Beginning, Section II

Chapter One

Posted on 2009-11-20

Anne Elliot arranged a plaid over Lady Russell's knees. Her godmother had a cold and was determined not to make anything of it, but Anne thought a little care was required. Lady Russell protested there was no need. She was perfectly comfortable and warm without the plaid. She had her magazines and her cup of tea and a plaid over her knees would not help with her coughs in the least.

Perhaps not. Anne smiled, but left the plaid. It would do her conscience good, even if it did nothing for Lady Russell -- which she doubted. She sat by the window herself with her work. When she chanced to look up half an hour later, she saw their neighbour Mrs Croft approach Kellynch Lodge. Anne was always ready to receive Mrs Croft, but today Lady Russell might not be. She turned in concern. "Should I receive Mrs Croft in another room?"

"I quite like Mrs Croft."

"I know you do, but --"

"Oh, am I too ill, you mean. No, I am not ill. Simply because I have recently passed that awesome mark -- I did not know you knew -- does not mean every trifling cold will now be fatal."

Anne looked a little guilty of having considered the venerable age of sixty quite dangerous. And of course she knew.

Lady Russell continued. "It is perfectly fine to have her shown in here, as the servants well know. Is she alone or did she bring the terrors?"

"She did not bring the terrors," Anne replied gravely.

Admiral and Mrs Croft had taken possession of Kellynch as a childless couple. They had once suffered the loss of a newborn, but they had neither expected nor desired to go through that again. Two years after settling in at Kellynch and experiencing the quiet life, however, Mrs Croft had given birth to a boy, healthy, perfectly formed and not a day too early, everything contrary to the first time. His name was Freddy, named for a grandfather and an uncle.

In the morning he learnt useful things from his mother and later in the day he learnt mischievous things out of doors from his father. Mrs Croft, a sensible woman, turned a blind eye to their mischief. Nobody had ever caught her swimming in the stream or stealing apples, but she had to be aware that it occurred.

In all other aspects Freddy was a lovely little boy and Anne confessed she liked him much better than her nephews, of which there were now five at Uppercross Cottage. Her sister Mary had not been fortunate; each next boy had been more undisciplined than the one before. She would have loved to have Anne live with her and indeed Anne had stayed with her for a short while, but Anne was glad she had moved in with Lady Russell before the full extent of the catastrophe unveiled itself. She was safely settled now and Lady Russell was her ally.

She was quite content with her life. It was true that she would come to depend on another's generosity when Lady Russell died, but Mary would never turn down an extra pair of hands. She already frequently begged. That Anne did not want to submit to this fate a day sooner than it was required was one selfish indulgence she allowed herself and hopefully some of the boys would be out of the house by then and no more had been added.

Lady Russell, however, did not think the male Crofts very much to be preferred above the male Musgroves, although she did not seriously think them terrors. However, when she was a little under the weather especially she would rather not deal with them.

"My brother is coming!"

Mrs Croft's voice was so full of enthusiasm and wonder that Anne deduced that the visit was something out of the ordinary -- and thus that she was not speaking of Edward Wentworth, who visited here regularly after all. Her breath caught in her throat. It had to be Frederick, for Mrs Croft had only two brothers.

In the eight years that the Crofts had been living at Kellynch, she had often heard Frederick Wentworth come up in conversation. In eight years not many secrets could be kept between two neighbours who liked each other and Mrs Croft was consequently well aware of Anne's brief engagement to her brother. She had always treated the subject with discretion and consideration for Anne's feelings, however, and Anne had not regretted telling her. There were not many other people who knew.

It had happened sixteen years ago and it had not lasted very long. He had gone to sea shortly after and he had remained there until he had gone to India, which to Anne was worse than being away at sea. Many people never returned from India.

Neither Anne nor Mrs Croft knew very much about Frederick's current life. His sister complained that she knew everything about life in India, but nothing about Frederick. He restricted himself to questions and anecdotes when he wrote, never revealing anything about himself. No matter what Mrs Croft asked, she never got any answers and the long time it took for the mail to reach her ensured that she had usually forgotten what she had asked precisely.

Anne never volunteered any questions, but occasionally Mrs Croft vented her frustration, as she did now.

"He might be married, for all I know," Mrs Croft fretted. "He did not say if he was bringing anybody. He could have married all the women in India, for all I know."

Anne smiled in spite of the unpleasant sensations this image caused. Mrs Croft was usually level-headed and steady. It was amusing to see her behave differently. It was less amusing to imagine Frederick married, although it was selfish of her to think so. He deserved to be happy with a wife and why should he not have found one somewhere? He had been to many places.

But he would not have kept his sister in the dark about a wedding. That he had not told her about his engagement was because it had been of such short duration -- and nobody liked to admit that he had been accepted and then rejected. Anne looked doubtful. She could not imagine him not informing his sister. "Surely he would have told you?"

"He is proud. He would not tell me about a failure. You know that. An unhappy marriage might be considered a failure. He knows what I should say if he married an unsuitable woman."

Anne wondered if Mrs Croft had ever written to him about her friendship with Anne Elliot. He would know his sister lived at Kellynch Hall; he sent his letters there. She had never dared to ask what else he knew or if he had ever inquired what had happened to the Elliot family. He might think her married. It would not be strange at her age, just like it was not strange for him to be married.

"Why is he coming?" That was a stupid question. He came to see his sister. She should have asked whether the return was permanent or not. She did not suppose one could easily come over for a brief visit.

"He will be paid off and he is coming to live with us for the time being."

Anne was naturally affected by the announcement. Frederick had never returned to Somersetshire, although he had on at least two occasions set foot on English soil since their broken engagement. Eight years ago he had stayed in Shropshire for a long time, as Mrs Croft had later told her. He had avoided Kellynch. Afterwards he had left for India. Anne had assumed him lost to her forever when she had read about his ship's return and he had not come. If he had not come after two years, nor after eight, he would never come back.

Eight years ago, her father had leased Kellynch Hall to the Crofts, whose name she had immediately recognised. Due to being sent from one home to the other, Anne had not come to know them well until a year later when she was living with Lady Russell. It had suited everyone, including her family, to leave her with Lady Russell and that was where she had been for the next seven years.

She had not married. There had not been significantly more opportunities at twenty-seven than at thirty-five, for Sir Walter Elliot and Lady Russell were about equal when it came to their number of social engagements, and so she did not think she had grown into a hopeless case only in the last few years. She had always been one. After Frederick Wentworth no man had touched her heart. A few had tried, but she had not been able to marry them.

Lady Russell and she had lived very pleasantly together and as her godmother got on in age, Anne felt less inclined to abandon her. Lady Russell had many acquaintances, but few relatives. Anne had always lived in this neighbourhood and she loved it. There was really no reason to want to leave, only many reasons to want to stay.

The news of Frederick's impending return -- although it had been months away when she had first heard of it -- had upset her quiet little world a bit. She had been happy to be a friend to his sister, a sort of aunt to his nephew, but that was all. He was a thing of the past, one that had influenced her past, but she did not know how he was going to affect the future.

She had loved him, but while she still remembered his good qualities, she did not think she would love him still when she saw him. It had been too long.

There were people who believed they would love him the instant they saw him, however. Two of the Misses Musgrove, just grown up, had a lively fantasy and a predilection for heroes, never mind that neither of their elder sisters had married one.

The Musgroves lived in a smaller, but less quiet world than Anne. A navy captain was interesting to them, even though they ought to surmise that the man in question was close in age to the admiral, whom they did not think interesting in the least. Anne therefore observed their excitement with amusement.

"Do you not think he will be twice your age, being Mrs Croft's brother?" she asked Charlotte Musgrove, who like her sisters behaved as if Captain Wentworth was just over twenty.

