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Chapter Nineteen:

Posted on Tuesday, 6 September 2005

Exams passed smoothly, and the new term began almost immediately. Anne settled into her new classes with a will, and made a number of new friends among her classmates. Whenever she was not occupied with classes she kept herself busy with various frivolities and short journeys, as the half-year mark had reminded her of her limited time in the country. The start of the term was a pleasant time to be on campus, and soon even Liz and Nell accompanied Elliot when he heard of a particularly good event happening at Uppercross, through Anne. Anne enjoyed having Elliot accessible as an escort, should she need one, and she thought that affairs remained simply friendly between them, despite her fear otherwise. She hadn’t seen Fred since her return to campus, though she knew through Charles that he was alive and busy. She found that she wasn’t much interested in any of the other young men she met about campus. Had she listened to gossip (which she generally didn’t, unless it was through Mary, and Mary would never share gossip with the person whom it was about) she might have been startled to learn that she was generally regarded to have some sort of an understanding with Elliot Williams and that a number of very nice young men about campus had expressed admiration of her. Now that she was done being cowed by circumstance or fate, Anne looked rather more cheerful and alive, which did wonders for her looks, and, while she did not notice it, others certainly did.

With Liz and Nell’s occasional presences on campus, Anne found herself more deeply involved in her social life than ever before. At first she had been sure to dig up a good number of her friends for Liz in some effort to dilute her sister’s presence when she visited, but Anne found that her new class schedule made for a more lively time and she honestly enjoyed spending time with her friends now that she had known them for months. Returning to campus really made her feel as if she belonged, and that she had moved on from being the utter outsider she had felt on arriving.

Towards the beginning of the new term Anne received news that Uppercross would be playing host to a particularly well-known French singer, and passed the news along to Elliot and her sister. By evening Anne had received a phone call in reply, stating that Elliot, Liz and Nell would be coming for the weekend of the concert, and (more unexpectedly, and to Anne’s chagrin, really) that her father, Mrs. Dalrymple and Mr. Carteret would join them for the concert itself. Anne repeated the news to Mary in a suffering voice, and Mary took a turn to soothe her roommate.

“They can’t be so very bad, can they? I suppose they’ll want your company and everything, too. That’s tedious. Family should stay away from functions on campus, unless they can pass for college students.”

“My father wouldn’t be caught dead passing for a college student. He’ll make sure everyone knows who he and Mrs. Dalrymple are, you can take my word on it.”

“Still, lots of people from town and York, and even people from London are going to this thing. It’s bigger than a college function, really. You’ll manage. it’s just one night.”

“Well, Elliot and my sister and Nell are staying for the whole weekend. They’ll probably keep themselves busy most of the time, but I’ll have to do something with them. It’s very tiresome how Liz can’t stay content with Bath and London.”

“It’s because of Elliot, isn’t it?” Mary wondered out loud. “I mean, while he was in Bath she loved Bath. Now she loves York and its environs. There seems to be a pattern.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised if you were right,” Anne replied. “Well, I’ll at least have a chance to introduce you to my father. That’s something. And Elliot is generally very well-behaved. It might be fun to hear his opinion of the concert.”

“Optimism is a beautiful thing, I’m glad you’ve gotten yours back.”

“Well, guess I’d better call up and see about getting tickets, then. Do you want to come along?”

“Going with Charles and Hayter and Hetty.”

“Wish I was.”

“Your company will be a lot more elegant than mine.”

“You can have it,” grumbled Anne.

Mary laughed. “This disgruntled, lively Anne is new to me. I think I sort of like her.”

“Disgruntled?” asked Anne, sweetly. “Oh no. I’m a saint.”

The Friday before the concert brought Anne her visitors, but also a highly unpleasant storm. It had been mild recently, and Anne had been delighted by the early arrival of a few daffodils in the garden across from her dormitory. This weather, however, meant that, instead of a pleasant snowstorm, Uppercross was pelted with rather unpleasant torrents of rain. Anne had been window shopping with her guests when the clouds suddenly poured forth their wrath, and the four young people ran into the nearest teashop, a place called Mollands.

The shop was rather full at present, no small number of other people having cottoned to the same idea, namely of waiting out the storm. Elliot procured a table by the front window with admirable competency, and Anne thankfully took off her coat and spread it out on the back of the seat so that it might dry somewhat. They went up to the counter of the shop and placed orders for hot beverages and, since they were a specialty of the shop, pieces of marzipan-topped cake.

“What a horrible storm,” Liz sniffed, into her cup. “I hope it passes soon. I shouldn’t like to have to walk. Aren’t there any taxis in this town, Anne?”

“Some. They’re likely busy in the storm.”

“Elliot, won’t you call and arrange for one?” Elliot, ever amiable, set out to find reception for his cell phone.

“This is lovely,” said Nell, taking a bite of her cake. Anne smiled. Nell was polite, as usual, and it was a pleasant contrast to Liz’s endless droning. Anne turned to the window, and watched the water droplets beat against the glass. She had rather hoped that her afternoon with her guests might be a brief one, and the rain was rather unnecessarily prolonging everything. She really preferred for Elliot to come on his own, if she had to have guests. Liz was exceptionally tiresome when she wasn’t pleased.

Elliot reappeared a few minutes later, and Liz arched an eyebrow at him, “Well?” she asked.

“There’s a twenty minute wait on cabs. With the concert and the rain things are much busier than usual. But I did have a stroke of luck. I ran into a fellow I met here a few weeks ago, and he recognized me. I explained my problem, and he said he had a car, and was going to be leaving shortly. But he only has room for two, since his girl is with him, and she’s got quite a lot of shopping with her. But he’d be pleased to drop you off at the hotel, Liz. I can follow when the rain has stopped with whomever doesn’t take the ride with you.”

“I can walk,” said Anne. She didn’t much fancy traveling with Liz in a closed vehicle at present.

“Don’t be silly,” said Nell. “I wore boots, I can walk. You probably have things to do today, and I don’t.”

“It’s no trouble,” said Anne. “I’m also wearing boots, and it would be much easier if Elliot’s friend only had to make one stop instead of two.”

“My boots are thicker. I couldn’t forgive myself if you caught cold when you’ve all these classes to go to and papers to write.”

“A little rain won’t hurt, and I can wait it out here.”

“Nell, you had a cold last week. Don’t be ridiculous. You can come with me,” said Liz, decisively.

“Anne’s boots are thick enough,” Elliot chimed in. “I’ll go talk to my friend and have his girl give a shout when he’s brought the car around to the door. There. That’s settled, then.” Nell turned back to her cake, and Liz decided that she was in good enough humor to try hers. Elliot turned to leave, but Nell touched his arm as he turned, having suddenly come to attention.

“My bag! I had a bag from that cosmetic shop, I must have left it in the shoe store. Do you think you could find it and bring it back with you to the hotel? I don’t want to miss this ride now that Liz has insisted I take it.”

“Of course. I’ll dash over. My friend has an extra umbrella.” He ambled off towards his friend and disappeared in the crowd. Anne returned her gaze towards the window, and watched the few passersby dashing between the raindrops. Her gaze was arrested when she recognized a figure coming up the street, some distance away but walking towards Mollands. After all these weeks, here was Fred, large as life.

Her immediate physical reaction was to flush a little, since she couldn’t deny that she still found him singularly attractive, from habit, she supposed. It was a guilty pleasure to watch him walk, unseen, to follow his tall figure with her eyes. Nell followed her gaze out the window and, seeing nothing unusual, gently queried Anne.

“Are you all right? You look a bit flushed. If you feel ill you had better take my place,” she insisted.

“Oh, I’m fine,” answered Anne, quickly, tearing her eyes from the window. “I think I’ll just grab a breath of fresh air. It’s very warm in here with this crowd.” She found herself walking towards the door without any clear idea about what she was doing or why she was doing it. A knot of medical students blocked her path, and by the time she had navigated around them a fresh crowd was bursting through the door. Anne was annoyed with them, and stood to the side, until she suddenly realized that Fred was in the wet and merrily chatting party. He saw her, and stopped still. The last member of his party shoved around him, and joined the others in line at the counter. He said nothing, but just looked at Anne in surprise, his face rather flushed.

“Fred,” said Anne. She looked up at him, examining his face, wondering if he was upset about Louisa, and whether it would show.

“Anne,” said Fred. He made no move to join his friends, as he would have before the accident.

