding out what had been said. There had also been much to do for Mrs Croft, so Anne had returned home, so as not to be in anybody's way. Elizabeth might have liked some company, but Anne was not capable of offering the right kind of sympathy, so she had dismissed her.

Lady Russell, in spite of her good manners, was very curious. It looked as if she had not been able to do much in Anne's absence.

"Mr Grant thinks she hit her head on a rock," Anne announced, forgetting that her godmother did not even know who had died yet. It felt as if she had been told hours ago and every thing had already been talked over.

"Who?"

"Mrs Clay."

"Mrs Clay?" Lady Russell was astonished. She had for some reason been convinced that it must have been a servant -- although in her opinion Mrs Clay was in fact little more than that. "What was she doing in the pond?"

"Nobody knows. Nobody even knows when she went outside, since she was not known for rising early." Someone had said that, but she had forgotten who. It was probably correct, since Mrs Clay would not have gone downstairs before Elizabeth.

"She was never seen doing so. However, if she got up for illicit purposes she would have made sure no one saw her," Lady Russell mused. "I do not know how else one could end up in the pond."

Anne was shocked, in spite of having concluded nearly the same.

"One could hardly call her a lady. Who knows what she was up to."

"You are speaking ill of her."

"Yes, a little." Lady Russell checked herself. "I am sorry. I am trying to make sense of this and I cannot fathom why anyone with good intentions should be out by the pond in the early hours of the morning. But before we know any more, I should not draw any conclusions."

There was much to think about. Anne could not understand how someone could drown in the pond. Certainly, if they were dropped in the middle and could not swim it was a real possibility, but she could not see how Mrs Clay could have got to the middle of the pond of her own volition. If she could swim, she could not drown, yet if she could not swim, why should she go in? There was not even any reason to go in if she could swim.

There was the bridge, of course. Since it crossed the pond, it was possible to get into deep water from there. Anne considered it. She could not imagine how one could fall off. It was as unlikely as falling in at the edge. There was a railing that one first had to climb.

She could not imagine Mrs Clay had climbed the railing and then fallen in. Why? Of course Mrs Clay could have jumped in. Again, why? Had she been desperate because Sir Walter had died and her chances of becoming Lady Elliot had shrunk?

Anne would have to walk over and see if she could find out more. The railing required some inspection.

A man was squatting on the bridge. Anne approached him cautiously, but since no one could have any reason to murder her, she walked on. When she got closer, the man turned out to be Captain Wentworth. He was examining the bridge closely, but he stiffly stood up straight when he noticed her. Then he walked away.

Anne was astonished. She had not expected him to engage her in conversation, but this was the other extreme. Never mind, she told herself, life was better without awkward conversation. Now she did not have to tell anybody about her silly notions and what she was doing there.

She bent down and studied the bridge. It did not look slippery in any place. Nor did it look possible to slide under the railing and into the pond if one slipped. Even a woman would be too tall to slide under in one go.

The top of the railing had clearly been touched often. People had held it, sat on it, carved in it. Birds had excreted on it. Anne looked for recent disturbances. It would be interesting to find out if Mrs Clay's gown bore traces of bird excrements, if that had not been washed away in the water. That would prove she had sat on the railing -- unless it was on the front of her gown, in which case she had been leaning over the edge. Anne wondered if Mr Stanley and Mr Grant were clever enough to think the same if they saw smudges on the gown.

Or if they were clever or suspicious enough to wonder if she had leant over or if someone had given her a shove. Anne paused in shock. She was clearly suspicious enough. Someone could have given Mrs Clay a shove. She could ask herself why, but she was still shocked by having the possibility occur to her. Since she could not think why someone would voluntarily go in, this might actually be a probability.

She had not looked where Captain Wentworth had gone to. If he did not want to speak to her, he probably did not want to watch her either. Still, if he was watching, he could not be knowing what she was doing unless he entertained the same suspicions.

Or if he had been involved in Mrs Clay's accident.

Anne wondered why this thought came to her, considering that it was by no means clear how Mrs Clay had gone into the water. It was pretty awful of her even to consider the probability that someone had lent a hand.

But she could not help remember that Captain Wentworth had been helping a friend get rid of an unsuitable woman in Portsmouth. How?

Chapter Four

Posted on 2013-11-18

But no, Captain Wentworth could not possibly get rid of unsuitable women by shoving them into ponds so they drowned. It was impossible. Even if Mrs Clay was unsuitable and she had drowned.

Anne tried to steady her breathing. She was being silly.

It was rather frustrating that she was not privy to all the details surrounding Mrs Clay's death because she was a woman. She supposed at least that all the gentlemen of the house knew much more by now. The admiral had passed on everything he had heard, but that had been a preliminary report. Anne wondered why it had been deemed unsuitable for a lady's ears. Mrs Croft had not appeared shocked by the details at all and she only a little bit. There had been so few details too. There had to be more. Anne would want to know more if she had been called to look into the matter.

She left the bridge and started to walk back to Kellynch Lodge, pondering when she could ask Mrs Croft for more information. Or perhaps the admiral himself. Surely, if she assured him she was capable, he would tell her? He was always friendly to her. It was possible that his wife had left some information out. Not deliberately, perhaps. She could not think Mrs Croft had so low an opinion of women.

Arriving home, however, the usual business of the day awaited her. Lady Russell had two visitors and she was expected to join them. It was not a chore -- they were nice ladies -- but it still got in the way of her thoughts.

The conversation was of course wholly on the unfortunate accident. The two ladies had just been told and they could not stop expressing their shock. "What a tragedy for Mrs Shepherd," said Mrs Rice. "To be losing her daughter in such a manner. And the poor little children!"

"Not that they saw much of her," Mrs Pickett muttered. "She was always away with Miss Elliot." There she looked a bit wary of Anne's reaction, in case she construed this as criticism of her sister.

Anne did not. Not even Elizabeth would be able to keep a mother from her children if she did not want to.

