Section I, Next Section

Preface

Posted on Monday, 4 April 2005, at

Anne Elliot fell in love the summer after her sophomore year of high school. It is arguably too young to really fall in love, at age sixteen, but Anne thought she knew her own heart. Sadly for Anne, her best friend, Susan Russell, decided she knew Anne’s heart better. The object of adoration was a young man named Frederick Wentworth, who had come to work as lifeguard at the coastal summer resort Anne and Susan were spending a month at together. The fact that Anne was a patron, daughter of a wealthy advertising executive, and Frederick a hardworking youth made little difference for them, the initial attraction proved stronger than any of Susan’s initial arguments against becoming involved with the youth.

On Anne’s second day staying at the mountain resort, perched beside a clear blue lake, nestled between glorious mountains, she met Frederick. Susan, less keen than Anne on exploring the great outdoors in the midday sun, had begged off an excursion, and was calling friends at home from their room. Anne decided to take her sketchbook and head towards the lake. There she found a suitably isolated rock along the water’s edge, and began to watch the activities along the shore of the lake. A young man was teaching a group of children how to canoe, their parents watching proudly from the shaded deck. Anne’s father hadn’t come along for the vacation, preferring city holidays. However, the resort had been a favorite of Anne’s dead mother, and he continued to send his two daughters there for four weeks each summer out of nostalgia. Elizabeth was probably on the porch. At nineteen she seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time flirting with bartenders, convincing them to serve her. She was fairly successful, too, being one of the most beautiful people Anne had ever met, though sadly aware of it.

Further out on the lake Anne spotted a young couple in a pair of kayaks, lovingly paddling in synchronization. An egret took to flight somewhere off to Anne’s left, and she watched in wonder as the long neck pumped back and forth as it rose from the shallows, and then watched as it disappeared into the pine trees on the far shore. Anne smiled, and settled the sketchbook across her knees. She started filling in the contours of the lake, idly adding details as she went. The kayaks sailed smoothly across the paper. Anne then started shading, at will, until the picture seemed complete, or as complete as it could be. The kayaks had wandered across the lake.

Anne unwrapped a sandwich, and proceeded to eat it, slowly, watching her reflection in the water. On finishing her lunch, Anne picked up the pencil again. She tried to draw her reflection in the water, as imperfect as it was with the lake’s surface rippling from the distant passing of the resort’s launch. The result was a simple contour sketch reminiscent of Anne’s own wide gray eyes and pretty face, flushed with all the joy and youth of being happy and sixteen years old. On a whim Anne lay back on the grass beside the rock, and stared upwards into the clock-speckled sky. It was a gorgeous blue, deep and promising. The clouds were delicious. Anne wondered why there always seemed to be a cloud in roughly the shape of North America. She watched new clouds roll gently by on the breeze, noting one that looked like a high heel, another like a rabbit, yet another like a truck. Soon she fell asleep in the warm sun.

She was woken from her nap by a gentle shaking of her shoulder.

“Susan?” she asked, sleepily, trying to reorient herself.

“Sorry,” said a male voice. “But I was passing by, and you’re getting a bit pink. I thought I’d offer you my sun lotion, if you want to keep snoozing out in this sun.”

Anne sat up, and gently ran a finger over her cheeks. They certainly seemed a little painful to the touch. She then looked up at the face that went along with the arm that had shaken her. It was an attractive one, on a boy slightly older than herself. He was tall, and bronzed from being outdoors, with currently wet sandy-colored hair. His blue eyes were friendly, and he had a towel over one shoulder.

“Thanks,” said Anne, a little shyly. “What time is it?”

“Close to three.”

“Three! I’ve been asleep for almost two hours?”

“I’d say it looks like it from your face. Do you want to borrow the lotion? I’d recommend it if you’re going to stay outside.” His eyes fell onto her sketchbook, which lay beside the rock.

“Nice drawings,” he said. Anne blinked. “May I?” he asked, gesturing. Anne nodded, awkwardly. The stranger picked up the book, and leafed through the sketches she had made that morning and at midday. It was a new book, so Anne didn’t feel the need to hide it away yet. “They’re good,” said the stranger, giving it back. “My sister is an artist.”

“That’s nice,” said Anne. She put the book back into the satchel she carried, and tucked a fugitive pencil behind her ear.

“I’m Fred,” by the way, he said. “Frederick Wentworth.”

“Anne Elliot,” said Anne. “I’m visiting for a few weeks.”

“I’m employed,” said Fred. “A humble life guard.”

“Was it you teaching that class earlier?” Anne asked, vaguely recognizing him.

“Indeed,” he said. “But I shouldn’t stand here chatting, not with you getting burned. You don’t want it to get worse and peel or anything. Go inside, or else come into the shade. Or at least put some lotion on your face.”

Anne smiled at his attention. “You’d make a good parent. I don’t think my mother would have fussed half so much,” she said.

“Have?” asked Fred, gently.

“Yes,” said Anne. Not wanting to talk about it, she took the lotion he had produced. She put some into her hand, and worked it onto her face, gently. She wasn’t much burned, but she could have been. It was awfully nice of Frederick to have noticed her. “Is there any showing?” asked Anne, after a minute. Frederick was watching her, with an amused look on his face.

“Just a bit,” he replied, and smoothed a stray white stripe across her cheek. She blushed at his touch. She swung her bag over her shoulder, and looked about.

“My friend will be wondering where I am,” she said.

“Go reassure her. I’ll be seeing you around.” It was a statement, and Anne found herself smiling very genuinely at it.

“It was nice to meet you,” said Anne. She certainly liked the kind, pleasant young man, resort employee or not. He didn’t seem the sort to wantonly flirt, Anne was fairly good at determining male characters, from living with Elizabeth. She waved and turned her heel, heading back to the lodge where she and Susan shared a room.

“Anne, you’re all pink,” said Susan, looking up from her book. “What on earth have you been up to?”

“I was sketching by the lake, and I guess I fell asleep,” said Anne, setting down the satchel, and retrieving the sandwich wrappings from inside before tossing them into the trash can.

“Didn’t you where sun block? I swear...”

“Actually, someone came and woke me before I burned too much, and offered me his.”

“A guy?” asked Susan, interested.

“Hence the ‘he’,” said Anne, dryly.

“Who was he? Where was he from? Was he attractive?”

“His name is Fred, I don’t know where he’s from, and he is attractive.”

“How long is he staying?”

“All summer, I presume. He’s a life guard.”

“Anne, you can’t get a crush on an employee.”

“I just met him once. It’s not like I’m going to run off with him or anything. He’s just a nice guy I met who saved me from burning too much.”

“But you said he was attractive,” said Susan, frowning.

“He is. You’ll meet him.”

“Huh,” said Susan. She’d have preferred for Anne to meet the young heir to some business empire, or something. A life guard wasn’t terribly romantic.

Anne ran into Fred again the next day, when she and Susan went to go take a canoe out on the lake. He was currently working in the boathouse, checking out the vehicles, and making certain that the occupants had passed the required tests.

“Anne!” Anne heard her name exclaimed in a joyful way, and considered it the nicest greeting she could remember. After Susan’s conversation she found herself wanting to think of Fred, and was only too pleased to run into him again.

“Fred,” Anne said with a smile. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“I’m glad to see your face didn’t suffer much,” commented Fred. “Is this your friend?”

“Yes. Susan, this is Fred Wentworth. Fred, this is Susan Russell, my best friend.”

“Charmed,” said Susan. “We’d like a canoe, please.”

Fred checked the boat book. “Everything seems in order. If you could be back in two hours I’d appreciate it. There’s another kiddie canoe lesson at one.”

“That’s fine,” said Anne. She and Susan donned lifejackets, and carried paddles out to the first canoe. Susan took the back position, steering the craft, and Anne sat in the front, supplying steady strokes.

“He is attractive, I’ll give you that,” said Susan, when the boat had cleared the dock. Anne blushed. Susan caught a glimpse of Anne’s even pinker cheeks.

“Do whatever you want,” said Susan. “After all, this is just a summer dalliance. No harm at all in that. Just don’t get him fired or anything.”

