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Chapter Twenty

Posted on 2010-08-11

Nobody disturbed them before breakfast and Anne began to feel a little worried about her unkindness. She nearly hoped that Captain Benwick would join them before breakfast was over, but he did not. She was now to blame for avoiding him and she felt it keenly, because what had he ever done?

The other ladies had activities of their own and they had all been to the cliff numerous times before besides. Anne set off with only Sophia, who had declined the offer of the manservant. They were not the only one with such a plan, for there were a few men who overtook them and even a few carriages. "From Lyme, I take it," said Mrs Croft.

"It is a beautiful day." Anne understood the attraction, although she had no precise idea of the local geography and thus why these carriages had to be from Lyme. Presumably Sophia assumed that everyone else would walk.

They walked on, now and then commenting on plants or animals they saw in passing. The top of the cliff was even more crowded than the road. People walked or sat there; some drew or painted.

Mrs Croft was delighted to spot a frigate out at sea -- Anne saw only a tiny shape of something. Mrs Croft was even sure which particular frigate it was and Anne listened in amused incomprehension. The attention of two gentlemen nearby was drawn by Sophia's excitement and they approached, not at all cautiously.

Sophia was too busy to mark them, but Anne wondered what they had in mind. They did not address her, however. "Excuse me, Madam, might you be the wife of Admiral Croft?"

They turned out to be two captains who had heard of her and who saw an acquaintance with her brother as justification enough to approach her. Anne was amused again. Her father would be mortally offended by such impertinence, but Sophia became instant friends with the strangers.

Anne was a little more reserved. She had much to dwell on in private, notably on the number of navy captains in this region and how they all knew Frederick.

Admiral Croft, Captain Wentworth and Freddy had found lodgings in Charmouth and Wentworth was glad he did not have to share with Freddy. After two carriage trips in a short time he was in dire need of solitude. Or afraid of the boy's directness.

The admiral had gone out as soon as he could to call on his wife, but he had been told she was out. This had rather disappointed him, although he had not expected her to stay indoors all day. He had left an invitation to dine at the inn that evening.

In the public room of the inn he was being informed which possible connections and acquaintances might be in the area. "Two navy men," said the innkeeper. He mentioned names, but they were not recognised. "And the wife of an admiral."

"My wife, I expect."

Here the innkeeper began to look cautious, for it was not every day that one encountered the husband of woman who had run away.

"I went to see her. Alas, she is out."

"She is staying with Mrs Jamieson, who often has women staying with her. Respectable women."

"I should hope so," the admiral said cheerfully, although he was sure that Sophia could manage less respectable women as well.

"No gentlemen callers. Except for a Captain Benwick who is currently staying in Lyme. I forgot about him earlier when I mentioned the other captains, as he is a very unremarkable fellow. You might know him nonetheless."

He did, a little. "Captain Wentworth knows him well. He will be pleased to hear this."

The innkeeper for his part was pleased to have imparted such welcome information, although he would like to hear more of what had brought the admiral here. Come to think of it, he did not know enough about the admiral's wife either. "And the lady who is with your wife, is she her sister?"

The admiral considered saying she was, to spare himself further explanations, but then he remembered Frederick. If Frederick denied having more than one sister, the innkeeper would undoubtedly think the worst of Anne. "She is our neighbour."

"A wealthy young lady, I understand. I cannot fault the captain for liking her."

The first captain the admiral always thought of nowadays was Wentworth, so at first he looked a little confused. "Does he?"

"Well," the innkeeper said slyly, "if it is not your wife he visits -- naval acquaintance and all that, naturally -- it must be her friend."

"Oh, Benwick. I am surprised that he or anybody else should know the young lady is wealthy. Is she?"

"You are her neighbour."

"Ladies' fortunes are no longer my concern. Or, I should say, not at present. I may again care about the matter when my son starts showing an interest in girls."

He excused himself and went to see if Freddy was still napping. Of course the boy was gone. The admiral felt a trifle annoyed, for he had emphatically forbidden Freddy to leave the room. At the same time, he philosophised, that he had seen reason to forbid it meant that he could have expected it. He tried Frederick's room. The captain was shaving and Freddy was watching in fascination. "Frederick Croft! What did I say?"

"Nothing, Papa," the boy replied, angelically innocent. "You have just come in."

"You were not to leave your room."

"Oh. But Uncle Frederick's room is part of our room, is it not?"

"Not really," said his uncle, looking rather alarmed.

"Why did you not send him back?" asked the admiral.

"Believe me, I tried."

Freddy turned on the charm. "I love Uncle Fred. He is magnificent."

"Can you spell that?" asked Wentworth, feeling as sour as he sounded.

"F-R-E-D."

"No, magnificent."

"M-A-G- how boring. Of course I know."

"School," said his uncle meaningfully. He was certain that Freddy did not know.

"I went to Mrs Jamieson's house," the admiral interrupted. He did probably not want to be called upon to give his opinion on whether Freddy needed to be sent to school. "But the ladies were out."

"Mama!" Freddy suddenly wailed.

"I have invited them to dinner. I cannot imagine them turning us down. Let us get dressed, Freddy."

Captain Wentworth told himself he had only come along so he would not be home alone. Still, he was looking forward to seeing his sister. He went downstairs early, so he could not be called to help with Freddy's toilette.

The innkeeper accosted him instantly and he heard which captains were in the neighbourhood. That was a pleasant surprise and he planned to look them up if he was still here tomorrow. He must see Harville. His next thought was that if the admiral chose to leave again he could even stay behind.

"The admiral came to look for his wife, I understand," said the innkeeper.

Wentworth was still considering the possibility of extending his stay and he did not instantly reply. "He knew where she was."

"Oh."

"But Freddy wanted to see his mother. He has never been away from her before."

That was not quite the scandalous story the innkeeper had hoped for. "I understand her friend needed some time away. She is in mourning."

"So I heard," the captain said curtly. He wondered what to say to Anne when she came to dinner. That he had never liked Lady Russell would not stand in the way of his manners. To his surprise he was a little eager to see her. Curiosity, most likely.

The man nodded at his leg. "Wounded?" Now that was curiosity.

"A long time ago. Together with Harville, in fact." That would render telling the story unnecessary, since he was sure the man knew it all. He seemed a curious sort.

"Good fellow. Good hands. Does not need that leg, does he?"

Captain Wentworth wished to remark that legs were pleasant appendages to have, even for those with good hands -- whatever that might mean -- but he only gave a nod. Healthy people had no idea.

"Very sad about his wife."

"Indeed. Mrs Harville was a very kind and generous woman." He still remembered Harville's joy at coming into some prize money, as well as the warm welcome guests had received in his house before then. Harville might be broken. He had dealt with grieving men before, but he could never tell how they were going to grieve.

The opening of the door announced the arrival of the two ladies. "Frederick!" cried his sister "Why must James make Anne walk so much today? We went up to the cliff and were looking forward to a quiet evening sitting by the fire."

He shot a look at Anne, but she was still upright. She could not be too fatigued. As for his sister, she never was. "Is that all you will say, Sophia? I brought back your darling Freddy. He so needed to see you."

She embraced him. "Poor thing."

"Yes, pity me. I suffered greatly."

"Freddy, not you."

He turned to Anne. "Miss Elliot. My deepest sympathies."

"Thank you," she said in a soft voice. She mourned modestly, as she did everything else.

"I hope," he said, but he did not know what he hoped.

"Yes, thank you," she replied.

He wondered how she could know what he meant when he did not know himself, but the innkeeper distracted him by inviting them into the dining room.

Freddy was there and he threw himself into his mother's arms. "Mama! I missed you so! Uncle Edward made me go to school!"

"The villain," Sophia said feelingly. "School!"

"Mama, school is dreadfully boring. I had already done everything with you when I was about two years old."

Despite the exaggeration, his mother could only be proud of such a declaration.

"Papa requested that you see him in his room," Freddy suddenly remembered. "But please get it over with very quickly, Mama, for I am very hungry."

Sophia stepped out of the room.

"Is he unwell?" Anne inquired.

"Oh no. Why are you so gloomily dressed, Anne?"

"Lady Russell passed away," she said gravely.

"Oh." He looked at her with wide eyes. "Who will live with you now? Shall I come and live with you?"

"That is a very kind offer, but you would miss your parents too much."

"That is true. Perhaps Uncle Frederick will live with you."

Because there was nobody in the room except Frederick, Anne dared to smile at the suggestion. He would not take it at all seriously. "Would you like to get rid of him?"

"I am sure he would," Captain Wentworth replied.

"I should not be rid of you," Freddy said very seriously. "For you would live in Kellynch Lodge and I should see you every day, but it would be really good for Anne if she had someone at night."

"It is very kind of you to think of my well-being," said Anne, who did not think Freddy's ideas were worth a shocked gasp, unlike the captain.

"I do not think we ought to acknowledge anything he says," the captain cut in before any more could be said.

"It is Freddy," said Anne. She saw no harm in his comments. "We are alone."

But soon they were no longer alone and both wished Freddy would not share his good ideas with his parents.

Chapter Twenty-One

Posted on 2010-09-13

Sophia was clearly delighted to see her menfolk, but she never gave Anne the impression that she was tired of her company, which relieved the latter. Anne too was pleased to see familiar faces. She was eager to hear more of Shropshire, for she could hardly believe Mr Wentworth had cruelly sent Freddy to school. And what had his uncle been doing?

"Were Mr Wentworth and his family in good health?" She ventured the question when Freddy was demonstrating a silly little game to his parents that no one but Frederick could have taught him. It had certainly not been his other uncle.

Captain Wentworth replied very politely. "They were -- and I am sure Mrs Wentworth would have a potion if they were not."

"Yes, she is quite intriguing." She wondered what he had thought of Mrs Wentworth. He sounded as if he had his reservations, but that might even mean he had liked her quite well.

"Has she ever given you anything?"

A smile played around her lips. She could mention some general advice, but he sounded too suspicious to be referring to simple cough potions. "Do I look ill?"

"No."

"But she gave you something," she deduced. He would not be asking otherwise.

"I did not expect such a wife for Edward."