Anne thought of him as such as well, but the difference was that she had in fact known him when he was that age and she had not seen him since. Rationally she knew he must be older now. He was older, she corrected herself -- a good deal older. She wondered what he looked like. Her father never had good hopes of seeing a sailor age gracefully. She did not think like him, but she knew Frederick could not be looking as he did fifteen years ago.

Miss Musgrove apparently had a different notion of how old Captain Wentworth had been fifteen years ago. "Oh. no. If Mrs Croft is the eldest like Charles and he is the youngest like Harry..."

"In that case he need not be very old," Anne conceded, not revealing that she knew his precise age. Of course the Musgroves would think every mother was like theirs, bearing children for years on end.

"But it is so exciting. The captain has been to India and he has made a great fortune, says Mrs Croft."

Anne could not imagine Mrs Croft literally saying so, but of course she was not a Musgrove girl and she would be told different things. The Musgroves would not care to hear that Captain Wentworth had not informed his sister of anything important. They would not care to wonder why. All they needed to know was that a dashing hero with a large fortune was coming their way. Even if Mrs Croft would not volunteer the information, that was what they would ask.

Anne smiled. How different they were. Wistfully she thought back to when she had been their age, when for a short time she had been equally carefree. Contrary to them, however, she had never really wanted to leave.

In spite of their lofty dreams of heroes and riches, they were probably no more likely to see them come true than Anne or their elder brothers and sisters. The only Musgrove who had ever left the neighbourhood had been Dick, but no good had come to him. Charles lived near his parents, Henrietta had married a nearby cousin, Louisa had married the son of another neighbour and the ones who had not married still lived at home. It was all exactly what might be expected.

Chapter Two

Posted on 2009-12-01

Anne had equally difficult meetings ahead of her first -- provided that she would ever meet Captain Wentworth, but if he was a direct neighbour that seemed inevitable. Her father had issued his yearly invitation to her and Lady Russell and they must spend a week in Bath first. If it was left to Lady Russell to decide, they would easily spend two or three weeks there, but Anne always pressed for a short stay. A longer stay would follow after Christmas.

She had never got along well with the new Lady Elliot, a sharp and shrewd woman her age. Because Anne was the only one in the family who saw through her handsome exterior, she was always treated with coldness. Anne did furthermore not think that she was always represented truthfully to her father. This made her a little wary of the woman.

Usually she shrugged, but she knew that ever living with them was out of the question. Should Lady Elliot outlive Sir Walter, she would have no qualms about refusing Anne. Her sister Elizabeth was the same. She had married a baronet, which gave her some independence, but not enough to support an unmarried sister. Anne realised full well she was lucky to have Lady Russell.

"The theatre, an assembly, three evening parties..." Anne was tired just thinking of it. How did it fit into one week? But she was determined to be a little positive. "I shall probably like the theatre."

"The evening parties will all be with different people. You will like some of them," Lady Russell said encouragingly.

Anne gave that notion a vague frown. "The odds are probably such..." However, people she liked were never represented to the same extent among her father's guests as they were elsewhere. He did have a fondness for people who could not captivate her, after all.

"Lady Dalrymple is not in town." Lady Russell evidently possessed more knowledge of the guest lists.

"Not? Why not?" Anne clicked her tongue. She did not mind the woman's absence; Lady Dalrymple might be related in some way, but she was insipid and dull, and unfortunately they were forced to see a lot of her when she happened to be in town.

"Because she is due to arrive when we leave. Clearly her schedule could not be adjusted to fit Sir Walter's."

"If there are three parties this week, there will be some next week. Oh, I feel like such a -- I cannot muster up any positive feelings for evening parties."

"Not in Bath. You are lively enough at home," Lady Russell pointed out. "Is it because you are not married and people in Bath will think something of it?"

"No, I never think of that," lied Anne, who had very recently still thought of it. "I am content as I am. Why must I be placed in the way of ageing viscounts?" Ageing viscounts were not looking for her if they were looking for women. They would prefer either very young ones or old ones their age, not someone who was neither young nor old.

"Are you?" Lady Russell had never noticed anything of the sort.

"Oh, my dearest stepmother seizes every opportunity. She is too afraid to be stuck with me after my father's death."

"It is very kind of her to think of you. It is not unkindness."

Anne smiled indulgently. Lady Russell was a good woman, but not an astute judge of character. Lady Elliot could be charming, and charming and civil women always meant well, or so Lady Russell believed. Anne had sensed before that Lady Russell did not quite see the new Lady Elliot as she did. She was turning into a spiteful spinster for having such thoughts.

"She does not replace your mother, you know."

"No, never," Anne said quietly.

"But I have come to think that your father deserves some kind of happiness."

"Of course." She merely wished he had chosen a more deserving woman. Although perhaps it was good that she was not, because a more deserving woman might have replaced her mother and now that was certainly not the case.

Anne did not play cards if she could avoid it, but when they needed a fourth and she was the only person available she usually gave in. That was how she came to be seated with her sister Elizabeth and two gentlemen. One of those spoke to Elizabeth and the other to her. A good division, Elizabeth would say, but Anne did not know if she agreed.

She concentrated on playing rather than on the jokes Mr Blackley, her partner, was making. This was one of the reasons she did not enjoy the game. Another was that she did not care at all if she won or lost.

"You must not play random cards, Miss Elliot!" said her partner in dismay.

Perhaps if she actively did, he would never like to play with her again. Anne was not evil enough to do more than think of such a plan unfortunately. "I told you, sir. I am very bad at this game."

"Oh, there is no need to make excuses. I am only teasing."

He could speak of interesting subjects, but his sense of humour was a little strange. Anne looked at her cards again and wondered if she had really played a very random card.

"How long are you staying in town?" Mr Blackley asked.

"Only a week."

"Only a week?" He sounded amazed.

"I do not enjoy Bath well enough to stay very long." She hoped he would not consider that an insult, but it could not be helped. It perhaps was only a particular kind of person who would feel offended, like Mary. "But we shall be back this winter," she added hastily before Mr Blackley could start listing all the things she would miss by leaving. She did not need a list.

He was no ageing viscount, but Elizabeth and Lady Elliot seemed to have several candidates on their minds for her. Anne did not doubt that they were conspiring. Neither of them wanted to be stuck with her in old age. The feeling was quite mutual, because she would not enjoy it much either.

A day later the candidate's name was Lord Evenscroft and he was a viscount. Anne could not help giving Lady Russell a significant look. Lady Russell, of course, would give him the benefit of the doubt, even if he was at least seventy.

He was a charming old man, but Anne was never inclined to fall in love with charming old men. Her stepmama very likely thought this her best chance at happiness, for the viscount was not likely to live another ten years. Anne did not understand why she had not married him herself.

A moment later she realised why. Little Walter, of course. The viscount had several heirs already; Sir Walter had had none.

For an evening Lord Evenscroft was pleasant company, but he could not make her enjoy Bath. She did not mind it as much nowadays, she found, but it would never be her favourite destination. People did not change and she did not care for the general public here.

She had once walked the streets here and looked wistfully at small groups of naval officers, but there were fewer and fewer of those these days. Perhaps they were all, like the Crofts, happily settled somewhere in the country. Perhaps she simply failed to recognise the navy because they had got rid of their too obvious characteristics or the fortunes they had made in the wars. Frederick made her think of them now. Would he blend in, a gentleman like any other?

Sir Walter said he was sorry to see Lady Russell and she were leaving already. This was amazing. Anne felt that perhaps she had grown too cynical over the years, for he had hardly shared more with them than who were in town and who had been. She must not be self-centred. These were important communications for others. Perhaps he was truly sorry.

"We shall be back in the new year," she murmured, not sure whether anyone cared. Sir Walter might not, Lady Elliot certainly did not, and Elizabeth and her husband were not even listening.

"You will miss our cousin Lady Dalrymple."