“Have a good holiday?” asked Anne, searching for straws to clutch.

“Reasonably nice. I went home, to my brother’s anyway. You?”

“I enjoyed it. My family is in Bath. Well, Liz is here for the weekend, but my father has work in Bath.”

“Oh, that must have been nice.” Anne could have laughed at Fred’s current idiocy, if she had dared. For once she felt as if she was on top in the situation, that Fred was far less at ease than she was. His detached amicability was gone now, he didn’t excuse himself from her presence, he seemed eager to keep the conversation going, even at such mundane and laughable levels. “Survive the exams?” he asked.

“I didn’t think they were so very bad. How were yours?”

“Could have been much worse,” Fred agreed. “Taking interesting classes this term?”

Anne began to list off her courses, but was interrupted by a tall girl suddenly shouting “Ride for the Elliots!” loudly.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, running a hand through his overlong sandy hair. Anne idly noted that he hadn’t found time to have it cut over the holiday.

“Oh, no,” she said. “My sister is. And Nell.” She gestured to the two, who were gathering up their belongings and crossing towards the door. “There isn’t room for me, I’ll walk.”

“I’ve got an umbrella,” said Fred, producing the article from under his arm. “If you have to go out in this weather, please use it.”

“That’s very nice of you,” said Anne, smiling her sweet and gentle smile at him. He seemed pleased, boyishly so, at having done something right in Anne’s company, for Anne’s benefit. It was alarming how quickly he had returned to the solicitous person he had been at that resort, all those years ago. The thought intoxicated Anne, and she accepted the umbrella from him, oblivious to those around her.

All of a sudden Elliot came back through the door, and touched Anne’s shoulder. Anne turned from Fred to Elliot.

“It’s stopped raining, Anne,” he said. “Let’s go.” He took her arm rather proprietorially.

“I guess I’d better go. I’ll see you around, Fred. Here’s your umbrella back. Thanks very much.” She gave him a warm smile before Elliot pulled her away to their table to gather coats and bits and pieces. Elliot led her out the door and onto the street, and all Anne could do is turn back and smile once more, apologetically, at Fred, who still stood just inside the shop, watching, and holding his umbrella. He collected himself after a minute and secured a cup of coffee, and mechanically sat down with the friends he had joined outside the shop.

“So that’s Elliot Williams,” said the girl to his right. “I saw him on the telly ages ago, and he looks just the same. I hear he’s taken up with Anne Elliot.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed it,” said the girl across the table, leaning forward. “She’s such a sweet, quiet little thing. There are guys across campus who would love to get to know her better, though, so I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that someone like Elliot Williams would. Even if he dated Eileen Parks.”

“I heard from Anne’s roommate Mary, who’s in my tutorial, that Elliot practically lived with her family over break.” Fred crumpled his napkin into a ball in one hand, under the table. So Anne had been enjoying break with that attractive young man. Fred wasn’t blind, he recognized the man as being the same one who had expressed such appreciation for Anne in his glance back in Lyme, and he knew that Elliot had the sort of looks that many women found irresistible. The napkin had been crushed small enough that he found his nails biting into his palm, and relaxed them a little, instead fidgeting with the article. Maybe his resolve formed over break in Edward’s maritally happy home was all for naught, if Anne had taken up with this smarmy twit. The memory of her smiles calmed him a little, and he resolved to find out what he could about this Elliot Williams and his presence on campus.

“Do you think that handsome girl was Anne’s sister?” asked one of his neighbors to another. “The dark one who left for the ‘Elliot ride’ or whatever it was?”

“She was,” said Fred, quietly.

“She may be handsome,” said the girl to his right, “but I think that Anne is much prettier. And very sweet. I miss having her in class, she always was such a doll about taking notes when people were sick.”

Several blocks away, Anne’s sweet temper was being sorely tried by Elliot’s presence. She rather resented the way he had so forcefully taken her away from Fred before she was entirely ready, and the fact that he kept up a constant chatter the entire way back to her dorm. She rather wished that Elliot was less of a gentleman, and not escort her all the way to her door, or that he would at least have the mercy to stop talking. His conversation was singularly trying today, as well, when Anne wanted to think about Fred, review his behavior and their conversation. Elliot was determined to make plans to meet before the concert and to discuss a dozen other things which linked his and Anne’s interests particularly. Fortunately Anne’s patience lasted as far as Liddell Hall, and she said good-bye to him quickly, before retreating to her room to think. Recent events needed thinking about.

Chapter Twenty:

Anne was only too glad when it came to be time to dress for the concert. All throughout the early part of the evening she had been forced to remain polite in the company of her father, Mrs. Dalrymple and her unbearable stooge Carteret. Liz and Nell had mostly kept to themselves throughout the meal, occasionally demanding Elliot’s attention, when they felt neglected. The saving grace of the entire meal had been Mary, who had been invited along. Mary was suitably impressed with her company, but firmly Anne’s friend and supportive. Her chatter concealed Anne’s apprehensive mood, and by the end of the meal Anne felt deeply indebted to her roommate.

When they were back in the room Anne suddenly ran up and hugged Mary, as she surveyed her wardrobe.

“What was that for?” asked Mary, amused.

“You know. Dinner. I thought I was going to die. I do love my family, and I like Elliot, and even Nell, but I don’t like that Dalrymple woman or her assistant.”

“I thought he was a little smarmy myself,” said Mary. “And your family isn’t exactly warm and fuzzy, but they’re not bad people either. I think I’m a little in awe of them, or at least the way Liz dresses. Your problem is just that you want to keep your college life separate from them, and this is a violation of that separateness. I know the feeling. I live about an hour away from my campus back home.”

“You’re probably right,” said Anne. “Now, what should I wear to this thing?”

Mary smiled. She loved dressing Anne, whose slim figure and delicate looks showed up to advantage with the right wardrobe. She opened Anne’s wardrobe and selected a garment. “This,” she announced. “You haven’t worn it yet. And this is a pretty nice event, I think it’s a great opportunity to wear it.”

Anne fingered Mary’s selection, a peach-colored georgette creation that she had purchased on whim, shopping with Clara Smith. The color had pleased her, from the rack, although she usually confined her wardrobe to greens and grays and blues. It was just the right sort of thing to wear to pamper herself after a tiresome day, a beautiful, frivolous dress. Mary helped her get it on, and zipped up the bag with a grunt of satisfaction.

“Turn around and let me get a look at you,” she ordered Anne, who meekly obeyed. “You should wear warm colors more often,” Mary declared. “Seriously. I mean, you look cute and kind of elfin in cool colors, but this is a nice effect too. Take a look.” Anne followed Mary across the room towards the full-length mirror Mary had purchased.

Mary, as ever in terms of clothing, was right. The warm color of the cloth brought out the color of her cheeks, and made her look happier, healthier, even a little radiant. Her hair seemed a little warmer, as well. The skirt floated in soft folds around her knees in an informal and jagged cut, a cut that made Anne feel liberated from the usual. well, severity of her wardrobe. And then the bubble burst.

“Mary,” she said, “It’s fabulous. You have an amazing eye. But I’m going to freeze to death, even in this mild weather.”

“Nonsense,” insisted Mary, who was arranging her own clothes on her bed. “All British theaters may be freezing initially, but any event this popular is going to be crowded. And I’ll lend you a scarf, and we’ll find a sweater of yours or Louisa’s that you can wear until it gets unbearably warm in there.”

“You are a darling,” said Anne. Mary smiled, and sat her down. “I’m going to quickly see to your hair, and I want you to wear a necklace and the coral lipstick. As smart as your sister is, I want her to see who the beauty of the family is, tonight.” Anne blushed. “And it wouldn’t hurt for Uppercross to see it either. I honestly haven’t the foggiest idea whom you fancy, but I want you to have a lot of choice. Can’t hurt, can it?” Anne blushed again, uncomfortable with praise and insinuations. She knew that she did hope that Fred would be at the concert. She hadn’t seen him anywhere since Mollands, and figured that if their paths were to cross again that it would be at the concert. She remembered his love of music, which lay deep within him, and wasn’t usually visible to the outside world. Yes, she wanted Fred to be at the concert, and to talk to him. And she’d like to look her nicest while doing so.

“There. That’s you, now I’ve got to see what I can do with me,” sighed Mary.

“You always look fabulous,” said Anne. “Don’t worry. Besides, Charles thinks you are gorgeous when you’re wearing your old gym clothes.”