"No? A young woman of good birth, good morals, good looks, good mind..." Edward could hardly have done any better. He was a respectable clergyman, but hardly a rich one.

"But a witch."

"Apothecary."

"She has red hair." He was going to lose -- he knew it -- and he sighed already.

"I did not know that was a sign of anything." She did not know if he was serious and she looked undecided. Frederick could not be so silly. Not seriously. "What if my hair had been red?"

"It is not."

"It might have been as a baby."

He made the sign of the cross with his fork and knife. "I once sailed with a fellow who did this all the time," he explained. "He said it worked."

Anne's eyebrows shot up. "Against red hair on babies?"

"Against anything that cannot be explained and that must be feared."

Since Anne did not think he believed in it, she did not think it necessary to discuss whether the method was effective. "Never mind. I never had red hair. My father would have told me, since he does not like it." She coloured when she saw Sophia's eyes flicker towards her. She did not want to speak ill of her father. Frederick might not notice if it coincided with his own opinion, but others would.

"Neither do I," he replied.

"No?" She was surprised.

"But I do not make a point of it. It is irrelevant to me." He seemed to think this generosity was complicated enough to require an explanation. "I shall not marry, so redheads may be as ugly or pretty as they choose."

"Or kind," Anne felt compelled to say. "You will not marry, but if you would, you would not make a choice based on somebody's hair colour alone."

"Oh, why not?" he asked agreeably.

"You would not." She could not imagine it.

"I suppose I might take other things into consideration. I suppose. I have no idea." He gave a careless shrug. He was indifferent to marriage. No, worse -- he was opposed to it. Hair colour did not matter.

"You talk an awful lot about things you have no idea about," the admiral suddenly observed. "Which makes you no different from other people."

"I am glad I fit in," Wentworth answered with a gallant nod.

Anne suddenly thought of home and the reason they were here. "Admiral..." She very much disliked having to ask this question. "Did anybody speak of me?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he assured her.

"My sister..." She hoped he would not ask what her sister could have said.

"She has not asked to see me and I do not know what she said to anybody else."

Anne returned to her soup with a frown. Perhaps she had hoped that the admiral would put an end to any inquiries of Mary's, but of course it was none of his business and he never interfered in anything that was not. Yet she would have liked to hear that Mary had given up.

She was to leave here, then, without knowing anything about Mary and without knowing if she wanted a companion -- for she still did not know. That made her trip utterly pointless. And she so much liked useful trips and being useful. This was quite unsatisfying.

Freddy was sent to bed when he was tired. Captain Wentworth had expected him to protest and to be allowed to stay, but there was none of that. Sophia had gone with him and presumably she had promised something good, for she returned quite soon.

"I should like to go for a walk on the beach tomorrow," said the captain when his sister had come back. "Will you all accompany me?"

"I was thinking of arranging a boat trip," said the admiral. "But that probably takes some time."

"You could probably arrange one on the beach. But why a boat trip?" A small fishing vessel did not come close to anything he was used to, although it was better than nothing if one wanted to go out to sea, he supposed.

"To give Freddy a taste of the sea. Would you like to come?" Admiral Croft asked Anne.

"Oh." She did not know, but it did not sound appealing when she thought of the dirty old boats she had seen lying on the beach. They would hardly fit in and the sides were frighteningly low. The first wave would have her topple over the side. "Perhaps another time. I prefer to be on dry land."

"Then you must go for a walk with Frederick and we shall join you if we fail to get a boat."

"Not afterwards, if you please, unless you change," the captain stipulated. "You will smell of fish."

"Oh, there is that too," Anne murmured to herself. She did not want to smell of fish. She had not brought enough spare clothes and it was not a smell she particularly liked.

"Do not be so fastidious, Frederick. I am sure you have smelled worse things in your life."

"That I have, but if I can avoid nasty smells penetrating my clothes, I shall. Can Freddy swim?" In spite of thinking the boy excessively spoilt, he had to admit to some partiality for his nephew. "Can Sophia?"

"You assume that I can," said the admiral with a bemused look. "Or perhaps you do not care as much. I will have you know that I know of one or two admirals who cannot swim. However, I am not one of them and neither is Sophy."

"And Freddy?"

"He is a fish."

Anne and Sophia had agreed to meet the gentlemen at the inn at ten. They would then walk down to the beach, where the admiral would look for boats and Captain Wentworth and Anne would start walking towards Lyme. Whether they would get as far as that town she did not know. Frederick did not walk well, but he had not said anything about that. He had only mentioned Lyme. Presumably, being a gentleman, he would not let her walk farther than she could. There were carriages in Lyme that could take them back. Anne was not too concerned about the distance.

The rain might be a problem, however, and she hoped she would not forget her umbrella.

"I am surprised you would walk with Frederick," said Sophia when they were in their room. "Will it not be awkward?"

Anne did not think so. "We are sensible people, are we not?" She had once got along with him perfectly well under more difficult circumstances than a mere walk, but she could not tell Sophia about that. It was a pity, for she was sure it was a better explanation than being a sensible person.

"Well, if you do not think you will lack for conversation, I shall join the boys in the boat."

"Is that safe?" She was not convinced. No amount of persuasion could get her to join them. She would walk.

"Certainly."

Anne wondered what she and Frederick might talk about. There would be enough to see, she supposed. There was sand, and sea shells, and cliffs. They needed not speak about their inclination to remain unmarried.

Anne Elliot could be as pretty as she chose -- although today he would not rate her as high as he once used to -- and he would not be affected, Captain Wentworth told himself. There was no danger in going for a walk with her. He did not think there was ever any danger anymore in walking with a woman, except in the eyes of other people.

The sea was particularly soothing for those who grieved. Although she had conversed normally at dinner, he thought she might be sad about Lady Russell. They had lived together for many years, so the bond they had had must have strengthened. Going for a walk might do her good.

He felt quite generous and kind. For years he had not been able to wish her well -- not that he had ever really wished her ill -- but his feelings had faded and settled into a comfortable indifference.

He could spend the night with her in an abandoned cottage and feel comfortable and indifferent about it. He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that his old resentment was pretty much gone.

Quite pleased with himself he opened Mrs Wentworth's second jar, the one for men. It could not hurt. It would not suddenly make him drunk and in love with every ugly waitress he saw. Such things happened, but generally not after imbibing something herbal. And if strong spirits had never had that effect on him -- although suddenly he wondered if there were things his friends had never told him -- a mixture of grass, leaves and water or whatever could never do the trick.

He stuck to the dose written on the jar and then went downstairs to ask the innkeeper about the tide. It was all very well to invite people on a walk, but it would be stupid if there was no beach to walk on.

The innkeeper assured him that if he walked quickly, he would be able to reach Lyme safely if he left at ten. But he added a cheerful "probably".

"Probably?"

"There are not many who walk that way."

"And even fewer have returned," the captain said ominously. "It is quite bad for business if you advise your guests incorrectly before they have paid."

"Now that you mention it," the innkeeper nodded. "I had not thought of that. But do not fear. I have not heard of a drowning in at least five years. There was a little landslide, however, a year or two back, but no one was injured."

Captain Wentworth was not quite reassured, but he trusted his ability to spot a rising tide. They would simply climb a cliff if necessary.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Posted on 2010-09-28

Captain Wentworth noticed approvingly that Anne was wearing sensible shoes and a cap. Although no one had ever complained to him about her hat blowing away, since he had no wife, he had often heard such silly complaints that would not have existed had these women dressed sensibly for excursions. He was always glad the complaints were never addressed to him, for he might not have been civil. But then again, he mused, he would never have married such an idiot.

The admiral and his family went to the other side of the beach, to the river, and the captain and Anne walked in the direction of Lyme. The tide was low and the weather was tolerable, so it could not be better.

"How far is it, do you know?" she asked, feeling a little silly for not having asked sooner. Could he walk that far?

"I have no idea, but we can simply turn back if we have gone on for an hour and we are not yet halfway. But we can see Lyme, so it cannot be that far. Still, I brought some food." He patted his pocket.

"I brought money."

"Then we are prepared for every and any thing."

Anne picked up some sea shells. She would find some for her nephews. They had never been to sea. Mary always wanted to go and she had gone a few times, but she had never taken the boys. Charles had not thought it necessary for them either. They might therefore appreciate a few shells.

There were a few pretty ones, but she took care not to stop too often so as not to annoy Frederick. He did not walk fast, but she did not know what sort of pace he preferred. Sometimes he stopped too, to poke at seaweed with his cane. She did not know the purpose of that. Perhaps he was looking for something else.

"We are lucky," he said.

"Are we?" Anne had no idea why. Perhaps because there had not been any dead fish hiding in the seaweed.

"It could have been raining. I say that not," he added, "because of any negative feelings I might have had the previous time and I wish to avoid a repetition, but because it has been raining a lot lately. By the way, did you ever hear anything about the ghosts?"

"No, I did not."

"Neither did I. Hopefully those fellows were scared enough to stay on the right path from then on. It might have taught them a lesson."

She contemplated that. "I am not sure it was the right lesson, since they might still steal where they cannot reasonably expect any ghosts."

"There are no houses where nobody died at any point," Captain Wentworth believed. "But never mind. It is good that nobody questioned your absence."

She glanced towards the sea and then back towards Charmouth. "The sea is calmer than when I first arrived, but I do not see the others in a boat."

He looked back. "I see a ship, but I cannot see who is on it."

"But it is quite big. I thought...well, I thought it would be a very small one."

"I cannot say for certain that they are there, but why not? The admiral is an admiral. It would not be odd to offer him something large even if he asks for something small." He studied her. "Would you have gone on one like that?"

"I do not know," Anne answered truthfully.

"Are you afraid of sailing?"

She coloured. "I thought they would be rowing. Or drifting."

He laughed.

"Never for a moment did I think of sailing."

"But you do not like rowing."

"I do not like the small boats with the low sides. They are fine at home, but look at the waves here!"

"Where? Do you call those waves?" He gave them an almost contemptuous look, but then he grinned.

"Oh, I know you will have seen worse. Sophia had too. But I have not." She held out her hand and felt a few tiny drops. "Oh no. Rain?"

"We have an umbrella."