This was not the first time a remark of that nature had been made. After he had written some to Lady Russell before their arrival, he had made a few more in the past week. Anne behaved as if she heard it for the first time. "I am sorry to disappoint her. I am not leaving to slight her. Please give her my best wishes."

Since Sir Walter had moved to Bath he had renewed the acquaintance with their cousin and he was quite eager to keep it for some reason. Anne doubted that Lady Dalrymple would even know who she was when they met in the street without the benefit of Sir Walter's presence. She had never cared much for their Irish relatives.

She would be happy to return to Kellynch, where there were some obligatory engagements, but with generally more likeable people. Not all were interesting, but none were so wholly preoccupied with making a good impression as some were in town.

Mrs Croft had not seen her brother for eight years. The last time she saw him he had been wounded, although he had assured her it was temporary and he had not made much of it. Since leaving for India he had not responded to any questions about his injury and therefore to see him crippled surprised her a little. He looked a little older, as was to be expected, greying at the temples and with a more serious and reflective expression, which might spring from his physical condition, as he had never written about other misfortunes.

"You did not write to me that you were wounded again," she said a little accusingly.

He gave her a short laugh. "Not again. But what could you have done from afar but worry? And there was no need to. There was nothing anybody could do. I am afraid it is permanent. It does not bother me."

He did not walk easily, as far as she could tell from the little he had moved so far. The injury might not bother him anymore -- although she was not sure of his tone -- but it would have bothered him a few years ago. She did not like to see her little brother either wounded or bothered and he had always been too proud and too active to like it.

"And you never wrote whether you married," she went on.

"Therefore I did not." He looked around himself with a pointed look; he had clearly arrived alone.

"But why not? Are you poor?"

He laughed again, but with an undertone of bitterness. "No, I am not poor. I have only been adding to my fortune. What does that have to do with my being married or not?"

"Oh, do not be so obtuse. If you were poor you could not afford a wife."

"I am not poor. Could be quite the catch if I chose." But it was clear from his expression that he did not choose it.

"But here I was worrying that you were married to every temptress in India!" Mrs Croft was relieved. She was relieved that he had not married anybody without her approval, but of course she would want marital bliss for him soon. He must not live alone.

"To everyone single one?" He was incredulous. "I thought you were sensible, Sophia. How could a man marry them all? You are quite right that there are many temptresses and fortune hunters in India, but you ought to know me better than that. I am very content on my own."

She would almost believe him.

Chapter Three

Posted on 2009-12-10

Anne and Lady Russell had travelled back to Kellynch. One was glad, the other regretted it a little. Lady Russell was fond of Bath and she always met acquaintances, even out of season. Going home was not a punishment for her, however, and it was always a pleasure for her to see Anne happy. Sometimes she looked at Anne in concern, for she believed that her goddaughter would be far happier with a family, something Anne always denied.

Anne was not unhappy being single; that was the problem. She would probably be happy under most circumstances. Lady Russell sighed.

She did not dislike Lady Elliot, but she sensed that Anne and she were not the best of friends. This was a pity, for Sir Walter had improved after his second marriage, as much as a baronet still had room to improve. He had a son now, which had cured many headaches.

Anne must not feel that the second Lady Elliot replaced the first, for she did not. Lady Russell could well distinguish between the two. Her dear friend would never be back. This was a different time and a different woman. And she had Anne, who looked very much like her mother. At the same time Anne was very different, for Lady Elliot had been a wife and mother at her age.

Inevitably, as always, she ended up thinking that Anne should be at least a wife. There would be no one looking out for Anne if she died. Lady Elliot, Elizabeth, Mary -- they all had small children who claimed most of their attention, or so they said. Lady Russell was not in all cases sure that was true, given what they were able to do, but she suspected they would not gladly take in Anne unless Anne helped with the children. When there were no more children living at home she did not know what they would do.

Anne would have an income, naturally. Lady Russell usually kept quiet about it after Mary had once displayed a jealous interest in it. Something somehow, perhaps Mary's literal words, had led her to think that Mary would ask Anne for the greater portion of that allowance. Lady Russell's sense of fairness made her feel guilty about not treating the three girls equally. Elizabeth and Mary would not receive as much as Anne, but they were married. It was unfair of her, she supposed, but it was unfair that they were married and Anne was not. It was, however, too complicated to explain to Mary and therefore she did not.

"Charles called on the Crofts, but he would not tell me anything about it," Mary complained.

Anne suppressed a weary smile. She suspected that her sister had been rather tiresome in her curiosity and that Charles had had enough. It was not laudable, but she could understand it. Charles did not know, however, that it only made things worse. "Why? What happened?" she asked.

"He never cares to enlighten me."

"Oh," Anne cried to cut the usual lament short. "Why did he go to call on the Crofts?" It could only be because Captain Wentworth had arrived, but she would like to hear that suspicion confirmed before she started to feel anxiousness or excitement.

"Their brother, Captain Something, arrived." Mary pretended to be so indifferent to the man as to have forgotten his name. "Be glad you were in Bath and that you have no husband, or he would have treated you in the same manner."

Anne thought she might be feeling glad for having been away at the precise moment of his arrival. As his new neighbour, she might have seen something of it. It was better to hear of it first.

"They feel themselves to be above their company, you know," Mary continued. "Yet who were they before he became an admiral?"

"Captain and Mrs Croft? And Lieutenant and Mrs Croft before that?" Anne dared to suggest, but her comment was not appreciated.

"My father is a baronet and the rightful owner of Kellynch Hall and yet my boys are never invited there."

Anne knew why. Mrs Croft feared for Sir Walter's furniture. That this was in fact very respectful would not go down well with Mary. She would only be able to point it out to someone who saw the humour in it. Instead she sighed. "Perhaps they do not get along with Freddy?"

"Why not? Should it make any difference at all? He has no right not to get along with my sons. Who is he? Who are his parents? I suppose the admiral might only just be a gentleman, although he does not comport himself like one, but Mrs Croft, I cannot detect any gentility in her at all."

Considering that Mary had regularly doubted Mrs Croft's gentility in the past eight years, whereas Anne had only become more convinced of the opposite, there was not much she still wanted to say. It was all useless. Good breeding had nothing to do with one's family name.

She was forced to listen to more of Mary's rants and only appeased her sister somewhat by promising to take her two eldest into the nearest market town. Taking two was the most she could do. They were still relatively well-behaved then, although they were never as bad with her as they were with Mary.

They should be at school, Anne thought, but Mary and Charles had never been able to come to an agreement on which school they should be sent to, the fees of Mary's preferred school being so much out of Charles' reach that he could only mock her. It would have been good for the boys to learn some discipline, but Mary would not agree to any school at all if she could not have a good one.

Charles for his part was miffed that she did not consider his old school as worthy of her sons, because all Musgrove boys had gone there and they had turned out well, and he was secretly working on a plan. Very secretly -- Anne knew all about it. On occasion she was torn. She agreed with Charles' reasons, but not with his methods.

Very secretly she hoped he would succeed. It would be better for all of them.

"Well, those were my concerns, but I am sure you care nothing about them at all and I shall not trouble you with them any further," Mary said with a hint of dissatisfaction. Perhaps Anne's vacant expression had given her a hint.

Anne said nothing, because either these or other concerns of Mary's were sure to be discussed later on. They always were. She only smiled vaguely.

"How was our father and...his wife?" Mary and Anne were at least united in their reservations about Lady Elliot, although they did not have the same reasons.

"They were well."

"I wonder that they do not invite the boys more often."

"William is only five."

"I have boys of every age. Several could play with William. I would gladly send them to Bath."

But not to school. Anne nodded. She used one of Mary's own arguments. "Perhaps they do not think you could bear to be parted from them for long."

"Oh, to be sure I could not!" her sister cried. "But it would do William good to play with them and it would do my boys good to see Bath. Besides, if I went with them, which I should, I should not be parted from them for long."