The two ladies were less interested in what had happened than in what would happen now. For people unconnected to the Hall they certainly knew a lot about everybody. Anne had not been wrong when she had assumed everyone knew Sir Walter had been penniless.

They also already knew about Captain Wentworth. "Very dashing," said Mrs Rice approvingly. "I saw him in the village. Turned many a head, I will tell you!"

"Strangers always turn heads," Lady Russell commented. "Only think what would happen if a particularly beautiful woman appeared."

"Oh, indeed! Even Mr Rice would look."

"Would he now!"chuckled Mrs Pickett.

"It is natural for men, not so for women," was Lady Russell's opinion.

Anne wondered if she was simply disapproving of women being appreciative of Captain Wentworth, or really of all men.

Mrs Rice did not entirely agree. "Less so, my dear Lady Russell, less so! Not completely not so. I myself liked to see some fine dashing redcoats in my days. Even these days I am not averse to the sight of one."

"Honoria, you tease." Mrs Pickett chuckled again. Very likely she was the same.

Anne did not doubt that more women were charmed by Captain Wentworth. Mrs Rice was quite right, of course. Some men were a pleasant sight. Whether they were also pleasant company was another matter entirely.

Captain Wentworth was still a pleasant sight, but he had not even spoken to her. It pained her, she admitted to herself. It pained her that he could not even bring himself to be civil, not even after eight years.

Mrs Croft would still be busy. Anne did not dare to disturb her a second time on the same day the body had been found. It would look very odd to display such an interest. Elizabeth would have something to say about it too, assuming she was not keeping to her room. Her sister thought her scandalous.

She postponed it to the next morning. It took hours before she could go to breakfast, since she always waited until Lady Russell was up. This morning she seemed to have risen even earlier and Lady Russell even later. And then, Lady Russell was not prepared to let her go. She did not know of Anne's plans and did not realise at all she was keeping her.

But finally Anne could excuse herself and she quickly walked to the Hall before anyone else could consult her about guests and menus. She slipped in through the back door that she knew to be open and tried to figure out where everyone would be. The weather was good and Admiral and Mrs Croft might well be out in the gig. She had not realised that before. It was a disappointment for a minute until she found another solution.

She went to the butler's room and asked him. He seemed appalled that no one had been there to let her in, but before he could rectify anything and call a servant to see to her needs, she thanked him and ran lightly up the service stairs. She knew where Mrs Croft's rooms were and she was going to leave her a note asking her to write down any news for her. Only in Mrs Croft's own sitting room would it not be read by anyone else.

Going away again, she met a startled maid on the service stairs, but that was all. Luckily she did not come across Sir William, Elizabeth or Captain Wentworth, who might all think her visit a little odd.

From the side door, she passed through the shrubbery and walked to the pond.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a gruff voice, as if she had no right to be there.

"I wanted to have a look," she said, not yet wanting to explain why. He did not appear to be interested in civil conversation, after all, but at least today he was acknowledging her.

"Why?"

Anne braced herself. The worst that could happen was him walking away. She would not be affected by that again. "What were you looking at?"

He seemed as surprised as she was that she would dare to ask a question in return. "Nothing." His face was hostile and suspicious.

Please talk to me politely, she wished to say. He appeared to read her mind, because he first looked away and then back at her with a less angry expression. It was nearly mild. Even if he chose to give very brief answers, it was worth trying to speak to him, because she was curious what he was doing here again. "Do you think she fell off the bridge? Were you trying to see if it happened here?"

Captain Wentworth narrowed his eyes. "Why do you think so?"

"I do not see what else you could be doing," Anne said boldly. He was answering her, albeit reluctantly, and she ought to make use of that without frightening him away. It would be a delicate balance.

"And you?"

"I came to have a look."

Captain Wentworth alternately looked from the bridge to Anne as if he could see no connection. "Why?"

It was worth a try. She raised her chin and spoke bravely. "For exactly the same reasons as you, I suppose."

It had taken a few minutes, but Captain Wentworth had eventually decided that Anne could be trusted and that she was not here to discuss the past. "I do not think she fell in," he announced with a serious expression after he had walked back and forth and looked into the water a few times while he debated what to do with Anne.

She nearly gasped. There was not a whiff of kindness or affection in his manner, yet he was confiding in her. He knew her mind to be good, of course, and neither of them had much else to occupy them here. Anne was unaware of how lively she had come to look now that she was investigating this matter, but she certainly felt the energy. Finally she had something real to do.

"Are you shocked?"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head vigorously, ashamed of herself for that silly reaction. She was strengthened by his speaking to her, but if one had suspicions to share any receptive mind was encouraging. There was no special significance in it. He clearly needed someone, anyone, to listen and to let him know he was right. "It is exactly what I was thinking. I had no idea someone agreed with me. Although I did not tell anyone, of course, and therefore nobody had any opportunity to agree."

"Of course," he nodded. "And I think it best that you do not. It might give the murderer ideas."

This made her a little frightened. "What sort of ideas?" And he spoke of a murderer as if it was a fact. She had not yet really been thinking in terms of murderers so far.

"That you witnessed it, perhaps. How else could you know?"

"My general knowledge of the pond and my general ability to think. It is really not that difficult to come to this conclusion." It was shocking, not difficult. Anyone with a semblance of a mind would think the same thing.

"How deep is it here?" He pointed to the water under the bridge.

"I have not checked for years."

"In person?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I last checked in person...several years ago."

"And how deep was it then?"

"You would hit the bottom if you jumped straight. However, if you are pushed, I doubt you would. You would be more likely to make a broad splash and not come quite as deep."

Captain Wentworth looked rather surprised to find Anne was knowledgeable about water, as if he had always considered that his territory. It took him some moments before he could speak. "So it would have to be quite a large rock just under the surface, if it was that."

"There are none."

"And clearly nobody hit the bridge. I checked. This is not a ship. One does not simply fall off a bridge that does not sway." He tapped it with his feet. "It can be slippery, I suppose, but I should think that is more likely to occur in wet weather and it has not rained for days. And if one trips, one does not go overboard."