“That’s because I am,” said Mary, laughing. “I have no idea what I’m going to do when I return home Anne, I will miss you so much. How about you give us a call when you’re free of the folks, and come out with us?”

“I’d love to,” said Anne, earnestly. “All right, here I go, it’s almost the time I said I’d meet them at the concert hall. See you later!” Anne dashed off down the stairs.

When Anne arrived at the concert hall she found her family and Nell already waiting. The lobby was not crowded yet, but Anne supposed that her father wanted to be ready in good time, as to be a proper welcoming committee for Mrs. Dalrymple. Anne checked her coat hastily, and joined them in the alcove they had chosen to wait in.

“You look nice Anne,” commented her father, his attention diverted from his own attire. “I should wear that color more, if I were you. I was advising Nell just last week to try peach, it does such pleasant things to the complexion.”

Liz likewise studied Anne. “I don’t remember that dress,” she said, in the tone of voice that said if she had seen it herself, she should have bought it, or at least prevented Anne from buying it. Admittedly it was nothing near as grand as her own dress, but it gave Anne an unaccustomed elegance that did little to enhance Liz’s own appearance.

“I bought it in Bath,” she said. “You weren’t with me.”

Walter’s attention had drifted away from his youngest daughter, and was surveying the rest of the early arrivers. His gaze lingered on a figure who had just entered the atrium and seemed to be struck by something in Walter’s own party. Walter Elliot wondered if it was his fair companions or his own dashing attire that had arrested the student’s attention. He quickly decided it must be the latter, though he nudged Liz. “There, I told you we were an admirable bunch this evening, that student is clearly impressed. And not a bad specimen either, most of this lot are too hairy or too skinny or have too many piercings.” Nell broke off her conversation with Anne to study the student, and Anne’s gaze followed hers.

“It’s Fred,” she breathed gently, barely audible, and somewhat amused by her father’s reaction. Fred smiled on catching Anne’s attention and approached hesitantly. He remembered Liz well enough, and had seen Walter on two occasions, but could scarcely be called well acquainted with the party, apart from Anne.

“Good evening,” said Fred, neutrally, to the party, as he approached, though his attention was on Anne. She smiled, and he stopped by her. “I see you managed to get back to your dorm, despite the storm?”

“Yes,” replied Anne. “Not a sniffle acquired. But I’m glad it was nice out today.”

“Yes,” said Fred, a little awkwardly. He felt her party’s attention on him, despite their pretenses at not listening. “Are you looking forward to the concert, then?”

“Oh, yes. She’s supposed to be quite good. Have you heard her music, at all?”

“On recording,” said Fred.

“I thought you might,” Anne said softly. He smiled, touched by her memory, and stood in embarrassed silence, wanting to really speak to Anne, but knowing that this was not the time or the place, nor the company appropriate to such a conversation. He settled on another topic of conversation, which he had wanted to talk to her about.

“I haven’t really seen you since Lyme. Are you all right? My sister tells me that sometimes people who keep calm in times of trouble sometimes suffer more, on their own, later.” It was his way of finding out if she had suffered in Lyme.

“It wasn’t exactly an easy time for any of us, but I think I managed well enough. Thank you for asking.”

“It was a horrible time,” said Fred, flatly, running his hand through his hair as at Mollands, but with some agitation. Anne bit her lip gently, concerned that he still suffered from memories of that day. She had a strong desire to comfort him, to cut his hair, to hug him and be competent on his behalf. She was unsure of what to say, overwhelmed as she was. Fortunately, he continued, and smiled. “There was some good from that day, though,” he said, more cheerfully. “I don’t think you could have anticipated that when you sent James to get help that he’d wind up being the most concerned party.”

“I was surprised, yes,” said Anne, glad that he had broached the topic. She was afraid that he was still upset about Louisa, that he suffered on Louisa’s account. Certainly he had steered somewhat clear of the Liddell Hall circle since Lyme. “I hope they’ll be happy,” Anne added, watching Fred’s face. “They’re both lovely people, whom I esteem.”

“Yes,” said Fred, looking down, and not quite able to meet Anne’s gaze. “I esteem them both, as well. But that’s as far as their similarity goes, in my mind. They should be happy. Their parents and friends are supportive, certainly more than, perhaps –” he broke off. Anne was rapt, blushing, watching his face, hanging on his words. Was he trying to confess a history with Louisa and blighted hopes, or was he (hope against hope) making some reference to their own relationship and hopes? He noted her discomfort, and cleared his throat, trying to put his thoughts into words more clearly without agitating Anne.

“They are unequal. Quite unequal, to me. Yes, they are both sweet, friendly people, but you could scarcely compare their minds. Louisa is bright, and good at what she does, but a good deal of that is natural flair and a sort of style that she employs to make people think she’s smarter than she actually is. But James – he’s something more. He was always brilliant and a hard worker. He’s stimulated by all manner of the academic, both in the natural world, and in literature. Science as well as art. I’m a little surprised that he should attach himself to Louisa, whose chief attractions lie in her appearance. It seems unnatural to me, that he should have been inspired, so suddenly, by a beautiful and demanding girl, when just two years ago he lost one of the brightest and most caring girls I’ve had the pleasure to know. Phoebe was so alive, witty, friendly, and intelligent. They had a partnership that I was so jealous of. Shared intellectual stimulation, as well as emotional reciprocation. They could have gone far together, and never been bored in each other’s company. You didn’t know him then, and you never knew her, but it was a real attachment.” He spoke passionately. “When a man can find a person who excites him, mind and body and soul, he does not recover from that sort of attachment quickly. He ought not – he does not.”

There was nothing Anne could say in response immediately, and even Fred seemed to have noticed that he hadn’t quite managed to cease from flustering his companion. Anne was most certainly flustered. The room had grown rapidly more crowded, and the noise levels had soared, but she had heard every word. Her mind darted about, settling briefly on one of a thousand thoughts, before flying to another. She sensed that her body was on edge, her breathing quick, her cheeks warm. Although she still sensed her party to one side of her, she wanted to keep talking with Fred, and while she couldn't reply directly to his extraordinary speech, she couldn’t bring herself to completely divert him from his train of thought.

“Did you stay in Lyme long?” she asked, after an awkward silence.

“A little while. I didn’t want to go until things looked decent for Louisa. I feel the blame of the incident. If I had restrained her she should not have been so reckless. They wouldn’t let me be at the hospital much, and I must admit that I found the country around Lyme to be more soothing than anything else there. It’s beautiful thereabouts.”

“I’d like to see it again,” Anne put forth, shyly.

“Really?” he seemed pleased. “I was afraid you might have looked back at the whole trip with distaste, or decided Lyme was dangerous.”

“The end of the trip was a little painful,” Anne said, frankly. “Fear for my friend and the burden of making sure the others were all right was scarcely fun, but I enjoyed the trip. I enjoy travel, when I can manage it, and I found Lyme to be a pleasant place, apart from Louisa’s unfortunate accident. There are places which I have little love of, but I don’t think one can, or ought, to hate a place unless one has only suffered there. And I rather enjoyed much of Lyme. Some of it rather much.” She blushed again, unaware of how this enhanced her looks, or of the way her lowered lashes tempted Fred to lift her chin up and make her smile. If Walter and Liz had recognized Anne’s lovely looks this evening, Fred most certainly had, ten times over, ever sensitive on this point.

Their conversation was suddenly cut into by Walter’s eager welcome to the Dalrymple party, which Elliot had accompanied, looking satisfied. Anne’s gaze was torn from Fred, and she found herself swept forward into the joined parties. Fred’s conversation had been interesting, very interesting, and important. However, despite Anne’s annoyance at being torn from Fred’s side, she had much to think about. She turned around to see if he had remained nearby, but saw that he had gone through the doors of the hall. But that was fine. Such a conversation needed careful dissection, and time was needed to process the import of his words.

Mrs. Dalrymple expressed interest in finding her seat, and Walter immediately escorted her towards the door. Carteret and Elizabeth followed, with Nell and Anne following with Elliot. Liz was beaming, proud to be seen with her party, knowing she looked smarter than most of the students in the hall. Anne was smiling, genuinely pleased with her encounter with Fred, and glowing. Her dress had already enhanced her looks, but her inner happiness had also worked its magic, though she didn’t realize it. Instead, she was oblivious to the admiration of those around her, lost in her thoughts. Fred had communicated a fair amount in his speeches. He had made it clear that he had not been attached to Louisa, expressed astonishment that James could have recovered from a strong first attachment and hinted that he remembered well the feelings he and Anne had shared in earlier years. Now he was eager to search her out, to bring up topics which he would have avoided months earlier, to revive old friendship and feelings. The only reason Anne could fathom for his behavior (and her heart leapt when she concluded this) was that he must still have feelings for her, and wish to rekindle the relationship they had lost.