“Susan!” said Anne. Susan laughed a little at her friend, and steered the conversation, as well as the craft, along a new course.

A few days later the resort held a small dance for the guests, as well as the off-duty employees. Elizabeth was much the center of attention, as Anne had known she would be. Susan, who was dating a youth from their home town of Kellynch, New York, was disdainful of most offers to dance, but enjoyed talking to various visitors who were sitting out in between fulfilling the engagements she thought worthy. Anne enjoyed a number of dances, and was prepared to sit out a few beside Susan when a hand appeared under her elbow, requesting her attention.

“Fred!” said Anne, with pleasure. The attractive youth had been on her thoughts, she had to admit. He looked handsome in his colored shirt, and looked a little different from his usual resort t-shirt-wearing persona from around the waterfront.

“Care to dance?” he asked. Anne nodded, and he led her out onto the dance floor. Susan watched, a smile of sorts on her face. Her neighbor turned to her, and said “now that’s an attractive couple.” Susan had to agree. They looked uncommonly well together, both undoubtedly attractive individuals, with Anne smiling and trusting, Fred tall and considerate.

At the end of the dance, Fred proposed to get Anne a refreshment from the available table. Anne declined. “I’m not thirsty, but I am a little hot. Would you mind awfully if I went and got a breath of fresh air?”

“Not at all. Here, I’ll walk you out. Careful, someone's broken a glass on the step.” He guided her around the broken glass, and onto the stone-flagged patio that usually held lawn chairs during the day, but which had been put away for the night. The sky seemed very close, and yet very large this far out in the country. Anne smiled at the stars, as she gazed upward.

“Looking at the sky again?” Fred teased. Anne had forgotten he was still standing there, and remembered his presence with a blush. She had known him for slightly less than a week, and was confused by the strength of the feelings his presence awoke in her. At sixteen she had never really loved, had never met anyone who had inspired her like Fred inspired her. She didn’t know if he felt the same way about her at all. She thought he wasn’t one to dally with strange girls without meaning it, but she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t be sure. And she couldn’t possibly tell him what she thought about him unless he made her certain of his feelings. Anne knew her family was proud, and this was the Elliot pride, she supposed, that she not sacrifice herself without knowing her feelings were reciprocated.

All the time she was thinking, Fred had been gazing at her, in much the same way as she had just been gazing at the stars.

“What?” Anne asked, amused.

“Did you know you’re beautiful? I thought you were beautiful the first time I saw you, asleep by the shore, your face turning pink in the sun. But you’re even more beautiful in this moonlight. Anne, I mean it. I’m not usually like this... but I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you. A lot.”

The Elliot pride has been assuaged. Anne’s large eyes met Fred’s. “Me, too,” she said softly. Fred was at her side in a minute, and they flew into each other’s arms. There, in the moonlight, they shared the sweetest kiss Anne had yet known.

From the night of the dance onward, Anne and Fred spent a great deal of time together. Susan laughed at it, telling Anne she was wasting her time, and Anne smiled, and agreed that maybe she was. However, the day before they were scheduled to return home, Anne didn’t smile, or agree. She stood by her suitcase, twisting a sock in one hand.

“What is it?” asked Susan, noticing that Anne was quieter than usual.

“I don’t think it’s wasting my time,” said Anne. “Fred’s asked if we can have a long-distance relationship. I said yes.”

“You said what? Oh, Anne... can’t you see this was something to amuse you while we were here in this wilderness? When will you see him? Maybe you keep in touch for a year or two, but then what? What is he going to do with his life? Is it at all compatible with what you want to do with yours? And he is attractive, there will be some other girl, and you’ll end up hurt. You’ll be in high school another two years yet, and him another year... then he’ll be in college. He’ll meet new people... I think it would be best if you cut this all off now, and spare yourself being hurt more later on.”

Anne sat down on the bed. Susan’s comments had occurred to her as well. She didn’t know what Fred wanted to do with his life after college. She didn’t know if there was room for her later on. Was there a point in maintaining a long-distance relationship that might be broken off before they even spent much more time together?

“I’m not asking you to rush out and say no,” said Susan. “But I want you to think about it. I don’t want you to be hurt. You don’t know him all that well. He might not fit into your life, or he into yours. Just think about it, all right?”

Anne nodded.

“Coming down to dinner?” asked Susan, throwing her packed bags off her bed.

“Not just yet,” said Anne. “I want to think a little.”

“I’ll bring up something for you.” Susan smiled. “Don’t look like that. I’m just playing Mother for you.” Anne retreated onto her bed. She certainly missed her mother, and her mother’s guidance. Mrs. Elliot would have known what to do about this. Maybe Susan was right. Maybe this was the wrong decision, to commit herself to a relationship that might not survive. And Anne would be hurt if she put energy into maintaining a relationship that failed. The clock ticked, and after a while Susan came up bearing a sandwich and a glass of milk. She set them on Anne’s bureau, and left the room again. Anne continued to think. The sky grew dark, and Susan returned. She frowned at the uneaten sandwich, and spoke.

“Don’t starve yourself. You’re already thin enough. Get some sleep, we’re leaving at an ungodly hour tomorrow morning.

“Yes,” said Anne. “I think I’ll go take a walk. She picked up the glass of milk, and shambled a little listlessly out of the room. Susan went to bed, hoping that Anne would see that this was all for the best.

Anne had made up her mind that Susan did have her best interests in mind. After all, she’s only known Fred for about four weeks. Four of the most amazing weeks of her life, but a month wasn’t so very long at all. Maybe... yes, Susan must be right. Anne was just sixteen, she wouldn’t know her own heart at this point. Anne drained the glass of milk, and set off to the boathouse where she knew Fred would be securing the resort vessels for the evening before heading back to the staff quarters for the night. It was for the best, wasn’t it? He’d be free, too. Free to enjoy the company of the people he would meet at college, and his friends at school, without feeling guilty about her. It would be better if she removed herself from his life, rather than cause him to modify any plans he might have for the future. With her courage as set as it was going to be, she entered the boathouse, and knocked on the wall to get Fred’s attention.

“Anne!” he called out in that smiling voice of his. He secured a padlock, and was beside her in a moment. “What’s up?” he asked, as he caught sight of her pale face.

“I can’t,” she said. “It wouldn’t be fair. It might be the wrong choice.”

“What?” asked Fred, fearing he knew. It had been astonishing that this beautiful, lithe, and sweet creature cared for him. He kept wondering if he would wake from the dream, and he had a sinking suspicion that dawn was soon.

“I can’t keep up a long-distance relationship with you. I’m sorry. It’s be best if we just said good-bye and went our own ways.”

“Anne,” said Fred, pulling her to sit beside him on an overturned rowboat. “Anne, I can make this work. I’ll come see you. It’ll work.”

“No,” said Anne, breaking into tears, and hating herself for it.

“Anne, why? Was it Susan? Your family?”

“I just shouldn’t,” said Anne, evading the question. “I have been so happy these last weeks, but I shouldn’t. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?” said Fred, taking up her small hands in his. The happiness of the last few weeks was beginning to fall around his ears. He had first admired Anne’s looks, and later discovered how kind she was, how sweet, and clever, and good. She made him want to protect her, but also to do his best for her. She had inspired him, more than any other girl of his acquaintance. He had thought she honestly cared.

Anne was crying freely by this time. “I’d like to Fred, I would. I like you, a lot. But I think I need to be on my own. Please. You’ll understand later on, I’m sure. Good-bye, Fred.” She got up, pulling her hands from his grasp, and ran out the door, back towards the guest lodge. Fred stood in shock for a moment. Maybe she’d change her mind. She had his contact information. She knew where to find him. In the meantime, he could only respect her wishes.

Anne left the next morning, a little pale and withdrawn, after a fitful night. Susan had slept well, and was disgustingly cheerful. Elizabeth was anxious to get back to civilization. Fred was watching swimmers in the lake as Susan’s father came to retrieve the three girls, and didn’t know they were gone until it was too late. Each day he eagerly awaited the mail distribution, but the letter he wanted never came. At the end of the summer, he packed his bags and returned home, determined to put all his energy into schoolwork and sports, and to forget about the lovely elf whom he had loved, just as she, miles away, tried to forget him.

