Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter Eight

Posted on 2010-01-29

It was indeed dark inside the small house, because all shutters were closed. That was to Frederick's advantage, Anne supposed, for he would now not have to go out in the rain to close them later. She did not step far over the threshold. She had never been inside this house and she had no idea what she might encounter.

"Let there be light," Captain Wentworth said, fumbling behind her.

Soon there was a little light, enough to take his bearings. He made out a fireplace at one end of the room and a thick candle on the table. After he had lit it, he looked for wood. There were but a few woodblocks inside, but enough for the time being.

While he worked on the fire, Anne had searched the room for more candles and she had lit them all. He frowned and wondered if she was afraid or simply unused to being economical. "Do save some," he cautioned. "We do not know how long we shall be stuck in here."

"Surely --" she began, but she blew one out.

"We cannot know."

She sat down at the table and wondered what they could do. There was nothing to read, nothing to work on. She watched as Frederick tended to the fire. He expected a long stay, but while she had been happy to be out of the rain, she would become rather bored in here before long. "Is there any food, do you think?"

"Are you hungry?" He opened a few cupboards and set two bottles on the table.

"Not yet, but if there is nothing to do I shall be." She contemplated going through Jem Bolton's cupboards. He was dead and so he could no longer care, but it felt like intruding anyhow. This did not seem to bother Frederick at all, for he looked through everything as if it all belonged to him.

"There is a basket full of apples here. And something green and covered in earth."

Anne jumped up and came to examine it. She had said she recognised crops, but she hesitated to identify this one. One thing was clear. "We could eat that."

Captain Wentworth turned up his nose. "Without cooking it first?"

"No, no, I meant that we could cook it."

"I hope you know how to prepare it. I do not even know what it is. I trust you have learnt it from your farmer friends." He opened a tin. "I much prefer this. Biscuits. I am glad that between the biscuits and the apples we shall not starve."

"I am no cook," Anne said nervously. "But I think we ought to start by washing this clump of earth. Is there any water?"

"Oh, outside there is plenty. I have not seen any taps."

"He will have a pump."

"Outside. Hmm. If you can turn that thing -- which I noticed you have not named, so I assume you do not know -- into a decent meal I might consider going out to the pump. Later. After we have finished the biscuits. Let us not go to unnecessary lengths."

"I could make some tea."

"If you can find some, you could. So far I have only found strong spirits. I do not think it a good idea to drink too much of those." He consulted his pocket watch. "It is too early in the evening. Should it be very cold in a few hours we could always indulge."

Anne had not yet looked for tea, but she was certain she would like a drink later. "I am going out to the pump." In ordinary circumstances she would leave that task to a man, but she was certain she was quicker than Frederick with his cane.

"You?"

"Yes." She pushed against the back door.

"Do not be silly." He nearly pushed her aside and went out.

She got over her aversion to searching another person's house, even if he was dead, and started to look for tea, coffee or cocoa. Frederick had said he had only found strong spirits, but the first battered tin she tried contained cocoa. She rolled her eyes, for he had obviously only looked for biscuits.

A small table held a collection of dirty mugs and plates. Clearly Jem had not washed up before he died and the people who had dressed him in his best clothes had not done so either. There would have to be a few more trips to the pump.

The zeal with which Frederick concentrated on getting one bucket after another made Anne suspect that he was at least a little uncomfortable. If he was at work he would not have to speak to her. She too preferred to look for food and arrange candles, but in such a small house all possible work was soon done. The fire was blazing and there were hot drinks and biscuits on the table.

Anne checked her pelisse one more time.

"Will you not do that?" Captain Wentworth sounded a little exasperated. "It is still wet."

"It is." She guiltily sat down across from him. Perhaps she was the one who needed to keep herself busy, not he.

"It is also still wet outside. It is a dreadful storm." He stared thoughtfully into his cup. "Say, did you find a deck of cards? I know you do not play cards, but there is very little else to do here except eat and drink and I advise you not to drink too much for obvious reasons."

Anne did not like to be reminded of that, if he was indeed reminding her of that, and her face fell. "Oh. Yes. No."

"It is but five paces from the back door," he reassured her. "But you will get wet all the same."

She sighed and poured herself some more hot cocoa. "It is inevitable even without drinking."

"This is a little like being at sea, but I expect you are not used to it at all."

"I have never spent hours in such a house, if that is what you mean. I was in one earlier, but only briefly."

"What were you doing there?" He did not sound as if he really cared, but he would ask anything to pass the time.

"I was delivering a basket to a poor family."

He was still disinterested. "A long way from home."

"That does not matter. If I can walk the distance and we can spare the food, it must be done."

"I thought Lady Russell had a carriage."

"I like walking."

"Is that why you wanted to walk to the pump?" Suddenly he looked up.

Anne blushed. "I wanted to run to the pump."

"And you were sure I could not."

She said nothing, but she blushed furiously.

"That is very kind," he said, in an unexpectedly mild tone. "I was, however, taught not to let ladies do any hard work."

"That does not mean they cannot do any! And sometimes one should simply be sensible." Anne hoped she was not sounding too much like a strict old governess.

"Perhaps you underestimated me."

"And you me!"

"I hope," and there was a hint of laughter in his voice, "that you will not insist on taking turns from now on?"

"Actually..."

"Fine. But we take the workman's coat, or else our own coats will never dry."

After three more mugs of cocoa, a sip of whisky and all of the biscuits, Anne yawned. It was close to bedtime and it did not appear to be clearing up outside. The rain was still coming down heavily. Sitting on a hard chair with nothing to do and very little to talk about was fatiguing. They had spoken more easily when there had been an opportunity to get away from each other. "If it does not stop raining, what do we do?"

"We stay here."

She had earlier suppressed the urge to explore Jem Bolton's bed, which was in a small side room. She had only looked into the room to see if there were any cupboards with food and Frederick had fetched a coat from it. "Do we sleep here as well?"

"I am too old to stay up all night. Well, I could in a battle, but there is no battle here to keep me awake." Captain Wentworth stretched his arms above his head. "How tired are you precisely?"

Anne replied that she was rather tired. She did not know why he asked, unless he meant to fight over the bed. That was a shocking notion, but a moment later she wondered why it was so shocking. Why should she have the bed?

"I should tell you I am quite harmless. Shot in the leg and various other places." He eyed the table with a frown. "I am not going to sleep on the floor or on this table and I refuse to let a lady sleep on it. There is only one solution therefore."

Anne thought she might be able to guess.

"You might object," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you? I should understand. However, this is a very extraordinary situation and we have little choice."

"You are not going to fight over the bed then?"

"I am selfish enough not to. A lady should have the bed, I know."

"But so should an invalid." Anne nodded.

An angry look passed over his face. "An invalid."

"I am sorry," she said hurriedly. "I could stay awake."

He gave that suggestion a mocking laugh. "Really! You might last fifteen minutes. The best is for you to push all scruples aside. Nobody will ever hear of it."

"All right." Anne found she could say so very calmly. "It is indeed the best solution. But if we are in agreement, could we go very soon?"

He laughed.

"Captain Wentworth?" she asked when they had installed themselves on the hard mattress. She tried not to think of fleas and mice, and she berated herself for immediately thinking the worst of a poor man's bed.

"Hmm," he said in response. "I must get used to your calling me that."

"Why does it render you harmless to be shot in the leg? It is not that I do not believe you; I am merely curious, not afraid." She was indeed not afraid, but she could not help but wonder how his injuries affected him.

There was a long silence, but then he spoke. "It is not the leg that matters in that regard, but the other places I mentioned. I pray you will not ask me precisely where they are."

Anne was silent for a while as well. "Are you merely harmless with random ladies or also with more specific ladies such as wives?"

He groaned softly. "I think I said too much."

Considering that he was not yet angry, she ventured another question. "Is that why you are not married?"

"La la la."

"Have you been playing with Freddy too much?"

"I have."

"It shows."

"Do try to get some sleep. Dream of sunny, clear skies and waking up to a good breakfast instead of that dirty cabbage."

They did -- for a few hours until a strange noise woke Anne.

Chapter Nine

Posted on 2010-02-02

It was a strange sound, as if someone with heavy boots on walked through the other room. Anne held her breath to rule out that it was a sound she was making herself. It was not Frederick either, for he was still in the room. Holding her breath did not make any difference. Now someone was even opening cupboards.

That Jem Bolton had risen from the dead was not a possibility. If dead people could, surely the late Lady Elliot would have been a more deserving and welcome ghost. Anne did therefore not for a moment think that it was anything but a living body. And it was a living body who had no business being there.

She nudged Frederick and whispered. "Be quiet. Be quiet. Do not speak. There is an intruder in the house." As she spoke, she hoped she was not condemning another person who had come to seek refuge. The rain had stopped, however.

"No, there is not. Sleep on."

"Listen."

He seemed to listen, but she could not see him. "You are right," he said without any apology. "I wonder who it is. I shall have a look."

"Be careful."

He got up from the bed and limped to the door, which he opened with less caution than Anne would have had. "Who have we here?"

There was a shriek and a thump. "It is Jem!"

Captain Wentworth assumed that Jem was the former occupant of the cottage. It seemed to frighten the two men he could make out by the light of their lanterns. "Aye!" The two men stumbled for the door, taking their lanterns with them. That was nice. He was now left in the dark.

"Who is Jem?" he asked Anne when they were gone. He closed the door behind them, for they had very inconsiderately left it open and cold air was streaming in. He doubted the men would be looking back at the house, but if they did they would probably assume it was the ghost.

"The dead man." Anne had tiptoed out of bed.

"Do I sound like a dead farmer?"

"Forester."

"Farmer. Forester. Do I sound like a dead peasant?" Captain Wentworth sounded a trifle insulted that someone could not distinguish his voice from that of a peasant's.

"Peasants and gentlemen become equals after death," Anne said devoutly.

"Anne!" He disliked that he could not see her face in the darkness.

"They are equally dear to --"

"Anne! Are you serious? Do I sound dead?" She might be teasing for all he knew. Things might have happened to her in the intervening years. It had been too long for him to know what she meant. She had been neither overly devout nor overly mischievous in the past.

"No, you sound very much alive."

"How could you insinuate that after death I shall become a simpleton such as those fellows who believe that a living man is a ghost? It is to our advantage, but it is very stupid." He had to laugh at the episode, but he did not understand it.

"Perhaps they will become gentlemen after death. All differences disappear." Her tone was different again.

"Then there is no point in living a good life. Think about it. These men will not become my equals after death if they are criminals during their lifetime." She was talking nonsense; he was sure of it, but he did not understand why.

"Criminals?" Anne could think of no honest purpose for their visit, but of no dishonest one either. "Could they have come to steal? But what? There is nothing."

"If they have less..." Captain Wentworth shrugged. "Where are you? I cannot see anything."

Anne stretched out her hand when she heard him approach and guided him towards the bed. "You did not take your cane to defend yourself."

"Defend myself," he scoffed. "Those simpletons would not have dared to touch me because they thought I was dead."

"I should have taken a swing at them."

"The veneer of civilisation is very thin indeed, Miss Elliot. Well, if you think you will remain a lady in heaven in spite of your actions on earth I am not surprised. However, I shall take neither statement very seriously and assume that for some mysterious reason you are teasing. Or that you secretly took the whisky bottle to bed."

"Will they be back?" Anne wondered as she climbed into bed.

"I doubt it. We have a few more hours until dawn. Sleep some more."

"If you are loath to use your cane, could I have it on this side of the bed?" she asked, but she did not get it.

Only then did she wonder what story she would tell Lady Russell. She could mention this cottage, but it was wise to leave Frederick out. Was there another place where he could have stayed, should it become known that he was out in the storm? Either he would have to invent another place or he would have to lie about having been out.

An hour or two later she woke again. Frederick had left the bed already and opened the shutters to a small crack. The living quarters were light; the doors were open. He was not inside. When she looked out, she saw him at the pump, washing his face.

Anne first visited the dirty water closet, which was the thing she would most gladly leave behind when they left. When she came out, Frederick was dusting off his coat.

"I was sure you would not instantly come outside upon getting up. Would you like to wash?" he asked.