She scarcely noticed being herded towards her seat. They were good seats, but spread so that three sat on one side of an aisle, and four on the other. Liz had followed Carteret into the fourth seat, and Nell took a seat on the other side, with a shrug. Elliot steered Anne into the second of the three seats, and planted himself beside Anne and along the aisle. The entertainment began after a short wait, in which Anne dreamily stared forward, lips parted in a gentle smile. Nell examined the program and flirted with the student on her other side, while Elliot studied Anne’s face, wondering what exactly was making her glow so becomingly. Once the lights had dimmed and the singer come out onto the stage, Elliot discovered that his programme had been mislaid. Turning to Anne, he asked if she would mind sharing, and she started, but nodded and balanced it on the armrest between them. She soon discovered that Elliot lacked any French, and quietly translated for him between numbers.

“I thought you said your French was miserable,” whispered Elliot, between songs.

“It is. I haven’t taken any since my first year at college.”

“So miserable that you can translate at sight, in a dark concert hall, into language that both makes sense and retains its original beauty. I wish that my Italian and German were half so miserable.”

“You’re being kind, but I assure you a real French scholar would shudder at several of my translation choices.”

“Anne Elliot,” he whispered in her ear, as the ensemble began the orchestration of the next song, “you are far too modest. I hadn’t been to Camden Place long before I was able to have some measure of you, and I must tell you that you aren’t aware of half your accomplishments. In any other woman as talented I would think such modesty false.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Anne, laughing a little. “We’re friends, but I doubt you can know me so very well.”

He leaned closer, conspiratorially. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Some people can be acquainted with each other for a long time without actually knowing the other, but other people can commune within a short period of time. I have known you for a matter of weeks, really, but you can’t have helped but notice that I esteem you far more than, say, your sister or your father, whom I have known for months. You are such a dear, beautiful and sweet soul.” His breath tickled her ear, and Anne felt all her earlier fears about Elliot’s intentions regarding her come flying back. She pretended to listen firmly to the next few songs, and gladly stirred when the first act was over. She now wished that Elliot was further away, that he wasn’t bending so over their shared programme, or curled so comfortably towards her seat. With the lights up again, she glanced around the hall, looking for familiar faces, for some excuse to get up. Or for Fred, whose company was acting upon her like a drug, giving her such emotional rushes.

She caught sight of him at last, standing in a small knot of students not so very far away from her. She had been a moment too late, he seemed to be turning his head from her direction. Anne was then jostled. Nell had decided to go and find refreshments. Anne moved into the aisle, and was summoned over by Mrs. Dalrymple, who wished to examine her dress. Anne stood and was examined while Liz crossed the aisle and chatted to Elliot. Anne stood a moment in the aisle, looking for Fred, who had disappeared. She sat down in the aisle seat Liz had occupied for the first half, and toyed with her skirt, occasionally glancing this way and that. When at last she saw Fred again, he was some way in front of her, walking slowly back towards his own seat. He seemed different, colder when he finally drew level with her, and looked almost as if he would have passed her, had she not been waiting for him. She called out to him, and he stopped.

“Are you enjoying the performance, Fred?” she asked, lifting a face with a gently furrowed brow towards him.

“I am beginning to think that there is much to be said for a recording studio,” said Fred, shortly. “I’m a little disappointed.”

“There’s only been one half. And some of the songs have been very beautiful. The fourth piece made me think of Lyme, a little, with the winter sea. I think that the singer has stood up remarkably well in this performance. I imagine the weather can’t have been kind to her voice. And I think you must be the hardest audience to please, knowing an excellent recording, but not the live product. You shouldn’t judge the performance, incomplete. How can you know, without seeing the entire picture?”

Fred smiled, in spite of himself. “Live performances are often different from touched up recordings. My expectations were built upon one album, it is true.” Anne was always so sweet, and eager to settle conflicts. She ought to have been a middle child, with her natural peacemaking talents. She proceeded to soothe Fred, and make him laugh a little. He noticed a vacant seat behind Anne, and seemed inclined to take it, before Elliot appeared at Anne’s side. He rested his fingers caressingly on her shoulder, and Anne turned quickly, startled.

“Anne, Liz wants to know if you want to switch seats.”

“That’s fine,” said Anne. She was only too pleased to have the aisle between herself and Elliot.

“You shouldn’t give in to her,” said Elliot. “Well, I’ll tell her.” He draped her sweater around her shoulders in a slightly possessive gesture, with a small defiant look at the tall blond student he’d now seen three times talking deeply with Anne. Anne didn’t see the look, but tossed the sweater behind her on the seat. She turned back to Fred.

“I think I might leave after all,” he said, abruptly. “Good night.”

Anne bit her lip again, struck by an unpleasant notion. Anxious, she gazed up at Fred, touching his arm gently. “Please stay. Isn’t the music worth staying for? Isn’t this next song?” The ensemble had struck up again, though the lights were still up.

“No,” said Fred, shortly. “There is nothing worth my staying for.” He turned abruptly and quickly disappeared among members of the audience returning from their refreshments. Anne stood up, and looked, but he was firmly gone. She sat down again, and gripped the arm of the seat. The only explanation for Fred’s various behaviors was jealousy. Jealousy of Elliot! He had likely seen Elliot whisper to her throughout the first act, and could only have resented the man’s possessive behavior towards Anne. She slumped miserably in her seat. How on earth could she make it clear to Fred that Elliot meant nothing to Anne except as a friend? There was more than enough awkward territory between them already. She’d have to speak to Elliot, remove him from her life at Uppercross, which would be difficult now that he had his own friends at the university. The first song of the second act started, a beautiful love song, but it sounded hollow to Anne. Inwardly, she seethed at Elliot. The rest of the second act may have sounded sweet and angelic, but Anne scarcely heard it. Afterwards she met Mary, who ordered her back to the room, alarmed at Anne’s white face. Back in the room Anne quickly changed out of the peach dress, and threw her blankets up over her head. How was it possible for the world to be both so potentially sweet and terrible at the same time?

Chapter Twenty-One:

Posted on Tuesday, 13 September 2005

When Anne woke up early on Sunday morning the sky was brilliantly blue. Her spirits lifted, seeing how lovely the morning was outside, and she sprang towards the window, ignoring Mary’s sleeping form across the room. An English robin landed on the windowsill, and surveyed the street authoritatively. Anne smiled, and then caught sight of her dress from the night before, laid neatly across the back of her desk chair. Mary must have picked it up last night, hating to see any clothes mistreated. Last night. All of a sudden the terrible state of the world settled back onto Anne’s shoulders, and she hunched close, in her silent misery. It all came down to Elliot, whom she had thought was her friend, and who really was scaring Fred away.

Anne gripped the edge of her desk with whitening knuckles, in her anger, and felt the wild desire to scream out her frustration. Usually she was such a quiet person, and the impulse so unnatural that it certainly should have worried Mary, should it have been carried out. Fortunately for Mary, the phone rang, its harsh metallic ring sounding loudly in the quiet room. Mary stirred, so Anne quickly answered it quietly. She hoped it would be Elliot so she could tell him off.

It wasn’t Elliot. It was Clara Smith, that sweet nonentity.

“Clara, it’s so good to hear your voice. But give me a second, I’d better drag the phone towards the door, my roommate is still asleep.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I could call back later. It’s not really important.”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I could use a nice calm, friendly voice right now. Rough night last night. Here, hold on a second.” Anne untangled the long phone cord from behind Mary’s desk, and let it trail behind her out the door. She shut the door gently, with the cord underneath, and leaned up against the hallway wall, feet curled up under her.

“All right, I can talk now. What’s new?”

“Well, I wanted to ask you if I could borrow that volume of collected seventeenth-century sources you were talking about the day we went skating. I have a huge paper due next Monday, and I can’t find a copy of anything similar. Obviously I should have looked for sources earlier.”

“Oh, the joy of procrastination,” said Anne, with a little laugh. “No problem. Mind you, it’ll take a little while to get to you by mail.”