But she would be parted from the ones at home. On some days Mary's logic gave her sister a headache.

Captain Wentworth had a headache too, but then he frequently did these days. It was old age, he supposed, but whatever the reason it made him cranky. He shivered, even if he knew the weather must be mild for this time of the year because nobody else complained about it.

"Are you cold?" His sister never missed anything.

"I am still adjusting to the weather, I suppose. It is much warmer in other parts of the world."

"Too warm," said the admiral with a bright nod. "You will have problems for a year or so and then you will be healthier than ever before."

The captain looked as if he doubted that very much.

"You should take a few trips to Bath to take the waters. Helped me immensely."

"I am not sure I believe in that..." But he looked less sceptical.

"It does not do any harm, even if you do not believe in it. I am not saying you will walk as you did before, but you might shiver a lot less."

"I bow to your superior wisdom about the healing powers of the waters, Admiral," the captain said sarcastically.

"Good."

Mrs Croft looked worried, however. Such a change in tone when walking was mentioned! She had every reason to suspect he was not happy about his injury, but she was not yet so familiar with her brother again as to ask him. They had been apart for many years and they still needed a little time. She knew him because she had grown up with him, but he was not an open book like the admiral. There were things Frederick concealed from her, whereas she was certain that her husband was completely incapable of concealing anything at all.

"Say it, Sophia," he said nevertheless. "You appear concerned. I am not about to die. We are past that point," he said with a wry smile.

She spoke eventually, after debating whether it was wise. "You appear bitter." But she could not tell if that was bitterness about his past or his future.

"I appear cold," he corrected. "Because it is frightfully cold to a man who is used to warmer climates."

"It is all in the mind," said Mrs Croft and she was sure there was something on his mind. She would get it out of him in due time.

Anne, whose access to the Kellynch grounds was unlimited, knew the Crofts' favourite haunts and she knew which to avoid on a particularly warm day. After once having been embraced by a master Freddy who had been as enthusiastic as he had been naked and muddy, she was a little hesitant about coming too near places where he often played with his father. As the admiral had not been in sight at that moment, she had reasons to suspect he was no less presentable.

It was not warm now and there was no danger, but she deliberately walked the other way. Now that Captain Wentworth had arrived, she avoided the park even more. He might be walking there and she did not want to cause an uncomfortable meeting. Mrs Croft would invite her and Lady Russell if the time was right. She would prepare her brother first if she deemed that necessary.

This indeed happened a day after their return to Kellynch. Mrs Croft's note only spoke of tea with her, the admiral and the captain, not of any family he might have. Anne did not know if that was significant, considering that Freddy was not mentioned and he was generally present when she came over. She could not imagine someone listing all ten -- no wait, he could not have achieved that in eight years if even Charles Musgrove could not; she must not be silly -- all five or six of Frederick's children's names in a short note.

She was not particularly nervous about seeing him -- although all others had paled in comparison that did not mean he still stood out -- but about potentially embarrassing moments and silences that might occur. She might be unaffected yet speechless. Seeing him from afar might be more pleasant.

Lady Russell thankfully said nothing at all about his name, as if she did not remember him. This too had worried Anne, for Lady Russell had been very much decided against him at the time. It was her godmother's pressure that had led her to break off her engagement. Anne feared that his having gone to India would exactly underline Lady Russell's impression of him. Lady Russell would not care that he had been sent. She would think of fortune hunters and adventurers.

Anne was a little more tolerant of adventurers herself. People could not all like to spend their whole life in the same place, although ironically that was exactly what she was doing. Sometimes she thought she might have liked seeing countries far away, for she was always interested when Mrs Croft spoke of them, but at other times she was rather happy to be where she was.

She could not change the past, so it was good that she was happy about her fate, she supposed. But that did not quite extend to being happy about meeting Frederick again.

"I hope the child is not present," said Lady Russell when her carriage conveyed them the short distance to the Hall. Anne always thought this slightly ridiculous, since they could easily walk, but Lady Russell only walked in the spring and only when the weather was pleasant at that.

It surprised Anne that when they were about to meet someone they had never seen -- or so Lady Russell pretended -- she cared more about little Freddy's presence than about the stranger's. "He usually is and this is not a formal visit."

"They are not very fond of formal visits, are they?" Lady Russell said a little regretfully.

"I think it is a compliment."

"A compliment? Do you remember what he did last time?"

Anne giggled. She did. "And he was punished accordingly."

"Accordingly, accordingly," Lady Russell muttered. "Ask any older person and he or she will disagree most strongly."

Chapter Four

Posted on 2009-12-18

When Anne first laid eyes on Frederick Wentworth after sixteen years, she felt herself far from unaffected. She had been sure she would be completely indifferent, because she had felt surprisingly calm and courageous in the carriage, on the doorstep and even in the hall. She remained calm now, in that she did not shriek or cry, but her calmness was the result of willpower more than of anything else.

He was not a stranger. Although he had grown older and a little heavier, he was still the same man. The cane took her by surprise, as did the limp, but he hardly seemed to mark them himself. He moved as confidently as he had done before, though not as fluently.

This was the moment. He bowed and greeted them charmingly, but without acknowledging a previous acquaintance. There was nothing in his countenance that spoke of ill feelings towards her, but at the same time nothing that spoke of a particular regard either. Anne was a little relieved. She detected some curiosity in his gaze, but it did not linger. His self-command was as good as Lady Russell's. She was sure Lady Russell remembered him and he her. How could they not? Both of them had been very important to her -- and incompatible.

She did not know how much her appearance had changed in sixteen years. Ever since her father had stopped commenting on her looks she had quite lost track. Lady Russell occasionally said something, but it was usually positive. What would he think? She was still unmarried. Would he wonder why?

With so many questions going through her head she had almost forgotten to notice that he was alone. He had not brought a wife and children from India. It might have been easier had he done so, for then the history would have been finished without a doubt. Now, something still lingered.

Then they sat. It was almost the usual visit at first. Mrs Croft spoke and occasionally the admiral added his thoughts -- related to the topic under discussion or not -- but after a while she got her brother to speak.

Captain Wentworth appeared still quite charming and well-spoken. His tales of India were interesting and amusing. Anne was yet not so captivated by them as not to notice that he did not speak of himself at all. This had been different in the past. He was much more reserved now and she did not think it natural for him.

Freddy thought the same, but for different reasons. After all the talk of India from the man who had regularly sent him gifts from there, he returned to the really important things: the usefulness of this person. After inquiring whether his uncle knew how to catch frogs and hearing that he did not, he expressed his amazement. "What a stupid father you must have had."

"Freddy!" cried the admiral. While he was happy to hear he at least was not a stupid father, Freddy ought to show some more respect for his grandfather.

Freddy was unfazed. "Was he afraid of your mother? Mine is."

There was almost a snicker. "I had no mother."

"But mothers do not like frogs," he said with a sideways glance at his mother. "Therefore if you do not have a mother you can catch all the frogs you want. There is a lot mothers do not like. Do you climb trees?"

Captain Wentworth raised his eyebrows at Mrs Croft. "You do not like frogs?"

"Do you climb trees?" Freddy repeated. As far as he was concerned his uncle was very unmannered not to answer him.

"No, I do not."

"Why not?"

"Because I am nine-and-thirty."

This surprised Freddy. "Oh! Do you know how old my father is? And he can still do it. Never mind. I know a very easy tree for you to learn."

"That is very kind of you."

"Indeed, Freddy," said Mrs Croft. "Now sit down and do not reveal everyone's oddities to the world."

Anne smiled, for she was already familiar with most of their oddities. Lady Russell might not be, however, and she had looked slightly puzzled upon hearing the admiral could -- and apparently did -- climb trees. Freddy's addressing his uncle so impertinently had not met with much approval in her either.