"I should love to, but not here."

"I will not look."

"I think washing here would only make me feel dirty." How could she wash, standing in the mud?

He laughed. "Merely cold, but perhaps you are not used to it. On board..."

"I know. Your sister spoke of it."

"I thought admirals would use hot water for their wives."

Anne raised her eyebrows. "Do admirals wash their wives? You make that sound very odd."

"They would allow them the use of hot water. I should. It would be a justifiable use. Perhaps Sophia disagreed. But let me go back inside and allow you some time to wash -- or not."

Anne thanked him and tested the water in the bucket with her fingers. It was ice cold. She was afraid that she was not as hardy as Sophia. Even the thought of getting more than her fingers wet made her shiver.

Captain Wentworth made some coffee and served apple slices. After this small meal they ought to leave. He did not think anyone had been worried for him. He could help himself and he trusted his sister and the admiral to know it. They would have wondered where he was, but they would not have been afraid.

It was different for a lady. She could not take care of herself the way he could. Or did he underestimate Anne? She had no experience, but she had a good mind. She would not have stayed outside in a thunderstorm. He could not believe it.

It was nearly seven o'clock and soon people would be on the road. "What would people say?' he asked, frowning as he pushed a mug towards her. "Could your character withstand gossip?"

"My character..." Anne pondered that as she warmed her ice-cold hands on her mug. "Yes, of course. I do not think that anyone thinks I am marriageable. I always tell them I am not, you see."

"Why do you tell them that?"

"Because I am not. It was a sort of joke at first, to stop them from matchmaking, but I really am not, I think. I am too set in my single ways at my age," she said with a thoughtful look.

Captain Wentworth gave that an incredulous frown. "Ladies have single ways?"

"Oh, they do. I could not bear to..." Anne screwed up her face to remember what she had recently thought of upon seeing one of the married couples in the area. "Oh, there are several things I could not bear, such as a husband interfering with my mornings."

"That would be intolerable indeed." He was curious what she did with her mornings.

"Also, I should not have had a good night's sleep here if I had had a husband."

"No? He would probably not have allowed you to go out in the first place."

"That is what I meant. But as for the night, he might think things and I might think he might be thinking things..." Anne gave him a bright smile. "And now we have none of that."

"Do not forget that I might think that you might think that he might be thinking things."

"There is that too," she said gravely. "But now we have none of that. I am above suspicion where men are concerned because I have odd ways, you are above suspicion where women are concerned because you were injured; we can do all manner of suspicious things." It sounded deceptively simple and ridiculous. Perhaps he would reconsider his harmlessness. She would not probe; if he considered himself harmless and behaved as such, it did not really matter whether it was justified.

"All the same, we should probably part at the garden path."

"Yes." Unfortunately only the two of them would be so unconcerned. Other people might not be likely to agree that she was above suspicion. Someone would think the worst of her, even if the majority would not. "Oh!"

He gave her a questioning look.

"You are leaving for Shropshire today. That is good, because you cannot speak of the storm yourself now."

"But I could also not correct any untrue stories being spread either."

"True." She saw he had finished his coffee. "Do go if you are ready. I shall see myself out. You must not keep your brother waiting. Give him my best wishes for his health."

Anne pondered Frederick's injury as she walked back to Kellynch Lodge. He had gone ahead after some hesitation, for he seemed to think that ghosts, storms and thieves were bound to return the moment he left the cottage. That was a silly idea, she had told him, and he had finally gone. But he had moved tolerably fast and thus she wondered where precisely he had been shot.

He only walked with some difficulty. No other movement posed a problem, it seemed. Why did he think women cared enough not to marry him? It must be that, for she could not think anybody harmless whose hands were in good working order. He could therefore be dangerous if he chose, but he did not choose it. He did not want to marry and he used his injuries as an excuse.

That could not be explained to Lady Russell, who believed only good breeding and a distinguished family name rendered a man harmless. No, Lady Russell could not be told that Anne had not been alone, for she would never believe that nothing untoward had occurred. It was odd, because Lady Russell would never engage in anything indecent herself, yet she could not seem to imagine the same strength of mind in others.

Anne had been alone therefore. She went over what they had done to see if she could have taken care of everything herself. She could have lit a fire and made cocoa. Yes. And found the bed. Yes.

It was best not to mention the intruders. Lady Russell would have a fit. Anne wondered if she should tell anybody else about them, but that would involve too many lies. It was best to keep silent about them altogether.

Chapter Ten

Posted on 2010-02-09

Anne arrived home to find a maid opening the door for her. This was odd, but it turned out there were no menservants in the house. They had all been sent out to look for Miss Elliot. Anne was not very pleased to hear it. She did not show her displeasure to the maid, however.

"Soon the entire neighbourhood will know that I did not spend the night at home if all the servants are out looking for me," she said to Lady Russell. She would not usually have cared much, but she had been with Frederick and if it became known he had been out as well, only one clever or malicious person was needed. She did not think her reputation would be seriously at risk, but it would be vexing all the same.

"Anne?" The relief on her godmother's face was replaced by astonishment. "Where have you been? Why do you say such a thing?"

"I was caught in the rain. It was nothing. I was dry. But you know what people are like." She suppressed a yawn, for the little episode in the middle of the night had taken its toll. Now that she had got home she was more tired than she when she had just got up. Fatigue was making her say strange things. "I hope you were not very worried. I can be counted on not to be stupid. Oh, I hope I do not sound as if I believe you were stupid for worrying," she then said hastily. "I did wonder, but I hoped..."

"I hoped..." Lady Russell sighed, looking relieved again. "But I could not help fearing that you were lying somewhere."

Anne embraced her. "I was just passing by Jem Bolton's cottage when it began to rain. I stayed there. I should have got very wet otherwise. Or perhaps struck by lightning."

"Jem Bolton. Is he not..."

"Dead, yes," Anne acknowledged with a nod. Belatedly she realised one could not speak in the same manner to Lady Russell as one could to Frederick. "Sadly he passed away. That is why I thought I could easily stay there. His cottage was in use only a few days ago, so --" She should take care not to speak in the plural. She had been there alone. Alone. "-- so I could find things to eat and a place to sleep."

"But all alone. In a cottage."

Anne shrugged. She would have been terrified if she had truly been alone when the two intruders had appeared. In fact, she would probably have braved the dust under the bed, if it was possible to get under there. "I was fine. Cottages are no more than small houses."

"You must have been very frightened. Anne, do not keep going out alone."

"But things never happen," Anne said a little plaintively.

Captain Wentworth had an easier time at Kellynch Hall. Hardly an eyebrow was raised when he came in for breakfast. "You missed me at dinner, I believe," he said when there were no questions.

"Indeed we did," said the admiral. "But it was raining and you were out and you were thus sufficiently excused."

Captain Wentworth felt a childish pang of disappointment, even though he had said to Anne that nobody would have been worried. Clearly he had been right. "Thank you."

"I hope you did not get too wet," said his sister.

"I found shelter somewhere." He told himself to be strong. He could not beg for sympathy and then have them draw the entire story out of him. "I am leaving for Edward's today. Have you anything to convey?"

"Freddy."

"Freddy?" He did not understand. He was speaking of letters or gifts. Freddy could have written a letter; perhaps that was what she meant. He could not possibly have Freddy himself to convey.

"Freddy got it into his head that he wants to see his cousins. He thought of it this morning and he is currently packing his trunk."

"Surely that is a childish whim?" he replied, but Sophia had spoken as if such last-minute decisions were perfectly accepted and encouraged. She would truly approve of Freddy's deciding he wanted to travel to Shropshire today, upsetting any arrangements his parents had made for the coming weeks. The child was too spoilt.

"Oh, no. He was very serious. I told him that he would have to pack his own trunk if he was serious and he immediately set about doing so."

"But you cannot be serious, Sophia!" Captain Wentworth cried. "He is a child. How could he decide?"

"Do I need to remind you of everything you decided at that age?"

"So we are all going?" He shrugged. It meant he would not be able to put his legs up on the opposite seat, but that was an inconvenience he could live with. Still, the child was too spoilt and he shook his head. He had always thought his sister would have more sense.

"No. Only you and Freddy."

"Ha!" he said incredulously. "Only Freddy and I."

"Exactly."

"He -- he invited himself onto this trip?" It was one thing for a spoilt child to come up with such a plan, but another for his parents to condone it. This was incredible.

"Exactly. But I knew you would not mind."

"Would I not. Does he ever hear no?"

"He did. He wanted us all to go, but I said no," Sophia said calmly. "I have too many things to do. However, he can go if he likes."

"But what if I do not like the idea?" He did not know whether he did. To be stuck in a carriage with a young child was something he had never done and he did not know what to expect. Freddy could be quite lively.

"Oh, Frederick," she gave him a dismissive wave. "He will not be a bother to you. You will supervise him during the trip, but after that he is Edward's. You can be as free as you like while you are there and you have got company on your way. What could be better?"

Admiral Croft had wisely concentrated on his breakfast, as if he had known that Frederick would not be quite as easy as Sophia had predicted. "The eggs are a bit tasteless," he now said, but nobody listened to him.

Captain Wentworth was still flabbergasted.

"He will be so happy," said his sister.

Anne had been cautious and watchful for a few days, but nobody in the village mentioned the rain storm. Nobody seemed to know or care that she had been out in it and consequently nobody wondered where she had been.

There was also not the slightest bit of information on the two men who had come into Jem Bolton's cottage. Apparently they had not done the same anywhere else and if they had tried again at Jem's, nobody had found out.

Of course, if they spread the news that the cottage was haunted they would have to reveal what they had been doing there and that they had not done so implied that it had been for a dark purpose. Anne had wondered what of value Jem could have possessed that she had not seen, but some relatives of his had come down from Taunton in the meantime and taken everything with them. The question would forever be unanswered.

Another question she had was very likely to remain unanswered as well. Where precisely had Frederick been injured? It was indecent for a lady to wonder and impossible to ask. So far the Misses Musgrove had not yet done her the favour of asking the question for her. They had sometimes been dependable in that regard, even without asking, but now Frederick had left Somersetshire and by the time he came back they would no longer spontaneously wonder about his injury.

For a few shameful moments Anne had contemplated being cunning, but then she decided she was not skilled enough to make anyone ask a question without knowing why. Frederick, she feared, would instantly know and he would know who was behind it. She would die of mortification if she was caught like that.

Asking Sophia anything was out of the question as well. It would seem as if she had an interest in Frederick, but she did not. She could hardly say she was curious because they had shared a mattress. Even Sophia might not take that in stride.

Anne wondered why she had.

Had Jem Bolton been alive, she would never have shared that bed with him, even if she had known him for longer and he might have been equally harmless. Of that she had no idea, but it would not have mattered anyhow. She would never have shared his bed.

Frederick might think it was his cane and his injury that had persuaded her, but she was not sure. It was not because she had designs on his person, because she did not. Very likely it had simply been her fatigue and her practical nature, which had seen little harm in the proximity of a clean gentleman.

The next time they encountered the local apothecary at a dinner party, however, she made sure to speak with him, wondering if some useful opportunity would come up. Unfortunately their neighbourhood was one in which people rarely took shots at humans and thus Mr Heywood, who was all of thirty-five and thus not even very experienced in the neighbourhood's most common accidents, did not count gun shot wounds among his favourite topics.

Anne had attempted to steer the subject towards the navy and the sea, but she had failed. All she had accomplished was that Mr Heywood had become flattered by her interest in him. He was her age and unmarried. It was a public secret that he had proposed to Alice Jenkinson last year, but that she had refused him. That had been foolish of her, for Mr Heywood could not have been a better match for a maid.

It had been discussed everywhere, although Anne had not really participated. She had thought it slightly foolish of him to propose to a servant, but if he must, Alice Jenkinson was a deserving recipient. It had not crossed Anne's mind at all that Mr Heywood might be over that infatuation. It was only when he eyed her a little too warmly that she began to feel the danger of having paid the apothecary too much attention.

"You got along quite well with Mr Heywood," said Lady Russell, who did not know whether a mere apothecary suited the plans for Anne she had once had. By now anyone might do, although she was only bound to be so tolerant on a very glum day.