“Well, as long as it gets here by next Sunday night I’ll be fine,” said Clara. “I’ll take my chances, anyway.”

“I could always send it down with one of the family,” said Anne, dubiously.

“That’s fine,” said Clara, hastily. “Really.”

“Nell or Elliot might actually get it to you, though,” said Anne. “They’re here for a concert.”

“Yes, I remember you said something about a rough night. Was it the family, or the concert?”

“A combination,” said Anne. “I don’t know.”

“Did you go with Elliot?” asked Clara, a little too purposely careless.

“No,” said Anne, shortly.

“Did you want to?” asked Clara, still in a strange, preoccupied voice.

“No!” said Anne, a little too vehemently. “Why did you think I wanted to? Do people think I’m interested in him? Do you?” A fear overcame Anne.

“Yes,” said Clara. “Mind you, I haven’t known you long, but I did. You always talked about him, and seemed to really like his company. Plus he’s quiet fit, you can’t deny that.”

“But I don’t like him. I don’t know why people think I do. He’s just a friend. Or was .”

“Was? So you really aren’t involved with him, or wanting to be?”

“I just want friendship with him,” said Anne. “That’s all. Though I’m currently a little unhappy with him.” Silently she added a few nasty epithets.

“Then I have some news that you might want to know,” said Clara, carefully. “About Elliot. My best friend, Amy Rooke, told me. She thought that he was attractive, too, but now she thinks he’s a bit of a jerk.”

“What?” asked Anne, quickly. “What do you mean?”

“Mind you, this is second hand, but Amy’s father is a banker, and Amy overheard him making some comment to Mr. Wallis about Elliot needing another loan.”

“A loan? What for? And loans aren’t that disgraceful, most of the U.S. is in debt.”

“Well, I asked Amy about that, and she said that they made some comments that sounded like he’d been supporting his style of life since his split with that actress with borrowed money. He hadn’t had a job in ages until your father took him on.”

“So, he’s making money now. Apparently he’s been doing really good work.”

“For your father, or for the bid?” asked Clara, bluntly. “Because Apparently Mr. Wallis said that Elliot was going to come into a good bit of money soon, and needed the loan for setting up his own business.”

“What? He didn’t say anything.”

“Look, it might be all aboveboard, but Amy likes to eavesdrop, and she sort of thinks that Mr. Wallis is fit, too, so she kept on listening, as he left, he was talking on his cell phone.”

“And?”

“Well, she thinks that Elliot is a bit of a wiener now. Basically Mr. Wallis made some comments to Elliot about how Rooke had given the go-ahead after all, and how he should talk to Carteret about it. Isn’t that the name of that Dalrymple guy?”

“Yes.”

“So, I wormed around a bit, talking to people who know people, as basically my friend Andrew’s older brother was friendly with Elliot, and apparently he started rambling when they were out drinking one night. About how he was going to ‘sweep the whole thing from under the old man’s face’ and ‘be free of the dressy wankers’.”

“You mean to suggest that he has some sort of an understanding with Carteret which will cut out my father and steal the project?”

“I guess. But you said your father had signed things.”

“I doubt he pays much attention to things, really. He probably let Elliot deal with it, as his representative. He’s really only much good at the wining and dining part of business.”

“So it might be true?”

“I’ll see what I can find out, anyway,” said Anne. It would terrible if Elliot were to betray her family in this way, to make her father fail, when her father had taken Elliot in. “Was that all?” asked Anne. “I’m not too happy with Elliot right now, but I want to know as much as you do, so I can see if there’s any truth in all this.”

“Well, not really any more about the business,” said Clara, hesitantly. “But about Elliot.”

“What?” asked Anne, not sure she wanted to know any more about her friend’s flaws.

“Um. Well, Andrew’s brother apparently told Andrew a lot more about that conversation, since he wanted to impress him that he was on good terms with Elliot, right?”

“Yes?”

“He apparently said that he was going to be upset to lose you over the business. That’s also why I thought you were involved. But then he said maybe he could make you see things his way.”

“Crap,” said Anne, under her breath. Elliot was serious, damn him, and no doubt out to chase Fred away, for the principle of the thing or from seriousness.

“And well, all the while he’s been coming to see you at uni and everything, he’s also been sleeping with Nell. Still is, or at least was, as of this week. It was sort of secret, or at least hushed, but again, Andrew’s brother...”

“What?” asked Anne. She was furious now, furious that Elliot would pursue her to the point of driving away her other suitors, and be involved with another woman at the same time. This rankled most of all, even above his supposed intended betrayal of her father and sister.

“Well, that’s it, anyway,” said Clara. “All I know, anyway. I’m sorry to tell you, but I also thought you should know. Since it was about you and your family. If it’s not true you have to tell me and I’ll set things right, but if it is, you might want to be prepared.”

“I’m glad you told me,” said Anne, fiercely. “He was hitting on me last night the bastard. He was...” she broke off. Clara didn’t know about Fred, and it would be too complicated to explain.

“If he was, I’m glad that you now know about Nell. It’s not right, on his part. And I really hope that he’s not trying anything funny with your father’s business thing.”

“Me too,” said Anne, softly. “And I wonder how many other people think that I’m involved with him?” she asked, miserably. “How could he?”

“Anne, are you all right? This wasn’t the best call for you after a difficult night, now was it? I’m so sorry! Is there anything I can do? Other than tell you all sorts of news that is going to have you riled up all day, and miserable?”

“No, no,” said Anne, managing to smile a little. “It’s not you. I’m glad I know. I’m glad. I was starting to see what Elliot was selfish, but now I know how much. He’s not worth it, not if he’s going to hurt my family. They hurt themselves enough, and anyone who gets to know them can see that. It’s cruel to take advantage of them. I wonder what he was going to tell Nell when he screwed over her host family?”

“She seemed attractive enough,” said Clara, dubiously, “or showy, anyway, but I doubt he would have kept up with her. Just dumped the lot of you abruptly. Unless he’d succeeded in converting you. I was worried about you, when I heard that, I really was.”

“I’m not in love with him or anything,” said Anne. “Don’t worry. I don’t know. I just need to think about all this. I’ll mail the book first thing tomorrow, but I think I’d better go think things through, and try to see what I can do about testing the veracity of all this.”

“Yes,” said Clara. “I’m sorry. I hope everything works out. Let me know if there is anything I can do. And if it’s true, will you give Elliot a big slap from me and Amy?”

“All right,” said Anne, shakily.

“I miss you,” said Clara. “I wish I was there to give you a big hug and soothe you.”

“I do too. Well, thanks for the warning, anyway. Bye.” She hung up the phone, and sat leaning up against the wall for a few minutes. “What am I supposed to do about all of this?” asked Anne, to herself and the empty hallway.

“Anne?” asked Mary’s sleepy voice, peeping around the door. “Are you all right?”

“Ask me later,” said Anne. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Forewarned is forearmed, but I can’t believe it! But after last night, well, I can’t help but see how it fits. Of all the selfish little –”

“I’ll take that as a no,” said Mary. “Come back in, put back the phone, and have a cup of tea. I’ve just set the electric kettle. Whatever has been bothering you, I’m sure we can sort it out.”

“I’d rather not share just yet,” said Anne. “It might be all lies put together from bad sources. I don’t know.”

“Well, it can wait until after you’ve had something soothing to drink. You’re in no state to be competent. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen you this upset since we’ve been here.”

“I haven’t been this angry or confused since we’ve been here,” said Anne. “But a cup of tea will do me very well.” She let herself be led back into the room, and Mary shortly put a cup on tea into her hand and a fleece blanket around her shoulders.

“There,” she said. “You think all you want, and let me know if you need anything. By the way, your sister called late last night and wants to know if you will join the others for brunch this morning.”

“No,” said Anne. “Not this morning. Not them. Not yet.”

“I’ll take that as a no, again. You get into bed again, and I’ll leave your sister a message that you’re unwell.”

“Mary, I adore you,” said Anne. “Thank you.” She held her steaming cup in her hands, and sipped it carefully. She’d deal with things a little later, once she could think clearly. Somehow, without ruffling too many feathers. Somehow. And then she’d write Elliot out of her life, and give thought to writing Fred back in. She took another sip, and reveled in the optimism that comes from procrastination and a hot cup of tea.