"May I show Miss Elliot my frogs?" Freddy asked after having achieved a full minute of sitting still. He knew who never objected to seeing his catches.

"It is raining," said Mrs Croft. "You cannot take her outside." Apparently she did not think Anne would object to frogs either.

"They are in my room," he mumbled, realising too late that his mother would not like that very much.

Anne got up in haste. "We shall find them a more appropriate place to stay in, shall we not, Freddy? I am sure they do not like your room very much. I know just the place for them."

"In his room, Sophia?" inquired Captain Wentworth with his eyebrows raised. It was unclear whether that was in amusement or in disapproval. "Frogs?"

"The maids have strict orders to rid his room of small animals." Mrs Croft felt that was quite enough action on her part.

"The maids!" Her brother laughed. "That should be effective. Are not all women afraid of small animals?" He could not see a maid touching them.

"Are they?"

"Does he have a habit of bringing small things into the house?" Lady Russell shuddered and it was clear she was very glad for not having had any sons or young male guests. Quite possibly not even the Musgrove boys were this bad. It occurred to her a moment later that there might be small animals on the loose in this room and she shuffled uneasily on the sofa.

"We have seen them at breakfast," said the admiral. "Live and uncooked, that is."

Now this was precisely why the admiral was no gentleman, Lady Russell thought. She shuddered another time. How could he speak of it so carelessly? "Freddy --" She would prefer Frederick, but nobody ever seemed to call him that and they usually looked blank when she did. "-- will have to take up another pastime when he goes to school."

"School?" The admiral could look blank at that as well.

"School tends to be good for boys," said Lady Russell. Sometimes she doubted whether the admiral had ever been.

"He has no business going to school if he can barely write his name," offered Captain Wentworth, who had once received a 'letter' from his nephew, enclosed in his mother's missive, for it would be too expensive to send such a piece of nothing on its own.

"You must not forget," said Mrs Croft, "that you received information with quite a delay. He can read and write by now. We are not idle here. I consider reading and writing to be very important."

"I am glad. But by all means leave him here a little while longer. I might be able to teach him a thing or two. I have little else to do." He had his brother and some old friends, but he first needed to find where his old friends had gone. Receiving information with such a delay also had other consequences.

"True," said the admiral. "Although there are more children at your brother's to teach, should you really enjoy that."

"Perhaps he thinks they are not as amenable," Mrs Croft smiled. "I mean, of course, that some people consider them to be better examples."

"They sound deadly boring to me," said Captain Wentworth, who could only recall letters full of praise. "Mrs Wentworth has only brought paragons into the world. Knowing Edward I am not really surprised."

"Mrs Wentworth is a sweet woman, but she brooks no bad behaviour."

"Neither do we," Admiral Croft said assuringly. "But perhaps she and I differ in opinion as to what bad behaviour is. Actually..." He screwed up his face in thought. "There were some things I said that she did not approve of last time."

Anne was rather wet when she returned and her shoes still bore traces of mud. Freddy's frogs had been deposited in a puddle from where they would undoubtedly be gone the next time he looked, but there were plenty of other frogs for him to catch and she did not feel heartless at all. She had sent him to the nursery to wash his hands.

She was surprised when Frederick addressed her. The other three were talking and she did not think they were paying attention to her, but it was still unnerving that she was going to have a private conversation with him.

"What happened to your family?" he asked.

She wondered if he had not been told. "My father married again. His new wife and I do not get along very well." She did not want to speak too ill of the woman and she hesitated. A few hints must suffice. "We are the same age."

"I see," he answered. "Forgive me for being frank, but it was my understanding that there was not much of a fortune left."

She understood him. "The position of Lady Elliot was still vacant," Anne sighed with a shrug. Perhaps she did not like anybody succeeding her mother, as selfish as this was. Perhaps she would have disliked any new wife. But there was a nagging feeling that the new Lady Elliot's character played a great role in this case.

"How long have you been living with Lady Russell?"

"Seven to eight years. We have pleasant neighbours and we are comfortable." She had no cause for complaint.

"Yes, you do have pleasant neighbours. My nephew seems particularly...charming." There was a quirk around his mouth.

"They dote on him." Perhaps he had been expecting better manners and more silence. She had no idea what Mrs Croft had written to him about Freddy. It might have been an embellishment of the truth.

"Which is not surprising. Are you not afraid of frogs?"

"No, but whether I find them very clean is a different matter entirely." She wondered if she could ask him a question about himself, but she knew where he had been and where his family lived. The only questions she could think of were rather personal and she could never ask those.

She could ask if his leg was going to get better, but he might not like the question if his leg could not. "Could you climb a tree? Freddy will not forget."

"I have no idea."

"And can you swim?"

"I could, but I will not do so again."

Chapter Five

Posted on 2010-01-04

Anne was quite pleased with how the meeting had turned out. They had talked pleasantly, perhaps a little quicker than strangers would have done. He was still ready to give his opinion, but he was less inclined to talk about himself, which was the main difference from how she had known him before. This reserve was not disagreeable after such a long time. It gave them time to take their bearings.

Lady Russell said nothing about him at all. This led Anne to think that her godmother had known all along who he was. Usually she did discuss people they had met. But if Lady Russell did not want to talk about him, Anne would not either.

Without the benefit of a prior acquaintance she might have thought Captain Wentworth an agreeable man with pleasant manners. She would have thought him open, clever and well-informed. Now, she did not know if she could call him open. He was skilled in steering the conversation away from himself, too skilled to be very open.

Anne was a little amused when she compared the situation to her own. Others often steered the conversation away from her, so she did not have any need to become skilled. But it was not fair to note such a thing as if she was treated ill -- she cared very little for speaking about herself and she ought to feel fortunate that her sisters did not want to hear her every thought. And, she thought with another amused grin, that not all of her thoughts were charitable would now most definitely remain a secret.

Besides, more was to be learnt from listening than from speaking. Frederick's skilful evasion of a few of his sister's questions made Anne think he did not necessarily hold the same opinion. They had been innocent questions and someone less on his guard would have answered, even a modest person. And he had not been very modest in the year '06; he had been convinced of his worth and his future success.

She felt some pain for his injury, naturally, as anyone would who had once cared for him. But he had survived and sensible people would overlook the fact that he walked with some difficulty.

Or were not all people sensible? It was intriguing. She could wonder all night about his reserve and speculate on connections to his injury. It was no use. The matter looked to be complicated.

"You spoke to Miss Elliot a lot," Mrs Croft observed when their visitors were gone. She hoped she had let some time pass between the closing of the door and her question. Frederick would undoubtedly think it insufficient.

"Did I?" Captain Wentworth feigned ignorance. "It must be because I had talked to you already and the other lady did not seem particularly keen to talk to me." He could not possibly have spoken too much to her, considering that Freddy had interrupted quite often. At one point it had begun to be annoying, but then Miss Elliot had gently sent him on his way.

She was surprised that he did not use the lady's name, although he had been informed of it. "Lady Russell. Did you not know her when you lived with Edward? She is one of the principal ladies in the area and while Edward could not have been one of the principal gentlemen, you must have heard of the principals at least."

"I must have," he said curtly. "But I do not remember older women as a rule."

"Only younger ones? Like Miss Elliot? She was young when you knew her."

He nodded. "She was young."

He had observed her closely. She still seemed young in appearance, but less so in person. She was not unhappy with her life, he would say, even if she lived with that woman. He would always have thought she deserved more than being the companion of someone like Lady Russell, but she seemed perfectly satisfied.

He had conversed with Anne Elliot and pleasantly too. He recalled years during which he had thought this impossible, but those years were long behind him. He could now converse pleasantly with any woman, even Anne Elliot. He no longer had any expectations or wishes regarding women. Except, of course, for them to be agreeable conversational partners once in a while.

"One of the original residents at hand," he observed. "That must have been very useful to you, Sophia. Although what she will have thought of it, being evicted, I cannot pretend to know."