Chapter One:

Posted on Sunday, 10 April 2005

Walter Elliot, a once-prominent advertising executive was no great reader. The one book he derived actual pleasure from was one of his own compilations, a scrapbook of sorts, filled with magazine clippings about himself, his late wife, and his daughters. His elder daughter, Elizabeth, had been a pageant contestant for several years, and photographs of the lovely teenager held a proud place in the book. Mentions of Anne’s academic success were likewise added, though Walter was prouder of Elizabeth than the reserved, hardworking Anne. To Walter manipulation of the system was worth more than achievement within it.

Elizabeth Elliot preferred not to open any book, if she could help it, although a great reader of magazines and newspapers. She liked to know what was happening around her, and to be considered well-informed. The relative brevity of the articles also appealed to her, as her attention span was often quite short when it came to applying herself to matters that would not directly propel her forward through life.

Anne Elliot was a great reader, as her mother had been. In high school she had discovered that she had a great interest in reading, and proceeded to major in the subject when she arrived in college. Fiction and nonfiction alike were of interest to the girl, and her good friend Susan often laughed at Anne's bookish ways, telling her she’d never meet guys that way. Anne demurred, not sure if she wanted to meet guys. Anne was very popular with those she met, her sweetness of temper and good heart appreciated by many, but had withdrawn herself from the world of dating, preferring to work on perfecting herself. Susan shrugged, knowing that her friend was determined. At all costs Susan wanted to avoid talking of Anne’s one real romance, the abbreviated summer dalliance with the lifeguard. Anne’s pallor and self-pity had been painful to watch, and Susan determined that while she had acted correctly, that the whole incident should be forgotten as soon as possible.

It was therefore with great joy that Susan received the news that Anne was accepted to study for a year at the University of Uppercross, in North of England. She’d be among new people and have new adventures. Nothing could be better for Anne. Susan expressed herself thus, when Anne returned to the dormitory suite the two girls shared with two others, their sophomore spring of college.

“You really think so?” asked Anne.

“Absolutely. You’ll have an amazing time. And you’re into all that British history too, where better to study things than in the places where they happened? You have to keep in touch while you’re away.”

“Oh, of course,” said Anne. Despite the fact that she still felt some resentment against Susan for encouraging her to break up with Fred, Susan was her best friend. Susan had been there when Anne’s mother had died. She’d always been there to make sure that Anne was all right, offering the care and support Anne’s father never managed to show. Life without Susan would be a lonely one, as so few people had known Anne for so long, had known what her mother’s death had done to her. Susan was the only one apart from Elizabeth who had known about Fred. Susan was heavily intertwined in Anne’s own history, and she could no more cut herself off from Susan than she could cut herself off from her family. In fact, it was a small piece of news she had recently learned that made her as willing to go across the Atlantic to study for a whole year, so far from her home.

“Sus,” said Anne, catching her roommate’s attention again.

“Hmm?” asked Susan, looking up from a page of class notes.

“My dad’s decided to rent the house in Kellynch.”

“What?” asked Susan, in surprise. Walter Elliot was so proud of the old family house, which had been owned by Elliots since 1800. It was a sizable building, with beautiful grounds, by far the most attractive dwelling within miles and miles of Kellynch, not to mention within easy commuting distance to New York City. The Elliots couldn’t hope to find a house half so nice anywhere else in the region.

“He’s renting it. To be quite honest, you know his firm hasn’t been doing well. And he and Liz are extravagant. That’s just fact. Well, he’s picked up an interesting piece of news, that some large conglomerate in England is looking for new representative, and his partner has decided that my father can get the account. So he’s renting out the Kellynch house, and with that income is going to get a place in Bath for a good part of the year.”

“So you’ll be near your family next year, after all?” asked Susan, not sure whether to be pleased or not. Anne felt she had a duty to help her family as much as possible, and cared for them, though Susan knew that Anne was very happy on her own at college, even if the college was within an afternoon’s drive of Kellynch.

“Yes. I feel better about this, really, now. I’m very excited. I can't wait to take some of the courses being offered at Uppercross. But it isn’t all that close. I’m going to be near York, and Bath is much further south.”

“But it’s not the world’s largest island or anything. You’ll see your family?”

“Well, at Christmas, certainly. I’ll be glad of that. Otherwise I don’t know if I’d take the expense of coming home for the holidays.”

“Everything seems to have worked out nicely. I’m so glad.”

“Thanks. I’m happy about everything.”

“Only it’s a shame about the Kellynch house. So, your father will be renting it out for the year?”

“At least. He might very well stay in England, if he gets the account. I don’t know. Liz wants to date an aristocrat there.”

“Huh,” said Susan. She didn’t much like Anne’s sister, who had a somewhat exaggerated idea of her own importance, as beautiful and clever as she was. “Won’t Liz get bored out in Bath? I mean, she doesn’t know anyone there.”

“Didn’t I ever tell you that my mother used to live in Bath when she was younger? We’ve got family friends there, still, though my father never liked them. The Smiths. But anyway, Liz is bringing a friend along. You met Nell Clay?”

“Who was called Penny before she started running after anything in pants? Of course I do,” said Susan, dryly. Penny had been a quiet girl for years, until blooming into very showy beauty, and taking advantage of the increased interest men were showing her. She now called herself Nell, and was one of Liz’s closer friends, as much as Liz had close friends. She was inclined to shun the company of many other girls, liking to stand out, but Penny was from Kellynch, and her father worked with Walter Elliot. Furthermore, Penny was (in Liz’s mind) refreshingly non particular about her men, content to take whomever Liz had no interest in. They got along very well indeed.

“Well, said Susan, after remembering a moment, “England won’t know what hit her when those girls get off the plane.”

“Spare me,” said Anne. “Well, I’m going to pick up my notes and go find some more sources for my paper.”

“I’ll give you a call when the other girls get back. You deserve to be taken out to dinner in celebration of going abroad.”

“Curry?” asked Anne, hopefully.

“Done,” said Susan.

As the school year closed, Anne received specific information about her year in at Uppercross. Each new fact was reported to Susan, who gave her opinion. They shared many a merry hour together, looking at the descriptions of the houses in Bath Walter Elliot was looking at, and Liz’s e-mails listing names of titled men she had decided she must meet, and descriptions of the new wardrobe she was assembling. In addition to the preparations of her family, Anne enjoyed receiving a roommate assignment for Uppercross, another girl, Mary Morrison, who was going abroad for the year, who normally went to college in California. Anne had talked to Mary a few times, and communicated by e-mail, and was rather amused to the likable, if demanding, girl. Susan shared Anne’s amusement over a communication from Mary, with a slight bemused look on her face.

“I wonder what she’s like in person. I’ve never seen anyone dwell so long on the likely damp of England. And she must have every allergy in the book. Still, she seems to have her heart in the right place, and she seems to be a pleasant and capable young woman. No getting stuck with some dweeb who’ll never leave the room,” said Susan. “She seems to be quite able to have a good time, and is another history student. Sounds ideal. Tell me all about everything, when you get there.” Susan and Anne had never been apart for more than a few weeks in their entire lives, and Susan wondered how Anne would fare on her own, though she had a suspicion that Anne would bloom best left to her own devices for a short time.

“Do you wish you were studying abroad?” asked Anne.

“Not really,” said Susan. “I’m studying biology. We have a great department, I don’t feel like I have to go anywhere else. I’ll be happy here, as long as you tell me everything you do. I’ll live through you, honey.”

Anne smiled. “I’ll spend a fortune on stamps.”

“That’s my girl,” said Susan.

When Anne’s sophomore year of college had ended, she prepared for a busy summer. She had found a summer job as a research and office assistant at her college, and intended to live in town until she left for England. Since the house at Kellynch would be rented out in the summer, provided Walter could be persuaded to actually decide on a tenant, it was Anne’s job to pack up her own belongings and to prepare several boxes of family belongings to be shipped to Bath, while packing up others to store in the attic of the house. Liz found the process tedious, and flitted in and out to help, amidst more interesting summer activities, including afternoons golfing at the country club, and shopping excursions into the City.