Anne nodded. He was speaking to her -- that was unsettling -- but perhaps having a topic completely unrelated to the past was helping. Fortunately it was not difficult to keep the conversation going. "She would have had to sit or stand on the railing. But who would? Alone?"

"As I am probably the only person without a motive --"

"I beg your pardon?" she cut in. "I had a motive?"

"Do you disagree?"

"Well, I -- you cannot seriously be implying I had a reason to wish her dead?" she exclaimed. This was so odd a notion that she could not begin to think about her possible motives. And she forgot this was Captain Wentworth, with whom she had been speaking rather awkwardly.

Captain Wentworth shrugged. "But it very convenient that she is gone, is it not?"

Anne was too indignant to dignify that with a contradiction. "And you? Why did you not wish her dead?"

He shrugged again. "What did I stand to gain?"

She phrased it carefully. "People suspected her of pursuing men."

"Really? But at any rate, my stay here is temporary."

"And for me," Anne said in a strangled voice. "My vexation was not temporary?"

"Not if she managed to secure a baronet. Some families have really odd ideas."

She knew he was partly referring to the past with that last sentence. "Surely you do not think I would kill people I suspected of being...not so moral, perhaps. Their punishment would be worse than their crime!"

"That is often the case with moral people," Wentworth said dryly. "If you look at the types of crimes they would like to see punished. But no, I do not think you would. I merely pointed out that you are not without a motive -- in some people's eyes. One could argue that you were thinking your family was being harmed. Such a person could have been a danger to your family's good name. But I am glad to hear you have a somewhat sensible opinion. Before I start looking at possible perpetrators, however, I need to be sure she did not fall in by accident. The water at the edges seems very shallow, but I have not checked the entire coastline."

"I am not sure our Kellynch pond has aspirations beyond its station in life," Anne muttered. Coastline indeed.

"You will know best -- is it shallow all around?"

"Just like everything and everyone at Kellynch, you know." He had really vexed her by implying she had a motive. Anne no longer knew herself.

He only stared.

She continued and tried to keep her vexation out of it. "It is. You can wade in everywhere. It would be difficult to fall in without being able to get up. I assume she was a few years beyond the stage of trying out how far she could wade in before she could no longer stand. That is actually why I found it so suspicious. There is only the bridge at present to fall off. The admiral had the boat removed because it did not meet with his standards. There is simply no other way to fall in. It slopes down under water, but if you fell in where the bridge begins, I think you would not float out to the middle because you would be stuck on the ground -- and where you are not stuck on the ground, you cannot easily get hurt. Well, there should be only a really short stretch where you can. And if you are unfamiliar with the pond, you will not know where you should throw someone in and have them die for certain."

"My window," said the captain, turning towards the house, "is on that corner. You see it is one of the few windows that overlooks a part of the pond."

Anne waited expectantly. Was he going to say he witnessed a push or a fall?

"I usually sleep with my window open. I was woken up by a splash. Unfortunately I could not quite see the bridge, only a little bit of the shore there." He pointed to the side furthest from the house. "And there I saw a dark figure running away -- who could not have been Mrs Clay, because she was wearing white when she was found and because it was after the splash."

"Away?" Anne was quick. "That way? Away from the house? That would imply it was not someone staying in the house."

"Possibly." He sighed. "If I had seen more and if I had gone out immediately, I might have saved her." It had been bothering him ever since he had learned what had actually gone on.

"The doctor said it was a blow to the head." She did not think the woman could have been saved after she had fallen in, because the way she understood it she had already been dead.

That surprised the captain. "How do you know? I thought he had kept all the bloody facts from the ladies."

"Because ladies are never curious and they have no need to know any facts?" she asked sharply.

"I do not necessarily agree with that," he protested.

"Then you could have informed the ladies after the doctor was gone."

She had a point, he conceded. "Well, either you listen at doors or Sophia told you after the admiral told her, because I am sure she is just as curious."

"One of those, precisely. So, I conclude she was as good as dead when she went in, because of what I have just said. Still, something was used on her head."

"I have not been the entire round yet, but I have yet to find a rock larger than an egg. Why do we not each go a way and look?"

Chapter Five

Posted on 2013-11-25

Anne had the shortest round to go, because the bridge was at the narrowest point of the pond and not precisely in the middle. Captain Wentworth had of course assigned her the easiest bit by taking the other part himself. She was not surprised, but she took her task seriously and carefully inspected the banks. There were no rocks, only mud and plants. She would have waded along the edge in order to be extremely thorough, but when she tested the water temperature with her hand, she decided against it. Her feet would not like it.

Despite having walked the least, she came back at the same time as Captain Wentworth. She had been thinking and decided to share those thoughts with him. "I thought of which men Mrs Clay might have pursued, but I fear that by naming them you will think I am accusing them. They might be offended by my even considering the possibility that they got rid of her unwanted attentions by throwing her into the pond." She thought of himself and Admiral Croft in particular, naturally.

"I have wondered about them myself," he replied, as if he did not count himself among them at all. The thought did not even seem to occur to him. "She was such a woman, I agree. I recognised a certain kind of desire to improve her lot in life. If she had been a man she could have gone to sea, but a woman can only find a man."

It did not sound disapproving, in Anne's opinion. "Did you admire that desire?"

He smiled, but it was a mere grimace. "Did I say that? I suspect she could not be trusted. She would abandon ship without hesitation if it served her best interests."

"But in the meantime..." Before there was any reason to abandon ship, she meant.

"No. Women mean nothing to me," he said coldly, but he took care to look indifferent immediately to prove his point. "Not even enough for me to throw them into the pond and neither did the admiral -- or my sister, because I know you will probably think he would leave it to her. We are all of good character. Did you find anything?"

"No. And you?" She had swallowed at his comment that women meant nothing to him. You mean nothing to me, he had meant. It had been quite clear. And yet he was willing to stay and talk to her some more. Only about the accident, of course, yet she should do nothing to upset him.