Anne was brave and gave the sky the same sort of contemptuous look that Frederick had just given the sea. "Oh, I shall not put it up for a few drops."

"May I have it then?"

"Certainly you may."

"Would you like to walk under it as well?"

Anne hesitated. "I -- It was not my intention to let you hold up my umbrella for me, so I think I shall wait for it to rain harder."

He snorted. They walked a few minutes, but the rain continued to fall. "Are you certain? Perhaps we should turn back."

"I shall join you," Anne decided when she got wetter than she liked. She walked closer to him, but she did not take his arm. "But why does it always rain?"

Captain Wentworth's eyes had been scanning the beach ahead of them. He pointed. "Look, a boat."

Anne felt that if she would not get in a boat in dry weather, she would certainly not like it in wet weather. "If it is lying on the beach like that, there is probably a hole in its bottom."

"Just watch," he said.

Anne liked his authoritative tone. It almost gave her enough faith in a boating adventure. She struggled to keep up with him as he walked quickly to the boat. It looked like a whole one -- she had not been too sure of that from a distance -- but hardly sea-worthy.

Frederick laid down his cane and he handed her the umbrella. Then he set to work. It took a few grunts and exclamations to overturn the boat and to set it against a rock. "After you, madam," he said invitingly.

"In there?" Anne wondered stupidly.

He crawled under the makeshift roof when she did not. "It is dry here."

"And very small," she observed. They could sit side by side with their knees drawn up. "Do we really need to do this? I am sure it will clear up soon."

"But it may not. In that case we are safe."

"I knew boats smelled."

"You will grow used to it."

"I do dislike complaining, but what about the tide? That is my last comment, I promise."

"We shall feel it when it comes up." When she looked alarmed, he laughed. "No, do not fear. It will not come this far up. I looked at that. I am not entirely devoid of intelligence."

"So glad," she murmured. "Although it would be quite ironic to be washed away by water from below while we were sheltering from water from above."

"That is true. Most people would not think it ironic, but quite a nuisance."

"It is," she agreed. "I much preferred that cottage."

"You are spoilt."

"I am sorry. At least I know I cannot expect cottages on a beach, so I make no fuss about your not finding one." She knew people who would.

"Are you comfortable?"

"As comfortable as I could be."

"Would you like something to drink?" He took a flask from his pocket.

"Not yet. We had better save that."

"I had not planned to stay here long. Cold, hunger, or stiff limbs will drive us out of here before long." He leant over her to look towards the beach on the Charmouth side. "We are not too far from civilisation, madam. Some twenty minutes. Ten if we run."

"Run? But you do not run."

"Ten if you run. Would you like a drink on those terms?"

"Thank you," said Anne as she took a cautious sip. It tasted like tea. She had expected something different. Something stronger. "You are acquainted with Captain Benwick, I believe?"

"I know him. I heard he was nearby. I also heard he seems to like you." He could say that with perfect indifference and he was proud of it.

Anne frowned. "I thought the same. I did not see him today. Perhaps he called when Sophia and I were out to the cliff and he interpreted..."

"He is a good fellow."

"Then he will make someone else a nice husband," Anne said dryly. "Do you not think?"

"Undoubtedly. But you cannot even be tempted by Captain Benwick? I admire you sticking to your principles."

"It is not so much my principles as the vaguely uncomfortable feeling I got from his calling on us so often without apparent purpose."

"Which might spring from your principles being under attack."

"Oh." Anne considered that. "No, I do not think so. After all, people's principles are so flexible. Why should mine be any different? I am probably as ready to give them up in the face of an excellent alternative as the next person."

Frederick laughed. "No, I cannot believe that. But Benwick is no excellent alternative."

"Apparently not. One could say it is a pity, for I came to Charmouth to think about my future and I am no further than when I arrived. It would have been pleasant if some option had presented itself."

"What are your options?"

"My family, a companion or a husband. I think. It is not that I absolutely prefer to live alone, but I am now being forced to find a companion very quickly because people are of the opinion that I cannot live alone. I should like someone I like."

Captain Wentworth imagined being told he must live with someone. "Yes. And I suppose it must be a woman."

"If it is not a woman it is a husband."

"Well, not necessarily. You could also live in sin."

"What would be the point? If I liked him well enough to live with him, I might as well marry him. Or do I not know enough about living in sin to understand?"

He scratched his nose as he thought. "I suppose he might have a wife in England. Or in India, to reverse the matter appropriately."

"Oh, really?" Anne looked a little amazed. "I thought that was merely dinner talk and not based on much fact. You know, all men who are in India all by themselves without their wives have several indigenous wives each."

"Oh, not all. I have known the odd eccentric who did and the odd hypocrite who lied about it, but I assure that the majority of men were pretty much well-behaved."

"Pretty much."

"Definitions vary, to be sure," he said solemnly. "But it would not do to give a brief description of a case when you do not know the man in question or the particulars surrounding his marriage. Even for us who knew the man but not the wife it was difficult."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Posted on 2010-10-06

Although the ground was cold and her coat was wet, Anne did not mind sitting there too much. Frederick had tea, an apple he cut in half and two sandwiches. It was always a reassuring thought to have food at hand.

The rain did not trickle through their makeshift roof -- not everywhere, at least -- and the waves did not reach them. Anne peered out now and then. She avoided looking at her pocket watch. That would only make time pass more slowly.

"I suppose definitions do vary," she said at last.

"Oh. Did you spend ten minutes debating whether I was speaking nonsense?" Captain Wentworth inquired.

"Ten minutes?" She was aware of not having reacted instantly, but had it been that long? "Goodness, no. I never thought you did. I was merely wondering -- briefly -- if my definition was dependent upon particulars or if it was constant. I cannot think what is best."

"That depends on the nature of the definition. Some require constancy, some preferably not. And some require indifference. I do not always get it right."

"If there is a right and wrong at all. This is very serious. I wonder why we cannot talk about something as commonplace as the weather."

"The weather is speaking for itself. You can tell me it is raining and I can agree with you and we could discuss how long it will take to clear up. It would be extremely interesting. You have money with you, do you not? We could make a bet."

Anne looked doubtful. She did not know if making bets was fun. Presumably winning money was, but she had enough of it. "Is it a game?"

"Never mind. You never enjoyed games, I know. Although you must be playing games with your nephews sometimes."

"I try sometimes. They do not enjoy sitting still for long." They usually ran away long before any game reached its conclusion, unless it was a very active sort of game.

"Boys."

"You are managing fine so far."

"Necessity. I am sure your nephews would manage too if they really had to. How are they in school? In church?"

"Tolerable." Anne peered out from under the boat again. It was still raining and they were still hidden, which must be an odd sight if they were discovered. "What if people were to come down the beach?"

"I should apologise most profusely for not having any more room in here, though I suppose I ought to give up my place if one of them were a lady." He eyed a dead eel that Anne had not seen, although it dangled dangerously close to the back of her head. It might put another lady off and he might be able to keep his place. If he mentioned it now Anne might go out into the rain and he was too much of a gentleman to stay behind alone. "Ladies cannot get wet. Ladies cannot live alone. Delicate creatures. Are you happy to be one?"

"Not always. It is easier for you. You could live alone. You are free to do as you like."

"If you married someone you would be too."

"He would not allow me to. To have the freedom but not the husband," Anne mused. She would be regretful if she did not think it pointless. "Yes, indeed. But if it is different for men, nobody will do himself a favour by marrying me. But do not mind me. I expected this topic would pass. There. We have gone over it. Now we may speak of the weather."

"No, not yet."

"Of course. You must have the opportunity to say why you do not want to marry. And then we may speak of the weather," she smiled.

"I cannot marry."

"Cannot or will not?" She sat up a little straighter. He had always implied he did not want to. This sounded different, as if something was making it impossible.

"Will not because I cannot."

"You never spoke of it as an impossibility before. Are you already wed?"

Captain Wentworth chuckled. "If I were already wed it could hardly be an impossibility. It once was not, in that case."

"But what else could be impeding it?"

"Why, my physical condition, of course."

Anne was quite confused by this remark. "I do not understand. Is there a law forbidding marriage to a man with a cane?"

He had to laugh at that. "No."

"Then..."

He spoke easily, as if he had said these words before. He did not have to think about them. "My sense of honour forbids it. I cannot say why I cannot marry, so I had better not create false expectations."

"They would not be false expectations if you could say why. It would be a little more understandable." Anne thought for a few moments when he did not speak. He was clearly not going to explain anything. "But do not feel under any obligation to tell me why. I think everyone should be allowed to want to remain single for whatever reason."

"Thank you."

She felt it best to steer the conversation away, or she would be unable to stop wondering why his honour was involved. It all sounded so much more serious than simply not wanting a wife. "May I have a sandwich?"

"You may." He unwrapped the sandwiches and handed her one. "But a woman would, if she married, have certain expectations of a husband, would she not?"

"Some have none at all, if you see -- oh, that is unkind of me. Some women hardly have a choice. But I shall say no more on the subject. It is none of my business."

"But if your only expectation is to be left alone..." He gave her a contemplative look.

"That is not an expectation; that is a wish."

"I stand corrected. But if you wish to be left alone, you cannot have any expectations."

"I suppose not." She did not know what he was talking about. There seemed to be something behind his words, but she could not fathom what.

"You are confused," he stated.

"To some extent I am."

"I had a brilliant notion. You should find a man who also likes to be left alone. Then you may live alone while he is off...er..." He shrugged.

Anne considered it. "A man who does not need a wife, but who does need money. You forget that all my money becomes his and while he may like leaving me alone, he may not like leaving me enough money. I am afraid I am not desperate enough yet to buy my freedom in such a manner."

"A rich man then."

"Why should he? He needs no wife and he needs no money. Why put up with me out of the goodness of his heart?" She could not imagine it, yet it was interesting to speculate.

"I could have done it, if you had not jilted me all those years ago."

Anne stared at him. "You?" she said disbelievingly.

"I do not want a wife, but I do feel some sympathy for your situation. It is unfair. I feel some sort of obligation to do a little -- you are Sophia's friend."