Susan, having decided not to work over the summer, came to help Anne with the difficult task of removing decorations Anne’s mother had put up. While Walter had adjusted himself to and moved on from the death of his wife, whom he had loved greatly, he had left the house as his wife had left it. The task of removing pictures and objects of art her mother had placed about the house was very hard on Anne, as was the task of packing up her entire room. A few items would go along to Uppercross, but most would be stored in the Kellynch house’s large attics, to be retrieved again whenever Walter knew where he would be living.

The girls had finished removing whatever items from the downstairs the Elliots did not wish the new tenants to handle, and moved up to the second story, where Anne’s room was. Susan sorted through Anne’s clothes, consulting her on which to store, which to pack, and which to give away.

“I remember this sweater,” said Susan, fingering a small but lovely hand-knitted garment of merino wool, angora and cashmere. “Your mother made this for you, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Anne, taking it up, and holding it against her cheek. “I’m saving it for when I have a daughter.”

“Then you plan to get married?” asked Susan. She never could tell with Anne, since Anne had so disregarded the interested company of young men.

“Someday,” said Anne, vaguely. She picked up a sleeveless shirt from a pile of summer clothes Susan had left on the bed. “I always liked this one,” said Anne. It was a light cotton shirt, very well fitted to Anne’s slender torso, in a blue-gray that brought out her eyes, and looked very well with her soft brown hair. Her eyes darkened a moment, remembering the summer she’d bought it, and the fact that she’d been wearing this very shirt the day she met Frederick. But there was no need to remember Frederick. He was part of the past. Susan noticed the look, and changed the subject,

“Which books do you want to bring along?” she asked, merrily, heading towards the book case.

“I’ll sort them into two piles, said Anne. “If you could box them, that would be wonderful.”

Susan chuckled at the selections Anne chose to take along with her to Uppercross.

“It’s not like they don’t have libraries there,” Susan said, taking up a copy of Anne’s Winnie the Pooh.

“But I like my books. I’m only taking the one box.”

Susan shrugged, and proceeded to pack Alice in Wonderland, Northanger Abbey, I Capture the Castle and The Game of Kings and a handful of old Mary Stewart novels into the box, and Anne handed them down. Anne paused as she came across a photo album. “Pack this too,” she said. It wasn’t from any one coherent period of time, rather a collection of Anne’s favorite snapshots, including ones of her mother, Susan, and her home. And one of Frederick. She wondered what had happened to him, whether he was now dating some other girl, if he hated her, what he was studying, whether he was working at the same resort. The next summer Walter had taken his daughters and Susan to Paris, to practice Elizabeth’s French. She had never returned. She wondered if he had waited for her to come, or if she’d driven him away from a good job.

Catching herself starting to mope, Anne moved back to the pile of clothes on the bed, and within an hour had stripped her room of it’s decorations, leaving only empty furniture and the pleasant green rug. Susan helped her store the boxes that would stay, and to carry those boxes to Anne’s car that would eventually be going with her to Uppercross. It was only a matter of a few months now, until Anne would be among new people, in the country of her mother’s birth. It was a chance to start afresh, and Anne determined to make the most of it.

Chapter Two:

Posted on Sunday, 17 April 2005

Anne’s roommate, Mary Morrison, arrived several hours after Anne had finished moving into the smallish double bedroom they would be sharing. The room had held two desks, two beds, two wardrobes, a sink, and little else. However, after a morning of hard work, Anne had home-ily spread out her own belongings, adding a throw of her own over the bed, hanging a few pictures, and setting out her own books and knickknacks. The overall effect was simple and pleasant, and a delight to the eye, as Mary insisted, after she arrived. The dormitory had a porter, who helped Mary with her boxes, as Anne had been helped with hers earlier. Mary tipped him, and sat down on a box, with a theatrical gesture.

“What a journey! You know, there’s an eight hour difference, or nine or something, from my home? And it’s so cool and cloudy here. To think that it’s still September! I think I’ve developed a cold, I had to sit next to the most fretful toddler, who kept wiping his nose on anything and everything he could reach. I’m sure I’m going to be sick for my first few days here, how unfair is that? I must say, it’s very homey looking in here. You did a lovely job. Will you help me get my things sorted out, and then we can go somewhere to eat and get acquainted.”

“Sure,” said Anne, amused by her roommate’s verbosity. Susan had been right about Mary’s lack of shyness or awkwardness. Mary was a slightly short, slightly round girl with two of the most impressive dimples Anne had ever seen. Her eyes were warm and brown, her hair sun-bleached blond, her skin beautifully tanned after a summer of being outdoors in the California sun, her cheeks pink and rosy despite themselves. She was dressed smartly in gray linen pants and a light sweater, hands immaculately tended. Anne tended to notice people’s hands. She had liked Frederick for his calloused, warm hands, and admired Susan’s long fingers. Mary’s hands were lovely, though currently busy finding a throat spray in her hand bag. Locating the item, she sprayed it twice into the back of her mouth, patted her hair, and smiled.

“I have to take care of myself,” Mary said, by way of explanation. “I’m very delicate.” Anne wanted to snort to herself, as Mary was a sturdy girl, with a healthy complexion and abundant energy. She fell into helping Mary with her belongings, and soon the room was cozily filled with their clothes, books, music and twin laptops stood on their desks. Pictures and posters neatly decorated the walls. Pleased with Anne’s taste in putting things up, Mary urged Anne to get a jacket, and come out to explore the town of Uppercross with her. Anne donned sunglasses and a light brown linen jacket, and followed Mary out of the dorm and towards the main street of the town. Soon they were surrounded by small shops and eateries, churches and municipal buildings. Mary grinned.

“It’s adorable,” she proclaimed. “Let’s eat.” She selected a nearby cafe, charmingly called ‘The White Hart’, and soon they were seated at a wooden table in the crowded place. After Mary had eaten an astonishing quantity of food for someone who was as convinced as she that she was going to be ill the two paid the bill and wandered off. Some little way down the street, Anne realized she had left her jacket at the White Hart.

“I’ll just be a minute,” she said.

“I’ll come with you. It’s no bother,” they turned, retracing their steps towards the White Hart. They hadn’t gotten far, when they ran into a pleasant-looking young man, bearing Anne’s coat.

“There you are. I saw you leave this, and thought I’d see if you were still in the vicinity.” He had a dimple in one cheek, and looked very friendly. From his accent Anne determined that he was ‘a native’, and he appeared to be roughly her own age.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting her jacket, and sliding it over her old gray-blue shirt.

“I’m Charles Musgrove,” said the stranger, cheerfully. “And you?”

“Anne Elliot.”

“From the States?”

“Yes. Here for a year. I’m from near New York City.” Mary coughed, wanting to be in on the conversation. “Oh yes, this is my roommate, Mary Morrison.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Mary. “From around here?”

“Actually, from Sheffield. But I am a student here, and I’ve been living here all summer.”

“What are you studying?” asked Mary.

“History,” said Charles.

“As are we,” said Mary, delightedly.

“Excellent,” said Charles. “Are you headed anywhere in particular, or can I help you get somewhere?” he asked, courteously.

“Just wandering,” said Anne, in her simple, musical voice.

“I’ll show you the town if you like,” said Charles, who had already taken a liking to the quiet American girl with the jacket.

“Fabulous,” said Mary, as Anne’s face broke into a genuine smile.

Uppercross was a fairly small town, grown up around the university, and serving its needs. Anne was charmed by the architecture, and listened to every story Charles recounted with amusement and delight. By the end of the town tour the three had decided they were friends, and he asked where they were living so that he might call upon them some time soon.

“We’re in Liddell Hall,” said Mary. “Second floor.”

Charles laughed. “Then I’ll call on you quite soon indeed. That’s where I’ll be living once the term starts. I have a single at the far end of the building.”

“That’s the side we are on,” said Mary, with delight.

“My cousin, Hetty, and her roommate, will be living there, too,” said Charles. “I see a neighborly year ahead. I’ll be sure to stop by some time soon.” He smiled, and walked them back to Liddell Hall. As they went inside, and up the stairs to their room, Mary said brightly, “there’s one nice English guy right up front. Amazing.”