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Posted on Tuesday, 20 September 2005

Somehow Anne had gotten through the rest of the day, and managed to complete her class work. In the mid-afternoon Elliot had called. He made no reference to Nell, and Anne couldn’t quite bring herself to ask yet. She wasn’t sure of her sources, and wanted some sign that the whole thing was true before she challenged Elliot. She wasn’t a very brave person, and the whole situation bothered her, knowing that she’d have to take action at some point, and find the truth.

“Are you feeling better now, Anne?” asked Elliot, solicitously, across the wire.

“Some,” said Anne.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, the way you looked in that dress was worth catching a cold for,” said Elliot. “I mean it.” Anne, uncomfortable, made no reply. “Well, I have to head back to York, Carteret and I have a busy day tomorrow. But I just wanted to make sure you were doing fine. You seemed a little off at the end of the concert, it was a shame, I missed our talks together.” Anne made a sort of grunting noise. “You don’t want me to come by or anything, do you? I’m a good nurse, Eileen always said so.”

“No,” said Anne, quickly. “I have a lot of work to do. Mary’s taking care of me.”

“Well, then I’ll say good-bye for now, love. Your family is leaving today, too. I’m sure they send their best-wishes.” He paused, and both of them knew that Walter and Liz probably hadn’t thought of Anne since the missed brunch. “I’ll next see you at Liz’s birthday party?”

“Oh, lord, I’d forgotten,” said Anne. “When is it?”

“Saturday. In York. At my place.”

“Right. I suppose so, then.”

“Do you need a ride over? I’ll come get you.”

“Won’t you be preparing your flat for the invasion? Besides, I can get a ride.”

“Well, it was worth a try. Actually, Liz wants to pad the party with a few of your friends. She got some names from Mary, and they should be getting invites soon.”

“That’s strange,” said Anne, surprised. “She doesn’t know many.”

“She wants a large party,” said Elliot, dryly. “And you, my darling, are close by. And she seems to vaguely like your roommate, and thought that a number of your other friends would look well at her party.”

“I’m sure they’ll be flattered.”

“She’s sure to think they’ll be. Well, feel better, gorgeous, I want to see you in the best of health next week. I’ll be looking forward to it.” Anne hung up the phone without replying. Nell was absent from his conversation, which either meant that he wasn’t involved with her, or was and wasn’t telling. What made Anne uncomfortable was that Elliot was continuing to hit on her, and presuming more than Anne was happy with. She buried herself in reading for class, and the day dragged on.

Monday, too, seemed unusually long. With each passing hour the weight of Clara’s accusations grew, and guilt for not acting upon them. Finally Anne decided to seek out friends, so as to distract herself. Mary had left a message that she’d be in the coffee shop across from the building in which she had her class later that day, and Anne decided to join her. She trudged across the town, and entered the establishment and easily found Mary by the front window, at a large table. Mary jumped up and hugged Anne, as she approached.

“Anne, sweetie! I’m so glad you’ve come to join the world. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” Anne let herself be led to the counter, barely registering the fact that the table had been almost full. Soon Mary had firmly planted a cup of tea in Anne’s hands, and sat her down in a chair. Then Anne woke from her unhappy daze, to realize that Mary’s companions were her own friends. Charles, Hetty, Louisa... and Fred. Fred nodded a greeting, and returned his attention to the newspaper before him, color rising along his cheek bones. Anne stared at him, a little helplessly, but was distracted by Louisa, whom she had barely seen since the English girl’s return from the States.

“Anne, I haven’t seen you in so long!” cried Louisa, who had the seat across from Anne at the six-person table. “You look a bit peaky. Are you all right?” Charles pushed a corner of Fred’s paper out of his own place, and turned to be included in the conversation.

“I’m sure it’s nothing that a little stress-relief won’t fix,” he said. “And I have just the thing. I made a reservation for that Neil Simon play that’s going up in York. Come and laugh, Saturday.”

“You didn’t!” cried Mary, who had been people-watching out the window, but turned to stare aghast at Charles.

“What?” asked Charles. “I thought it would be fun. There’s nothing wrong with a nice comedy.”

“But Saturday? Anne’s sister’s birthday party is Saturday.”

“I’ll change the tickets for another week,” Charles promised Anne.

“No, enjoy them,” said Anne, gently, wishing she could be at the theater with her friends instead of at Elliot’s flat with Liz and her friends.

“We’re invited,” said Mary, petulantly. “Didn’t I tell you, Charles?”

“No,” said Charles, a little surprised. “I’ve barely met Anne’s sister.”

“She thought it would be nice to include some Anne’s friends she’d met,” said Mary, diplomatically. “And entrusted me with delivering the invitations, since Anne’s been off.”

“Are you all right, Anne?” asked Hetty, turning to her neighbor, concerned.

“At this rate I’ll die of friendly concern,” said Anne, smiling a little. “As Charles said, nothing that a little stress-relief won’t cure.”

“Then the party will be ideal,” said Mary. “Kick up your heels a bit Anne, you deserve it. Anyway, all of you are specifically invited.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of invitations, each of which held a name penned in by Mary at Liz’s command. (“Oh, come and bring your boyfriend and some of Anne’s more attractive friends. Those girls I met at that dance, and that well-built blond guy and anyone who’d fit into the crowd”). Mary passed one each to Louisa, Hetty, Charles and Fred. Anne was pleased that they were invited, especially that Fred was. For a moment the whole mess with Elliot, all of Clara’s news seemed to fly away a little. She had to resolve things with Fred, and while Elliot’s flat wasn’t the best place to do so, at least it would ensure that they’d see each other again. As it was, even with a table full of friends in common, he was ignoring her in favor of a week-old American paper.

And the invitation. Louisa laughed, turning and seeing him. There was some distance between Fred and herself these days, but friendliness remained, and Louisa liked to tease.

“Look, Fred’s excited, even if you aren’t, Charles. He can’t put down his invite!” Anne stole a glance across to Fred’s end of the table, and saw that he was holding the card carefully. She hoped it meant he intended to come.

“Hetty, Charles, can you get cars again?” asked Mary. “We can go over together. It’ll be fun. A real full-blown party, with all those glamorous people Elizabeth collects. Where is she holding it, Anne? Other than York?”

“Elliot’s flat,” said Anne, briefly. Fred had stopped fingering the invitation, and had placed it thoughtfully on the table, resuming his paper-reading.

“Elliot Willliams?” asked Mary, thoughtfully, her attention focused out the window.

“What other Elliot?” asked Anne, confused.

“No, I was just wondering. Isn’t that Elliot out the window?”

“He’s back in York,” said Anne. “He’s supposed to be in meetings with Mr. Carteret all day. It can’t be him.”

“I think I know what Elliot looks like,” said Mary, impatiently. “And that is him.” She gestured out the window. “Come and tell me if I’m right.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Anne, trying to play down the reference to Elliot. Fred had begun to scowl gently. It cheered her a little to know that he was jealous, but it also made her miserable. And unlikely to act meanwhile.

“Come on. You know what Elliot looks like, you practically lived in the same house all break,” said Mary. As much as Anne loved Mary right now, she wished Mary was miles away. Anne got up, to shut Mary up. She stood by the window, and gazed out.

“Yes, that’s Elliot. I guess he had business here.” Then her gaze fell on his companion, and she fell silent. It was Nell Clay, and they seemed to be talking intimately as they walked. His arm was around her waist, and she was flirtatiously hitting him.

“I thought your family left yesterday,” said Mary, recognizing Nell, too, and frowning.

“Maybe Elliot and Nell are here for birthday plans, or something,” said Anne, dismissively. She didn’t believe it, but it was possibly true. Mary was distracted by a server coming to relieve the group of used dishes, but Anne stared a moment longer. It was nothing definite, but Nell and Elliot seemed to be on much closer terms than they’d ever demonstrated around her. Usually Elliot was courteous to Nell, but solicitous of Anne. She wasn’t jealous, but she was concerned. If Clara was right about one part, she might well be right about the other. And that wasn’t a pleasant thought. She supposed she’d have to have it out with Elliot at the party next week, and it wouldn’t be pretty. Maybe she could subtly hint to her father to examine Elliot’s recent work, or something. If her father would believe her, which he wouldn’t.

“Do you still want your cup Anne?” asked Louisa, across the table.

“Oh, no,” said Anne. Louisa handed it to the server, who left with the dirty crockery.

“You really are out in cuckoo land,” commented Louisa, leaning over. “Anything up?”