"Do a little?" What he was speaking of was more than a little. She could not describe it in a few words or thoughts anyhow. He had left her years ago and now that she was reconciled to remaining alone -- truly reconciled -- he nearly offered himself. It was impossible to grasp, not in the least because he implied he did not want her. His tone was so non-committal. She had no idea whether he meant it.

"I have not thought this through," he said, a little more quickly. "It might not be more than a little. It is a contract."

"But you will not think this through, will you? You just said you could have done it, if..."

"I will not say anything definite on the subject before I have thought this through. But you know that my notions that feel brilliant usually are brilliant." He looked away with a frown.

He had not lost any of his old arrogance, Anne noted. While he might usually be right, he had once considered it a brilliant notion to get married on nothing, too. She sighed. Since she would be the recipient of any kindness, it would not do to ask questions. She would have to leave that to him.

In the meantime she could think. Whether marrying someone was a good option would depend on whom she was marrying. She would not agree to marry someone unless she knew him well -- promises were rather unreliable -- and she used to know Frederick rather well. His ideas might have changed in the intervening years, but not his character. He would allow her any freedom he promised her.

But it was irrelevant when he was not speaking of himself. She had jilted him, after all. There was some old pain there still.

"Brilliant does not mean feasible," he said all of a sudden.

"Oh." In a sense she was relieved.

"But I will let you know when I have worked it out. Unless you are most definitely opposed to the idea. It is not worse than getting a companion, I should think."

"I am opposed to getting married for the reasons I gave you. If there is any way around those I might consider it." She shifted in order to get a better a look at the sky. It ought to clear up soon, so they could take their minds off this subject. Too preoccupied to pay close attention, she hit against the boat by accident and when she sat down something wet fell into her neck. "What is that? Seaweed?"

"What is?" Captain Wentworth had been equally preoccupied.

"There is something in my collar. It is wet and it is giving me the shivers."

"In your collar? Bend over." She obeyed and he seized the dead eel. It hung over Anne's collar like a long tail, but when she leant forwards it slid down around her neck and she cried out. Captain Wentworth removed it and tossed it outside.

"What was that?" Anne asked shakily.

"A dead eel."

"What was it doing in my neck?"

"It is dead; we cannot ask."

"A dead fish. In my neck." Anne shivered. "If I had known I should have screamed. I thought it was seaweed."

"It was hanging over your head all that while," the captain revealed. "I did not know you were afraid of it. Do you not remove frogs from Freddy's bed and such?"

"Well..." She took a deep breath to stop the shivers. "Frogs in someone else's bed are very different from eels in one's own neck, you know."

"Really?" he asked interestedly. "I imagine they are both wet and slippery when one picks them up."

"I let Freddy do that of course! While I pretend not to be affected. Boys have altogether too much fun otherwise. As you well know!"

Chapter Twenty-Four

Posted on 2010-11-11

Then, suddenly, the rain stopped. They were cautious for a few minutes, but no more drops fell. At long last Anne climbed out of their shelter and stretched her legs. She checked her coat. It was a little sandy, but she could easily shake that off. It took Frederick a little longer to get out of his folded-up position.

"Where do we go?" she asked when he was nearly finished brushing off his coat. She ignored the fact that he had grunted.

"Lyme. It would be such a failure if we went back."

She was amused. "Would it? We are not in control of the weather. We could not have predicted anything. But of course we can go on if you wish. I have no objections." It might rain again, but they would have to take that chance. She was not looking forward to sitting under the boat for hours.

"Then we shall." He held out his arm. "There is probably a carriage waiting for us there."

"What if anyone asks why we hardly got wet?" She could not imagine telling anyone they had sat under a boat. It sounded too absurd.

"We were lucky. One cannot explain luck. And I am sure you have an excellent umbrella." It looked to be a sturdy and useful thing, while still being elegant. He approved of it.

"I do." Anne poked at the dead eel with the tip of her umbrella. It was disgusting. It gave her the shivers to think it had touched her. "Are you sure it was dead?"

"A fish tends to die ashore."

"I know, but it felt as if it was moving. Look! Does it not move when I poke it?" She tried it another time. It really looked as if it moved, but she knew she was being silly.

"Then you should not poke it." He got an idea. "Perhaps we should take it home for Freddy."

"No. No," she repeated emphatically, as if she were speaking to one of her nephews or to Freddy himself. It was the tone she reserved for small boys, but she hardly noticed. "We are not going to carry that to Lyme and back to Charmouth."

Captain Wentworth looked a little disappointed that this pleasure was denied him.

"It smells," Anne explained. It was odd that he did not realise this himself. "Badly. Very badly. And so would your clothes. I smell it on my coat already."

"We could put it on top of your umbrella," he said, but this suggestion received such an uncooperative look from Anne that he knew he should not press the matter any further. He grinned and shrugged.

They walked on in silence until they reached Lyme, but it was not unpleasant. Anne had been wondering what he had wanted to do with a dead eel and if it was not much easier to buy one at the local fishmonger's. Freddy would love to play tricks on someone with such a slippery thing, she was sure, but it would not do to encourage him. She would therefore not accompany anyone to the fishmonger's and her money would not be used to purchase an eel.

"Well, we have had our exercise," said Captain Wentworth when they came to the first buidings of Lyme. "Perhaps we could call on Harville and see if he is home."

Anne understood he wished to see his friend and she made no objection. She would wait. "There is a little shop where I waited when Sophia called on him. I could wait there and order some tea."

"Alone? There is no need. You can simply come with me. I shall not be long. If he needs my company I shall take you back to Charmouth first. If he needs my company half an hour will not be enough."

Captain Harville must be around Captain Wentworth's age, yet he seemed much older. He was happy to see his friend, but he hardly noticed Anne. She did not mind. He had suffered a great loss and he was still entitled to ignoring people. Frederick would speak to him and then they would leave. She could wait.

A few children sat on the other side of the room. The older ones looked subdued, but the younger ones were smiling and playing as if nothing had happened. Anne joined them. To them the sad occasion might even be long ago already, she mused.

"Are you in mourning too?" asked the tallest girl.

"I am. My godmother passed away recently. She was like a mother to me."

"Our mother died," said the girl. She spoke calmly. The eldest daughter of the family could not afford to do otherwise -- the youngest ones depended on her.

"I am very sorry. Captain Benwick told me."

"Oh, you know him. He has been helping us. We are very grateful. My father has not been able to do much." She glanced at him. "He has his business and it has taken all of his energy to go to work."

Anne looked his way too. "He does not have any people working for him?"

"No, not yet. Well, none that we could count on."

In such sad situations she always wished she could help, but she would be of little use in trade and she did not know them well enough to be able to offer assistance in a stranger's small house. The girl seemed strong and Benwick had been doing good work, but while Captain Harville did not look well, he appeared to have managed tolerably well. The house was clean, nobody had lost his mind, everyone looked to be dressed and fed -- she assumed, at least, that there were no other children who were worse off.

"Are you an acquaintance of the captain's?"

"Yes, I am...his sister's friend." The description was easier than she had first thought.

"I did not know Captain Benwick had a sister," said the girl.

"Oh! I meant Captain Wentworth. I am his sister's friend. We are staying in Charmouth."

"I know that. Now I know whom he meant," Miss Harville said cryptically.

Captain Benwick had been speaking of her then. It was not strange; he would have told this family where he was going. She did not ask what else he had said, but she was curious. It seemed strange somehow that he had been speaking of visiting ladies to a grieving family.

"But he was going to Charmouth today. Did you not see him on the way?"

"No, we did not see him. We should have stopped," she smiled, not mentioning the beach route. "All the captains appear to be acquainted. Captain Wentworth would have wanted to speak to an old friend." She spoke some more to the girl about innocent subjects, while the other children listened. They did not dare to speak to a stranger.

Captain Wentworth stayed true to his word. It was only ten minutes later that he came to her side of the room. "Shall we go?"

They took their leave and left. Anne waited while he looked for the carriage that was to convey them home. She did not speak until they were in it,which gave her ample opportunity to think. He must be going back; she did not doubt that. Good friends would want to speak longer after such a long separation. "How was Captain Harville?"

"Tolerable, given the circumstances. It has been a while, so he did not need me immediately. I shall be going back this evening to dine there."

She was surprised. "This evening?" She had expected him to go the next day.

"Oh, they cannot have much time to prepare, but he knows I do not care. I shall be happy with any meal they could spare."

"But..."

"Not immediately, I said. That is right. It is not immediately. It is this evening. You would perhaps think immediately meant tomorrow."

She nodded.

"Well, he...does not. I shall see you home first and then change and then go back." He shrugged. There was no inconvenience. He was convinced he had plenty of time.

"I see. Besides, you might return to Kellynch soon."

"Indeed. I am entirely at the admiral's disposal. Almost entirely, for if he chose to leave today I would stay here." He sighed. "I am probably wrong -- we are at Freddy's disposal, as usual. We leave when he tells us to."

Anne chuckled. "You have many complaints about his upbringing."

"Questions! Incomprehension!" he cried. "My sister, who was always a sensible woman!"

"She still is. Now, I do not know many mothers --" She ignored his doubting look. "-- and I have even fewer opinions on their ways --"

Here Captain Wentworth could not control himself. "Which means you have many opinions, and strong ones too, but you choose not to share them."

"Oh, do I?" Anne examined herself.

"But I gather your opinion of Sophia as a mother is favourable."

"Certainly, but I am no mother."

"And I am no father. I take your point."

"I had no point to make!" she protested. "Besides, I am quite partial to your nephew. He has never done me any wrong and he has always amused me greatly. I should not feel this way if Sophia had messed him up."

"I might be partial, but I do notice certain things that --" Things that he would do differently, but he was never going to do them. "-- that perhaps you no longer notice."

"The admiral and she had him quite late in their marriage. It might explain certain...oddities."

"See!" Captain Wentworth cried out in a self-satisfied voice. "Oddities! That is a telling word."

"On the other hand," Anne continued stoically. "My sister keeps having one boy after the other, which would explain the particular oddities to be found in that family as well. I cannot compare one to the other, because they are incomparable."

"What particular oddities would be the result of having a child quite late?"