“You can have him,” said Anne. Charles was very nice, and had been quite attentive, but he didn’t inspire her with confidence and devotion as Frederick had. She knew she had to stop comparing everyone to Frederick, but couldn’t. And Charles... Charles was endearing, but not at all right.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Mary, defensively.

“Nothing at all. He’s charming, and friendly, and seems to know a lot of local history. I just don’t think he’s right for me in that way.”

“Well, we’ll see,” said Mary. “He was taken by you, you can’t deny it. Coming out with your jacket? People don’t do that sort of thing at home.”

When the term had started, Charles visited immediately, as he had promised the girls. Anne had been in an English social history class with Charles that morning, who had been charming and exceedingly helpful. He had promised to lend her a book the lecturer had referred to in class, a volume Anne had never heard of, but which many of the home students had read in past courses. He was true to his word, knocking on the door with the book cheerfully.

“Anyone in?” he asked, as Anne opened the door.

“Me. Mary’s checking to see if she got any mail, downstairs, and will be back in a minute or two.”

“Excellent. My cousin and her roommate are in, and said they’d be pleased to meet you.”

“All right,” said Anne, closing her laptop. “When Mary gets back. She’ll want to meet them, too.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” said Charles, flopping into Mary’s chair comfortably. He looked around, and then smiled at Anne. As on the day he had met her, she was dressed simply and elegantly, still with the far-off look in her eyes that confused him.

“So, how was the day as a whole?” he asked.

“Good,” said Anne, collecting her thoughts. “I’m really enjoying it. It’s lovely to be around all these different people, and my classes are fascinating. The whole large lecture thing is so different from my liberal arts school. The class from the morning was so large.”

“You’ll manage better when you’ve had a tutorial,” said Charles. “You know, it’s so strange the way educational systems can differ so much. I’m sure I’d be terrified in one of your small classes.” Anne smiled at that.

“Have you been meeting lots of people?” asked Charles.

“Some,” said Anne, in her soft voice. “It’s been very interesting, really, meeting so many English people. My mother was English, and every time I hear an accent like hers, it makes me think of her.”

“Whereabouts was your mother from?” asked Charles, curiously.

“She grew up in Bath.” Charles nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but broke off as Mary entered, a large package in her arms.

“Guess what I have?” she trilled merrily, her smile growing as she observed the personable young Englishman in her chair.

“What?” asked Anne, giving Mary the attention she craved.

“My Aunt Melanie’s famous fudge. It’s exquisite. You’ll love it. It’s so rich and creamy... mmm!” Anne marveled how Mary could eat so much rich food and complain so much about falling ill. Surely Mary wouldn’t try to make herself sick? “Anyway, you shall all have some. Charles, it’s lovely to see you! What on earth have you been doing with yourself these last few days?”

“Bit of this and that,” said Charles, not disinclined to be friendly to Anne’s amicable roommate. “But I really came to have you two come down the hall a little and meet my cousin and her roommate. Two more friendly faces and all.”

“Awesome,” said Mary, tossing the box of fudge onto her bed. “Let’s go now.”

“As you wish,” said Anne. She filed out of the room behind the eager Mary, aware, with misgiving and a little annoyance that Charles had placed his hand on the small of her back. She increased her pace, and caught up to Mary, who was babbling happily about all the people she’d met, and how easy she thought the classes would be, and how someone had invited her to a party that weekend.

“This is it,” said Charles, who had caught up to the girls, and was pointing towards a plain door. He knocked, and answered the reply with, “It’s me, girls.”

“You took your sweet time,” said a lively voice from inside. “Let’s see these American gems.” A tall, slim and beautiful brunette had opened the door, and indicated that the three were to come in. When they had all sat down, Charles made introductions.

“My new American friends, Anne Elliot and Mary Morrison. This is Louisa,” he said, indicating the brunette. She raised her heart-shaped face from her hands and gave them a small wave and glowing smile. “And this is Hetty, my cousin.” A buxom and rosy blond with Charles’ dimples smiled at the two.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “My cousin told me we had to meet you, and though no one has let you utter a word yet you seem charming. Welcome to our humble abode.” She gestured to a small settle in front of the window. “Please sit down. I want to hear all about you. And your homes. I visited Los Angeles last year, and thought it fascinating.”

“I’m from California,” said Mary, brightly. “Near Los Angeles, actually. My father is an agent.” Anne had heard Mary talk about her father and his semi-famous clients multiple times by now, and was only too pleased to be drawn into a conversation with Charles and Louisa.

“And where are you from, Anne?” asked Louisa.

“I live in a town called Kellynch. It’s in the commute zone around New York City.”

“It’s a wonderful city, I’ve heard,” said Louisa. “But I’ve never been. I’ve been to France and Italy for holidays with my parents, and Switzerland for school skiing holidays, but never the States. Do you go to uni around the city?”

“It’s a liberal arts college, and it’s not all that far. There’s a train.”

“Excellent,” said Louisa. “What are you studying?”

“History.”

“Like Charles.” She nodded her head towards the silent young man, sitting beside Anne.

“Yes. You?”

“Economics.”

“I’m impressed,” said Anne. “I found my macro class last year to be difficult.”

“I’m sure I’d find your history courses likewise. Specialization of fields makes so much sense. I’m glad I don’t have to take courses I would find dull. I like economics, and I’m taking it.”

"She’s brilliant,” put in Hetty. “And the males of the department are in awe of her.”

“Oh, them,” said Louisa dissuasively. “I can’t understand why our department is filled with such odd characters.”

“They all want her, and she won’t pay them the least attention,” confided Hetty in a loud whisper. “The upside is that they all hold so many parties for the other majors and friends of majors in hopes that she’ll come and get drunk and shag one of them.”

“Hetty!” said Charles. “Really.” Hetty smirked.

“It’s true.” She then turned to Anne. “Mary says your mother was English?”

“Yes. She was born and raised in Bath.”

“Interesting,” said Hetty. “You’re half-English, then. Do you have family in Bath, still?”

“My mother’s family is all dead,” said Anne, quietly. “But my father and sister have taken a house for some time there.”

“You’ll have family to go to on holidays, then? That’s nice.”

“Yes,” said Anne, not knowing what else to say. She was spared by the ringing of the room telephone. Hetty leaned over and answered it.

“John? Lovely! What?” she paused to listen. “Sounds fantastic. See you in a few? All right. See you then.” She looked back at Louisa “John says he and Philip and Geoff are driving to York in half an hour, and want to know if we’d like to come along. I’m going.”

“How long are they staying?” asked Louisa.

“The plan seems to be to get a bite to eat, and then swing by the Gallery for a while.”

“I’m game,” said Louisa. “Leaving in half an hour you say?”

“Indeed.”

“We’ll leave you to getting ready, then,” said Charles. “Just wanted to introduce the Americans to you.”

“Nice meeting you, as I said,” said Hetty. “Make sure you visit again, and we’ll take you to the pubs one night, all right?”

“Sounds great,” said Mary, smiling.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” said Louisa, getting up to show them out. “But don’t feel shy about stopping by, I’m usually here in the afternoons. Let’s talk Bath some time, Anne. And you two certainly need a proper initiation into Uppercross pub life. And, for that matter, York nightclub life. Cheers, girls.” The door shut.

“Well, I think I’ll head down to the Sports Centre, Anne, Mary. Feel free to stop by the room whenever you want, or if you need a guide.”

“All right,” said Mary. Charles parted ways with the girls, and they returned to their room. “Well, I thought the girls were lovely,” said Mary. “So friendly. I thought British people were reserved.”

“They all can’t be. And my mother was one of the nicest people I knew.”

“I’m sure, honey,” said Mary, soothingly. “Still, I’m glad we have some new friends.”

“Yes,” said Anne. She was glad. It really seemed like she was being given a fresh chance in life, and she planned to enjoy it. If only she could convince Charles that she wasn’t interested in him beyond his friendship, life really would be rosier than it had been in over four years. Anne suddenly smiled, and skipped back to the room, to call Susan, and tell her everything she’d done that day.