"I could have managed without her," Mrs Croft said dryly. "As I am not entirely without education or experience, you see."

"Oh, I never doubted that. I should not have cared to live next door to our family's old home myself."

"It would have been impossible," his sister said, still in a dry tone. "Since it was exactly like the house next door and exchanging one for the other would not make sense at all."

"So what of the baronet?" Sophia had written the account of their moving here and he remembered it perfectly, but that was not what he meant. Sophia had never written about Sir Walter's marriage and he had not wanted to ask Anne too much about it. He should have; she would know much more about it than Sophia. "He married again, I understand."

"And he has a son. I have never seen the boy. He is a few years younger than Freddy and he has always remained in the nursery when we happened to call on them in Bath."

"As children should," he grinned. He said it to rile her, but he meant it half seriously. Freddy might be better off in the nursery during some visits.

He looked at his sister, happy with the admiral and their son. She had always gone with her husband and she had never known a life alone, but she was a woman. He thought it was different for them. They were always dependent on someone and they would never quite understand how he felt on his own. The freedom he had to go and do exactly as he pleased was something he enjoyed. He sought out company when he felt like it and he believed he could do that a lot more often than with a wife if his friends were anything to go by.

Of course -- and there he frowned -- a wife could offer things that friends could not, but in his case that did not apply. By now he could think that and merely frown.

He was content as a single man, but he would wager his fortune that Sophia wished to see him wed. Fine. She would have no success.

He was thirty-nine. To the marriageable girls out there he was ancient. He knew. He had spoken to such girls in India. Not all were sensible girls who guarded their tongues. That could be amusing.

"Frederick." The admiral's voice cut into his thoughts. "That friend of yours did very well for himself."

"That friend of mine?" The admiral probably expected him to know who, but he did not.

"Went into trade, but we do not hold that against him, Sophy and I. We saw him only a month ago."

"Three months ago," corrected Mrs Croft.

"That is wonderful, but who in heaven's name are you talking about?" Captain Wentworth did not have many friends who had gone into trade. There was only one who came close to it, having once sold something, but even that that case was doubtful.

"Harville."

"Harville." Well, he had come close.

"He has too many children to bear genteel poverty."

Wentworth had received letters on average once a year from correspondents other than Sophia, so it was quite possible for him to have missed something. Harville's last had even been a few years ago, if he recalled it well. He did not remember if he had replied. Harville had never been much of a writer. He would sit and stare at the blank sheet and at last defer writing, but in person he would be the good friend he always had been.

"Trade?" The captain did not quite know what to make of that. Mrs Harville descended from tradesmen or the like, but Harville had never written anything about that.

"Do I detect an undertone of disapproval?" asked the admiral.

"Oh, no. I simply cannot imagine --"

"Anyone going into trade to feed his children?"

"What sort of trade," Wentworth said lamely. "And where?"

"He sells woodwork in Lyme."

"That is not far from here," was his first thought. He would easily be able to visit his old friend.

"No, indeed. We told him you would be here within half a year and he told me to tell you that you must come and see him."

"Then I shall, but I also have Edward to visit and he lives in the opposite direction. I am afraid Harville will have to wait until I return from there," he said regretfully, although he knew he had so many years ahead of him to visit all of them. There were more people besides Edward and Harville that he intended to look up.

"Not to mention all your other acquaintances. You would not have time to look for a home even if you wanted to." Evidently Admiral Croft did not allow for the possibility that anyone would want to live elsewhere.

"I am very pleased that I can live here for the time being," Captain Wentworth smiled.

Anne heaved a sigh when not only Charles and Walter were made ready for their little trip into town, but also Richard. That was not what she had agreed on with Mary, but it would be useless to protest. Mary would deny everything and Richard would be very disappointed, since he had undoubtedly been told he was going. Anne had no option but to take him along.

Boys of eleven, ten and almost eight were rather wild. It was good that by taking one extra boy there less room in the carriage, or they would have been even wilder.

"Can we have cakes at Dawson's?" asked Charles.

The trip would be eminently successful if they could eat all the cakes Dawson's had to offer and do nothing else, Anne knew, but she did not care much for a long sojourn in the cake shop and neither did she want to spend all her money there. Mary would expect her to pay for all of the boys' whims and she did not mind treating them, but there were limits.

"We can have cakes there right before we go home," Anne said therefore. "After we visit the exhibition and --"

"The what?" asked Richard.

"The exhibition displays items that Sir Reginald Wilson brought from India." She could not get away from India these days, it seemed. Some of Frederick's tales had sparked an interest, she confessed, although she might have gone otherwise as well. There was not much else to do around here.

The most important part of the exhibition was, she had read, a tiger. Not a live one, but it might interest the boys all the same. They ought to take advantage of the opportunity, for such exhibitions would never come this near again. This one only did because Sir Reginald was born here.

"India, is that not where the admiral's brother is from?" asked Charles.

There was hope for him, Anne decided. "He lived there."

"Yes, so he said. Is India further than London?"

Perhaps she had been too optimistic. "You have a globe, I am sure."

"Certainly. Walter made a hole in it to hide --"

"Do not tell her!" interrupted Walter fearfully.

"The globe is broken," Anne concluded. She made a note to tell Mary about the globe, although it was not a good sign that neither Mary nor the boys' master appeared know about it. Of course the damage could be relatively recent, such as dating from that morning when Charles might have been looking up India.

But that was probably wishful thinking, she thought soberly. "How have your geography lessons been proceeding then?"

"They have not?" Charles suggested.

"If they had, you would have known that India is much further than London."

"But we should still have you to tell us, Aunt Anne, and no need for lessons."

This, spoken so very sincerely, was quite flattering and Anne smiled. "Yes," she said in a gentle voice, "but should I not be at hand you might like to have learnt something. There we are. Straighten your clothes before we get out."

Chapter Six

Posted on 2010-01-11

Anne's trip was less exhausting than she had at first thought when she saw Richard was coming with them. Surprisingly he was the one who behaved best, although the other two never really misbehaved when they were with her. They reserved that for their parents. The exhibition was at just the right size for three boys and she was glad to see they showed some interest.

They showed much more interest in cakes, however, and managed to coax their aunt into buying them two each. She only had one herself.

"Look, it is the cripple captain," Charles pointed with his mouth full. Cake crumbles dropped onto the table and onto his lap.

Anne winced. Surely better manners could be expected from a boy his age? "Please do not speak with your mouth full, Charles."

"The cripple captain. You know, the fat and ugly one with the cane and the funny walk," Walter added when his brother was trying hard to swallow his cake as quickly as possible. He got up to demonstrate how the captain walked. "Like this."

This did not help Charles' manners one bit. He nearly choked.

Anne was more than disconcerted. Luckily they had a table by the window, so she would have something to look at while she waited for her nephews to eat their cakes -- although they generally ate two or three much faster than she could eat one -- but this meant that people could look in as well. She peered out of the window. "Sit down, Walter! Fat and ugly?"

"Well, he is the admiral's brother and Grandfather Elliot says all sailors are fat and ugly."

"Oh." Grandfather Elliot. She should not be relieved. It was really quite worrisome, the things Grandfather Elliot said and the boys repeated. Perhaps she ought to try and correct some of these mistaken assumptions. "Listen. There are sailors in all kinds of sizes and with all kinds of attractiveness." As she spoke she was well aware of knowing only two sailors. But, she told herself, she had frequently seen some in Bath and they really were all different.

The boys stared.

"I mean that not all of them are ugly. The Navy does not search for only ugly boys in particular. They get all kinds of boys. They grow up to be all kinds of men."

This did not yet convince them. "But Grandfather Elliot..."