"He mistook my interest in medicine for an interest in himself," Anne said bluntly, quelling any hopes that might have arisen.

"An interest in medicine? Whatever for?"

"I have odd interests occasionally. One must continue to improve one's mind." She was not even lying; she did occasionally have odd interests, or so people thought. To herself they were always explicable.

"That is true. Well, I am sorry you do not like Mr Heywood. At the risk of sounding as if I want you to marry, I do think you would like it." Lady Russell looked resigned, as if she believed it would never come to pass during her lifetime.

"Yes, I know you do. Mr Heywood is agreeable enough, but I could never be in love with him. Perhaps when I reach forty or fifty I might reconsider, but by then I suppose all tolerable gentlemen will be taken." She smiled. "But for the moment my life is infinitely better like this."

"How do you know you could never be in love with him? Do you have to be in love to marry?"

"At the moment I do." Anne smiled again. They had discussed this before, but with more circumspection on either side. Lady Russell had always wanted her to marry, but without probing too deeply into the reasons why it had not happened. As if she knew. Anne suspected that she might.

Chapter Eleven

Posted on 2010-02-17

The trip was surprisingly pleasant. Freddy looked up to him, for Captain Wentworth had been at sea much more recently than the admiral. His father's tales fascinated him, but they dated from before his birth, whereas Uncle Frederick had only just come off a ship. That this ship had encountered some pirates off the East African coast furthermore added to his heroism.

Captain Wentworth wondered whether it was an embellishment or the truth to be referring to them as pirates. They were dirty men in decrepit vessels and they were no match for the navy. He could really only take pride in a more or less equal battle, not one that was already won before it was even begun.

But Freddy loved tales about pirates. The admiral, Captain Wentworth suspected, had once come across real pirates, but whether they had been exactly as he described remained to be seen now that he had experienced how tempting it was to cater to the little boy's fantasies.

"It is a miracle you got away," said Freddy.

"A miracle?" Wentworth raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Well, you have no wife."

"Really? Oh." He did not understand. "I am curious what you are talking about, Freddy. I thought you were talking about the pirates, because we were speaking of them only a minute ago. Is it a miracle I got away from a wife?"

"No, sir. From the pirates."

"But you must explain the wife. Pirates might like wives. I have heard that some do. They come on board and take wives and treasures with them."

"Do they?" It was Freddy's turn to look confused.

"What did you mean?"

"A wife would have shot at the pirates."

The captain was afraid of the thoughts he suddenly had concerning his sister. He was afraid they were correct. He cleared his throat. "Ah, Freddy. Lest you get the wrong idea about wives in general, I ought to tell you that not all wives would do that. In fact, most would not."

"I know. Most are not at sea."

"But they would shoot if they were?" He would like to laugh, but the boy was looking so serious.

"They would defend their husbands."

"One hopes." It was a noble thought, but he doubted that many were capable.

He dwelt on the matter for the remainder of the trip. There was no telling if Freddy's notions were based on a true story or a fantasy and it was slightly annoying that he could not check. Sophia was capable of picking up a gun, he supposed, but he hoped that would only be in a case of extreme danger. She was a lady!

But his ideas about ladies might be up for a revision.

Mrs Wentworth was quite possibly one of the prettiest women he had laid eyes on in the last five years. One did not call a woman like that sensible. He had half a mind to write to Anne that she had misled him. It was only upon realising that he could not write that he allowed for the possibility that she might be sensible as well as pretty, that he realised he could not write at all.

It made him frown that he had felt the urge. He had never considered writing to any woman except relatives.

"That is my aunt," said Freddy enthusiastically. "She is married to my uncle."

"Is she indeed?" he said to his nephew, but he said all the right things to his new sister-in-law. He had to keep in mind that she was only new to him; to the rest of the family she had been there for years.

"Why, Freddy," said Mrs Wentworth. "What a surprise to see you here. The children will be very pleased."

"My mother said I could go. Was that not nice of her?"

"Very nice indeed," Captain Wentworth muttered. This earned him a surprised look from his brother's wife, which was followed all too soon by a knowing smirk. "I did not know wives of clergymen were allowed to smirk," he said, thinking that he could venture such a comment to a woman who smirked.

"Smirk? Oh, you must be mistaken," she replied with an even bigger one as she laid her arm around Freddy's shoulders. "Come in. Edward took the older children out on the pony cart."

"Edward?" Captain Wentworth could not imagine that. His brother on a pony cart. His sister spoiling her son. The world had gone mad in his absence.

"I want to go out on the pony cart as well," Freddy said a little plaintively.

"Dear Freddy, they go practically every day," said his aunt in a soothing voice. "You will have your chance. I imagine you must be too tired today."

The captain snorted.

"I am not!" cried Freddy at the same time.

Captain Wentworth gave Mrs Wentworth a pointed look. He was tired and Freddy was all hers. He was not going to help locate the cart.

"Right." Mrs Wentworth ushered Freddy to a comfortable chair and took the lid off a silver tray that turned out to contain all kinds of delicious biscuits and cakes. "Have one."

Again the captain was surprised. She had no qualms about bribing him. "I thought you would have lectured him on virtues like patience."

"He is six. Please help yourself to something as well, Captain. Perhaps I shall behave in character and say you may both have only one, if you do not mind, to leave some for the others. I hear my youngest crying."

"I want to go out on the pony cart," said Freddy when his aunt had left the room.

But the comfortable chair, the cake and the warm room put Freddy to sleep even before Mrs Wentworth returned with her youngest child, for which he was very grateful. Again she gave the captain a knowing look, as if she had been expecting this and he thought her rather dangerous.

"What do you think of my family?" Edward asked rather eagerly when he and his brother were comfortably settled in his study with something to drink.

Captain Wentworth could only say they were a fine family, for one could say little else of a pretty wife and three handsome children. "But she is not quite the sort of wife I had been expecting," he had to confess. He hoped he would not offend his brother.

But Edward only nodded as if he had heard that before. "Well, nobody else would marry her."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The village thinks she is a witch."

The captain raised his eyebrows. "A witch."

"Yes, nobody wants to marry a witch." Edward grinned into his glass.

"That is an odd way of coming by a pretty wife to be sure, but is there any truth in it?"

"Yes, it is true that nobody wanted to marry her."

"Is she a witch?" He could not believe it.

"There is no such thing as witchcraft, really," Edward said thoughtfully. "And as such there are no witches. The village cannot make sense of women with knowledge. They are frightened of them. They call them witches. I admit that when I came here I was a little wary of them myself, but after I expressed some interest I was swayed."

"You are now a witch too."

"Frederick," Edward sighed. "I asked them to explain to me what they did and there was nothing very strange about it. I did not share that secret with the village, because as far as I was concerned there was no secret to share. She knows everything about herbs, which is not very mysterious considering that she has many books on the subject."

"Herbs."

"Yes. I do not know what makes women witches in other villages, but here it is that. She does not charge half as much as our apothecary and generally has more success." There was some pride in his voice.

"Sophia did not mention that she was considered a witch." Anne had not mentioned it either. Perhaps they did not know what the village thought.

"Sophia is not stupid."

"True. And what does the village think now?"

"Whatever suits them to think. If she behaves as they think she ought, it is all my good influence. If I behave somewhat oddly, it is her doing. But enough of us. You will see soon enough if you stay here a while. What about you? Why did Sophia send Freddy with you?"

"Sophia," Captain Wentworth scoffed. "She cannot say no to the child. He wanted to go, so she let him."

"That is very good."

"Very good? Is it? He is thoroughly spoilt. Which does not mean I disapprove of him in general, but he gets his way too many times. It cannot be good for a child."

"He needs the company of other children sometimes. Perhaps she thought you needed the company of children." His brother laughed. "Have you any plans?"

"Plans? What sort of plans?" The captain feigned ignorance.

"Marriage, children, that sort of thing."

"The extent of my injuries make those things impossible to consider." He hoped to put an end to the inquisition with that statement.

Unfortunately none of his relatives were very simple and gullible souls. "The extent of your injuries? You have a cane. And a fortune. Which of the two do you think is considered more important when it comes to marrying?"

"To a certain kind of woman it is undoubtedly the latter. I thought upon this subject long and hard many years ago and I have put it behind me."

"That means you do not want to discuss it."

"That means it is pointless to discuss it, for my mind is made up." Captain Wentworth spoke with conviction, or so he believed.

Edward was still sharp. "Is it your injury or your mind?"

"Both."

"Minds can be changed and I am married to a witch, you know."

Edward's smile was rather disconcerting. The captain smiled back, but he did not feel too sure of having a comfortable stay here anymore.

Chapter Twelve

Posted on 2010-02-21

Anne was having a comfortable stay at Kellynch Lodge as usual. She could not say if it was more comfortable now that Captain Wentworth was gone or if he had secretly been adding some suspense to her life. His departure had its advantages as well as its disadvantages.

The same applied to Mrs Croft, who came over one morning with a very strange story. "We were shifting a huge cupboard in one of the sitting rooms and we found a door."

"A door," Anne repeated. "A door in a wall or simply a piece of wood?" There could be reasons for storing a board behind a cupboard, she supposed. Why they would do so at the Hall she did not know.

"A door in a wall."

"That is odd. I do not know of any doors behind cupboards. Which room was it?"

"The upper west sitting room. We hardly ever use it, but it has a very nice view of the sunset once in a while."

"Oh, I know which room you mean." Anne wrinkled her face in thought. She had not often been to the room and so recalling its details cost her some trouble. "I think I remember the cupboard, or rather the shape of it. But a door behind it? Where would it lead? Is it not the outer wall?"

"It is. And the door is locked. I came to ask if you knew about it and if you knew where to find the key."

"I did not know there was a door. Can you not break the lock?"

"We could, but considering that we are not the owners..." Mrs Croft said diplomatically. "Of course we could force the lock, have a look and shove back the cupboard. Sir Walter might never know. My conscience forbids such a thing, however."

Anne nodded.

"My curiosity forbids not looking, too."

Anne chuckled.

"As you say, it is the outside wall and nothing is visible on the outside. Have your family in the past had any reason to build in secret passages? Were they ever persecuted?"

"Thanks to my father I know my family's history by heart," Anne said with a wry smile. "The first baronet, Sir William Elliot, was made a baronet because he was a close friend of the king's." It really pained Sir Walter that this friendship had not been passed on to the next generations. While he was proud of Sir William's connections, he was more elaborate about them to his daughters than to others, who might well think the Elliots had lost their consequence because they were no longer part of the first circles.

"Oh. That does not sound as if he had anything to fear. Perhaps he had a mistress. The queen?" Mrs Croft visualised a queen taking the secret passage to her lover, the baronet, who built the house especially to accommodate the practice. But a door in the outside wall could not lead to much.

"Would my father love that," Anne muttered. "Elliot blood in the royal line. But it would be too much to hope for. Any bastard would likely be the youngest daughter and not the eldest son."

"And they probably did not need secrecy, because it is always all the rage among royals to have bastards. But what do we do about the door? I would ask Frederick to have a look, but he is away. The admiral, I am sorry to say, cannot stand dust. It makes him sneeze and cough. Even if we opened the door I could not send him in."

"If it is dusty and dark I am not going either." Anne shuddered in determination, but she told herself she was silly a moment later.

"That is what my servants say too. They expect a room full of skeletons. I do not know why. Even the men are such -- I am not used to it." She sighed. "But if we cannot open the door..."

"Perhaps it is nothing but a closet in the wall."

Mrs Croft had considered that idea as well. "I do not know. The wind is blowing through it. The doors of the cupboard were making some noise, flapping open, and my servants thought there was a ghost in the room. I do not know why a ghost should be hiding in a cupboard."

"What may appear like a ghost is never a real ghost." Anne had some experience with that now.

"Oh, try telling my servants that. They spoke of ghost sightings around the country. Although what it means for Kellynch Hall that one of their acquaintance saw a ghost miles from here I do not know."

Anne thought that if some of their acquaintance were thieves it meant little good for Kellynch Hall, but she could not say without revealing her own role in the ghost story. "Would you like me to have a look? I am sure you have thought of everything, but..."