Chapter Three:

Posted on Sunday, 24 April 2005

By the end of the second week of classes, Anne felt at home at Uppercross. Though Mary could bit a little trying, Anne enjoyed her company. She made many friends in their hall, and in her classes, through Charles, Hetty and Louisa. The two girls were rather taken with Anne’s mild manner and understanding ear, and liked to have her along with them on their forays about the town. Mary was a little jealous of their attention, and often invited herself along on these trips. The girls bore it well, liking Mary well enough, as long as she wasn’t complaining of her health. Both had little patience for this quick of Mary’s.

Charles, too, spent a great deal of time with the two sets of roommates. He had classes with Anne, though none with Mary, but stopped by their room a great deal. Anne had a pretty good idea of what he was about, and sighed a little to herself, whenever she thought about it. It wasn’t that she’d forsworn men, or anything like that -- she even acknowledged that she was fairly well over her disappointment all those years ago -- but Frederick had set the bar high. Charles wasn’t what she wanted from a boyfriend. He was charming, and sweet, and good-natured, but he didn’t inspire feelings beyond friendship in him. Her heart didn’t quicken when he entered a room, rather, his presence just brought forth a good-natured smile on her face. Charles was an attentive friend... too attentive.

Mary recognized the gist of the situation, just as Anne did.

“You’ll have to do something about it soon,” she said, with just a hint of jealously in her voice, one afternoon after Charles had stopped by with a stack of books on Bath, just because Anne had mentioned she knew next to nothing about her mother’s childhood home. Both girls thought the action unnecessary, though sweet. Anne was rather embarrassed, and Mary a little wistful. Everyone did seem to fawn on sweet, dear Anne, and ignore her. Not Anne, who was a wonderful friend, but many of the students she’d met found her loud attitude a little frightening. Anne however, had assured her that once people got used to her they’d like her. Already Hetty and Louisa, though not thrilled with Mary’s company, counted her as one of their circle, and to the privileges implied therein.

“I know,” said Anne. “It’s just that I like him as a friend. He’s so sweet. But not in that way. And I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“Honey,” said Mary, a little exasperated. “Either you go out with him and make him happy, or you say no and make you happy. There’s always a choice, and it’s best to look out for yourself.”

“I guess,” said Anne, idly fingering her pen. She’d never looked towards her own good before, apart from applying to this study abroad program. She’d always done things to please her father, or Elizabeth, or Susan.

“Well, you know that I think you should either date Charles, or tell him you’re not interested. You have this way of going around being utterly sweet, and I’m sure Charles doesn’t know what to think. Just tell him what you want, and do it. You’ve told your friend at home all about this, what does she say to do?”

“Oh, Susan?” asked Anne. She hated herself for always needing Susan’s advice when it came to boys. Wasn’t her own instinct ever good enough? Not that she knew how to go about doing what she wanted...

“Susan, that’s right.”

“She says if I like him at all that he’d be good for me.”

“But?”

“But if he’s not right, don’t bother.”

“See? It’ll be easy. Next time the two of you are alone, just tell him you’re not interested.”

“But is that too presumptuous? I mean, if he doesn’t like me like that?”

“But he does. Everyone’s seen it.”

“All right,” said Anne, steeling herself again. It brought back memories of Frederick, and her tearful trip down to the boathouse with the glass of milk. She remembered the glass so vividly, the walk to the boathouse not at all. The walk back had been long, and dark.

“You’ll be fine,” said Mary. “And if you want someone else, just tell me. I’d be happy to help you find a nice guy.”

“All right,” said Anne. “Whatever. Look, I’m going to go talk to Louisa, and see what’s up for Thursday night.”

“Ooh, be sure to tell me, okay?” asked Mary. “I like those girls.”

“All right,” said Anne, and she wandered out of the room.

Anne knocked on Louisa and Hetty’s door a little hesitantly, not really wanting to talk to anyone, though Louisa’s carefree worldly manner was much more appealing to Anne right now than Mary’s insisting one was. When there was no response, Anne knocked again, before turning to leave. Sighing, and not wishing to return to her room, Anne turned to the stairway. She thought that maybe one of the girls in her tutorial would be around somewhere. As Anne walked, she ran into Hetty ascending the stair, arm entwined with that of a tall, quiet young man. Hetty broke into a smile as she beheld Anne.

“Anne! You look a little gloomy. Come and talk. Oh, I’ve wanted you to meet someone.” She patted the young man’s arm, and he smiled quietly at her. “This is Charles Hayter. We all call him Hayter, since everyone gets confused with my cousin otherwise. Hayter, this is Anne Elliot, the half-English American I told you about.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Hayter, with a small bow of sorts. He seemed a reserved man, and Anne wondered a little idly how he and Hetty, who was the archetypal bubbly blond, got along.

“And you.”

“Anne, you do look a little distraught. Hayter, would you mind awfully if I talked to Anne a bit before we work on the itinerary? You’re a darling.”

“That’s all right,” said Hayter. “I’ll go check your post for you.”

“As I said, a darling,” said Hetty, as Hayter turned his back and went back down the stairs. “We’re planning a weekend in Bordeaux.”

“You’re involved?”

“For about a year now. Off and on. But he’s just the sweetest person. I can’t believe you hadn’t met him yet.”

“I didn’t know he existed,” said Anne, quite truthfully.

“Well, he works in the Divinity library, and doesn’t see the light of day unless I drag him out.”

“But how did you meet, if he’s divinity?”

“Well, last year the Divinity offices were near the Lit offices, since both were being renovated. We met in the hall quite by accident. And since then we’ve met in various places. I know he’s a bit of an odd fish, but sweeter than anyone, my cousin included.”

Anne’s face must have shown her panic, and Hetty laughed.

“Is that what’s causing the trouble? No need to worry. Charles is adorable, but I can’t think him entirely right for you either. Of course we’d love you to be an honorary part of the family, but don’t feel obliged.”

“I just don’t entirely know what to do about it,” said Anne, as the two girls sat down in Hetty’s room.

“Just be nice about it, tell him the truth, and he’ll accept it. I’ve known him all my life, and he’s a nice chap.”

“Who is?” asked Louisa, coming in the door with a newspaper in her hand.

“Charles.”

“Ah, Charles. He’s a bit obvious, isn’t he? How are you Anne?”

“Feeling a little oppressed by unwanted admiration.”

“Unwanted? You don’t know the half of it, though Charles is sweeter than most blokes. He’s the brother I never had, and all that, since I met him.”

“Yes. Well, me too.”

“Just tell him. You’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” said Anne, dubiously. There was a knock on the door.

“That’ll be Hayter,” said Hetty. “Come in!”

The door opened, and Charles peeked his head around.

“Sorry to interrupt the council of war, or whatever it you are up to, but I was looking for Anne.”

“I’m here,” said Anne, quietly.

“Excellent. I thought I’d see if you received the new copy of the reading schedule for social history.”

“Oh,” said Anne. “No.”

“If you’ll stop by my room sometime soon, you can borrow mine to copy.”

“All right,” said Anne.

“No time like the present,” said Louisa, urging Anne up. Anne shot her a look, and Louisa mouthed the words ‘get it out of the way’. Anne sighed, and followed Charles out of the room, and down the hall a little. Charles held the door open for her, like the gentleman he was. His desk was untidy, but the schedule he was looking for was on top of the mess.

“Here we are,” he said, handing it to her. “Here’s a pen and paper, if you want to copy it.”

“All right,” said Anne, reduced to monosyllables in dread of the talk she knew had to come soon. She fell to copying hurriedly.

“Anne?” asked Charles after a minute.

“Mmm hmm?”

“There’s going to be a disco thrown by one of the clubs I’m in, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Anne looked up slowly, and gazed at Charles’ good-natured face, a little pink, and intent. His eyes were pleading, and soft.

“Charles, I -- Charles, I really don’t feel anything for you that way. I’m sorry.”

He looked a little crest-fallen.

“Is there someone back home?”

“There was someone, he’s nothing to me now, but that’s not it. I just esteem you greatly as a friend, and not at all in that way. I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“Charles, you had every right to. You’re a charming person, and I’m very pleased to be your friend, but I can’t in good conscience be anything more. I’d be unhappy, knowing that I didn’t return your feelings.”