"I am sure there are even oddities connected to being the youngest son." Anne felt she was being quite bold, but she was sure he could take it. "Of course there are none connected to being the middle daughter, because nothing could be more ordinary and boring."

"Why do they only have one child?" he wondered, wisely ignoring anything about youngest sons.

"I do not think they had any say in that."

"Surely if you can have one, you can have two," Wentworth reasoned. "Because every thing has proven itself to be in a good condition."

"Do not speak of that." Anne looked out of the carriage window to hide her blush.

"If it works, it works. If it does not work, it does not. It seems quite simple to me. And it seems quite unwise to stop after one child, because there will always be people thinking it is spoilt."

Anne put her hands over her ears. "You are talking to a lady. Worse, an unmarried lady."

"Who is much wiser than she lets on, because she is not gaping at me stupidly and demanding that I explain myself."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Posted on 2010-11-20

Anne was glad she was not gaping stupidly, but she remained determined. "It is even improper to tell you it is improper to tell you what I know."

"Then tell me what you do not know," he said instantly.

"You do not want to know."

"My general point came across." He could not imagine her ignorant.

"It did. But," she could not refrain from saying. "It differs from my general point or even from reality. It is far too logical to be realistic." Children did not arrive in logical patterns.

Frederick laughed.

"Well," Anne said, suddenly concerned. "I hope you will not ask them why they did not try harder for a second child."

"It might escape me."

"Do try to keep it in."

She contemplated the friendship that had rekindled so immediately between Wentworth and Harville, even though the two men had not seen each other for years. Then she wondered if it counted for them as well. They were friends, she supposed, giving Captain Wentworth an unobtrusive glance. He was smirking out of the other window.

She was distracted by wondering what he was smirking about. Presumably he did not think he could keep such a question inside, or he thought it amusing to ask it all the same. But no, she could not believe that. He would be aware that it was a highly unsuitable topic.

Perhaps he was amused that she was telling him what to do. Something she could not avoid doing, as annoying as it might be. They were friends.

"I do have faith in your common sense, I suppose," she said therefore by way of apology.

"Thank you. And you have faith in Sophia's."

"I do. And you?"

"I do, but I do think the boy is spoilt."

Anne recognised that he wanted to have the last word. "Fine." She saw they were approaching Charmouth. The conversation would have to end there in any case. It was best not to embark on another discussion.

Captain Wentworth not only liked to have the last word, he was also used to not being contradicted so dishonestly. "Fine?" he inquired.

"Yes, fine. Oh, here is Charmouth." The carriage was slowing down already. Soon it would stop and they would get out. Or rather, she would. Frederick would probably not let her walk to Mrs Jamieson's house from the inn, even though they had just walked to Lyme.

She was right, for the carriage stopped at that house and Frederick helped her down from the carriage. He even accompanied her to the door, but he had no time to do more. He had to go back to Lyme.

"Thank you. Enjoy your visit with Captain Harville," said Anne.

He bowed. "I will."

Anne went inside. She found Mrs Jamieson in the front parlour, from where she had undoubtedly seen her arrival.

"Everyone was out with some man or other," commented Mrs Jamieson.

Anne guessed her hostess leant towards being amused rather than annoyed, although she did not betray much apart from a slight quirk of the mouth. She was glad she did not have to answer to Mrs Jamieson. Her business was her own -- and the woman knew it, so she must be referring to someone else. "Miss Neale?"

"She has been seeing a young man for weeks, it turns out." She sighed. "I cannot find places for girls who do such things. I told her so."

This sounded rather ominous. Anne raised her eyebrows questioningly. A difficult conversation must have taken place. For some reason people always told her about difficult conversations and they often solicited her help, but she guessed that was not needed here.

"He has no money," Mrs Jamieson whispered dramatically. "They never do, do they?"

Anne bit her lip. "No, they never do."

"I wonder why that never occurs to them before they start chasing girls."

Anne remembered passionate declarations that were hardly convincing to a sober and detached mind. They had not been so to Lady Russell and even to herself today they were full of logical flaws. "They do, I think, but their minds work in different -- well, perhaps their minds do not work at all."

This made Mrs Jamieson laugh.

"One can hardly blame them. The younger, the more foolish." But Anne would blame some of them. Not all. It depended on so much more.

"Keep them on a ship until they are thirty. But then they start being foolish at thirty, which is even less pardonable."

"What will you do about Miss Neale?"

Mrs Jamieson shrugged. "I am leaving the decision with her. However, had the young man -- goodness, I hope he is young, at least! -- been a good prospect, she would have made use of him right away. Nobody would prefer to be a companion or governess instead. Even if --" she lowered her voice. "-- sometimes marriage is not much different."

"But..." Anne was not sure everyone would be able to do the right thing.

"Oh! I know what you mean. I should have sent her away immediately."

"No, no," she hastened to say. "I was merely thinking it must be a difficult decision."

"Really? Difficult? I told her that if he had not married her already, he was not likely to do that any time soon. She may stay here and I shall find her a place, but while she is staying here she is not allowed to see that man. "

"I rather think she knows she was not allowed to do so in the first place," Anne said dryly.

"It is never wrong if it comes to anything good," was Mrs Jamieson's opinion. "But to have continued in this for two months or more -- we can safely say no good will come of it."

Anne observed that Mrs Jamieson too had particular notions about the duration of courtships. It must be a Navy thing. She said nothing.

The other woman continued. "There are men who prey upon young women like that. It is obvious that nobody wants Miss Neale anywhere considering that she was sent here and some of these girls are therefore a little too susceptible to people who appear to like them. Who is to say that this man was not simply trying to have his way to see what that was all about? Life revolves around that for most men."

Anne's feelings of sympathy for Miss Neale made way to queasiness. "Around what?"

"I forget you are not married. He might be after Miss Neale's virtue. She still has it; I asked."

"After two months or more? He must not be a Navy man then." These words escaped Anne before she realised she was connecting far too much in her mind.

Instead of being shocked, Mrs Jamieson was amused. "Now, Navy men are honourable gentlemen, Miss Elliot. They get married first."

"I am glad to hear it." She waited a few more moments. "If you will excuse me now, Mrs Jamieson, I ought to change."

In her room she had much to think about. Frederick, who suggested she marry someone and who implied he might have offered himself if she had not jilted him years ago. Miss Neale, who had a secret lover. Mrs Jamieson, who had peculiar ideas about men and Navy men that Anne could not help but compare to Frederick.

It was all very interesting. Frederick now and Frederick then were almost two different people, although he had always been an honourable gentleman. That did not preclude being young and perhaps foolish.

Then she realised she had no idea where she would be dining. If she had not heard anything from Sophia, or if Sophia had not arranged anything, she supposed she was eating her dinner here with Mrs Jamieson.

Sophia came in a little later. "How was your walk?"

"Oh, it was fine." Anne had almost forgotten she had walked.

"Did you get wet?"

"I had my umbrella." She would stick to her umbrella unless there were shrewd questions. "Did you get wet? Did you sail out?"

"Yes, we did. A very fine little ship. Freddy loved it. He is completely happy now. They are coming over for dinner, so I expect he will tell you all about it."

"I will look forward to his stories."

"And yours?"

"Mine? We walked to Lyme. Your brother called on Captain Harville and then we went back."

"Anne, how boring."

"He is dining with the Harvilles tonight."

"Yes, I know. I saw him at the inn. He told me a similarly boring story. The two of you made no conversation as you walked and you saw nothing of interest."

"Oh, wrong!" Anne cried. "We saw a dead eel. He wanted to bring it along for Freddy, but I was against it."

"A dead eel? May I ask why? There are nicer things to be found on a beach."

"I suppose because it seemed to move if you poked it, but I cannot say for certain. I do not want to think of what Freddy could do with it."

"Well," Sophia was as practical as ever. "He is at the inn with his father and uncle. If he puts it into some bed it will not be mine."

Captain Wentworth had told his nephew about the eel and Freddy had been extremely interested. "Can we go to the beach to look at it now, Papa?" he kept asking.

"No, we cannot," the admiral kept saying. "Thank you very much, Frederick. You put that into his head and you are off to have fun?"

"If it is any consolation, I am not off to have fun. I am going to dine with a man who lost his wife and children who lost their mother."

"They might need a little fun, but do not buy eels for them."

"No, I have been told they smell," Wentworth said solemnly.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Posted on 2010-12-08

Captain Wentworth returned to Lyme to dine with the Harvilles and Captain Benwick. He was pleased to see the latter as well after such a long time, but he was careful to let Harville dictate how merry they should be. Fortunately Harville seemed to enjoy the opportunity to speak of something else and to hear about other places.

Wentworth noted that it was the first time in his life that he regretted not having a family. If he had had one, he thought, he would have taken one or two of the youngest children for some time. Perhaps Sophia could do so.

"By the way, who was that lady with you today?" asked Harville.

"That was Miss Elliot, a friend and neighbour of my sister's."

"If I had realised that it was the same Miss Elliot as Benwick's, I should have spoken to her more," said Harville. "Do convey my apologies, Wentworth."

He nodded. "That will not be a problem."

Captain Wentworth wondered if Benwick wanted to ask him a question regarding Miss Elliot. There was a certain look on his face, then a glance towards the Harville children and then he said nothing. Wentworth could still hear Anne say that Benwick would make someone else a nice husband and he did not know which of his two old friends to feel sorry for.

It was possible, of course, that Benwick did not like her as much as Anne feared. A friendly young woman was always a nice diversion, but it might not be more than that. He would do Anne a favour, however, and find out exactly.

"Perhaps you could bring your sister and Miss Elliot to dine with us tomorrow," Harville suggested.

"You could all come to our inn in Charmouth. There is enough room there. Bring the children. Freddy will like that." He realised that he thought Freddy ought to like it. Freddy ought to spend more time with children rather than with adults who spoiled him. But he was not allowed to think that. Anne would have something to say about it. It would be fun for Freddy to spend time with other children. He looked at them and wondered who was around Freddy's age. Two of them seemed to be, but they were girls.

Had he liked playing with girls when he was that age? He could not remember if he had enjoyed it. A few years later he had never seen any girls any more, as far as he could remember, but then he had been long past the age of playing with them.