"Oh, please. It is quite possible that the admiral has battered down the door, although I told him not to start without me. He would like to explore, but I should not like him to. He would be sneezing and coughing all through the night and that is rather distracting in bed." Mrs Croft looked as if she regretted that she had not been able to take the admiral with her or to keep him otherwise safe from exploring. Apparently he had a disobedient streak.

"I happen to know there are several rooms and beds at Kellynch Hall. You are not forced to share with him because it is the only room and the only bed." It was not like Jem Bolton's cottage.

"That is no reason to allow him to go ahead."

"Of course not. Let me just tell Lady Russell that I shall be out and I am free to come with you." She shook her head at the notion that only Frederick Wentworth could bring some suspense into her life.

"I wish I could send Frederick into the passage." Mrs Croft stared at the back of the admiral, who had not yet battered down the door in her absence. He was, however, poking at the lock with nails and pins. In case that did not work he had an axe standing by.

"With his cane?" Anne wondered. "And a candle?"

"He has two hands. I think a cane might be useful to feel what is up ahead. The cane is a nice accessory. That is what I say."

"To poke the skeletons in the ribs," the admiral said cheerfully. "But Anne says she cannot imagine skeletons behind this door and she knows her family best. Sophy, have you so little faith in me?"

"Dust makes you sneeze."

"While people have died of curiosity, none have ever died of sneezing," he replied and reached for the axe. "Stand back, ladies."

This serious action warranted the use of his name. "James, have you asked Anne for permission to damage her father's property?"

"It is not hers to give, my dear, and had she objected she would have come into the room screaming," he said very calmly. "I believe she trusts me not to do unnecessary damage, but if you insist I shall ask. May I?"

"I trust you will not do unnecessary damage and have the door repaired," Anne assured him. She stepped back.

Soon the door was open. Behind it was a sort of closet with a narrow slit in the wall that let in some air and light. "Ha!" said Mrs Croft triumphantly. "It was not a ghost that made the doors flap."

Admiral Croft had looked more closely. "I do not know if I should tell about you this now or explore this tonight in secret when you are asleep, Sophy."

There was an extremely narrow staircase in the wall. On one side it led up and on the other it led down. This was as much as the admiral had been able to see with the help of his candle. Mrs Croft had forbidden him to venture further, because it all looked very narrow and she was afraid he would be stuck.

A small and fearless stable boy was fetched and he reported that it led up to the roof, which he could see through a rotten wooden door at that end. He was not sure where the staircase ended at the bottom, because there was a locked door blocking his way.

"The cellars," said the admiral. "Heaven knows why. But if anyone has ever wondered how to get onto the roof decently, now we know."

"I am a little sorry that it seems nothing but a quick way for the servants to get in and out of the house," Anne remarked. "I wonder why it grew into disuse, since I expect such things are eagerly passed on. Perhaps it dates from before the second wing was added on."

"Freddy will not be told," Mrs Croft stipulated.

"Freddy already knows how to get onto the roof," the admiral revealed. "He climbs out of the servants' bedrooms. That is why I spoke of a decent manner. I expect he will also be able to tell us where in the cellars to find that door."

"Now I know why you insisted on such a large house."

Freddy was having a less adventurous time in Shropshire than his parents. He had come to play with his cousins, but Mrs Wentworth saw no reason to keep them home from school for that. She simply sent Freddy along with them to the village school. That her children attended that school was another thing of which she had had to convince Edward.

Captain Wentworth frowned on it, certainly, when he first heard of it. But the boys were still young and it mattered little who taught them to read and write and basic arithmetic. He supposed his brother would later send them to a proper establishment.

For the time being it gave Mrs Wentworth time to concoct potions and lotions, as he noticed when he made a tour of the house the morning after his arrival. It had been remarkably quiet and he had wondered where she and Edward were. He found her in a small room full of cabinets and shelves, cutting what looked like dry grass on a table.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast?" she asked.

"I did. Thank you. It was very quiet."

"I am sorry we already ate. We eat early to see the boys off to school."

"What did Freddy think of that?"

"He certainly needs to get used to it," she said tactfully. "But he will learn."

He looked around himself. There were pots and jars behind the glass doors of the cabinets, and plants and roots on some of the shelves. "It is not food, is it?"

"No. Some of it is even dangerous. That is why those cabinets are locked," she pointed. "I say, Captain..."

"Yes?" He did not like the transition from mentioning dangerous jars to himself.

"Have you got any scars?"

"Scars,"" he said, postponing an answer. "Why?"

"I made a special lotion a while ago, but not many people in the village have scars. Very odd. A man of action might help me refine my lotion. If you have fought in battles, that is."

The captain was more than a little unsettled by the matter, which might in part be due to all the jars with the mysterious labels around him. "Does that mean you would like to test your lotion on somebody's scar? Are you not sure it works?"

"Well, it should work, the books say."

"What is it supposed to do? Does it make them disappear?"

"I do not know. Perhaps it simply makes them less painful. I should like to know. I combined two lists of ingredients."

"Oh no." He was not going to be the subject of a dangerous experiment.

"It will be a simple test," Mrs Wentworth coaxed rather sweetly.

"Does Edward know?"

"Edward? What does he need to know? He has no scars. I cannot use him."

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on 2010-03-06

Anne was enjoying a cup of tea while she and Mrs Croft speculated on the reasons for the hidden staircase. She was caught off guard when her friend slyly interjected another sort of question. "I beg your pardon?"

"What do you think of Frederick now?" Mrs Croft repeated helpfully.

"What does he have to do with the staircase?" Anne asked in confusion. "Do you mean to ask if I think he could use it? I have not been in, but I should think it too narrow."

"Oh, no. I mean to ask what you think of him. You were once engaged."

"Only briefly."

"So was I."

She was familiar with that story. There were but few similarities. "You got married. Time changes a person. I no longer wish to get married."

Mrs Croft had another surprise waiting. "Does Mr Heywood know?"

"Mr Heywood?" Anne blushed, for someone somewhere must have misconstrued something. She had not seen the man since that dinner party. Not really. Seeing him from a distance in the village did not count. "Why do you speak of him?"

"I heard he has become interested in you."

"The danger of paying someone too much polite attention," Anne muttered. "What did you hear? And what does this have to do with your brother?"

To this Mrs Croft did not make a reply, but she merely gave Anne a searching look. Anne ignored it by looking away. She could not reveal that she had seen more of him and that they had got along quite well, but even getting along under legitimate circumstances was not equal to wanting to marry him. She looked a little indignant at the thought.

Captain Wentworth postponed a reply in what he thought was probably a very transparent manner. He began to read a few labels. There was one he read twice. "For men," he read up. "Does this mean all other bottles are for women? Is so much wrong with them in general?"

Mrs Wentworth left her knife, with which she had still been cutting grass or the like, and joined him. "No, Captain. This is for men only. I have some for women only as well, but they are on the other side of the room. The admiral has used this. I say it has done him good."

"The admiral. In what way?"

"Oh, I cannot share that."

"But he shared it with you?"

"I cannot say. He might have and he might not. At any rate this potion works for many complaints, which is very useful, considering that some complaints may be of a too private nature to share with others."

"And to reveal to the parson's wife," Wentworth added. "I should think that of most complaints." He would never reveal any to the parson's wife.

She remained cheerful. "You are alone in that thought. Most men with serious complaints have wives who can approach me on the sly."

"And they do?" He would not like a wife who betrayed him in such a manner. He would not like a wife at all, he remembered.

Mrs Wentworth looked very angelic for a witch. "Oh, obviously. Otherwise I should not know about it."

He could not believe it.

"Shall I pour you a little of that medicine? I am not allowed to call my things medicine; the apothecary forbids it. Therefore I do not use the word in his presence, but some of my products do make people better."

"I am sure they do," he said as diplomatically as he could and looked towards the door to see if he could escape politely. Before he could move his feet, however, she had seized one of the bottles and given it to him. "I --" he began. It was not the one for men, but the label carried a strange name that did not inspire much comfort either. Before he could finish, however, he was given a second bottle and this one was the dreaded potion for men.

"If nothing ails you now, nothing will ail you in the future if you take some of that." Mrs Wentworth looked as if she was fully convinced of that.

He narrowed his eyes at that, as he was tempted to think such a medicine would only induce complaints. "What is in this?"

"The ingredients are a secret. They are, however, not disgusting and purely herbal. That is more than I can say for some other concoctions of mine."

The captain fled.

Anne had spent a few days going through old books in the Kellynch library. Sir Walter had left most of the ones that gave his library the proper sort of look, but since their spines could not be read they were of no use to him in Bath.

His forefathers had received many histories as gifts and some may have touched upon the building of the Hall. Admiral and Mrs Croft had declared they had no time or interest in reading those dusty books, so Anne had done it and she had become quite engrossed. There was nothing about the staircase, but so much more about the area.

Finally she had to conclude what Sir Walter would have known all along: there had never been any blemishes on the Elliots' reputation, nor any secrets in their past. When she related this to Admiral Croft, however, he had a different opinion.

"Only if one were proud of the rogues and scoundrels in one's family would one have a book about them in one's library. The absence of such books therefore does not signify much," said he. "But I hope you enjoyed reading what was there. If one looked at you one would never have guessed that you were reading something utterly boring."

Anne smiled. She took her leave and walked to Kellynch Lodge. It was a pity that she had not been able to solve the mystery. Even the locked door in the cellars had not been found. The butler had pulled up his distinguished nose and claimed he had never ventured beyond the places that were in use. There were more, yes, but they were dusty and dirty. This, of course, had prompted Mrs Croft to forbid the admiral to go down there.

Anne smiled again when she recalled his protests. She was sure that Mrs Croft would have gone herself had the butler not wrinkled his nose. Therefore nobody had gone except a maid who had come back very quickly because she had seen a rat the size of a cat.

It was all rather unsatisfactory in the end, but she still did not feel as if she had wasted any time. Her greater knowledge of the neighbourhood's history would come in useful sometime, even if it might not be in the next thirty years.

When she knocked on Lady Russell's sitting room, there was no answer and so she first went to change for dinner. Curtis, who waited on Lady Russell, hovered uncertainly outside the door when she came out.

"Miss..."

"Is something wrong?"

"It is Lady Russell. She is not moving."

Captain Wentworth had studied the two bottles he had been given, but there were no ingredients listed on their labels, only instructions. One contained a liquid, the other was more like a jar and contained a thicker substance. He had put them on the shelf next to his bed.

Mrs Wentworth did not say a word about them at dinner, for which he was glad. The boys were back from school and conversation was mostly about Freddy's experiences.

"It was not fun, but it was not very terrible either," Freddy said with a look of doubt. "I could stand it for a week, I suppose."

"For a week," his uncle Edward said with an incredulous laugh. "Will you have learnt enough in a week, do you think?"

"I did not learn a thing today."

"Nothing? But you have never been to school."

"Mama explains things much better than this master did."

"And in half the time?" Captain Wentworth suggested. "Because most of the time you are not at your lessons, but playing outside." Perhaps it was the novelty of having an uncle in the house, or said uncle's taking advantage of getting up late, but Freddy could not be learning much at home unless he started very early.

"Yes, of course. I am the only one in the room. She does not have to wait until everyone is quiet." Freddy looked as if this was evident. "But I did not mind school very much."

"I am glad," said Mrs Wentworth. "For if you had wanted to stay home there would only have been your uncle Frederick to play with you, but he came to be with his brother and you came to be with your cousins."

Mr Wentworth gave his brother a guilty look, since he had been out for most of the day. "What did you do?"

"I walked here and there. Explored the house and the gardens. You are very comfortably settled here." He refrained from mentioning Mrs Wentworth and her witchcraft. He did not know if she had a habit of giving her potions to guests. If that was the case he did not have to tell Edward anything, for his brother would know.

"Yes, I was very lucky to get this place," Edward agreed. "Tomorrow I shall take you on a ride around the country."

When the gentlemen were alone after dinner, Captain Wentworth mentioned the so-called medicines anyhow. It was still bothering him that he did not know what to do with them. "She gave me two things. What am I to do with them? Do you ever take those things?"