“I can’t deny that I’m unhappy this can’t be more, but I do enjoy your friendship,” said Charles.

“And I enjoy yours. You were the first person to really welcome me to my mother’s country, and I’m indebted to you for that. I couldn’t imagine being here without you, Charles, but I still can’t see my way into it.”

“Are we still friends, then?”

“The best,” said Anne, sincerely. She impulsively reached out and hugged him. She could tell his heart was beating quickly, but knew that he would be fine. He was a hardy character, and sweet. They’d be friends.

“Will you go to the disco with me as a friend, then?” asked Charles, when Anne had let go of him.

“All right,” said Anne. “Just as long as everything is clear between us.”

“My lady,” said Charles, giving a mock bow.

Louisa was idling in the hall when Anne left Charles room with her copied reading assignments.

“So...?” she drawled, cocking her lovely head to the side.

“We talked. It’s all clear. We’re to be friends.”

“Good girl. Isn’t everything happier now?”

“For me.”

“You can’t go around doing things for other people’s benefit all the time. You need to look out for your own interests, too.”

“That’s a lesson I learned a long time ago,” said Anne, wistfully. Refusing Charles had been much easier than rejecting Frederick, but she wouldn’t care to repeat either experience.

“Hullo!” said a voice near them. They both turned, startled suddenly. Hayter was there, laden with packages.

“I think Hetty went on another online shopping excursion,” said Louisa, amused.

“Need help?” asked Anne. She was only too grateful to be given packages and a purpose for a short time. Hetty’s face poked out from the door, and she broke into a grin.

“Lovely! Now I’ve got clothes to wear again. Girls, we are going to have some fun,” she announced. Mary appeared in the hallway. “Can I join in?” she asked.

“Feel free,” said Hetty. “I have a top that would fit you, unlike these stick-lassies.”

“We’re happy with our natural figures as you are yours,” said Louisa, in a mock haughty voice.

“Come off it,” said Hetty. “Just wait until the next night out. I’ve got Hayter, but Mary here will sweep some nice chap off his feet, see if she doesn’t.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Mary, grinning.

Chapter Four:

Posted on Sunday, 1 May 2005

Once Anne had clarified matters with Charles, she felt as if a load had been lifted from her shoulders. She was glad when the next day in class he was as friendly as he had ever been, and everything happened as usual, minus the anxiety on her own part. After class they had lunch together at the commissary, just as they had been accustomed to in previous weeks.

“Oh,” said Charles, rummaging in his bag, “I forgot, but as I passed the post boxes this morning, I saw there was a letter for you from your friend. I brought it along since I knew this was the day you didn’t get back until late afternoon.” He produced an airmail envelope, and presented it to Anne with a flourish.

“Thank you,” she said. “That was sweet of you.”

“You know me,” said Charles, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice, “I’m the friendly and sweet one.”

“Oh Charles, don’t be like that. We’ll find you the perfect girl, and you’ll be so happy you’ll forget all about me.”

“I don’t forget friends.”

“And you’re all the more special for it. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as nice as you, Charles.”

“Glad to know I meet your expectations in some way.”

“Charles!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. You read your letter, and I’ll focus intently on the lettuce in this sandwich.” Anne laughed as he proceeded to stare closely at the contents of the sandwich.

“Charles, you’re priceless. It won’t take me long to read the letter.”

She broke the seal of the envelope with the back of her fork, and unfolded the thick letter from inside. Dear Susan. She’d written a long letter, and Anne smiled as she read the gossip from her home college, and Kellynch. Her attention was particularly called to a passage about her home, the renting of which she knew very little about, her father and Elizabeth not seeing it fit to mention in their sparse correspondence.

... Anne, I met the couple who rented your house last weekend, when I was home. Mother had them over for dinner, and I’ve got to say they’re rather endearing in an eccentric sort of way. He’s a bit older than her, in his early forties I think, and does something decently high up in the navy. He came into a fair bit of money recently from some patent, or something, and he’s enjoying semiretirement in Kellynch, though I gather he drives into the City a few days a week to do something at some headquarters there. She is in her early thirties, and seems to be something of a traveler. She’s a freelance writer, I think, and contributes to a magazine, I forget which. Their name is Croft, by the way. I didn’t catch his name, but hers is Sophy. He’s bought a cute little car, and they go touring around all the scenic places, and it’s adorable. They’ve apparently changed things around a bit at the house, but my mother says it’s all for the better.

Anyway, the exciting thing was that Sophy’s brother, who is about ten years younger or something, is currently at Uppercross too! It’s such a coincidence. Anyway, she called him Rick, but I didn’t catch what her maiden name was, and I wonder if you’ve run into him? Apparently her other brother, Ed, just got married and Rick missed the orientation, so maybe not. He’s going through the same program as you, anyway, but for econ, I think. So, if you run into him, all I can say is it’s a very small world.

Tell me what’s up with that guy Charles, about whom you were telling me about. Did you do anything? I’m sure I’ll have talked on the phone with you a hundred times by now (transatlantic mail is so slow!). Let me know all the news, and I’m totally looking forward to that letter you said you sent. Life here is so different without you, I can’t wait until the summer when you’re finally home again! How’s the family in Bath? Seen them at all yet? I guess they haven’t been there all that long yet. Anyway, all the best girlie,
Yours,
Susan

Anne put the letter down carefully. There were probably hundreds of people about her age with siblings called Sophy and Ed, but those has been the names of Frederick’s sister and brother. And Rick? Well, maybe it was for something different... Patrick? Fitzpatrick? Maverick? There had to be plenty of other people who’d fit the description. But it was possible that her fresh start wasn’t a fresh start at all. She knew if she saw Fred again she might loose her resolve to bloom and grow away from past limitations and disappointments.

“Are you all right, Anne?” asked Charles, concerned.

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you get bad news?”

“Oh, no. Sorry. Just some surprising gossip from back home, that’s all.”

“All right. You just looked a bit pale.”

“Nothing a little chocolate won’t cure,” said Anne, with her soft smile.

“Good girl. Look, I’ve got to go do some reading now, but I’m sure I’ll see you around Liddell. We’re still on for that disco on Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Make sure Hetty, Hayter, Louisa and Mary know they’re invited too, will you? If you see them, that is.”

“Of course,” said Anne. “Go and do your reading.”

Saturday came, and the members of Anne’s social circle prepared to go to the disco being held by one of Charles’ clubs. Hetty and Hayter attended together, and Anne with Charles, though Mary and Louisa spent a great deal of time with them, as well. The girls and Hayter had all left Liddell together, with the intent of meeting Charles at the party. Hetty had gotten hold of Mary, and they’d spent a good part of the day trying on clothes and giggling in Hetty and Louisa’s room. Louisa rolled her eyes at them, as she and Anne sat flipping through Hello! idly.

“Just because you can stop a battalion in their tracks without trying doesn’t mean we shouldn’t spend a lot of time preparing yourselves,” said Hetty, teasingly, in return.

“I wish,” said Louisa. “And believe me, despite the fact I think that four hours is entirely unreasonable, I have to admit you two look good. Anne?” Anne looked up.

“Mary, you look amazing,” she said, surprised. She hadn’t really been paying attention to her roommate.

“Doesn’t she?” asked Hetty, proudly. Mary’s hair has been curled in long, loose ringlets, pulled back from her face with a thin silk band. The color of the band matched the lovely glossy top Hetty has loaned Mary, and the sandals Mary had contributed to the ensemble. The pants she’d chosen were of a flattering cut, and she looked genuinely happy with her appearance. Mary twirled for them.

“Not bad at all,” she said to Hetty. Hetty smiled, and patted her own hair.

“If I may say so myself, we’ll outshine the room.” Hetty had had her hair cut earlier in the day, and now it was a halo of golden curls that was singularly flattering to her face. She’d chosen a flirty little blue dress that brought out her eyes. She looked absolutely delighted with everything.

“Just wait until Hayter gets here,” said Louisa, mischievously. “He’s going to be more speechless than usual.”