"Possibly. We shall have to take a closer look. There is something there," he pointed, "that I am not sure of. You will want to see it, even if I do not think you would be able to make much of it."

The moment they were stepping off the bridge, someone approached them. "Good morning," Sir William greeted them. "What are you doing?"

Captain Wentworth spoke before Anne had time to think. "Miss Elliot was concerned that the bridge might be slippery. I have checked, but it seems to be in order."

"I am glad," said the baronet, magnanimously observing his new property. "We do not want anyone else to meet with such a sad accident. Poor Mrs Clay."

"No, we could not have that," the captain agreed. He gave Anne a glance. "Absolutely not."

"It does seem a little slippery here," Sir William said as he bent over with a concerned look. "Perhaps the bridge ought to be closed off. I cannot imagine why anyone would want to use it, now especially."

Anne wondered what to do. Captain Wentworth had been about to show her something, but that could not happen with Sir William there. She hoped he would agree and that he would not let the man in on their suspicions, because she did not trust Sir William as much as she would like. And to tell the captain why was out of the question. She excused herself.

The gentlemen were taken aback, but neither of them tried to keep her there.

Anne left the bridge. She turned in the direction of Kellynch Lodge. She would pretend to go home in case Sir William was watching. He might not know this was not the fastest way. But she intended to go back when he was gone and hopefully Captain Wentworth would still be there.

When she was out of sight, she leant with her back against a thick tree. Why did she not trust Sir William? Was it fair? He had not done or said anything objectionable. In fact, where no one noticed her, he did. Perhaps that was so strange that she mistrusted it. And what had he been doing? How long had he been watching? She wondered if it made any sense to be so curious. He had seen them on the bridge and had immediately asked what they were doing. That was a little odd.

As for Captain Wentworth, why could he not have done it? He seemed to think he was the only one who was above all suspicion. Such arrogance. While Anne could never think he was involved in any way, others might disagree. Really, if he could come up with ridiculous arguments with regard to her, others could come up with arguments with regard to him. He ought to know that. He should not be so smug.

She sat and waited, but she hardly knew for what. For a second she wondered if she was at risk. She had never come across a case of someone being murdered before. Those things happened in the backstreets of large towns. She did not know exactly how it worked. Why did those people kill and how often? Did they push people into ponds? Did they hit people over the head in a fit of anger and then shove them into a pond? Did they decide life was better without somebody and then study for ways to get rid of that person?

Mrs Clay was hardly enough of a nuisance to warrant murder, she would think. There were always more civilised solutions for getting rid of Mrs Clay, if one was for instance set on pursuing Sir William. It could not have been someone she knew, but it was also next to impossible that Mrs Clay had fallen in by accident. An unknown thug perhaps? But if so, why?

And why had Mrs Clay been outside during the night? Assuming she had not been abducted from her bedchamber by somebody, she must have gone out herself. For what reason? In such a state of undress? For Anne recalled that Wentworth had spoken of her wearing white, which Mrs Clay would not have dared to do during the day amidst all those people wearing black. She would not have dared not to mourn Sir Walter. Therefore it must have been her nightwear. Why would she go out in it? Either she was forced out of her room -- by no fathomable cause -- or she did not much care who saw her like that.

Or, Anne realised, she knew who would see her and she did not much care. Was it not easier to meet a man in her room, or in another room in the house? It was. It was easier and warmer. It must therefore not be a man staying in the house.

Or woman, she conceded. It was by no means certain that Mrs Clay had gone out to meet a man. She got up and walked along the path, hoping that exercise would sort her thoughts. Just when she was pondering the possibility of Mrs Clay's having female friends besides Elizabeth, and how much friendship towards her sister Mrs Clay had genuinely felt, a voice whispered at her from the shrubbery.

"Miss Elliot!"

She wondered how sensible it would be to stop and answer. In all likeliness she had better run. Perhaps Mrs Clay had stopped too.

"Miss Elliot!" It sounded louder this time.

She halted and uncertainly glanced at the bushes. "Who is it?"

"Who do you think?"

Anne had no idea, but it did not sound very dangerous now. "Do not tease me so. I shall walk on."

Finally the branches moved aside and there was some annoyed muttering. Captain Wentworth's head appeared. "Hurry."

"Ladies do not do these things. Why should I hurry?" But she kept her voice down and glanced over her shoulder. No one would see her talk to the shrubbery, because no one was there.

"Sir William might see you."

"Only if he is also spying on me from a bush," she observed. Then she suddenly remembered something. "I saw Mrs Clay talking to a man once, but I do not know who he was. I did not look."

Captain Wentworth had the look of someone who did not find that as helpful as he ought. "A man."

"Yes, in the lane that goes around the gardens. I assumed it was a tradesman, since they walk that way."

"And you did not think it odd that she spoke to a tradesman?"

"It was Mrs Clay," Anne protested. "Not Elizabeth."

He conceded that she might have a point. "But come into the shrubbery."

"I am Anne, not Mrs Clay."

There he rolled his eyes, as if to say he was Frederick Wentworth, not a tradesman.

Anne gingerly stepped into the shrubbery, wondering what his plan was. It did not appear to involve any dangers to her person. She followed him through to the other side, where there was no path, but a grassy, muddy shore. He bent over and pointed at something. "What do you make of this?"

She was anxious to get it right, or else he would never consult her again. "It looks like a footprint."

"Indeed. Someone passed here in a hurry. Look at how deep it is." Captain Wentworth glanced at the house. "It looks like a man's shoe. I saw him. Look, there is my window."

Anne obediently looked, not only at the window, but also to see if nobody was watching them from the other side of the pond. They might well be, and then all Captain Wentworth's secretive traipsing through the shrubbery would be for naught.

"Where does this path lead?"

It was not a path and Anne looked carefully in case she had always been mistaken about that. It did perhaps qualify as a trail for small animals. "Rabbit holes."

Captain Wentworth did not appreciate the answer. "Houses, villages?"