Only now was he back to thinking they were perfectly good people to play with. In old age one reverted to childhood, they said, so this must be old age. Already.

He was not that old yet, was he? He was not even forty. There were a few acts of brilliance in his recent past. There would be more if there was more action around the world.

Anne had dined with the Crofts, Mrs Jamieson and Miss Neale. She had not discovered anything extraordinary about Miss Neale. The young woman did not seem particularly subdued. She must have made up her mind.

Mrs Jamieson was not used to dining with a child and more than once she had looked a little astonished. Anne wondered if she thought Freddy spoilt too, although he was being perfectly well-mannered. There was merely a sort of enthusiasm that some people were not used to seeing.

After dinner Admiral Croft and Freddy returned to their inn. Anne felt she ought to make up her mind too, so as not to leave them there forever. They seemed in no hurry to go home without Sophia and Sophia seemed in no hurry to go home without her, so that she was the one who was keeping them all there. Really, she should make up her mind. Even Mrs Jamieson might be wondering what she was going to do, although the situation with Miss Neale would take precedence.

Anne could not speak of it to people she did not know well, so she did not do so until she was alone with Sophia. "Your brother had a good idea, he believed."

"He believed," Sophia repeated. "That is quite a meaningful elaboration."

"I am not entirely convinced. The practice of it is rather dependent on third parties."

"That is very mysterious. But at least you were half convinced. Has it anything to do with you?"

"Oh, yes. He suggested I find a man who has money of his own and who intends to ignore me after he marries me."

"Really?"

"If he has money of his own, he will not need mine, or there will be enough for me to do as I please. And he will be away often enough for me to do as I please." Anne feared she was sounding hopelessly naïve.

Sophia looked sceptic. "I am glad you are not overflowing with enthusiasm for this plan."

"The chances of finding a charitable man are slim. Why should anyone marry me so I can keep living alone? Usually if someone needs a wife, they also need an heir -- which I am fairly sure does not happen if you never see each other. Fairly. I could be wrong."

"Have you any objections to providing men with heirs?"

Anne considered it, but only for a moment. "No, no. Do not make me think I ought to marry some stupid fellow in order to have a child. I suppose some people marry for that reason, but I am determined not to do so." She lowered her voice. "Suppose I never have a child? I shall be stuck with the stupid fellow forever."

"I am glad you are sensible, Anne. Why did Frederick think it a good idea for you to marry?"

"It does, superficially seen, solve some problems."

"Well, he might have a friend who fits the bill. If such a friend provides you with a generous allowance, a lot of freedom and your own house, yet he wishes an heir, would you comply?"

"Does it hurt?"

"One forgets."

"Perhaps. Wives must comply, so this must be settled beforehand. However..."

"Yes?"

"Why should I never want to see a generous and dependable man? He must be a good man if he wishes to do something like that for me."

"Why does Frederick not do it? He has money and he has no interest in having a wife."

"That is why he understood me. But he will not do it. I jilted him once."

"His self-knowledge astounds me."

Anne did not know if this meant he knew himself well or not at all. She was afraid to ask. Sophia was too sarcastic. "So. Er. Well."

"Well. Indeed. But good grief, nobody knows you were once engaged. It cannot be used as a decent argument."

Anne was doubtful. "I am not sure arguments can only be used if other people know about them. Someone's private convictions are important too and they are nobody's business."

"Not if they are silly, I agree."

"I think I might regret telling you," Anne said unhappily. "For you will tell him he is a fool and then he will know I told you, but I only told you to see what you thought."

"And now you know. Well, you do not, because I have not told you. I have only told you about his self-knowledge, which I think astonishing."

"I had better distract you with something else."

"Oh?"

"Miss Neale. She has a lover. I was not going to tell you about it, but it seems politic to gossip right now."

Sophia laughed. "As long as it is not Frederick it is indeed completely irrelevant to what we were discussing."

"I do not suppose it is; he has no money. Now, ask me all about it."

"Who is it?"

"Mrs Jamieson does not know. She assumes there will never be a marriage."

"It is possible to marry a man who has no money, you know. But I shall feign some interest in this case and speculate." She lowed her voice dramatically. "He might be a cad."

Anne felt rather uncomfortable with this reminder of Lady Russell. "It is possible to be a man without money and not be a cad, you know."

"There is no fun in speculating on good intentions. At least, I always deduce from gossip that there is not. You wanted to gossip; now do it properly."

Anne gave it her best try.

Captain Wentworth did not speak to the admiral and Freddy until the morning. They had been asleep when he returned. "How long are we planning to stay here?" he asked when their noise woke him. He longed for a set of rooms of his own. A whole wing, perhaps, where no one stirred too early after a good dinner.

"No idea," said the admiral carelessly. "But I am due home in two days. I just remembered I have a meeting with someone."

"Good. What about the ladies? You will leave them here if necessary?"

"If necessary. I am sure Anne will have made up her mind soon. Who was it who wrote that the skies are always the same? Are you coming?"

"I suppose I should. Perhaps Sophia could invite some of Harville's children. The countryside might do them good. I would do it, but I have no wife. That is no reason for getting one, mind you. I still have a sister."

"Why do you not propose it to her?"

"It might be nice for Frederick too." On a whim he decided that from now on he would call his nephew by his proper name.

"Frederick, son. Would you like it?"

"My name is Freddy. "

"I know, but Uncle Frederick likes to be confusing."

"You might be less likely to spoil him."

"What a joke."

Captain Wentworth had been fearing that already. It would be quite impossible for them to stop indulging the boy. He sighed and shrugged. "Well, I tried."

"I appreciate your efforts. They are quite comical."

The captain huffed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Posted on 2010-12-26

Anne thought it another unproductive day in Charmouth. Although she amused herself tolerably well, she had not achieved any of her objectives, she felt. She would not leave here with fresh energy. Or perhaps she was simply tired today and stiff from yesterday's episode on the beach.

"Sophia..."

Breakfast was over and they were sitting in the front parlour, from where Sophia could best see the road. She now turned and looked at Anne. "Yes?"

"I was thinking I might not know more if I stayed here a month or more."

"You do not see any point in staying."

"Not much. Do you think I am on my way to some sort of epiphany?" Anne asked mockingly with little hope of a positive answer.

Sophia cast one last glance at the road. "Yes, but you could have it at home."

"Oh? Do tell me." Anne hoped she did not sound too ignorant. She was thirty-five and ought to know herself better than this.

Sophia could not lie, but it was clear she thought it more sensible not to speak the truth. She fidgeted.

This was not what Anne had been expecting. "You make me afraid, Sophia. What am I not seeing?"

"You should not think that. I merely know you will come out of it. You do not have to stay here for it."

"Well, if I do not have to stay here, we might as well return to Kellynch. I have been to the cliffs, I have walked the beach, I saw Lyme, I ate fish..."

"What more could you do? Today? Or tomorrow?"

"I do not know what plans the admiral and Captain Wentworth still have."

"None at all, I am sure." Sophia looked at the road again, where they could still not be seen.

Anne did not think they had no plans at all. "None they cannot change?"

Sophia was ready to leave, it seemed, or at least ready to take some action. "I shall speak with Mrs Jamieson. You need not worry about that. Shall I ask her to write me what happens with Miss Neale?"

Anne chuckled. "Only if she cannot avoid it."

Because Freddy had expressed an interest in seeing puppies, they had to see puppies right after breakfast. Captain Wentworth had expected it to be a clean litter, but there was nothing but a fat, writing dog, the sight of which he did not consider suitable for a child once he figured out what was going to happen.

"You do not mean to watch this?" he asked the admiral incredulously.

"That depends on how long it takes. Mr Jackson thought it would have happened by now."

The captain shook his head to himself. He was the sane and sensible one, he was sure. Everyone else was utterly mad.

"If you cannot stomach it..."

"I am glad I already had breakfast, to be sure, but what about Freddy?"

Freddy looked impatient for action and not at all inclined to leave.

"A country boy," said his father. "What do you think?"

"I wonder how many puppies are in there," said Freddy. "Six? Eight? Women usually have only one puppy. Do they not, Papa?"

"Women usually have babies, Freddy."

Freddy giggled.

Captain Wentworth was too astonished to speak. He was too busy wondering who was completely insane. Then the first pup appeared and Freddy clapped his hands. The captain shot a desperately uncomprehending look at his brother-in-law and walked away.

He must be looking exceptionally shocked and dazed, for Sophia and Anne took his arm when he encountered them in the street. Well, one of them took his arm. When he looked at his arm it was Sophia, of course.

"Are you ill?" Sophia inquired.

"I might be. I am sorry, Sophia. The way your child is raised never fails to shock me. Am I old-fashioned?"

"I cannot tell. What is this about?"

"They are watching puppies being born."

"Oh."

"Oh?" he cried.

Sophia moved her lips without sound as if to rehearse her speech. She then spoke in a very neutral tone. "You would rather keep a child from such unpleasant sights until it is twelve and it can be sent straight into battle."

He had no idea, but it sounded as if Sophia thought such a course of action very silly. "But he is six."

"Yes, he is six."

"You are not questioning the admiral's decision."

"If I ever question his decisions I shall handle that privately. Frederick, I am sure you would think differently if you had a child yourself."

"I am sure I should not," he said stubbornly. He would still be sensible. "I cannot see Edward taking his children to see such things. I am thankful I have no children. Anne!" he cried. "You must agree with me."

"I am thankful you have no children," Anne smiled, a little mischievously.

"You are proper. I am sure you do not think a child ought to watch -- I am sure you do not even know how puppies are born." Perhaps he had shocked her, although she did not look shocked.

She patted his arm very seriously. "I did occasionally stir from the schoolroom."

The implication made him gasp, but he could not quite believe it. She was merely provoking him. "Into barns and sheds? But you did not go when you were six. You must have gone when you were twenty or older. But good heavens, why would a proper young lady go?"

Anne gave Sophia a helpless look. Sophia shrugged as if she was sick of so much stupidity. Anne was kinder. "I have lived on a country estate nearly all my life. My father likes to pretend the world ends at the doors of his pretty rooms, which contain only pretty, polished people. Do things happen outside? To servants, tenants or animals?"