"Sometimes when I have a cold."

"I think these were for more obscure ills than a cold."

His brother looked curious. "Do you suffer from any obscure ills?"

"I do not think I do. I am therefore hesitant to open them."

Mr Wentworth poured them both a glass. "It will not turn you into a frog or make your hair turn green. I, at least, have never seen that happen to anybody. Of course frogs cannot speak and thus they cannot tell me they used to be Mr Smith, but I do not know of anybody disappearing either."

"But if she does not know what ails me, how could she give me anything for it?"

"Oh, is it one of those bottles?" He took a sip. "You can safely try them. They improve your general health, it seems. But something does ail you. Your leg. Did she not give you anything for that?"

"The cream, I suppose. My leg might fall off if I applied it."

"Yes. That is very likely. What could a cream do? At worst your skin will turn red or itchy."

That did not sound too awful, Captain Wentworth agreed. He said no more about the subject, although he was not yet completely resolved to try the cream. The most he did was look into the jar and the bottle and smell suspiciously.

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on 2010-04-08

Captain Wentworth had applied the cream surreptitiously. He did not trust it to have any effect and therefore he had used it only in a few places so that he might tell the difference. A week later he could still not see any and he had established that there was nothing magical about his sister-in-law's potions. They would have worked much sooner in that case.

Mrs Wentworth had not asked anything and as far as he knew she had not searched his room to see if he had opened the jar. His own manservant had not asked what it was, although he must have seen it, but the captain trusted him not to gossip. He was still wary, yet safe.

He had not touched the liquid. The label only said it was for men and how much a man should take of it. It did not say what it was supposed to do or when it was supposed to take effect. It had a foul smell and very likely also a foul taste, but that was as far as the captain's explorations had gone.

"Uncle Frederick?" Someone had slipped into his room when he had been paying attention to his leg. "I want to go home."

"Right now?" As far as he was concerned it was a useless announcement of Freddy's to inform him at night that he wanted to go home. His tone should make the boy realise just how useless it was.

The reply was therefore surprising. "Yes."

"We cannot. It is dark."

"I want my Mama." Freddy seemed on the verge of tears.

"Oh no," he said under his breath. He did not know what to say to a boy this young. Reason might not work. "Boys should not cry."

"I have never been away from Mama for so long." Freddy's lip trembled. "I want my Mama."

"But..." Captain Wentworth said rather helplessly. "Your Mama is in Somersetshire. You cannot have her tonight. Shall I call your aunt?" Another female would do just as well, he was sure. Anyone but him.

"No! I want my Mama."

"I am not your Mama and I cannot take you to your Mama either." He tried to keep his voice calm, but the situation was clearly hopeless. Freddy wanted to go this instant and he could not. There would be crying and wailing and whatever small children did. "I can take you to your aunt?" he suggested in the most hopeful of voices.

"No." Freddy climbed into the bed.

"That is my bed."

Freddy merely hiccuped.

"Are you going to sleep in my bed?" Wentworth sighed in bemusement at the strange bedfellows he seemed to come across lately.

"Well, my Mama's bed is not here, is it?" Freddy replied, utterly vexed at his stupidity.

There was no arguing with that. The captain, at least, did not know how to solve the matter other than by acquiescing. He shoved Freddy out of the way to make room for himself. It was far better to share a bed than to travel to Somersetshire in the middle of the night. Tomorrow he would have to discuss the matter with Edward. But quite possibly Freddy would have recovered tomorrow and there was no need to go back.

Had Sophia known, he wondered. She had not appeared too concerned about a long parting. Because she had known this would happen, perhaps? And she had known they would be back within a week? But how could she deliberately be cutting his visit with his brother short? She would not want him to send Freddy home by post.

It was all done. Finally. Anne did not know how many days had passed. They had gone so quickly and she had been too busy to take notice. But now it was all over and she sat in the Crofts' sitting room to tell them what the attorney had said.

"I lack for nothing financially," she said, wondering if anyone was going to believe that she had truly been surprised by all the provisions that had been made for her. She had expected an allowance, perhaps even a very generous one, but not almost everything.

"I shall not even have to marry, although people may want to marry me." She gave an incredulous laugh at that. People might want to marry her indeed. And she would still not like to marry them.

Mrs Croft looked approving, but sad. "She treated you like her own daughter."

Anne swallowed. "I would rather have her back than my allowance."

"Of course."

"It was so sudden! I can hardly believe it." She had said that before, but it did not seem to have sunk in yet. How many days did she need? She had no idea. "Now I have to think of what to do. Get a companion, I suppose. My father would think it absolutely necessary. Thankfully he would not insist that I live with him. And my sisters..."

"Mrs Musgrove would have you, I am sure."

"Mary might be a little disappointed at how Lady Russell disposed of her fortune," Anne said with a frown. She might be welcomed into the cottage, to help out, but she would keep hearing Mary's feelings on the subject of the inheritance. They were not difficult to predict.

She wished she had some explanation for Lady Russell's actions that would satisfy her sister. "I do not know why she did not treat us equally."

Mrs Croft did. "You lived with her and you are not married. Neither applies to your sisters. You deserve and you need more money."

Anne knew she needed more, but it was still difficult to counter the comments her sisters would have when she did not think she deserved more.

"You need some time away."

"But I have much to do." She would have to speak to the attorney and the bankers, go through Lady Russell's things, find a companion, interview suitable candidates, finish Lady Russell's needlework and she did not know what else, but there would be more.

"It can wait until you come back. Do not rush into making any decisions, Anne. If you stayed here, your sister would be bothering you every day and you would end up doing something you regretted."

"Kill her?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of giving her money," Mrs Croft replied. "But thank you for this rare glimpse into your frustrations."

Anne blushed. "I did not mean that."

"Never mind, dear. I did not hear it."

Anne thought she might indeed end up giving Mary some money, but she did not know if she was going to regret that. All sisters deserved a more or less fair share, did they not? "But what do you suggest?" Perhaps some time away was not a bad idea, but she could not fathom where she could go all by herself. She disliked large towns and in small towns it would raise too many questions if she travelled alone.

"I have a friend in Charmouth, on the coast. There is not much to do there, but you do not need very much, I think. She is a charming lady, a widow, and if you make up your mind as to needing a companion, she will be able to give you some names."

It would be the thing to do, but Anne would not be able to switch so quickly from being a sort of companion to needing one. "I should make up my mind, should I not?"

"You will."

"But I cannot trespass on your friend without notice."

"I can. I shall go with you. Perhaps only for a few days. That depends. I cannot leave the admiral here for too long and he cannot come with me because Freddy might be back."

Anne did not want to cause anybody any trouble. "But if Freddy might be back I can stay home."

"This is more important."

She had not even set foot in Kellynch Lodge when Mary came out of the house. Her sister was always let in if the ladies -- now lady -- of the house was not at home and due to return soon, of course, but it was odd that she would come running out.

"Anne! The things I heard, you would not believe it!" Mary cried. "They say the will was already read. And nobody -- nobody -- informed Charles or me of it."

Anne wondered if it was more politic to refrain from mentioning that Charles had been at the reading, or more politic to say it. Knowing Mary that probably did not matter. There would be trouble in either case. She was not given an opportunity to make a choice anyhow, for Mary spoke on.

"And they say you -- you -- got all her money!"

Anne suspected that Charles was still wondering how to break that news to his wife. She understood him. It was, however, something impossible to put off completely, for it would scarcely be received any better tomorrow than today.

She did want to put the discussion off until she was inside. "Do you really want to discuss this here, on my doorstep?"

Mary was extremely agitated. "Your doorstep? Surely it ought to be our doorstep?"

Anne pushed past her, tired already. "Well, if you insist, it is our father's doorstep."

"And you have no more right to it than I do, because we are both his daughters. It cannot be so that you are getting all her money."

"Mary!" Anne hissed, for more than one servant was within earshot.

But Mary cared very little about the servants. Some servant or other was probably the source of her information. "Anne, I demand that you tell me what you know."

Anne ushered her into the sitting room. "Why do you not ask Charles?" she asked, knowing full well that this was going to anger Mary exceedingly, but she was too tired to relate all the financial arrangements.

"I have not seen him at all today, the coward. Does he not know we could use some money? I expect he is out spending. Lady Russell ought to have thought of us! I suspect she never liked our boys, but that is no reason to treat us so unfairly. Why should you be receiving the main share, when you will be living with someone else? But it cannot be true. I find it hard to believe that Lady Russell was so selfish."

"Why do you not wait until Charles comes home? I have not paid attention to the arrangements that were made for other people."

"But arrangements were made for you?" Mary inquired immediately. "How much?"

"You would always think it too much. Besides, it can hardly mean anything to anyone without knowing the full extent of Lady Russell's fortune."

"You need not be so circumspect. It is quite clear to me that you have ingratiated yourself so much as to receive more than a pittance and the rest of us nothing at all."

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on 2010-04-24

Anne's head ached when she finally got rid of her sister and she wanted to cry. She did not deserve to be accused. It had taken all her strength to remain calm and to respond to her sister with shrugs and inaudible words. Mary would not care for anyone else's opinion unless it coincided exactly with her own.

And she had completely forgotten to tell Mary that she was off to Charmouth in the morning. That would only be added to the long list of her offences.

Anne suspected that Mrs Croft had thought of Charmouth long before she issued the invitation. It had been so smooth, so convenient that it could not have been a spontaneous thought. But that did not matter to Anne. She was grateful for the opportunity to get away and she was a little in awe of Sophia for being able to take instant action without thinking about the feelings of others who were not involved and who should therefore not have any right to feelings.

Charmouth -- she had seen it on the map, but she knew nothing about it except its location. Mrs Croft’s friend might be nice and she would know a good deal more about companions than Anne did. She was almost certainly the widow of naval officer and she might be poor. Anne was interested in how such a poor widow lived, although she did not precisely understand why. It was only Lady Russell who had thought she would become one by marrying.

Before she could do any substantial packing, Mr Charles Musgrove was announced. It surprised her that he would call at such a late hour and she immediately assumed a serious accident had happened to one of the boys.

He did not appear at all affected by great emergencies and spoke thoughtfully. "I say, Anne..."

"Is no one hurt?" She thought of something else. "Are you here because of Mary?" Mary would have gone home and given Charles a piece of her mind.

"I suppose so." He ran a hand through his hair and stretched out his legs on the sofa. "Would you mind my staying here tonight?"

Clearly he thought that if he lay down she would not be able to say no. Anne was a little baffled. "Would it solve anything?" she asked after a minute.

Charles considered it. "Not a thing." But he did not move.

"Then you had better go home," she said gently.

"I should not tell her, so you need not be afraid. Mary is not very fond of me at the moment." he sighed. "There were a few things I had not bothered her with, busy as she always is."

"So I gathered." But it would not work to use Mary's words against her. She would deny that she had ever spoken them. Anne understood them both and at times it made her rather sad.

"And to top it off I do not agree with her on the best way to spend your fortune."

"No?" She gave a half smile, but it was sad that money would sow such discord.

"I am inclined to let you keep most of it."

"That is kind of you."

"But you could give Mary a pound. She says it is all I leave her with, so if you added a pound she would actually have twice as much."

"But what have you come to do? Really? Was it not easier to ask your parents for a bed?"

"Beds aplenty, but I do not get a room to myself there." Charles looked as if he was very much in need of solitude.

"The Hall," said Anne. She felt sorry for him, but she did not want to get herself into any more trouble. Still, she would do as much as she could for him. "I do not know if you have a convincing story, but you could try."

"The admiral will understand me."

"Will he?"

"Having a domineering wife and all that."

"I think you misunderstand them. But do try. I need to pack."

"Pack? Oh, can I come along?" Charles looked as hopeful as a little boy. "Where are you going?"

"No," Anne said firmly. Charles would have to solve his own problems, although he had not created them. "But you may need to keep the admiral company when we are gone. He will be all alone."

"He does not shoot."

"I do not shoot either and here you are trying to keep me company," she pointed out.