"Kellynch Lodge, I suppose. The gate is that way." If he still believed she had anything to do with this case, she would give him the opportunity to say so right now. The Lodge was that way and the perpetrator had gone that way. Ergo, the perpetrator could have gone to the Lodge.

"And what else?"

"The rectory."

He brightened. "I have never met a clergyman I trusted."

Anne wanted to mention his brother, Mr Wentworth, who was still a clergyman as far as she knew. But she did not know what had transpired between them. Perhaps something had and they were now at odds with each other. "I doubt Mr Ingleby had anything to do with Mrs Clay's accident," she said instead.

"Because of his character or his profession?" Captain Wentworth followed the narrow trail, looking for more footprints.

"I think," Anne said cautiously, because it was unclear of which answer the Captain would approve, "because he did not know Mrs Clay until a short while ago and I have never even seen them talk."

"By daylight," said the captain with a shrug. "Of course not. Quite naturally a parson would not meet women for that purpose by daylight."

"Are you saying..."

"I am saying you cannot infer any thing from never having seen them talk."

"You imply that Mrs Clay would have --" Anne hardly knew how to describe it. She could not imagine Mrs Clay ever having had an interest in Mr Ingleby.

Here Captain Wentworth halted and turned. "I do not have to imply anything. We know for a fact that she was outside during the night and I know for a fact that someone else was there. So she met someone at least once during the night. Does it seem likely to you that it was another woman? Not really. Women like their circumstances more comfortable. They want chairs and fires on and cups of tea. So whether it was only once or more often, yes, Mrs Clay would have been the sort to meet men during the night. Presumably because they could not meet her during the day. Why else meet them during the night?"

Anne could only agree with this logical analysis, but she was nevertheless shocked. "But I really do not think it was Mr Ingleby. He is utterly boring. I do not think he had anything to offer."

"Yes, it is all about that for women," he mused.

They neared the end of the trail. A path could be seen. It led out of a small gate in the wall and onto the road to the village.

"Go home," said the captain. "I am going to the village."

"Not to talk to Mr Ingleby, I hope. What would you ask him?"

"What indeed? No, I am going to investigate. Not a lady's task. Tomorrow morning I shall examine whether there are rocks under the bridge." He walked onto the path, turning left.

Anne had to go the other way to Kellynch Lodge, but she hesitated between following him or calling after him. She wanted to know more about that. "How?"

"How do you think?" He did not turn.

"Will you go into the water?" She was incredulous.

"Yes, how else?"

Her voice rose a little. "It is November!"

He turned now. "Are there laws against going into the water in November?"

There should be. "It is against all common sense."

"I can handle it."

Anne shook her head. "No, you cannot."

He gave her an angry look. "Of course I can and that is the end of it."

Well, she sighed to herself. She did not know if that had gone well. There were times she felt she had said too much, yet she had not even dared to ask him how unlikely it was for the admiral to have wanted to get rid of Mrs Clay.

It was still too early to retire before dinner when she arrived home and Lady Russell was still in her sitting room.

"You look well," Lady Russell complimented her. "But are you not cold? You spent such a long time out of doors. Mr Elliot -- Sir William, I mean -- was here. Did he find you?"

"Oh. Was he trying to find me? I am afraid I ran away from him."

Lady Russell was dismayed. "Anne!"

"I am sorry. I had no idea he was trying to find me. I left him with Captain Wentworth." But Captain Wentworth had left him very quickly as well, because he had appeared in the shrubbery not long after.

"And what were you doing with him?"

"Actually I was running away from both of them," Anne lied glibly. "I keep running into people on my quiet walks, very annoying."

Chapter Six

Posted on 2013-12-02

Anne had worried a good deal, because the water of an English pond was not agreeable in November. One would be utterly stupid to go in. It was freezing, absolutely freezing. She wondered if Captain Wentworth had been away from England for so long that he had forgotten this. Sometimes in November the pond was even frozen over.

His obstinacy was infuriating. He would now go in because she had said he should not. This was very clear to her.

She was determined to be there. Frederick would freeze to death. He thought he would be fine, but he would grow so cold that he would not be able to come out any more and then he would drown. Someone had to be there to save him in case he needed to be saved.

In the evening she had packed a basket with towels and a rope. She could throw that at him if he was in trouble and then she would pull him out.

The next morning she rose very early. She dressed in a warm coat and boots, hung her basket over her arm and left the house. Since Captain Wentworth had not said at what hour he would start searching, she hoped she was not too late, but it was still dark and hopefully he would wait until he actually saw a bit.

After some stumbling she installed herself by the bridge. The darkness was truly dark. Mrs Clay could not have fallen into the pond this early, or the captain would not have been able to see a thing. The running figure would have had the dark bushes behind him and he would have been invisible. Every minute it grew a little lighter, though.

Captain Wentworth was not pleased to see her when he arrived. "What are you doing here?"

"Watching."

"Not on your life!" he exclaimed vehemently in a low voice.

"Well, if you are afraid I might run into a dangerous man, I am safest here, am I not?" It had occurred to her that he might have been afraid she was putting her life at risk by having walked through the park in the dark.

"But now I must keep my trousers on."

That was a rather unexpected reason for not wanting her there, but Anne found she was not silenced. "Oh, not on my account. Poseidon is not wearing them either." But she blushed bright red for the silly things she was saying. What would Lady Russell think if she heard?

He grumbled a bit and took everything off except his trousers. Anne observed that Mrs Clay had been quite correct: sailors were neat and careful in all their ways, because he folded his clothes with particular care. But when had Mrs Clay ever seen them do so?

"What is in your basket?" he inquired.

"Towels and rope."

He looked as if he had expected her to have brought tea and biscuits. "Rope?"

It was good that it was too dark to see the expression on her face. "To pull you out."

"To --" Captain Wentworth guffawed. Clearly he was not at all reckoning with having to be pulled out. The idea almost seemed to offend him.

Anne knew it was useless, but she wanted to say it anyway. She had only his health in mind and nothing else. "I know it is not very proper, but I really think it in your best interests not to be walking home with wet trousers. It is simply not very sensible. It is much healthier to shock me and to leave them dry."