Wentworth stared at her in wonder.

"What is a barn?" Anne continued. "A badly-built, filthy place. He would never set foot in them. I, however, have nothing against meeting people who are not distinguished members of the peerage and I could perfectly well enter a barn for some purpose."

"But do you?"

"Someone must. I cannot expect farmers to sit in their prettiest parlour all day waiting for me, can I? They work hard."

"Then you must think it perfectly normal."

"If you have seen one, you have seen them all," Anne exaggerated. "I might not think it normal if someone wanted to see them all. Do not fret about it. He can see worse at home. Cows."

"Do not give them any ideas." But he felt this was a battle he had lost. Apparently it was very normal for country boys and girls.

"Where are they?" asked Sophia.

"Are you going to watch as well?"

"No, I am not interested. I should like to see my men, however, so I shall wait nearby. Where are they?"

He pointed. "Behind the inn."

"Did you have any plans for the day? I was sure you did not."

He was glad he could take his mind of slimy puppies and possibly vomiting boys. "I half invited the Harvilles to dine with us at our inn tonight, but that is all."

"We are leaving tomorrow," said Sophia. "We could dine with them tonight."

"You are leaving tomorrow?" Captain Wentworth was surprised. "I had expected you to stay another week at least." He glanced at Anne. She had not been decided about anything the day before.

"I have had enough," she replied. "I might as well go home. I am sorry to have dragged you all here and then to leave just when you start liking this place. Of course nobody needs to accompany me home."

"Of course not, dear," said Sophia. "But people would talk."

"If you are free to leave tomorrow and your men are too, we shall."

"Perhaps you could bring some of Harville's children," Captain Wentworth suggested to his sister. "It might relieve them and their father."

"And their eldest sister," added Anne. "Although it might be good for her to come as well."

"Hmm," said Sophia. "I shall look into the matter when we dine with them. How many Harvilles are dining with us, Frederick?"

"As many as Harville thinks appropriate. There are one or two who do perhaps not yet eat? I did not get a good look at them. There were more in the house than sat at the table, at any rate." He had heard some noise from other parts of the house and while he had not thought anything at the time he would now guess there had been at least two more children. When he and Anne had visited, the room had seemed fuller too, but small children hid so easily behind a skirt.

"But you will have to put them up," he continued. "I am merely making the suggestion. I should have invited them if I had had a house of my own."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Posted on 2011-01-31

Anne was happy to be home again. There was so much to do still and nobody would have done it in her absence. Some tasks were as small as placing fresh flowers on Lady Russell's grave, but Mary had probably not taken care of that.

Wilkins had probably sorted out her mistress' clothes as Anne had asked her to do, but knowing Wilkins there would be some left. Anne could not see her with Lady Russell's nicer wear and neither could she see herself. Wilkins had relatives and she would have to remake some gowns for them, Anne decided. It might even be time for the old woman to retire. She was around Lady Russell's age. The suggestion would be an insult and it might be better to let it rest for a while.

"Wilkins," Anne said therefore. "As you know, I do not need quite so much assistance as Lady Russell used to. If you know of a good girl, you could train her." Mrs Jamieson's arrangements had put her in mind of this. It would give Wilkins enough to do and give her a successor.

"Miss Elliot, you would get double attention, not less."

"I shall live. Do you know of a girl?"

"Susannah Stephenson," Wilkins said hesitantly. "But there is one complication, Miss Elliot. Your sister dismissed her this week."

"Did she now? Why?"

"Mr Musgrove defended Susannah to her mistress."

"On account of..."

"Her being late. This is Susannah's story, mind you, but I believed it. Mr Cole had a seizure while she was in his shop and this made her late. Mrs Musgrove was very angry."

Anne felt ashamed. All of the village knew Mr Cole had a bad health. "And thought the fixing of her hair should have taken precedence."

"Mr Musgrove sent her hither because he thought you -- she is only sixteen, you know."

Anne sighed. Of course the girl was only sixteen. Mary could hardly afford an experienced personal maid. And of course Charles would have sent her here. They could never solve any problem on their own. "Mr Musgrove should not let his wife dictate whom he pays wages. Nor should he dictate whom I pay wages. Yet he knows I could not send an able servant away. It is all quite unfair. What has she been doing?"

"She has been helping me go over Lady Russell's clothes," Wilkins replied, looking a little reassured by her new mistress' reaction. She could have been blamed for not sending the girl away.

"Good." But Anne would like to be in charge of something at least. "I shall have a word with her later."

"Did you find a companion?"

"Oh, no. I am going to have to promote you, Wilkins, for appearances' sake." This was a much more brilliant plan than marrying some rich man she would never see. "Were you ever married?"

"Briefly to a soldier." Wilkins did not understand.

"Then I am sure you are eminently capable of warding off gentlemen out to compromise me -- not that I have ever met any or think I shall ever meet any."

Wilkins still looked slightly taken aback. "Miss Elliot, would it not be easier simply to marry Captain Wentworth?"

"Who?" Anne cried unmanneredly.

"Half the village speaks of it."

"Of what?"

"Of your marrying him."

"But why?"

"Because neither of you are married."

"But neither of us may care for marriage," Anne said helplessly. Another thing was being decided for her.

"Marriage is a necessity for many people."

So the village would hardly be impressed by her argument. "Yes, but --"But even the daughter of a poor baronet must. That was true. Quickly she regained her composure. "I know for a fact that he will not marry, least of all me."

"But if he will not marry you..." Wilkins was as stunned by this as by being promoted.

"It all has to do with my not having wanted to marry him when we were younger." Anne hoped this news would not find its way to the village.

"So he was once sweet on you."

"No longer," Anne assured her. "Such things end."

Frederick Wentworth had given very little thought to Anne upon returning to Kellynch. None at all, in fact. He had been more concerned about Harville, who might not be helped by being abandoned by all his children. They would spend a few weeks in Somersetshire and arrive in a few days. Wentworth had never wondered what Harville would think of being alone; he had only thought of the children. It was impossible for Harville to leave his business, so he could not come along.

After this the captain had dwelt upon the disadvantages of not having anything to do. He was free to travel, unlike his friend, but when he was home he was almost condemned to a life of idleness. There were social engagements, to be sure, but not a wide variety of people. He could go into the village and not have one significant conversation.

Today, however, there was a gentleman his own age he had never seen before. Nobody had ever seen the man before, the captain gathered, for the shop assistants were gawking at the man's only having one hand.

A small personal defect never put Wentworth off, on the contrary. They had something in common. It was interesting to him. He understood what such a man might be feeling. Therefore he taped his cane on the counter to call the shop assistants to order. It might be a rare sight here, but elsewhere it was almost normal.

"Navy?" he said to the gentleman and bowed, although he did not think so.

"Army," the man replied. "Colonel Roderick Ainsley. And you must belong to the Navy, sir."

"Captain Frederick Wentworth," he confirmed.

"I am new to the area. My sister lives here."

That sounded familiar. "So does mine. I have been staying with her since I returned to England not long ago."

"Not long ago? That is a pity. I was wondering if anybody knew anyone who speaks Italian."

Captain Wentworth thought of Anne. She was the most accomplished lady of his acquaintance. "I might."

"Splendid. I hope. My wife is Italian and her English leaves a lot to be desired. She would like to speak fluently to more people than just me. I am afraid she is a great talker and she has felt the frustration of not being able to express herself quite keenly. She would be very glad for any speakers of Italian you could dig up, even if they are old men." The colonel grinned.

"I know a lady in her thirties. I suspect she may know some Italian."

"A lady? Splendid. Then she may actually care for what my wife is saying. Old men may not." Colonel Ainsley called into the shop and a woman came forward to whom he began to speak in Italian. She responded with such a rapid jumble of sounds that Wentworth sincerely hoped Anne would be able to make sense of it.

He was introduced to her and she said something to him, clearly making an effort, but he had no idea what she was saying. He smiled and hoped that sufficed.

It did not, for the colonel grinned again. "She is delighted to make your acquaintance."

Mrs Ainsley showed no signs of being frustrated by her communication problems. She smiled and changed to Italian, evidently trusting that her husband would translate.

Wentworth decided that he liked both of them. He was a little sorry he had no house of his own. Inviting more people into his sister's house was a little difficult now that all the Harvilles were due soon. Sophia would not mind, but he felt he could not do it too often. He nevertheless invited Colonel Ainsley to call on him.

He walked home and mentioned the new acquaintances to his sister. "Do you speak Italian?" he asked furthermore.

"Not enough for a civil conversation."

"Mrs Ainsley is so desperate to speak Italian, that she would probably enjoy uncivil conversations as well."

Sophia laughed. "Well, in that case..."

"Where did you pick up Italian? You care nothing for the arts."

"Nothing?" she protested. "I cannot remember where. On board is most likely."

"Hence not civil. But Sophia, I thought you would have drilled some civility into those boys."

"If I cannot even manage my own son, how could I manage sailors?" she shot back.

There was not much he could say to that. "Well, you can tell Colonel Ainsley if you do speak any Italian -- or understand any. Mrs Ainsley enjoys talking, it seems, so perhaps she only needs someone to nod at the appropriate moments."

"I can do that. You should ask Anne. Her Italian is fairly good."

"Is it? I thought as much. I shall mention the Ainsleys to her when I happen to see her. Oh." Another thought struck him. "Colonel Ainsley has only one hand."

"And you are afraid this will be a problem for Anne?"

"No, not for Anne."

"Oh. Freddy."

"Well, he might stare. Or ask questions."

"I imagine the colonel is used to staring children. Or did he very recently lose his hand? In that case he might not yet be used to it."

"I did not ask him. Freddy will."

Sophia smiled. "You are waiting for Freddy to ask the question for you. I see."

"I expect it was some time ago, considering he was quite dexterous with one hand as far as I could tell."

"If we have other children in the house, which we soon will, Freddy will not be part of any visits," Sophia assured him.

Captain Wentworth was so surprised he could not immediately react.

She laughed at him.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Posted on 2011-04-22

Captain Wentworth ran into Mrs Musgrove in the lane outside Kellynch Lodge. She was on foot and looked quite put out. He greeted her civilly, but he was determined to avoid hearing any explanation of why she was out of sorts.