"Grandfather Elliot has been blessed with his looks and he is aware of that. He thinks, perhaps, that if he were a sailor he should soon grow ugly --" But trying to find out what her father thought and making sense of it was not always possible. "He does not know many sailors. Perhaps he knows one and that one is ugly. I dare say he knows more ugly attorneys."

"But why does he always say so?"

"I have no idea, Walter." She understood that Grandfather Elliot, being a baronet, being full of himself and being conveyed in a beautiful carriage with many well-dressed servants was to be believed. It was all so different from what they were used to at Uppercross.

"But what of the admiral?" Anne asked. "Is he ugly?" She did not want to say that the admiral was not half as fat as Grandmother Musgrove. This was a fact they might be able to establish for themselves. Ugliness was a more subjective qualification.

"Now that you mention it, Grandfather Elliot thinks he is all right, but that is because he lives at Kellynch Hall."

"See?" Anne asked a little triumphantly, but her head was spinning. "Not all sailors are ugly."

"He has not been to sea for a while," Charles interjected. "He could have become prettier."

The idea that the admiral had been steadily growing prettier since coming ashore made Anne laugh. After a certain age people did not tend to become prettier as they aged. "They call that distinguished."

"There." Charles and Walter looked pleased to have been right, since they were not being contradicted.

"Whatever Grandfather Elliot's opinion, you must not go around saying that all sailors are fat and ugly. It is simply not kind of you. And it is simply untrue. Perhaps you had better listen to your Grandfather Musgrove's opinion on the subject." She had no idea what it was, but it could not be cruel.

"So you think the cripple captain is very pretty?'

Anne opened and closed her mouth. "No! I think -- I think most people are very ordinary-looking, including sailors." Fortunately the captain was on the other side of the street and he was walking out of view, so she could not be called upon to judge his looks.

Captain Wentworth, having taken the carriage to town to buy some necessities that could not be purchased in the village, saw a familiar face when he peered out of the window. He was sorry his leg prevented him from being on horseback, for then he would have been able to see much better. It looked like Anne Elliot there across the street, but she had three boys with her. Perhaps it was not Anne Elliot then after all. They went into a cake shop.

He was curious, he admitted. What could Anne Elliot be doing here in town with three little boys? Perhaps she had nephews as well. In fact, she probably did. He recalled visiting a family in the neighbourhood of which the lady of the house had made it quite clear she was an Elliot. There might have been sons. He had visited so many new people lately that he found it difficult to keep them straight sometimes.

For some reason he was glad she had nephews. That she only had Lady Russell still did not sit well with him. It would be a waste of any young woman's life.

He took care of his shopping list and then gave the cake shop another glance. It was a simple country-town shop and there would probably be nothing too elaborate for sale. He could not imagine they were still there.

He wondered why he asked himself the question. It was probably because he felt a stranger in his own country and they were the only people he knew -- well, Anne. The others in this town were all strangers to him. After India especially this was an uncanny feeling and even in ports, while he might not know people he knew what many of them were. They shared professions, interests or experiences, perhaps even acquaintances. Here, everyone was a complete blank to him. They were all nondescript country people. Some politely took off their hats or stepped aside for him, the cripple, but he could not tell who or what they were.

But at that moment, two boys came tumbling out of the shop. They stopped and stared. He did not know why he was such a sight. Nobody else in this street had given him such looks.

"You are the admiral's brother, sir," said one almost accusingly.

"Indeed I am," he replied. "But who are you?"

"I am Walter Musgrove of Uppercross. We have met."

Uppercross. He had been there. These were Anne's nephews then. Had they met? It sounded ridiculous and impertinent, coming from a young boy's mouth. For a few moments he wondered what to reply. Had it been a ship's boy, he would have known, but no boy would have dared to speak to his captain like that.

Then Anne came out of the shop. "Captain," she said in a rather cool voice.

He thought he could detect some annoyance or anger in it. It would be for the boys, naturally. He had not done anything. Not today. Or was she still thinking of the past? "Miss Elliot."

"I apologise for anything they said." She looked a little afraid.

Wentworth frowned. She would know of what they were capable, yet he did not know if that accounted for her fear. "There is no need." He gave her another little bow and walked on. That was the best thing to do.

"What did you say to Captain Wentworth?" Anne inquired when he was far enough away. "He looked a little cross with you."

"I told him who I was," said Walter.

"You should not have! Did he ask?" She could not imagine it. He would not have addressed two boys coming out of a shop, unless they had first done or said something to him.

"Oh no."

"You should not introduce yourself to people like that. Did your mother not tell you that?" She wondered what Mary taught them. As little as possible, it seemed. Then again, according to the sort of logic she had inherited from their father she might have taught them to introduce themselves to everyone because they descended from the Elliots. It was frighteningly plausible.

"But do not answer." She ushered them in the direction of the street where their carriage was waiting.

"Can we now have ices?"

"No," Anne said firmly.

She was glad she did not have any children of her own. She was not strict enough by far. Well-behaved children would not even ask for more cakes. They would be happy with what they had been given. But that was an ideal she was not sure she would have managed. It was difficult to deny them another cake when they so enthusiastically enjoyed them. She was probably denying them only because she simply did not have the money.

Captain Wentworth had wondered whether it was customary for English children to be so dreadfully impertinent. It had never happened to him elsewhere. When he arrived home he asked his sister. He trusted her opinion, naturally with the exception of her opinion on Freddy.

"You are getting old," she said with a laugh.

This annoyed him a little. It might be true, but he was still younger than she was. "Is it customary to accost old people like that?"

"No, they leave old ladies like me alone." She was still laughing. "But what did they say? Did they ask for money?"

"No, they were not beggars. They were relatively well-dressed children in the company of a lady."

"Not a nursery maid then?"

"No. It was Miss Elliot, if you must know."

"Then I suppose those were the young Musgroves with her. They are notoriously undisciplined. I wonder that Miss Elliot would take them to town, but I expect she had little choice."

"I am glad I have no family. Imagine having such a brood." Captain Wentworth shuddered. He could not be jealous of such a family.

"You really are getting old," Mrs Croft observed. "An ill-humoured old gent."

He did not enjoy being called that, although he was fair enough to see he might sound ill-humoured. "You called them notoriously undisciplined."

"Yes, because I should not dream of taking more than one of them anywhere. In essence I suppose they are not bad boys, but they are being managed very badly. I should say they are not being managed at all. There are too many of them."

"And Freddy?" Captain Wentworth raised his eyebrows. "Is he being managed?"

"Now and then. But what did the little Musgroves say to you?"

"I am Walter Musgrove of Uppercross. We have met." He copied the boy's expression and tone.

She chuckled. "Oh, does that not sound exactly like Sir Walter?"

"Does it? I do not know Sir Walter."

"I am Sir Walter Elliot of Kellynch. We have met. Yes, I can hear him say that. Poor little boy. He is taking the wrong grandfather as an example. Old Mr Musgrove is a good man. He would never introduce himself as such." She shook her head in pity. "But what else was said?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I walked on."

Chapter Seven

Posted on 2010-01-26

Anne was unexpectedly energetic when she came home after her trip with the three boys. She had even refrained from berating her sister about the extra boy, the firm intention that she only remembered when she got to Kellynch Lodge. Perhaps that meant that it had not been so bad. Wryly she thought that Mary would give her four boys to look after next time if there were no complaints about three. Perhaps she ought to say something to her sister after all.

"You do not look as if your patience was tried too much," observed Lady Russell with some surprise. She would have turned back long before they ever reached town, she was sure.

"The promise of cake does wonders." Anne shook her head disapprovingly. It was wrong, yet it worked and it was so tempting to use it. "They are not my children. I am not responsible for the fact that this is the only thing that works, is it?"

"Was it that bad? Here, have some cake."

Anne laughed. "I had my share of cake in town. I need no more."

"But you knew Patterson was baking some today."