"In my best interests," he said in a voice full of bitterness. "As if you know what they are."

"Well, then do not listen to me. Keep your trousers on. It is November. The water in England is perfectly pleasant." She gave a little Mary-like huff.

He did not look at her again, but walked to the edge and stepped in. There was a sharp intake of breath that amused Anne -- or rather, it made her feel smug, but he was not the kind of man to want her to say she had told him so. He would go in, pretend he felt nothing, swim until his lips turned blue, walk home in his dripping trousers and lay in bed all day shivering. And that was the best possible outcome. He could also kill himself.

Men!

Anne was sitting on a towel because the ground was chilly and she watched him wade in deeper and deeper. "I hope you can swim," she said, loud enough for him to hear. Although what she would do if he said no, she did not precisely know.

There was a sigh, or perhaps a gasp as the water reached his waist. "I can swim, thank you."

She admired him, truly, because he was so stubborn as to brave the cold, although it was a fine line between being brave and being stupid. He went under and she waited with bated breath for him to surface, which he thankfully did. He had to check the entire length of the bridge on both sides and she was sure he would not last that long. Her hand was already around the rope, although how he was to clutch a rope with frozen hands she did not know. Perhaps she should have tied it around his waist -- which he probably would not have allowed.

But there he came out again. His teeth were clattering and he stumbled a little, but he was nevertheless an interesting sight with the dawning sky behind him. Only the trident was lacking.

Anne tossed him a towel, which he accepted without thanking her. He made use of it immediately, however, and that was enough for her. She shook her head at the fool leaving the house without a towel. But she was very glad he had survived.

"Nothing," he said with clattering teeth, "no rocks, only mud."

"I can hardly make out what you are saying. I think you should take off the trousers and wrap a towel round your waist. I shall go home. You do not have to be afraid of my seeing anything I ought not."

"I am not cold."

"No, of course not. I can see you are perfectly warm. But I am going home in any case and I am going to leave you the towels, so you can do what I said when I am gone. If you would be so kind as to leave them with Poseidon at some point today, I shall pick them up there and take them home." She had planned to walk away, but then she paused. "They are very good towels. I should like them back."

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Lady Russell had some errands to run on her own and Anne had to have her hair washed and cut, so a good deal of time was taken up by that. Sitting still gave her ample time to think and she tried out several versions of how it might have happened.

Mrs Clay could not have fallen in in good health, because there was nothing for her to have hit her head on. Anne had taken some wooden and clay figurines into the bath to recreate the accident. One of the clay figurines ironically broke its head when it dove in, but it must be taken into account that Mrs Clay would not have remained rigid while falling and thus have softened her fall even more than the water did. Her head would not have come quite as deep.

The servant who washed her hair was quite puzzled.

Anne was playing. The Musgroves had invited them. In fact, the invitation had been issued long before Mrs Clay's accident and they had not cancelled the evening because of her death. They had made it clear, however, that they would be very understanding if some of the invited parties chose to decline. Some did so -- only Sir William and Captain Wentworth made the short journey from the Hall.

Anne, despite the well-argued and reasonable explanation Sir William gave, was not entirely sure she would have done the same in his place. As for Captain Wentworth, he had only just arrived when Mrs Clay had met with her untimely death and nobody could think him well-acquainted with her, or even with the late Sir Walter.

The accident had happened a few days ago already and there were girls at the Musgroves', of course. Something that must not be discounted.

And the girls could not be disappointed, Anne understood. Their parents had not been able to spoil their enjoyment. Who was Mrs Clay to them? They were dancing now and indeed enjoying themselves. The two unmarried gentlemen from the Hall were very obliging. Anne had no wish to dance and she did not even mind that she was almost expected to provide the music. She acquiesced willingly.

Mary did not. She had complained to her sister that it was very improper to do this so soon after her father's death, but Anne had not replied. It would be useless. Mary would not have liked not receiving an invitation and she would also never have stayed home.

Lady Russell had left the decision to Anne. She had not particularly wanted to go herself, but she had thought it a good distraction for her goddaughter.

Captain Wentworth, Anne had noticed right away, no longer shivered. He must have warmed up after his dip in the pond. He had certainly been kind enough to leave the basket at the foot of the statue. Or he had sent a servant while he shivered in his bed.

He came closer unobtrusively. Suddenly he was beside her and formally inquired if he needed to turn her pages. Anne, thinking he might have something else in mind, said she would not decline the offer but that she did not really need it. There was so much more enjoyment to be had on the dance floor, after all. Only she was thought not to care, she knew, and in the present company she did indeed not care, but he was an eligible male. But even eligible males needed some rest and he had ceded the floor to some cousins of sorts of the Musgroves. Anne had consequently begun playing some faster music. She knew what they liked. Still, there was no reason to need someone to turn her pages. She knew this music well.

"I tried speaking to the chambermaid," Captain Wentworth said quietly. "I am convinced she knows something, but she would not even take money."

"Oh." Anne wondered what to say. "Why did you think she might know something?"

"I did not. I merely asked, but then she became evasive."

"So you think she was hiding something." That was what she would think.

"She would not take money."

"What is her name?" Anne wondered if she knew the maid.

"Martha."

She thought for a second. "I shall try to talk to her."

Sir William was suddenly beside her. He wore a quizzical expression on his face, as if he knew manners forbade him to ask what she was talking about, but he was curious nevertheless. "Do you not need a break, Cousin?"

Anne decided she did not really like the possessive sound of that address. Mary would love it, of course, but Anne wanted to be neither the poor cousin nor the marriageable cousin of a baronet. Her life might have changed after her father's death, but she would rather her future did not rest in the hands of Sir William Walter Elliot.

"Well, perhaps," she said. "If the dancers need a little time off as well."

"The older ones certainly do -- I notice the captain was tired," he said with a nod at Wentworth. "And it would not hurt the younger ones to amuse themselves some other way for a while. But of course," he said, checking himself, "it is not my place to decide."