“Hey!” said Hetty. “He may be quiet, but he’s one of the best guys I’ve ever met.”

“Best in what?” said Louisa, still teasing. “In bed?”

“Silence. ... Though, yes,” confided Hetty. “But he’s a darling all around.”

“I know,” said Mary, enviously. “What sort of fellow fetches one’s mail and books and things all the time?”

Anne blushed, thinking how Charles still fetched her mail, but was soothed at the thought that Charles seemed to be getting over his disappointment well.

“So, what are you girls going to be wearing?” asked Mary. “We leave in twenty minutes, you know, so you might want to do something about it.”

“Oh, just some old thing,” said Louisa, with a grin.

“You liar,” accused Hetty playfully. “She’s got a new top, it’s gorgeous. Brown silk, beautiful cut, everything. It’ll go beautifully with some trousers. What’re you wearing, Anne?”

“Mary wants me to wear the skirt from Marks and Spencer,” said Anne. “I haven’t worn it yet, but it is sort of cute.”

“Wear that with this,” said Louisa, getting up and rummaging in the wardrobe. She held out a light gray sleeveless top. “I’ve seen the skirt, and this’ll go well. The ribbon-necklace would look well on you.” Anne nodded.

“Then go get ready you two,” said Hetty. “It’s fifteen minutes until Hayter comes now, and you know how he’s actually punctual.”

“It’s what makes him a keeper,” whispered Louisa loudly. Hetty flounced across the room, and threw a small pillow at her roommate, Louisa’s elegant brows shot up, and she caught it cleanly.

“Never try to catch a squash player off guard,” grumbled Hetty.

The girls and Hayter were a little late in getting to the disco, despite Hayter’s admirable punctuality. First Hetty had left her handbag, and then Mary realized she’d left in some hair pins she hadn’t wanted, but the other girls urged her to just pop into the ladies’ when they arrived, rather than making Charles wait longer. Mary agreed, and the minute they arrived she dashed off in search of a mirror. The others went along without her, since he claimed to be fine, for once.

Charles was delighted to see them, worrying that something had happened to them. He introduced Anne to various friends, and led them all into a room, where loud music was playing and students were merrily dancing.

“Care to dance?” he asked Anne.

“Sure,” said Anne. The number was a fast one, and she enjoyed the dance.

“Where’s your roommate?” he asked, when the dance was done.

“Mary went to go find a mirror,” Anne replied. “Want me to find her? No, there she is now.” Charles followed her direction, and blinked. This wasn’t the Mary he’d been used to, day after day, a lovely girl no doubt, but still... Mary looked very different, and rather attractive, and Charles was delighted when she approached him and Anne, smiling.

“Like it?” she asked, saucily, flipping her hair.

“I do,” said Charles, solemnly. Anne blinked. Charles and Mary? Well, it made perfect sense, actually. Both of them were in search of a partner, and she loved them both dearly as friends.

“I’m going to go find something to drink,” she said, pushing Charles towards Mary.

“All right,” said Charles, not looking away. “Mary, would you care to dance with me?”

“I’d love to,” said Mary, as she led him back onto the dance floor. Anne retreated to a chair by the wall, watching.

‘Well, well,” said Louisa, walking up to her. “Not what I’d have guessed. But it works well enough.”

“I know,” said Anne. “I just hope I did the right thing.”

“We’ll see,” said Louisa, cryptically. “Well, would you care to get a drink and adjourn to the stair, from which we can see if there are any genuinely attractive men here?”

“All right,” said Anne. Maybe the love of her life would be lurking somewhere in the room. You never knew.

Charles was having a wonderful evening. Mary was a fantastic dancer, quite light on her feet, and merry. It was a side of her he’d never bothered to see, being infatuated with Anne all this time. Mary has had a few other admirers that evening, but she seemed to enjoy her dances with him very much. She certainly seemed to be a little annoyed with her current partner, a stocky youth who seemed to possess a tendency to tread upon her toes. She rolled her eyes, and made little hopeless gestures to Hetty, who was dancing nearby. Both girls started laughing, at the poor youth’s expense. Charles himself wanted to laugh, more so than ever before. It had never occurred to him to pursue Mary’s affections, but the idea appealed to him more and more as he stood watching her, and talking to a few of his friends.

“Oi, Charles,” said one of them, poking him in the ribs. “Stop watching all the pretty little Americans, and pay attention to your mates.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Is that the girl you were talking about last week?” asked one friend.

“Actually, that’s over with. This is her roommate.” The fellows laughed at Charles, but in a good-natured way.

“Have you met that American chap Dillon was wandering about with earlier?” asked another friend, naturally connecting one American with another in his mind.

“Which one is this? I swear the campus is overrun with Americans this year,” replied the first. “Not that it’s an entirely bad thing,” he added, catching sight on Anne chatting merrily to an attractive countrywoman by the stairs.

“Frederick Wentworth. He’s in a number of my economics classes. He’s over there, by the door, with Dillon and Heather.” He pointed across the room, and Charles determined that they were referring to a tall, well-built young man possessing fair hair and an undeniable air of masculinity.

“Haven’t seen him before,” said Charles.

“I’ll introduce you,” his friend Tom proposed, noting that Mary was taking to the dance floor again. Charles glanced over, and nodded.

“Why not?” They crossed, and soon introductions were made between the two young men.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Charles, afterwards.

“And you,” said Frederick, in a rich, deep voice. “I missed my orientation, and I must confess that it is very alarming to be suddenly placed in such a large university without it.”

“Do you go to one of these liberal arts places, then?” asked Charles. Both Anne and Mary had, and he found the concept interesting.

“Not really,” he said. “I’m at Brown University, actually.”

“I think I know it, it’s one of those big schools with the reputations?”

“Yes. Ivies.”

“That’s it. So, how do you like it here?”

“It’s very interesting. I’m glad I’m here, and if the world would make sense for a little, I’m sure I’d adore it.”

“Feel free to stop by any time,” said Charles, affably. “I’m on second Liddell. I know a few other people from your program, if you want to meet any more. There are two girls just a few doors down, for that matter.”

“I might take you up on your offer at some point. I’m in St. Alban’s myself, and I’m one of only three Americans in the place, if I’ve got it right.”

“No roommate?”

“I thought it would be easier when I found out that I’d be late in coming if they gave my roommate to someone else, and just took a single room.”

“Interesting. Well, I think I’m going to go claim another dance with one of my American friends in a minute, I hope you’ll excuse me. But drop by some day, I’ve been accused of being far too friendly for an Englishman. It’s Charles Musgrove.”

“I think I got that. I enjoy meeting friendly people. I grew up in the Midwest for a while when I was younger, and miss the Minnesota Nice, a little. The East Coast can be cruel,” he added, a little bitterly.

“Is that where you’re from now?” asked Charles. “My neighbor Anne is from somewhere there, some place near New York. Mary’s from California. Can’t say I’ve ever met anyone from Minnesota.”

“They’re traditionally very nice,” said Frederick. “New York is more standoffish. I’ll leave you to your dance, there’s a girl pouting a few feet behind you.” Charles turned around, in surprise, and Mary’s face lit up.

“Last dance of the evening?” she asked. “Anne and Lou left already, and I don’t want to lose my company for the walk home.”

“I live to serve,” said Charles. “I’ll talk to you another time, Frederick. Pleased to meet you.”

“And you,” said Frederick, watching the couple return to the dance floor. He hadn’t danced much that evening, since his friend Dillon had mostly been introducing him to everyone in the room. Of them all Charles was the pleasantest, and he made note on a scrap of paper the words “Charles Musgrove, 2nd Liddell”, which he then tucked into his pocket. Half of travel was meeting new people, and he proposed to meet as many as possible. Someone out there could make him stop making tiny, veiled allusions to Anne Elliot, and he intended to find that woman. He scanned the room, idly taking in faces. There were so many pretty women about, who knew nothing about him or his past disappointments. Frederick’s face broke into a bright smile, which attracted a friendly girl who was standing near.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to stand there like a wallflower,” she said, in a challenging voice. He laughed, and offered a hand, and was drawn out into the crowd of dancers.

Continued In Next Section