"That is right." Charles reluctantly swung his legs off the sofa. "I should do something about it, should I not? But I have no idea how to make Mary see reason. She thinks I am the unreasonable one! I do have to say, I hope you will not tell Mary how much you are getting."

"I hardly know how much it is. But do you not think she will bother you or me until she knows?"

He laughed. "Oh, yes. She will bother us in any case."

Anne was curious if Charles had indeed gone to the Hall the evening before. She asked Mrs Croft about it when the latter picked her up for their journey.

"Yes," Mrs Croft gave a long sigh. "What a sad case. We sent him home."

"Oh." Somehow she had not expected that. It sounded so much harsher than it had undoubtedly been.

"He got enough sympathy by telling us. There was no need to keep him."

"It would only have put off the confrontation."

"I know it is your sister, but she makes her own life terribly difficult by behaving in this manner -- and, unfortunately, the life of others as well. Are they poor? I had not thought they were."

"No. They are quite comfortably off. She simply cannot bear my receiving more. That is all. I do not know why. Perhaps the youngest in a family -- our family -- was a difficult position to be in."

"Well, think of her no more. We are off to the coast. The right coast. You know the admiral's family live on the wrong coast. Do not think others are all blessed with ordinary relatives."

"But they are the admiral's." From what she had seen of Sophia's side of the family she would say they were all ordinary.

"They are and he thinks them fine, too. Not because they are his relatives, but because he genuinely thinks there is nothing wrong with them. You have never met any, because it is much easier to get away if we are visiting."

"That is certainly true." Anne had employed the tactic herself a few times. "What is your friend like? Was her husband in the Navy?"

"Of course he was, but how did you guess?"

"Well, you seem to know a great many Navy people."

"And not much else. That is true. My friend was left tolerably well off and since she likes company, she has taken it upon herself to train girls as companions. They find much better places with a good reference from her."

Anne was sure the precise workings would become apparent to her once she was there. "Would she know what I am looking for? I do not even know that myself."

"Not yet, of course, but she will get to know you and make a good guess."

Conferring with his brother had led Captain Wentworth to give Freddy another few days. Neither of them wanted to give in too easily to the whims of a child and both felt that their elder sister might think they had failed at handling and entertaining their nephew adequately.

Fortunately for them Freddy seemed to have forgotten his homesickness, although he still did not like school. Mrs Wentworth, surprisingly, took pity on him and she offered him the job of her assistant instead of school.

While Mr Wentworth did not think that was at all worrisome, Captain Wentworth thought it was highly dangerous. "What if he comes to harm?"

Mrs Wentworth had given him a very patient look, although hints of exasperation were peeping through. "Nothing will happen to him. We shall be out gathering herbs and plants."

That sounded innocent enough. He nevertheless followed them outside until they began to climb into trees. Into trees! He stared in horror as his sister-in-law gathered her skirts and stepped onto a branch.

She turned back. "Will you wait down here or will you go up with us?"

"Are you climbing a tree?"

"No, I am not climbing a tree. I am gathering moss. Watch out, Freddy," she called to Freddy who was attempting to climb up another tree.

"What is the difference?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What is the difference between climbing a tree to gather moss and climbing a tree not to gather moss?"

"You would be very helpful if you gathered some moss yourself," she informed him. "If you are unable -- and you have not used my products -- you could perhaps be at hand with the basket."

To this the captain gave an unhelpful snort and he turned away. He would walk back and leave them to it. A part of him was afraid that Mrs Wentworth would fall out of the tree when he left -- even if she was not up very high -- and it would be very ungentlemanly of him to turn his back on a lady in distress. On the other hand it was much more gentlemanly of him not to stay and watch her ankles.

Leaving would have the added advantage of not being available for quizzing. He had not used her products, she said. He did not want to discuss with he whether he had. Of course there would be a great dilemma if his scars disappeared completely. Then he would have to admit he had tried a little of her cream. She would laugh then.

Women. He was glad he was not personally involved with any. They were quite odd and quite dangerous.

Edward had asked about Miss Elliot, naturally. First very cleverly and not outright, not mentioning her name. Then, when his brother seemed too thick to understand what he was talking about, he gradually increased in directness.

The captain was rather insulted by the notion that unmarried people over twenty-five should marry the nearest unmarried person of the opposite sex, as if life were very untidy with all those unattached persons running around. He had told his brother that, but Edward had laughed at him and then very seriously told him that life was indeed so much better as a married man. Could there be any thing more annoying?

He was pleased to see, however, that both Mrs Wentworth and Freddy returned in one piece. He was not lying in wait, but simply by accident sitting in a place from where he could see them return. With a book. He had something to do, of course.

"Are you waiting for us, Uncle Frederick?' cried Freddy.

"No. I was reading," he said, pointedly raising the book.

"I taught my aunt how to catch a fish."

Wentworth peered at Freddy's clothes. They did not look wet, merely a trifle dishevelled. "Well, at least you will have learnt how to feed yourself when you are old and unable to read and write because you have never been to school."

"I have been to school," Freddy said indignantly. "I went for a full week."

"My apologies," the captain muttered. It was good that he had no children. He would probably have sent them to the best schools, just like all the people he despised.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on 2010-05-28

Anne had been thrilled to see the sea, but when they arrived in Charmouth not much could be seen because of rather thick raindrops. She could barely make out the house. Servants rushed out with umbrellas and she was conveyed indoors without getting very wet, but it was a little disappointing to be on the coast and not see any of it.

She had expected Sophia's friend to be older, closer to Lady Russell's age, and therefore she was surprised to see it was a fairly young woman. It was a little disconcerting to see that Mrs Jamieson was already a widow at her age -- although Anne knew many who were -- and that she must have been so for a while. She wore blue.

They were received in a pretty sitting room that was evidently often used. "I enjoy company," said Mrs Jamieson. "You will wonder why I chose to live in Charmouth in that case, but there are plenty of other things to enjoy here. Lyme is nearby. I walked there yesterday."

"Oh, you walked. How good of you," said Mrs Croft. "How was your knee?"

"It was good enough to take me there. I let myself be driven back. Where is Freddy? Have you come without him?"

"He is with his uncle."

"His uncle? And the admiral?"

"No."

"You are all separate? Oh, my dear!" Mrs Jamieson was astonished.

"It is not such a hardship. It must not last too long, but a few days I can bear well enough. I came for my friend." She looked at Anne and explained the story.

Anne listened -- she had nothing to add.

Mrs Jamieson looked at her a few times, but she had no comments until the story was finished. "I know many women, so I could certainly be of service to you if that is what you wish."

Anne could not give an encouraging or enthusiastic reply. She could not say it was what she wished and she tried to smile. "I suppose I must."

"Have you no friends without husbands?"

"Real friends?" She did not think of any who were in a position to live with her. Lady Russell had had a point. Society at Kellynch was a little unvaried. There were as few possible husbands as there were companions. "I know women without husbands, but I do not think I could call them real friends. Would it matter? A companion would be a necessity, not a friend."

"That is true, but she would be second choice. Or third choice, if you also count a husband."

"I do not think I shall count that as a choice," said Anne.

"I understand your sentiments," Mrs Jamieson nodded with a knowing smile. "But the reason I know so many suitable women is because many of the ladies with whom they were placed ended up marrying. They are never poor ladies, you see."

Anne frowned. She was not pleased with the notion that richer ladies ended up married because they were rich. "I had been worried I was becoming attractive in that regard."

"Which may not be a bad thing if it is not a bad gentleman," said Mrs Croft with a wink. "But that is of later care. First we must get you a respectable companion."

Captain Wentworth did not want to give in to Freddy and leave Shropshire already, but he too had his reasons for wanting to leave. There were young women in the village who had taken a liking to him for some reason. They blushed and stammered whenever they saw him, which was too often, or he would never have noticed it. He did not know why they liked him -- he limped and he was old, grey, grumpy and fat.

Well, to young women he would be.

He could be a distinguished and charming older gentleman if he chose to be. Most men would think him good company, he believed, and they cared nothing for his appearance. He did, to some extent, and therefore he knew he was no longer as handsome as before his injury.

The young women's attention had at first been flattering, but after he had caught someone whispering about his fortune he had sobered up. His fortune. Of course. His income mattered more than his person.

"I once fleetingly thought of her for Frederick," Mrs Croft said when Anne and she were refreshing themselves in their room.

"Why only fleetingly?" Anne thought back on Mrs Jamieson and tried to see her with Frederick. She could not conjure up an image of them together, but she did not know who was to blame for that. It might be herself. The two might be very suitable.

"Because he was in India."

"Oh. Not because they were not suited?"

"One can never be really sure of that without seeing them together. Unless," she said, recalling her own courtship, "it concerns oneself. I was perfectly capable of judging that for myself. For my brother I cannot do more than guess. Mrs Jamieson knows the Navy. Not that one cannot learn about it," she hastened to say.

"But it makes things easier," Anne murmured. "So that one can make an informed decision when -- when decisions need to be made." She might have been able to tell whether Frederick had been right when he said he would be successful. She would not have needed to depend more on Lady Russell's opinion.

She pulled herself together. By now that was not important anymore. Her life might not be any happier at present if she had made another choice in the past. One simply could not tell how a life would have turned out if another choice had been made.

Mrs Croft gave a cautious shrug. "Sometimes. However, I think Mrs Jamieson is now quite happy with her new role. She is very useful to the wives and daughters of the Navy."

Anne nodded slowly. Of course. She now understood where Mrs Jamieson found the parties involved. The women of the Navy were turned into ladies' companions. Or perhaps they needed some.

"Which is a pity, for she is a good woman."

"Having a husband is something you recommend."

"Yet I travel without him, which surprises everybody." Mrs Croft feigned surprise herself. "It is only for a few days. What do people think of me?"

"That you are very attached to the admiral."

"Yes, but not literally! Not physically!" She lowered her voice. "I was in fact happy to get away, because he has a cold and he snores."

Anne was very serious. "Of course you had to travel to Charmouth to get away. Another room in the house would not do."

"I cannot take another room in the same house. Unthinkable."

Anne laughed. She did not know if she could believe any of it, but it amused her all the same. "How often does he snore?"

"Hardly ever."

"I hope I do not snore, Sophia."

Then the dreaded moment came. Mrs Wentworth came into the garden when he sat there. She put her hands on her hips in a very inelegant gesture. "Well?" she inquired.

"Well?" Captain Wentworth returned politely, seeming not to understand. He had more than an inkling, however, for there was only one matter in which she could be waiting for a verdict.

"I also have potions that improve one's memory."

She suddenly reminded him of a cat, waiting to attack. He narrowed his eyes, because he did not like those beasts. "And potions that turn one into a cat?"

"No, Captain. I am afraid such a thing is not possible."

"I am glad."

"You know what I want to know," she prodded.

"No, I do not."

"I should perhaps change the ingredients if it did not work."

It was a pleasant day. The captain decided to be generous. "I cannot tell you if it did. The weather has been particularly good and any improvement might be ascribed to that."

"It worked pretty well for some people in the village here, but it took some time before it did, so I altered the ingredients."

"How precisely do you know of which of the two bottles I am speaking?" Captain Wentworth wondered.

"Oh, the innocent one."

Was there an innocent bottle or was he an innocent man? He had no idea and asking would make him look foolish. From her tone, however, he guessed she meant the bottle and he answered as if she did. "I did not think there was any need for the other."

Mrs Wentworth smiled. "I am glad. Take it with you when you return to Somersetshire. You will return, I think? Have you thought about where to live?"

"So shortly after my return I still need to get a better idea as to which places are good to live in. I have not lived on dry land for many months at a stretch since I was a child. I am partial to my old home town, but at the same time I think I am developing a taste for the country." But he did not know where he wanted to settle. Each place had its advantages.

"You are always welcome to stay with us. I promise I shall not give you any more medicine unless you specifically ask for them."

"That is very kind of you." He was still a little wary, but she seemed to mean it. "But there seem to be too many unmarried girls here."

She laughed. "Do most of your acquaintances live in the south?"

"I think so, but there are many I have yet to find. I made some new acquaintances on board, but those mostly travelled north." He had agreed to visit, but such a visit was not expected in the first few months. Perhaps next year. First he needed to find a place to live.