While Mr and Mrs Musgrove would not have minded watching the young people dance all evening, they had some other guests they had to think of. Not everyone was young and fond of dancing and people such as Mrs Musgrove's sister did carry a little weight with her, even if her daughters could generally have what they liked. When the dance floor gradually emptied, Mrs Musgrove put an end to the dancing.

Anne was glad she could stop. It was much easier to think if she was not playing. What about the maid? And what about Sir William and his always interrupting her conversations with Captain Wentworth?

Anne wanted to nudge Captain Wentworth. He was really overdoing it. Just how many references to pushing and shoving could he pack into one conversation? She wriggled in her chair and all he did was smile triumphantly. He was enjoying this.

It might not even have been meant for her alone. Henrietta and Louisa were delighted by everything he said, but she was only thinking he would get himself killed. He must be doing this for a reason -- he was baiting someone. But there was only Sir William, Charles Musgrove and old Mr Musgrove. And the Hayters, but they could not have known Mrs Clay, could they? They might have heard of her, but that was all.

Perhaps she should set up a meeting. Tomorrow morning, somewhere in the park. But how to get this question across to him? Henrietta, Louisa and Sir William were always near.

"Poseidon pushed us up onto a great wave," Captain Wentworth continued. "It was one of the highest I had ever seen."

Seventeen, counted Anne.

"Who is he?" asked Louisa eagerly.

"He is the god of the seas."

"And what does he do?"

"He pushes ships around a bit."

Eighteen, Anne added to her silent count.

"He does not exist, of course," said Charles Hayter, who as a curate could not approve.

Louisa was inclined to believe Captain Wentworth rather than him and gave Charles Hayter a disturbed glance. She turned back to the captain. "What happened when you were on the great wave?"

"We were in danger of being shoved into the water."

Nineteen.

Of course she could not ask Captain Wentworth what he had been doing. There was no opportunity to speak to him alone again. The best she had been able to do was to sit in his vicinity -- just like everyone else. Sir William was the baronet, but Wentworth was the better talker. She did not notice any jealousy or discomfort in Sir William, however. He did not seem to mind or he had decided he had other objectives than attracting the most attention. Perhaps he thought the Musgroves were not worth the effort.

She could only slip him a short note: Pos. 11. Hopefully he would understand.

Chapter Seven

Posted on 2013-12-09

"Did you amuse yourself last night?" Lady Russell inquired at breakfast.

"It was a good idea to go and to be distracted. I hope you enjoyed it too. It is not your favourite sort of engagement."

"Oh, once in a while I do not mind making a concession. And," she lowered her voice. "I make concessions more often, though you may not know. There were some older people to talk to. Did you hear about Charles Hayter's prospects? Although I suspect his mother talked more about those than he did."

"True," Anne smiled. Mrs Hayter had indeed mentioned it. "I heard it from her. He never said a word."

"He was too busy sizing up the competition."

"Surely his understanding with Henrietta is not in danger?" She was more hopeful than certain, for it was understandable that either the captain or the baronet appeared more attractive at the moment, but in the long run they would not suit.

Lady Russell shrugged. "I do not know, but last evening he was certainly not very interesting to her. Henrietta danced with him only once."

"I did not really pay attention," she lied, although she knew Henrietta had danced twice with Captain Wentworth. She should not have noticed that. He had danced five times: twice with Henrietta, twice with Louisa and once with one of their cousins, who was probably young enough to be his daughter. Had she been sizing up the competition as well?

Poseidon was waiting. He always was. She was so unimaginative that she had not been able to think of another place to meet, even if Sir William always crept up on her there. She had her book ready and she sat there at eleven. Hopefully Sir William would not be the first to show up.

But it was Captain Wentworth who did.

"What did you ask the maid?" Anne inquired, so she would not think of the old days when he had met her here. That had nothing to do with today; it could ruin everything. "What do you think she could know?"

He remained on his feet. Perhaps he too thought that sitting down would remind him of too much. "Servants know everything. She will know, for example, whether Mrs Clay was generous with her favours."

"What does that mean precisely?" She did not want to sound ignorant, but she also did not want to misunderstand him and lose her position as his equal. It was not quite that yet, but it was close enough.

Captain Wentworth looked around himself. He did not want to be overheard. Or perhaps he did not know how to phrase the delicate question. "Did she favour anyone with special attention? Like Sir William? Or Sir Walter, for that matter?"

"He would never! He always mentioned her teeth and her freckles." Anne could not believe it, whatever it might mean. Well, Mrs Clay might have been extremely attentive to her father, but the captain implied a degree of reciprocality and Anne had never noticed anything of the sort.

"Men," said the captain and he seemed to struggle for words even more clearly. "They can be distracted by other qualities."

"Character?" She tried, but she did not think he meant that.

"No, not character. Physical qualities."

"Freckles."

"Lower."

Lower? Anne gave him a wry smile when she recalled Mrs Clay always leaning forward. "Oh, that."

"She possessed one of those other qualities."

"In ample supply."

He looked relieved to find she understood. "Yes, that one exactly."

"But not my father." Anne spoke decidedly, even though she had always been afraid of exactly that.

"But he did appreciate the human body. He had statues all over the park." He gave Poseidon a pointed look and then leant against the foot of the statue.

"Those are godly bodies and he appreciated them because they are more beautiful than humans, I should think." But in reality she was merely supposing.

Captain Wentworth appeared to disagree, for he gave Poseidon a doubtful inspection. "Mind you," he then said, "we looked at 'the other man', but we completely forgot to consider the opposite."

"Mrs Clay could have been killed by 'the other woman', the wife of a lover?" In that case they would definitely be looking outside the Hall. Anne wished it could be true. If only it could be someone she did not know!

"Exactly. I do not know why I never thought of this before. Perhaps we were so focused on the men she might have been meeting, but women can be vicious as well. I do not underestimate women, you know."

Anne was not so sure.