"Well...I could hazard a guess. Patterson bakes cake with great frequency." Anne knew this was probably to put a little more flesh on her bones and she always humoured Lady Russell by eating all she was served. Unlike some other people, cakes did not work for her in that regard.

"Isabella Browning lost her child." Lady Russell glanced at the letter she was holding.

"I am sorry to hear that."

"I need not hurry with that blanket now. I am suddenly at a loss what to do with it."

"You could use it for someone else." That was what they usually did and she was surprised that she had to make such an obvious suggestion. Anne searched her memory for other women who were due to deliver soon. There were always a few.

"I did not quite like the pattern as much as I had thought."

"I can finish it if you prefer," Anne offered. She often made things that did not correspond to her own tastes, but that never bothered her. It was work.

Lady Russell looked relieved. "If you are out of work, Anne, I will gladly pass it to you."

"Not exactly out of work,"she smiled. "But I can fit it in."

"Thank you."

Anne gave her a concerned glance, however, when they had returned to their respective pastimes. It was unlike her godmother to make mountains out of molehills. Perhaps something was ailing her that she felt unnaturally bothered by problems that could easily be solved. It could not be Isabella Browning's sad news. Sad though it was, they did not know her well enough.

Anne wondered if Lady Russell had ever lost a child herself. But that too was no explanation, for Lady Russell had not shown any interesting reactions when this had happened to others. And it frequently had.

Perhaps it was simply old age and a kind of wistfulness that accompanied it. It was beginning, perhaps, the extra care she would have to take care of Lady Russell. Anne pondered it for a few hours, but could not reach a definite conclusion. She told herself she should not immediately fear the worst because Lady Russell had turned sixty.

Captain Wentworth slyly observed Freddy and wondered if he was capable of coming into town with him while behaving himself. They could try that out some time, although he did not really see the benefit of taking a child with him. Freddy would like cakes, but the Kellynch Hall cook would be able to make them just as well. He did not know what else Anne had done in town with those boys.

He did not care either. He was not interested except for that fleeting bit of curiosity about the children's manners.

Soon he would visit Edward. His brother had children now. They all did. Somehow he doubted that any son of Edward's would be so impertinent.

He might as well go this week. Edward would be expecting him and he had no pressing business around Kellynch. He had stayed long enough to appease Sophia, except for the fact that she did not think she knew enough of what was on his mind.

Wentworth smiled. She suspected things of being on his mind when they were not. He had come back to England with simple plans. He would stay with his sister or brother for a few months and then get a house. After that he would visit friends and wait until he was sent to sea again. It was all quite simple.

And then she met him. It was not even in the park -- she avoided it -- but in Bridgen Mill Lane, a perfectly public, if quiet, stretch of road. It was somewhat of a shock that he did not restrict himself to the Kellynch estate when she restricted herself to anything but there, but of course he knew nothing of that resolve.

She had several minutes to brace herself, but the moment was not awful. "The sky is rather ominous today, but the countryside is lovely," he said when he had greeted her. "Well-tended fields, cottages in good repair."

"Your sister and the admiral are to thank for that." She must give credit where it was due, even if it had always pained her a little to see the improvement from the time when her father had been responsible.

"Are they? What do they know of it? The admiral? Agriculture?"

Anne smiled. "I grant you, when he came here he could not tell cabbage from lettuce, but he does not have to know, as long as the farmers do."

"Can you tell cabbage from lettuce?"

"I can certainly tell by looking at a field what is planted on it -- provided that it has come up," Anne clarified, remembering that he was able to attack such assertions otherwise. "The harvest is an important topic in these parts."

He looked sceptical. "Surely not among your acquaintance."

"The tenants do not speak of books or music, Captain. They could not even do so to please me." Her eyes sparkled involuntarily.

"You are right, of course. I am not yet sufficiently used to country life. Forgive me." He paused and looked around himself, as if to glean more information about the countryside. "I am leaving for Shropshire tomorrow. I expect it will be much like here."

"Your brother?" Anne guessed. "Please give Mr and Mrs Wentworth my best regards."

"Are you acquainted with both of them?" He looked surprised again.

"They have visited at Kellynch. She is a very agreeable and sensible woman." That they were acquainted must therefore speak for itself.

"Sensible." That was usually a euphemism. His tone betrayed it.

"The sensible kind of sensible. There are different kinds."

"No black gown and suitable proverbs."

"There is nothing sensible about suitable proverbs. One should keep those to oneself."

"I am glad she is a sensible woman then. My brother has written about her of course, but I did not know if I could trust his opinion."

A drop fell from the sky. Anne hardly noticed it. He had been right that the sky looked ominous, but she was sure she had a while.

"Where are you headed?" Captain Wentworth inquired.

"Home," she replied.

"Home? Is home not the other way?" He looked puzzled. "I am going home and I was going in the opposite direction. I thought I had figured out where everything is. My sense of direction rarely fails me. I would say women are bad at finding the way, but you have lived here all your life."

"Yes, I --" She gave his leg an anxious glance. "A little further on there is a path through the fields. It is quicker than the road. But it involves certain unladylike actions."

His eyes willed her to reveal what.

"Climbing and jumping."

"It cuts through an open field?" He glanced up at the clouds.

"It does."

"I advise you to stick to the road. Cutting through an open field is dangerous. There is a thunder storm on its way."

"But I did not hear..."

"Trust me. Let us not waste any time discussing it." He gestured at the road behind her. "Let us walk on."

Anne shrugged. He was probably right. It was no hardship to take another route. At least she would have company. A few more drops began to fall now and she tightened the strings of her bonnet. "Is this road not dangerous?"

"Less so. I hope you will not mind getting wet."

"It is vastly better than being struck by lightning," she assured him.

"I am sorry I have no umbrella. When they invent a cane with an umbrella in it I shall buy it instantly, but alas, I have never seen such a contraption."

Anne pondered the possibility of using an umbrella as a cane, but she did not voice her thoughts. "Oh dear," she said when the skies opened. "Oh dear and you cannot run."

"It would be useless in any case," Captain Wentworth said, sounding particularly unconcerned. "Unless we could find some shelter in that cottage over there. Who lives there?"

Anne looked to where he pointed. Jem Bolton's cottage was half hidden behind some trees ahead. "A dead man."

"A dead man. Intriguing. Would he receive us?"

"He is no longer around to receive anybody," Anne clarified. "He was buried two days ago and the cottage awaits emptying. People have not yet had time to take care of it."

"That is a pity."

"What is?" She looked confused.

"I was thinking the cottage was haunted. But if it is not, so much the better for you."

"Why?"

"I am sure you are afraid of haunted cottages and you would rather get wet than set foot in one."

"I am quite sensible," Anne defended herself. She was already getting rather wet and she was not liking it very much that Frederick did not walk very fast. She berated herself. He could not help it.

"Did he die of some disease?"

"No, he was struck by a falling tree. Quite unfortunate."

"Did he live alone?"

"Yes. The cottage should be uninhabited at present."

"Very good. Then we can stay there for as long as we have to without being in anybody's way." He sped up a little now that they were almost safe.

"But it is quite late in the day and almost dark." Anne regretted having gone out at all, but she had needed to deliver a basket. If she had not gone, one family would not have had anything to eat this evening.

"Yes, the storm came on quicker than I had thought. Why were you out?"

"Never mind. I wonder why I did not send a servant." She wondered why the idea had never even occurred to her. "I could have sent the servant Lady Russell will send to find me when I do not come home in time. I cannot wait there forever or she will be concerned."

"Will Lady Russell not assume you are waiting somewhere for the storm to pass?" He did not begrudge the servant that task. It would be impossible to know where to look for Anne if she had a secret habit of walking through fields.

"I hope so." Anne frowned. Surely Lady Russell knew she was sensible?

They nearly ran to the cottage and found the door unlocked. Captain Wentworth held it open for her. "It is dark inside, but there are no ghosts, I am sure."