“Oh, family stuff,” said Anne, vaguely.

“I guess it was rough having to go to the concert with them, wasn’t it?” asked Louisa, with a flash of her old cynicism.

“Very,” said Anne, seizing the chance explain to the world (well, Fred) that she hadn’t cared for her company. “I’d have preferred them to stay away, and to go with you lot.”

“Even though you got a posh dinner and had your friend down?” asked Louisa, who had only a hazy grasp of Elliot, not having communicated with Anne over her holiday.

“I didn’t enjoy myself. I thought I might have enjoyed it, but in the end I didn’t,” said Anne, clearly.

“Neither did Fred,” commented Charles. “You were annoyed enough with the uber-hype to walk out and miss the after-celebrations, weren’t you?”

“I’m sure it could have been a wonderful concert, but I didn’t enjoy it,” said Fred, briefly, glaring gently at Anne.

“I liked it,” put forward Hetty, gently. “I liked it quite a lot.”

“Good for you,” said Mary.

“Not quite my style,” said Charles, “but I enjoyed it too.”

“Obviously,” said Louisa, “your family is easy-going and easy to please. Or our esteemed American friends are too hard to please. You should have gone and complained about the performance together, Anne and Fred. You might have enjoyed it then.”

“Yes,” said Fred. “I think I should have.” Anne couldn’t look at his eyes, but instead focused on the darts of color across his face. “It’s ten of three. I have class.” He rose abruptly, folding his paper roughly, and marched out of the shop.

“Temper, temper,” commented Louisa. “I wonder what’s wrong with him?”

Anne knew, and silently watched him walk briskly down the street. She needed to talk to him, tell him the truth. She needed to talk to Elliot, too, and to her father. And she didn’t think that any of these would be easy conversations.

Chapter Twenty-three:

Posted on Tuesday, 27 September 2005

As it happened, Anne managed to talk to none of the parties she needed to before Thursday afternoon. She hadn’t expected to, but the guilt and apprehension weighed heavily on her, dampening some of the spirit she had previously shown this term. Her Thursday morning class although interesting, managed to drag on abominably, and afterwards Anne fled towards the library, hoping to get her work done. School work was something she could do, and was a form of procrastination from dealing with her problems.

Once inside the library Anne headed towards her favorite niche, but on spreading out all her notes and books realized that she was missing a book she’d lent Charles. The reading from that volume was key to the essay she was in the process of outlining, so Anne rose with a sigh, and made her way towards a terminal from which she could check to see if the library also possessed a copy. She was saved the trouble of looking when she was hailed by Mary.

“Anne, fancy meeting you here! A few of us have some tables on the second floor, care to join?”

“Is Charles here?” asked Anne, curiously.

“Somewhere,” said Mary, cheerfully. “Why?”

“He has my copy of Religion Under Cromwell .”

“Sounds ghastly.”

“I need it for an essay.”

“Well, I dare say he might have it, you can ask him. Come along, gather your things and join in the fun.” Anne dubiously put her notes and papers back into her bag, and followed Mary to the second floor, where there were a number of tables for group use. A number of familiar faces were sitting at these tables: Mary’s things and Hetty at one, Dillon and Fred at another. However, there was no sign of Charles.

“Hetty, where did Charles go?” asked Mary, on sitting down once more.

“Went to find sources.”

“He’s wandered off with one of Anne’s books.”

“Search his bag,” said Hetty, mildly, turning back to her book. Mary seized the bag and emptied it. The book was absent, though Anne recognized some papers she’d stuck in the back of the missing volume.

“He’s probably using the references to find other sources,” said Anne, mildly. “I guess I’ll wait for him to come back.” She walked around the table to the remaining seat, feet away from the table where Fred and Dillon sat. Anne watched Fred, but he only nodded at her on arrival, and fell to his work with a will, seeming to ignore all his friends. Mary shrugged at the world, and immediately began distracting Hetty with gossip about Louisa. Anne wasn’t very keen on gossip, especially at present, when Clara’s collection of such prattle had caused her so much anguish and uncertainty. Still, Mary’s enthusiastic tones could not be ignored, and Anne found herself listening to the conversation.

“So how’s Louisa doing with James these days? The whole long-distance relationship thing.”

“She seems really happy,” said Hetty, casting aside her book willingly enough. “And I’m happy for her. If someone can find the right person to be with, it shouldn’t matter that they have to be far away from each other. She can see him from time to time, and there’s the phone and e-mail, and they seem to have a pretty nice relationship.”

“That’s cheerful,” commented Mary. “It’s fabulous how people can have relationships from a distance. It should really be the people and not the place that matters. I’ll admit that it is a little strange to think of Louisa as being in a relationship when James is across an ocean, but it’s still sweet, now that I’m getting used to it.”

“Well, as long as they’re happy, it shouldn’t matter what friends think,” said Hetty. Anne listened, drawn to the conversation. She should have agreed to a long-distance relationship. Hetty was absolutely right. Her happiness was what should have mattered, not Susan’s view of the situation. Mary continued to describe various long-distance relationships among her acquaintance, and Hetty fell to doing the same. Anne stopped paying attention, deep in thought. She roused herself and gazed again at her notes, but realized that her task was futile until Charles returned.

Dillon noticed her expression, and as Fred was taking notes on a legal pad, ignoring the world, he picked up his chair and situated it beside her.

“Unable to work?”

Anne smiled. “Charles has the book I need. I was being distracted by Mary.”

“It’s an interesting conversation,” mused Dillon. “But I find myself glad that Heather is here, in the same town. As easy as long-distance relationships supposedly are, I can’t help but think that the parties might become distracted in absence. How can one be truly faithful to a picture, or a telephone? It is easy enough to lie.”

“I think you have a poor image of mankind’s faithfulness,” said Anne, reprovingly.

“No, you are right,” said Dillon, smiling, “I was exaggerating before. I believe in capacity for constancy, I shouldn’t be in a relationship if I didn’t.”

“I can’t help but think,” Anne softly said, “that any woman who truly loved would not be quick to forget her partner, however far he might be. I cannot speak for men, as I have never been one.”

“You think that women remember longer, feel longer?”

“Perhaps,” said Anne, in quiet tones. “I think in some ways women live quieter lives, and we depend upon the knowledge that we are loved.”

“And men do not? Mutual affection, or love for that matter, is as important to men. Is it not exhilarating to you to find out that your feelings are shared? That someone could trust you with themselves? I spoke flippantly earlier. Men have as great a capacity as women to be faithful, even when separated from their beloved. No, I think that men can be more faithful, as women can find attention anywhere. Men must love more strongly, as a defense to existing relationships. You know, I have a theory, that physical and emotional levels might correspond... that men, more active, have a more active need for love. Women may be more able to make do without active relationships.”

“Your theory seems a little absurd,” said Anne, in her earnest, quiet voice. “Although I think I might agree that women have less of a need for what you call active relationships. I think that we are able to live off of tender memories as well as current loves.”

“Do you?” asked Dillon. He seemed about to speak again, when he was distracted, and turned around to face Fred, who had evidently been trying to coax a ball point pen back to life. “Give up, chap,” Dillon called to him, cheerfully. “No one else is getting anything done.”

“Can I borrow a pen?” asked Fred, quietly. Dillon shrugged, and tossed him one from his own abandoned work.

“You think I am absurd. But look at literature. Now, I do not claim to be an expert in the field, but it seems to me that there are a great many examples of the strength of men’s love. Or what about your own subject? Hasn’t love driven men to do great things throughout history?”

“It was likewise driven women, though perhaps there aren’t as many chronicles of their actions. The majority of history has been recording by men, with a masculine bias.”

“Ah, we shall never prove anything now. We shall never be able to prove to the other that our sex can love best. But I have to tell you, from very personal experience, I can assure you that men love well. Whenever holiday comes, and I have to leave Heather, you must believe me that it hurts. And that I love her firmly and well, and ache for the day when we’ll see each other again. You can’t say that men cannot feel, that men cannot love well and strongly.”

“No!” cried Anne. “No, I didn’t mean to suggest that they weren’t. I believe that you are capable of constancy and all that is good and strong. Everyone is capable of love, of feeling. What I mean to claim for women – and it is nothing you need envy – is being able to love longest, even after all hope is gone.” Anne choked a little as she forced out the words. She blushed after speaking, and Dillon impulsively squeezed her shoulders.