"But I really have no idea where else to look at the moment. Perhaps the maid can shed some light on the matter."

"I will speak to her," Anne said. "She may tell me something; she knows me."

Anne walked to the Hall and asked to speak to Martha. The maid appeared with a nervous look, evidently afraid she would not finish her work. Anne could reassure her. "I shall not keep you long, Martha, but there are some things I should like to ask you. Which bad things can you tell me about Mrs Clay?"

Martha was astonished at being asked such a question.

Anne thought she might be afraid of the consequences. "Do not tell anyone I asked you. If they ask what I wanted, tell them I asked about your mother and if she would appreciate a basket."

"Yes, Miss." Martha was still a long way from understanding why Miss Elliot, of all people, wanted her to speak ill of the dead. Miss Elliot was known for being all that was good and correct.

"Now, about Mrs Clay..."

"You are not the first to ask."

"Captain Wentworth?"

Martha blushed. "Yes, him. He offered me money. I did not take it. I do not trust men who offer me money."

"Quite right, Martha," Anne said encouragingly. "I think he only wanted information, however. Or has he bothered you?" She felt a sudden fear, but it could not be. He would hardly ask her to question a maid he had bothered, because then it would all come out.

"No, Miss, not him. I was afraid I had got that wrong when he offered me money."

"Now, Mrs Clay..."

"I think she liked being bothered," Martha said cautiously. She was still not entirely convinced that she could really say something bad about the woman. "Her door was wide open for men with money."

"Was there anyone particular in the house she invited in?"

"Everyone but the admiral, I should think."

"The captain too?" Anne tried to keep her face impassive. She did not want it to be so.

"She tried. I'm quite sure she did. I don't know if it worked."

That was not much of a relief, but she did not want to ask any more about him in case she heard something unsettling. "Sir William?"

"I think so. It was already before the captain arrived, so it must have been him if it wasn't the admiral."

"And you are very sure it was not the admiral?" Anne asked to be certain. She could not believe it of him either.

"He couldn't marry her. He has Mrs Croft."

"Was there anyone else?"

"Someone -- or more -- outside the house. Her shoes were sometimes wet in the morning, so she must have been out. I never asked. That is not my place."

"Thank you, Martha. You have been very helpful," Anne said thoughtfully. The wet shoes were important. It was interesting that Martha had immediately assumed that Mrs Clay must have been meeting a man. "I shall send your mother a basket."

The conversation had only taken a few minutes. Martha's mother had been poorly for a while. It was easily checked if anyone cared to ask what Miss Elliot had come to do.

She would have bubbled with excitement if there had not been the uncertainty about Captain Wentworth, who might or might not have used what Mrs Clay had offered. She would not like it if he had.

Given that Mrs Clay had regularly gone out during the night, one would say this had something to do with her death. Either the man she had presumably gone to meet, or someone jealous of him, could have been involved.

What could there be to be jealous of, however? Anne did not exactly know. It was more logical for a man outside to be jealous of a man inside. Could that still work? Yes, it could, if the man outside had discovered she was also dallying with a man inside -- assuming the men inside were wealthier and of higher rank. A man might not like being jilted in favour of a baronet. But the baronet might also not like sharing his mistress with a local shopkeeper and the like.

"You look so serious," Mrs Croft said all of a sudden. "Is anything the matter?"

"Oh, the usual," Anne said, trying to speak lightly. She was taken aback by Mrs Croft's sudden appearance, because she had thought she was all alone. "There is so much to think of these days. Are you nearly rid of your guests?"

"Did you notice a spring in my step?"

"Actually, I did not notice you approach at all."

"I have learnt to move silently through my own home to avoid everyone," Mrs Croft said jokingly.

"I am glad you did not avoid me."

Mrs Croft smiled and took her by the arm. They went to a small office where Mrs Croft did her accounts. Here Anne was made to sit. "Anne, now tell me what you are up to."

"Up to?" Anne was a little taken aback at her tone.

"Yes, you are extremely interested in Mrs Clay's death."

"I am?" So this was what being called in by the headmistress felt like. It had never happened to her at school, but she had heard about it from girls who had got into scrapes. They were called into the office and they were put in a chair.

Mrs Croft sat on the desk with her arms crossed and stared hard at her. "This is the second time you came into this house unannounced to...do things."

"I do not have anything to tell you," Anne squeaked. The admiral himself had assured her she was welcome to come in at any time. Mrs Croft now seemed to disapprove. She was confused.

"You left me a note that I have yet to answer, because I could not figure out your purpose. It is true that that hussy tried to seduce the admiral," Mrs Croft remarked in a steely voice. "But a few words from me put an end to that. I had no reason to kill her."

If Mrs Croft had had that same look in her eyes, Anne could well believe that Mrs Clay had given up. Anyone would give up when faced with the formidable figure of Mrs Croft. "Did you also not hire your brother to do it?" She shrunk after she had spoken. Mrs Croft would have her flogged.

Mrs Croft considered that question. She took her time, perhaps to prevent herself from indeed calling a servant to flog Anne. "Do you not think me capable of handling my own affairs?"

"I do, Madam."

Mrs Croft put on a high, helpless voice. "Frederick, please come and kill this woman who showed herself to James in her shift."

Anne said nothing. If she had not been so subdued she might have laughed. Now she could not. She was only regretting that she had spoken.

"The whole idea is as preposterous as appearing before the admiral in a state of undress."

It probably was, Anne conceded. Mrs Croft frightened her. Beyond a doubt she was eminently capable of handling her own affairs.

"The admiral was not impressed," Mrs Croft continued.

"I never thought he would be," Anne said, still in a little squeak. "He is devoted to you."

"Yes, my dear, he is impressed by me in a shift, not by some hussy."

Anne crawled as deep into the chair as possible. She wanted to hide. "I never thought you could not handle your own affairs and I certainly never though you had shoved Mrs Clay into the pond." But then she found enough strength to walk out before she could reveal that she had come here to ask Martha if the admiral -- among others -- had ever taken the hussy's bait.