"Are you going to visit my sister?" she called after him when she noticed where he was going.

He stopped and slowly turned. It was none of her business. She should not even have turned around to see where he was headed. Being secretive about it would surely lead to trouble, however, and he had nothing to hide. "Is that a bad idea?"

"I should not recommend it. She is ill."

He wondered why he did not take her word for it. "Is she? I am very sorry to hear it. Is it contagious?"

"And she needs her carriage. Who can tell?"

Indeed. He found Anne struggling to remain upright in her chair. She seemed unusually fatigued. It could not only be because of her sister. "Are you ill?"

"I could be falling ill. I am not sure."

"I met your sister outside."

Anne managed a smile. "So I saw. She was not the cause."

"Are you able to receive another visitor?" He supposed so, for the servants had let him in. They had said nothing about their mistress' illness.

"Besides yourself?" She looked a little puzzled.

"No."

"My conversation will not be sparkling."

He looked glad for something. "Do you speak Italian?"

"Italian?"

"Let me explain. I met a fellow in a shop and his wife speaks only Italian. He was wondering if anybody in the neighbourhood spoke a little of it."

"Oh, that fellow. I have heard of him, but his name escapes me now." She pushed herself a little more upright and looked annoyed that she was either sagging or forgetful.

"Colonel Ainsley. How did you hear of him? You were in Lyme, not here."

"The servants were and their information is usually reliable. Mary told me his wife was Spanish." Anne lowered her voice. "Apparently she has a foreign and thus flirtatious air. She is out to seduce all men in the village."

The captain coughed. "I never noticed. Well, the foreign air, perhaps. But I have spent so much time in places where all women have a foreign air that perhaps English women in England are the ones with the foreign air."

"Do you speak Italian?"

"No, I do not."

"How old is this lady? If she has great plans for seduction, she cannot be very old."

"I cannot guess a lady's age."

"Not precisely, I know, but you will know whether she is twenty or fifty."

"Neither." He tried to remember what Mrs Ainsley looked like. "It must be something in the middle then."

"You know my age."

"I should never admit it to anyone."

"How silly," Anne replied with a gesture. "This deep dark secret is in the Baronetage."

"I do not generally read from the Baronetage."

"That is surprising." She had studied Navy Lists once upon a time, but of course that was a little different.

"But do you speak Italian or not?"

She frowned. "I think I could manage a simple conversation." It would be easier, however, if Mrs Ainsley simply learned English, but perhaps they had not been married for very long.

"A simple conversation about complicated topics. I knew it," he said in satisfaction. "Colonel Ainsley has only one hand, by the way."

"Another thing Mary had got wrong." She did not say what Mary had thought was missing.

"But your servants..."

"Yes...his right hand." She checked her smile.

"It is no fun coming to tell you anything," Wentworth complained. "Not that it is fun to tell you about a missing hand."

"Indeed, sir. But now that you have established that I do indeed speak a little Italian, what do you intend to do with the knowledge? I assume you would like me to speak to Mrs Ainsley some time?"

"I told them I might know of someone. She would be delighted."

"Would I be?" Anne inquired, but then she looked contrite. "Oh, how unkind of me. I must really be falling ill."

"It is therefore very good that you have your carriage."

He did not miss much, although Mary might have told him outright. She grinned. "It never occurred to her to ask for it while Lady Russell was still alive."

"They have one of their own, do they not?"

"Certainly, but apparently there are types -- and the ones that are fast are not the ones that are most elegant or comfortable. Charles' tastes differ from Mary's."

"I see. Well, as far as I could tell, Mrs Ainsley is an agreeable lady -- and I do not think I was seduced."

"I rather think one would be aware of that. If I were a seductive type, I should want some kind of victory, some satisfaction. Why try if you will never know if you have succeeded or if you must push on?"

"I shall keep my eyes open during our next meeting," he promised her. "But I must tell you that I am generally unaware of women trying to seduce me."

"Oh, of course. You do not wish to be married so you pay them no attention." Anne nodded very seriously. "And therefore you do not notice their attempts."

"The few that try. There cannot be more than a few foolish enough."

"This may pose a challenge for some."

"Really?" This surprised the captain. "Is that not for men?"

"Oh, if you say so." Anne had a little spell of feeling unwell and she could not immediately come up with anything intelligent to say. "I do not engage in it myself. I speak only of what I think I have observed, which might only have been my suspicious and unkind mind at work. I have known women who would go on until they had elicited a reaction from you."

"Who would dare?" He raised himself to his full height.

This made Anne laugh in spite of her throbbing head. "Perhaps you should look crooked and weak instead."

Captain Wentworth had no intention of doing that and he did not want to ask her what she meant by it. "Well, if I invite the Ainsleys to dinner, may I invite you too? Or have Sophia do so?"

"Of course. As long as it is not tonight."

When he was gone she shivered and went upstairs to her bed. Halfway up the stairs she turned back and went to the small library. It took a while to find Italian books, but she took all of them with her. It could not hurt to refresh her memory.

When she was in bed, however, she did not feel like reading. Her eyes kept travelling to the window and the tree she could see. She rang for a servant and said she did not want to be disturbed. Then she lay watching the tree until she fell asleep.

Captain Wentworth enjoyed walking in the English countryside now that he was finally able to do it, although he never walked very far. His leg could be treacherous and he first wanted to be sure how far he could go. After leaving Kellynch Lodge he had the choice between going left and going right, but Mrs Musgrove had gone right and he could not be sure she was not lying in wait for him behind a tree somewhere. Therefore he went left. He did not want to tell her what he had said to Anne and neither did he want to hear how Anne begrudged her sister all kinds of things.

Going left he passed the short cut to Kellynch Hall first and the gates second. Freddy had acquainted him with all the official and unofficial short cuts. Some were barely more than holes in a hedge. He did not fit through all of them.

He contemplated going back through the gates, but then he would have gone out solely to speak to Anne. For some reason that would be a little odd, so he walked on. Up ahead he saw two women, probably girls. They were coming towards him.

He identified them as the Misses Musgrove, but they had recognised him long before. They would have sped up if they had not been carrying too much.

"Captain!" cried one.

He did not remember their names. "Miss Musgrove and Miss Musgrove. How do you do? What a fine day. What is that you are carrying?"

"Our drawing materials, Captain," one said with a slightly uncomprehending look.

"Oh, yes." He had recognised it, of course. "I rather meant why are you carrying all of that?" He wondered if he should now be a gentleman and take over everything, or simply the heaviest items, and carry them home for them. Would this be expected of him? He might have done so without hesitation if there was one girl and no limping leg. Now, he was not sure. They lived pretty far away.

"Because we could not leave it on the hill. We have been drawing up there since dawn," the darker girl pointed. "Charles failed to pick us up."

"And Mary was with us, but she kept being chased by a bee," the other girl added.

"But you cannot walk all the way home."

"Oh, we can," the darker girl said brightly. "We shall leave our things at the Lodge."

"Let me carry some for you," he offered and he was given a sketchbook. This was hardly lightening their load, but he did not object. Evidently they were rather sensible girls who did not take more than they could carry. "What about Mrs Musgrove? Was she drawing?"

"Oh, yes."

"And have you got her things as well?" He did not think so.

"Oh, no." Looks passed between the two. "She expected us to take it all, I am sure, but we did not."

"Why should we?" said the other one defensively. "She spoke of going home with Anne's carriage and she practically ran so she would be there ahead of us."

"Oh my dear, yes. She ran. Mary!"

Captain Wentworth understood them. He would have acted the same in their case.

"But this is the last time we made any kind of arrangements with either Charles or Mary. They cannot be relied upon. Seriously, Captain. Charles was to collect us two hours ago. Do you call that reliable?"

"Not very much, no." He wondered why the man had forgotten his sisters. He was not fashionably late. Perhaps he was reluctant to pick up his wife -- Wentworth would leave her on a hill too if he had the chance -- and he simply was not clever enough to devise a way to pick up the girls without her. He snorted.

"It is not funny, Captain."

"No, no," he said hastily. "There is the Lodge. Should I ask if you can have the carriage?"

"The carriage? But how? Mary wanted it."

"She did not get it, as I happen to know."

It had been arranged with ease. Anne's servants obtained a positive answer from her immediately. Although Wentworth had really only walked the same part of the lane several times, he had walked enough and he went home.

"Very odd," he said to the admiral. "I should not leave my sister on a hilltop."

"No?"

"Young Mr Musgrove left his sisters there because he did not want to pick up his wife."

"Is that so?"

"That is my interpretation. I do not know why else he would forget to pick them up."

"And you ran into the damsels in distress?" Sophia cut in. "And they told you their pitiful story?"

He wondered why there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. He had never said they were in distress, because they were not. "I did."

"Perhaps he never said he would. Perhaps they merely wanted you to do something for them. Did you?"

"Why, yes. I carried a sketchbook and I got them a carriage."

"Ah," she said meaningfully.

He was amazed. "Surely they were not lying. Why should they lie?"

"I am not saying they did; I am saying they might have. Why indeed would Mr Musgrove forget them?"

"I do not know."

"It might be true," she said with a shrug. "And it might not. But it all ended well for them."

"Except for Mrs Musgrove, because she had to walk home, Anne not being inclined to lend her the carriage. She went there ahead of the girls and Anne refused."

"Something of which you approve."

"I do."

The admiral had been listening. "I am sure they were not half as calculating as Sophia makes them out to be. Were they all whimpers and sighs? Frederick likes whimpers and sighs, does he not?"

"Oh, I love them."

"Truly distressed girls would whimper. Girls without common sense, that is. They would whimper and sit by the roadside waiting for the handsome hero to come by."

"The wealthy hero, Admiral," Mrs Croft corrected. "Would they really sit? Their gowns would get dirty."

"All right, they would not sit until the hero provided his coat for them to sit on. And they would sit and whimper for hours until it would occur to someone that they could actually walk home. This occurred to Mrs Musgrove first, you said?"

Captain Wentworth nodded. "But not because she had any common sense. Because she wanted to get to the carriage first."

"Women." The admiral shook his head.