"Oh, yes. You will have spent months with them. I hope some were pleasant. I cannot imagine what it must be like to spend months with unpleasant people."

"You would give them a little potion and make them better," he suggested.

She laughed. "From the rat's tail and seaweed? I think I should lock myself in my cabin instead and write a novel."

"A novel?" He could not imagine Edward having a wife who wrote novels. It was surprising, yet it was also surprising that his sister-in-law was agreeable when she was not forcing her potions on him. "That seems such a useless way to pass the time -- except on board, of course."

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on 2010-06-05

"Do you not think the admiral will be exploring the secret passage in your absence?" Anne wondered all of a sudden. She had enough faith in them to think that he would have refrained while his wife was still home, but he might be too much of a boy to stay out when she was gone. Then she hoped she was not making Sophia worried by saying so and she already thought of something to assuage such worries. Not much would happen to the admiral if he went down a dusty passage. She assumed he would survive a sneezing fit.

"He might. We have not thought about the passage for a while. He probably forgot all about it." Mrs Croft was silent for a few minutes, but it appeared she had not been thinking about the admiral at all. "What do you think now? Will you get a companion or will you come away with another idea?"

"Must I know already?" Anne was reluctant to come to a decision in the first hour she was here. She was still wondering about the admiral and if he was likely to have forgotten. It was easier to think about those things anyhow.

"If you went with me to please me you must say so."

"And then?"

"Then I shall know you came with me for that reason."

"Sophia, you are being silly. Of course I came with you to please you. I do value your ideas, you know. I did not come with you because I am afraid of being honest." If she had not really wanted to come, she would not have come. Would she?

"Well, good. Although it would be easier if you walked up to some gentleman and told him the two of you were extremely well-suited."

Anne tried to imagine it, but it only made her giggle. "It must indeed be very easy if one knows, but I do not know how one could."

"I shall tell you some day, but perhaps I already have. Are you ready?"

Anne fastened the last hairpin. "I am."

Before dinner they were introduced to Mrs Cassidy and Miss Neale. Mrs Cassidy taught proper behaviour -- advised on it, she said modestly -- and Miss Neale, a woman of about thirty, was currently the only one waiting for a position. As far as Anne could tell Miss Neale did not need many lessons in behaving properly, but perhaps rather the reverse.

The weather was discussed. It was generally considered disappointing, but Mrs Jamieson believed that tomorrow would be a better day and she promised to take her guests to the beach. Anne had not been to a beach in a long time, so she was secretly excited. She wished she were younger so that she might show her enthusiasm openly.

It was fortunate that neither Mrs Jamieson nor Mrs Croft seemed to care at all about anyone's complexion or clothes that might suffer from such a visit. Sun, sand and salt were some of Sir Walter's greatest fears. Anne was happy to be with people who did not care about these things in the least.

"Do you draw or paint?" asked Mrs Jamieson.

"Not really," Anne had to confess. She could not remember the last time she had taken up a pencil and drawn something recognisable.

"Well, should you change your mind, Miss Neale will be happy to show you some pretty spots."

Miss Neale almost mechanically said it would be a pleasure.

"I should not mind seeing the pretty spots even if I do not plan to draw," Anne smiled. "I am always fond of natural beauty." She felt that something was preventing Miss Neale from making a reply, but she could not think what it was.

"Now that I am here, I must venture out to Lyme to buy toys for Freddy," said Mrs Croft.

"Mr Harville's business is going very well," said Mrs Jamieson with a nod of approval, but then she looked a little sad. "It is a pity that Mrs Harville never witnessed his success, since it was her idea in the first place."

Anne had no idea of whom they were speaking and she only half listened while the other ladies discussed Mr Harville's sad situation. She was sorry to have missed so much when she heard he had been Captain Wentworth's best friend. But, she told herself, that was only because she had once been a good friend herself. What she was currently she did not know, an acquaintance or a friend, or simply people who shared a secret.

"You should tell Sophia to send him to school," said his uncle Edward.

Captain Wentworth shrugged. He was sure Sophia had her reasons and he did not know enough about children to be able to counter her arguments. It was good for children, he could say, but if she agreed she would already have sent him.

"I had not expected him to behave like this. He was not like that the last time he was here."

"But his mother and father were with him then. And he was not made to go to school in a strange village. He might cope very well in his own." Why was he defending the boy? He should agree with his brother. It was good for boys to be sent to school. He had been sent to sea himself, without regular holidays. It had shaped his character and he was none the worse for it. Something similar would work for Freddy.

"Possibly." Edward looked doubtful. "It is one of the consequences of having had a child at such a late age, I suppose. It is rather spoilt."

The captain raised his eyebrows at this odd theory. "Surely you do not mean to suggest that if I had a child in a year or two, it should be thoroughly spoilt because I am old?"

"Perhaps."

"Perhaps a child is not part of my plans at all."

Edward pursed his lips. "A little carelessness here or there and voilà."

"Perhaps a child is not part of my plans at all," the captain repeated. "Your theory will not apply to me."

"I did not mean it would, but it applies to Sophia. Why is it not part of your plans? Every man, surely..."

"I am not every man."

"Why amass a fortune otherwise? True enough, there are people who give everything to charity, but I know better than to think it a very common disposition."

It was a good question. Captain Wentworth had not given any thought to what would happen to his fortune if he died and he shrugged. It would be taken care of. "You can have it all, Edward. I never had you in mind, but I certainly do not begrudge you anything."

"What is that?" Freddy asked interestedly on Thursday evening when they had stopped for the night. He pointed at the jar his uncle had just opened.

"That is something for my scars." Captain Wentworth had wondered whether to use it tonight, but if he did not, he would have to wait until Saturday evening. He did not know if that mattered, but he would like to continue using it now that there seemed to be a small improvement.

"Where did you get the scars? I want scars too."

"They are not something to want. I got them in a battle." He thought he had explained this already some time, but children seemed to like hearing everything multiple times.

"Oh. How?"

He did not like talking about them, but he doubted that Freddy would understand. The admiral had probably never given his son a truthful account of battles. "In a battle."

"With pirates," Freddy nodded knowingly.

"And other navies."

"Did you get hit by a cannonball?"

The captain grinned in spite of himself. "There is too much of me left for that. It does not matter what hit me," he said before Freddy would ask the finer details.

"Oh. And what does that cream do?" the boy pointed again.

"It makes the scars less red."

"Why?"

"Why? I do not know why."

"And why would you want it?"

"Scars are not pretty."

Freddy did not understand. "But they are under your trousers. Nobody will see them unless you go swimming. And then they would only think you were a brave naval hero and everybody would want to marry you."

"They may itch."

"Oh."

"But tell me, does everybody want to marry brave heroes?" He raised his eyebrows. Surely that only applied to rich ones? Besides, having scars did not mean that one was a hero.

"Miss Lawrence does. I heard her say."

"Miss Lawrence." He tried to remember who she was. "Help me out, Freddy. Who is Miss Lawrence?"

"You do not know?" Freddy was appalled.

"Describe her." He thought he had the right group, but not the right girl. There was a small group of almost identical girls. Sisters or cousins, they were.

"She is a nice lady with freckles."

Now he remembered, a sweet-looking girl with indeed many freckles. "And half my age. Too young."

"She is twenty at least," his nephew said indignantly. Twenty was ancient. Miss Lawrence was no longer a child.

"That is too old for you and too young for me."

"It is not on account of her freckles?"

"I beg your pardon? What is?"

"You do not think her ugly? She came to Aunt Amelia for something to get rid of them."

"Because of me?" It was disturbing. He did not even mind them. He minded her age. And possibly her mind, but he did not know enough about that to say for certain.

"I do not know. Aunt Amelia can fix anything. She gave me jars for Mama and Papa as well, but I do not know for what. They do not have freckles. Or scars."

Captain Wentworth was curious, but he told himself not to display any curiosity in those jars. It would only end up being reported to Sophia. Freddy was by no means discreet.

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on 2010-06-16

"Uncle Frederick, do you not think Uncle Edward is much too strict?" Freddy asked when they were in bed.

"Not extremely so." Bedtime was a compromise between Freddy's and his own and he was not too tired to talk. "Why do you think so?"

"Papa and you are not as strict."

"I am not?" Captain Wentworth was surprised. He had always counted himself as strict but fair, while he believed that Edward did not have it in him to administer enough discipline. "You have no idea. If you were on a ship of mine..."

"But I am not."

That was an irrefutable truth and the captain sighed. This was not a battle of wits, was it? "It might be good for you in a few years, for a shrewd little fellow like you especially."

"I should not like scars," Freddy said after a moment. "I am not sure."

"You would not care about scars. You would be fighting for your country and your crew and --"

"-- and your prize money."

This shut Wentworth up. "How and where?" did he manage to say after a minute. Battles were not all about prize money. Not all of them. Who had given Freddy this idea? It made captains sound so mercenary.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Who gave you that notion?"

"Which notion?"

"The one about the prize money." He did not think he had ever let anything slip about men who were like that.

"The newspapers."

"Do you read them?"

"Oh, not all the time," the boy said modestly.

Anne hoped Sophia would not ask her anything about companions. She was no closer to knowing what she wanted and she was not sure a few days here would change that. It would keep her mind off Mary -- and hopefully keep Mary's mind off her at the same time -- so that was an advantage at least. She hoped, at least, that Mary would be distracted by her absence. It was perhaps a vain hope. But if there was nothing Mary could do about the inheritance, she might forget.

Not even Mary could be using her absence to think up a strategy to get as much money out of her as possible. Anne could not believe it. There was Charles, who was not terribly good at managing Mary, but who would not let it happen. Mary would never do it without a supportive audience.

She was happy to see the sea. She had expected it to be pretty and peaceful, but it was dark and wild. It was a power to be reckoned with. "The waves are so very high," she remarked in awe. If they went any closer they would be sprayed.

"That is nothing," Mrs Croft assured her. "I have seen them ten times as high."

"Ten times! I have seen paintings, but I never knew they were true to life. I never realised -- it seems too much at odds with being able to use the best china on board."

Mrs Croft's eyes sparkled after she had first looked confused and thoughtful. "Oh, it can be used. Whether it arrives in one piece is another matter. I always wrapped our cups and plates well. James never did. Perhaps because he had me -- and before he had me he had no china. He had things that would almost look better broken than they did whole."

Anne wondered what Frederick had done, but she was ashamed of it. He should not be on her mind so much. If life had gone differently she would have been able to answer this question. Now it was useless to wonder. Even single captains looked after their possessions. If her father were a captain he would certainly care. He would have a servant, an out of necessity more fastidious servant than Sophia.

After having seen the sea they went home for some cold meat and an exploration of the village.

Miss Neale went out too, but in the opposite direction with her drawing materials. She had not asked Anne to accompany her. In fact, she had not looked at anybody at all.

"I am glad you do not really wish to draw," Mrs Croft remarked to Anne. "She does not seem very eager for company. Never mind. You will find those pretty spots yourself. Where shall we go tomorrow? Lyme or the cliff?"

"If the weather permits it, the cliff. But did you not have business in Lyme?"

"Yes. Had I ever told you about Captain Harville?"

"No. I first heard of him when you spoke about him to Mrs Jamieson." Anne hoped she was not sounding too curious.

"He is -- or was -- a good friend of Frederick's. He was injured as well, but worse, and he had a wife besides. And then, children. I recently heard his wife passed away."

"I am sorry to hear that."

"So was I. She was a lovely woman, very kind and generous. It never becomes easy, does it?"

"Not if you take it upon yourself to speak."

Mrs Croft was silent for a few moments. "You will like Harville too."

"I would rather not accompany you if he has only just lost his wife." She would be in the way if it was the first time Sophia saw the man after his wife's death. He might not like so many people visiting him either.

"We shall see."

Frederick Wentworth, in spite of being flattered that he would apparently be a good father, was very glad to cede Freddy to the admiral. He retreated directly to his room, without noticing that his sister was away from home. When he discovered this, at dinner, he was relieved to have missed the scene that had undoubtedly taken place when Freddy found out. The boy was quiet enough by now.

"I went to school there," Freddy informed his father.

"Once or twice," muttered his uncle, who was not surprised that nobody paid him any attention.

"Excellent. Did you like it?"

"No, I did not. The master thought I was stupid."

"Stupid?" The admiral was all indignation.

Captain Wentworth rolled his eyes. Of course no father would ever believe his child could be stupid. Freddy was not generally stupid, but he had only been to school a few times and there was no telling how he had behaved. Since he had never gone to school before and it was doubtful whether Sophia had managed to teach him the right things, he might well have been utterly uninformed.

"There was something I did not know. I forgot what it was. It was of no consequence to me."

"It might have been of consequence to the schoolmaster," Captain Wentworth innocently suggested, but again nobody paid him any attention.

He began to have doubts about his plans. Travelling to see friends did not feel like a good plan when even family were ignoring him. He might as well not have returned from Shropshire at all. This was strange, for he had never felt anything like that before. He had been on the other side of the world without his relatives, yet he had never felt alone. He had, of course, had work to do during the day so that he had enjoyed the peace at night. Now it was all different. He depended on others for company, but they were not very interested in him. They did not even hear him speak.

"Where did you say Sophia was?" His sister had always been interested in him. Too much so.

Admiral Croft had not been very forthcoming with information before. "I did not. She went down to Charmouth with Miss Elliot."

"Why?"

"Sad case. Lady Russell died, you know."

"I did not know." And he did not know whether he considered that a sad case.

"Sophy thought Miss Elliot would like to get away. She inherited all the money, you see."

"I fail to see why the case is sad." The old bat had died. But as he spoke he realised it was his old, resentful self speaking.

The admiral saw him now. Looked at him quite piercingly, in fact. "Perhaps because Miss Elliot actually cared about another human being who is now dead."

"I am sorry. I...was probably looking at it from another perspective."

"Probably."

He tried to see it from Anne's point of view. "I am sorry for Miss Elliot's loss. What will she do now?" She was unmarried. Having some money might help, but it was not enough.

"Her sister hopes she will give all that money to her. Sophia hopes she will not."

"You cannot be serious." He supposed the admiral meant Mrs Musgrove, whom he did not particularly like. Perhaps because he had never paid more attention to her than was absolutely necessary, he was a surprised she was capable of being so utterly selfish and rude.

"She would never admit it in so many words, I suppose, but the sister has already spoken to Miss Elliot about the inheritance."

"And then she told Sophia and Sophia whisked her away as soon as she could," the captain said with a nod. "Would it not be better if Miss Elliot were to tell her sister to go to --"

Admiral Croft coughed at the right moment.

"To go --" He did not know a better way to say it. "You know where."

"Where?" cried Freddy.

"The north pole. My point is, if no one ever tells that woman anything, if no one is ever honest with her, she will never stop."

Freddy had not given up. "What would she be doing at the north pole?"

"Never mind." Wentworth felt himself irrationally indignant on Anne's behalf, which he should not be. She was nothing to him. An acquaintance, perhaps. "And just how much are we talking about? And is Mrs Musgrove not inheriting anything?"

"The sister gets a marginal sum -- to Mrs Musgrove below marginal. A not so marginal sum for Miss Elliot. Perhaps she mentioned how much, but if she did, only once, and none of us really cared to know the exact figure. Five digits at least."

"Where did Sophia take her?"

"To Charmouth."

"Charmouth?"

"Near Lyme."

"I know, but why?"

"To take her away," said the admiral patiently. "I told you. They will be back soon. Miss Elliot does not need much time away and Sophy will miss me and there is nothing in Charmouth to keep them there."

Chapter Nineteen

Posted on 2010-07-06

The weather did not permit a trip to the cliff and so Anne and Mrs Croft had taken the carriage into Lyme. Mrs Jamieson had come along as well and while Mrs Croft visited Captain Harville, Anne was treated to cakes and local history. She liked both and although Mrs Jamieson was more knowledgeable about the former than the latter, it was still agreeable.

Mrs Croft returned after an hour, accompanied by a gentleman. Anne first assumed he was Captain Harville, but when he was introduced he turned out to be a Captain Benwick. The captain had recently returned from the West Indies and found Mrs Harville dying. He had been a great support to Harville and his children, according to Mrs Croft.

Anne liked his quiet and modest reaction to the compliment. Her first opinion of him was favourable.

"I am sorry for your loss too, Miss Elliot," he said to her, looking grave and compassionate. "Mrs Croft told me about it."

"Thank you." She wondered why Sophia had brought him. He did not know either of the two ladies who were with her. After she had conversed with him for a while, however, she began to suspect that Sophia thought they shared a few interests. And perhaps they did.

"What did you think of our new sister, the pagan?" Admiral Croft inquired.

"The pagan?"

"Oh, I make a habit of teasing her, but she assures me she does not dance around the pot while she is brewing her secret potions. Still, what a choice for Edward, eh! A red-haired witch who is actually a witch!" It seemed to amuse the admiral greatly, for he chuckled.

"Indeed."

"Nothing could have prepared him for this at university, being among like-minded men who were all men -- I know something about that myself," he said with a knowing nod. "It is good he did not meet her directly upon entering the world. In my opinion men of the church do not all like learned women, so he might have been told to beware of them. And I believe she must have done some learning, to keep those potions straight. We once got stranded on the coast of Africa --"

"No," the captain said warningly, nodding at Freddy. He knew this story -- several variations of it, in fact -- and he did not think it suitable for a child's ears. Certainly not a child whose ears and memory were as good as Freddy's.

"I do not understand you, Frederick. Africa, I said. Well, there we happened upon a local princess or sorceress, perhaps both, and she --"

Captain Wentworth closed his eyes in anticipation of what she had been wearing. Or rather, what she had not been wearing. This part of the story rarely varied. He had once liked it quite well, but today it would bore him. He was growing old, perhaps, and contrary to the admiral he did not like the anecdote better as he grew older.

"Have you got a headache, Frederick? You look a little funny. Well, the sorceress was quite learned too, I imagine, for she never killed anyone except on purpose with her brews, but she could not read a letter. There are different ways of learning."

"And you would like Freddy to pursue knowledge the African way."

"Good lord, I do not know what you are on about. I am merely saying that Amelia must have read or imbibed knowledge, because she knows what she is on about. Did she give you anything? You look healthier."

"No." He was suspicious. Did he look healthier? He had no idea. If there were not many miles between the admiral and Mrs Wentworth he would have suspected them of working together, but now there might be some truth in the statement.

"Odd. I advise you to use whatever she gives you. I did too. Unsalted me quite well, it did. Look there, I even fathered a child or two."

"Or two?" Captain Wentworth did not understand that and he did not think he wanted to.

"Possibly."

"And this -- I do not want to hear about the second one -- was due to those potions?" He raised his eyebrows. Someone ought to market the stuff if that was the case. Mrs Wentworth was certainly shrewd enough to recognise this kind of worth, so he assumed there was none if it was not marketed.

"Yes."

"But I do not want any children. Why should I take a potion?" He shot a look at Freddy. "Potions, as potent as they might be, are of no use without a woman. Or so I have always been told."

"It improves your general health. It might even get you a wife."

"Well, Papa," spoke Freddy, who had been listening to every word. "I do not think he wants a wife, for he was certainly not keen to marry in Shropshire."

"Freddy..." said his uncle before tales of potential wives could be invented. There had not been any candidates in Shropshire.

"That was because he had not taken his medicine for long enough yet," said Admiral Croft. "But do not fear. The potion will not take away your will. It will simply make you healthier and that is never a bad thing."

Captain Benwick had already come to Charmouth twice, ostensibly to speak to Sophia. He spoke less to her than to Anne, however, and she wondered if she was not the main attraction in the house. It might also be Mrs Jamieson, Mrs Cassidy or Miss Neale, or all of them together, given that they must be providing more cheerful company than at Harville's. But if he had come for them, he spoke surprisingly little to them.

Anne did not mind speaking to him about books and music. Music especially was not often discussed by those she knew and now that Lady Russell was dead she did not instantly know with whom to discuss books. She therefore enjoyed the chance to speak about them with Captain Benwick.

He had read a lot and was especially knowledgeable about poetry. The girl he had been about to marry had died several years ago, Anne found out, and he had found solace in poetry. Over the years his taste had become less sombre and he shared a few favourites with Anne.

She wondered why he had not married another woman and then called herself silly for thinking he should have done what she herself had not. But men were easier in these matters, she believed. They had too many activities to dwell too long upon their losses, even a thinking and reading man like Captain Benwick.

After a few more conversations she understood he had long been at sea, but he was now ready to make a match. Anywhere. She might be the lucky woman if she chose and she wondered how to let him know that she was not looking for a husband. It was not easy to say if he was simply happy about their shared interests.

"Do you think we could walk up the cliff before Captain Benwick gets here tomorrow?" she asked Mrs Croft at night.

"I am sorry you think that way."

Anne immediately felt guilty. She stammered a little and then fell silent.

"Sailors do not take their time," said Mrs Croft, who had ample experience with that. "But I am not sure he is very consciously after anything."

"I would rather not take the risk. I..." She looked at the book in her hand. "I am sure this is a nice book, but he will ask me tomorrow what I thought of it and I do not feel like reading it any more now."

"Put it away."

"But will you come with me or should I try Miss Neale? I do not think she would enjoy company."

"Miss Neale likes to go her own way," Mrs Croft said with a mysterious look. "She would not be a bothersome companion. She would hardly be in your way. But people might talk about her scampering about the countryside on her own, which could be a disadvantage."

"I wish people did not think only men were allowed solitary pursuits," Anne said with a look of chagrin. "I once spoke to an older gentleman who was very decided about it: we were not made for it and they were. There was no arguing with him. He was rather sweet, but very misinformed."

Mrs Croft laughed. "I can imagine it. But very well, I shall go with you. What are we to take? Umbrellas? Sketchbooks? Writing paper, in case we are inspired to writing a poem?"

"Umbrellas. I imagine you have come across a few similar men. You are better informed about politics than most men."

"How could you be a judge of that, being a woman?"

"Mostly because you speak sensibly, contrary to some men. It does not interest me well enough to read very much about it."

"Politics do not always make sense."

"That is why it does not interest me very much. Or perhaps because much of it does not affect me personally. But did you meet such men?"

"Oh, I might have. In the beginning. By now they all know me." Mrs Croft grinned. "And they have forgotten that I am in fact a woman. They accept things from me that they would not accept from their own wives."

Anne was impressed, although it was not news to her. "Why does the admiral?"

"Because he is a good man. I wish he could be here."

A chuckle escaped Anne's mouth. "Only now?"

"I am very glad you and Freddy returned, for now we may go to Charmouth ourselves and see how the ladies are faring," Admiral Croft said the next morning.

"Why should we intrude on a lady in mourning?" Captain Wentworth wondered, but he did not expect that the admiral had given any thought to Anne at all. He wanted to intrude on Sophia, who happened to be with Anne. "And do they need our help?"

"I do not suppose so, but Freddy wants to see his mother, or so he told me."

"Can he not wait a few days until she comes home? I have noticed that he is rather spoilt."

"Spoilt?" The admiral was all amazement.

"Yes, it would be good for him to hear no once in a while. Edward and I were in complete agreement about this."

"The poor boy!" the admiral said feelingly. "The two of you tried to raise him properly, I suppose? If there was ever a spoilt boy it was little Frederick Wentworth."

"You did not know me when I was little Frederick Wentworth." He did not take it seriously, for he understood that his brother-in-law might have his pride wounded by hearing his darling son was spoilt.

"I did."

"Sophia and you must seriously consider sending him to school. He would be quite unfit for the sea, not wanting to do what he is told and asking for his mama."

Admiral Croft was not worried. "He is six, not sixteen. He will learn in due time."

"I hope so. Where is he?"

"Reading a book."

"But that is what I mean. Is breakfast not more important?" Captain Wentworth raised his voice in agitation.

"Oh, make up your mind, Frederick. Yesterday you wanted him to have book learning; today you want him to have breakfast."

"I give up. If you want me to come with you to Charmouth, I shall. I should not know what to do here on my own."