“You’re a sweet, steadfast girl. I can’t argue with you, and even as you claim love for women, I have to adore you. It is no small gift to be able to trust in Heather’s love, as I do, and as, I see, you do as well. I hope that you’ll find someone deserving of that steady heart.” Anne smiled warmly at him, unable to look towards where Fred had stopped writing. She could hear him tearing the pages from the legal pad and stowing them amongst his various papers. In the sudden silence Hetty looked around, and then at her watch.

“Oh, it’s getting late!” she said. “Fred, Dillon, are you coming too? Mary I’ll see you tonight, I suppose. I got a car for Anne’s sister’s party on Saturday, by the way. Dillon, I think Mary said that you and Heather were invited?”

“Yes. Should we join into the ride sharing pool?”

“If you like,” said Hetty. “I’ll have a car, and so will Charles. There’s room for you, if you want to come.”

“Sounds convenient and enjoyable,” said Dillon. “Fred, you’re going to this thing aren’t you?” Fred didn’t answer, being absorbed in gathering up his things. “We can figure it all out in more detail later. Hetty, you and I must go to class and Fred has a meeting. Come along Fred.” They soon rose, and disappeared, Dillon giving her a warm “I’ll see you Saturday, Anne” and Fred paying her no heed at all. Anne was torn between frustration at herself for seeing Fred again without speaking to him and a strange exhilaration after her conversation with Dillon.

“Well,” said Mary, having lost her audience, “if Charles ever shows up you can get some work done.” Anne smiled, and gazed over at the seat which Fred had occupied. He had been so close, and yet might have not been there at all for all the good Anne was at dealing with her own problems. She simply needed to march up and start talking, and likely everything would be sorted out. But the confrontation was what Anne dreaded.

All in a moment Fred, the object of her thoughts and dreams, strode back among the tables. “My books,” he said to both of them, gesturing to two volumes he’d left on the table. Mary smiled, and turned back to staring about at the occupants of other tables, but Anne’s gaze was arrested on Fred. He approached the books, and picked them up, revealing a folded sheet of paper from his legal pad, with her name written clearly on the flap, in block capitals. He looked into her eyes for the first time since the night of the concert, and then strode off again. Anne immediately picked up the paper – he had written to her, when she had thought he was only occupied with his class work – and sat down to read it. Even as she unfolded the sheet of paper her heart beat quickly, as the contents meant everything. Fred had taken the initiative to confront Anne, since she had not, even if he had had to resort to written form. She’d have his thoughts, and, from them, a direction.

His handwriting was the same neat scrawl she remembered, from long ago. The very writing seemed like a friend, and reassuring. The words were another matter.

I can listen no longer in silence, and speak to you through the only way I have just now. Your words pierce my soul, I find I am half agony, half hope. Tell me that I’m not too late in coming back, that your sweet affection has not passed on completely. My heart is yours, as much as it was four and a half years ago, when you broke it. Don’t say that men forget love faster than women, that our hearts move on more quickly. I have loved none other. I have been weak and selfish, trying to ignore you for the pain you caused me, but I can only come back to you, a supplicant, and constant. I think of you only, now, have you not seen this? I have sought you out, as much as was in my power, and should not have waited even these weeks to ‘speak’ to you, if I could have discerned your feelings. I think that you must have some idea of mine.

You lower your voice as you speak now, with Dillon, self-conscious and serious. The others might not be able to hear, but I can, I can hear your voice when others cannot. Dear, kind girl, you grant us men constancy. Know that you have a constant friend in me. - Fred.

I have to go now, uncertain of my fate, of your reaction. I will return, or delay, and try to seek you out once more. A word, a look, will tell me if I will enjoy your family’s hospitality this weekend, or never.

Anne could not recover from such a letter quickly. To have the heart of her beloved offered so clearly to her was astonishing, and his ultimatum of her love or his absence in her life scared her a little. She had to see him again, assure him of her continued devotion. There could be no misunderstanding now, neither could afford it at this point.

Her musings were interrupted by Charles, who chose the moment to bumble cheerfully back to the table. Anne knew she had to compose herself for the combined scrutiny of Mary and Charles, and hastily composed her features, but could not control the hectic color that had risen to her cheeks and eyes.

“You’ve got some religious book of Anne’s,” called Mary to Charles. “Cromwell, or something. She needs it for a paper.”

“Oh, yes!” said Charles, good-naturedly. “So sorry. It’s here somewhere.” He delved into a pile of books he had brought up from the circulation desk. He waved the volume at Anne’s face. Anne blinked.

“Are you all right? You look a bit peaky,” Charles said with concern.

“You do,” Mary agreed. “You’ll make yourself sick. Come, go back to the room and take a nap and don’t think about your work. Charles, take her back.” Charles rose and helped Anne to gather her things. “I want to see you looking healthy and happy for your sister’s party,” Mary added to Anne, sternly.

“Yes,” Anne replied meekly. Then: “You must make sure that the others come along. Make sure they know that they all know I want them to be there.”

“They know,” said Mary. “I told them when I delivered invites.”

“Even Dillon and Heather and Fred and people we don’t see so often?” Anne pleaded.

“You know Dillon is looking forward to it. Stop fussing. Go and get some rest. You must be overdoing it lately. Charles.” Anne found herself escorted out the library, and steered towards Liddell Hall. There was little she could do, instead gazing around, desperate to see if Fred had lingered outside the library. There was no sign of him as she and Charles walked the first blocks towards the dormitory. Then, all of a sudden, Charles was addressing him. Anne gazed mutely, her face pale and pink in turns, her eyes wide.

“Fred! Fancy seeing you, I thought you had a meeting. Which way are you headed?”

“My meeting has been changed. I’m not sure where I’m going,” said Fred, his eyes on Anne’s face.

“Well, if you haven’t anything else to do, do you think you could walk Anne back to her hall? She’s a bit under the weather, and Mary charged me with getting her home. Only I’m supposed to go meet some of the chaps about the alumni cricket tournament that’s being gotten up. I’ve only just remembered, seeing the captain run past, and I really ought to be there.”

“I’d be pleased to help Anne,” said Fred, firmly. Charles smiled and nodded, and disappeared up the street. When he had gone, Anne looked up into Fred’s face, hesitantly.

“I got your letter,” she said. When he said nothing, she continued. “I guess both men and women are capable of constancy,” she said shyly. Fred’s face held an unspoken question, and she answered it with a smile, taking up his hands and filling them with her own. She was pulled into a close embrace that answered all her fears. She raised her face to his and relived the pleasure of his kisses. He pulled away at last, his eyes aglow and smile more boyish and friendly than she had seen it since his life-guarding days.

“I think that’s enough of a public demonstration for this old English town. Come. Let’s go down by the river.” Anne laughed at his expression, but agreed. Soon they were walking arm in arm down on the gravel walks by the river, glowing with the joy of being in the company of their renewed love.

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Posted on Tuesday, 4 October 2005

“Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” asked Fred, teasingly, for the sixth time.

“No,” said Anne. “I could pinch you if you like, though.” Her face too, was wreathed in smiles, as the reunited couple strolled along the river.

“Pinches from someone sweet as you would never hurt,” said Fred adoringly. “Come, let’s sit a while.” He gestured to a vacant bench, and soon the two were settled close side-by-side in the crisp air of early spring.

“I’m sorry,” said Fred, all of a sudden. “I didn’t realize what a fool I’d been. I tried to ignore you.”

“I broke up with you,” said Anne, gently. “I think I win the fool’s prize.”

“What a mess we are,” agreed Fred. “But I can’t forgive myself for Louisa. She was friendly, and beautiful, and easy to flirt with, but I shouldn’t have flirted with her... she was your friend. And I certainly shouldn’t have in front of you.”

“I was hurt,” said Anne. “It was cruel. I can’t deny that I was jealous.”

“I was jealous of that friend of yours.”

“Elliot?”

“Yes. Wait – isn’t this party at his apartment?”

“Yes,” said Anne, coming down to earth. “ But believe me, he is a friend, if that still, nothing more. And I’ll be far happier going to the party beside you than I could be anywhere else in the world alone or with him. I feel braver, knowing that you’ll be there.”

“And I feel calmer, knowing that you’ll be with me. What a muddle.”

“My friends do tend to interfere,” whispered Anne, hesitantly.

“Friends?”

“It was Susan,” Anne confessed. “My friend from the summer resort. Oh, if I don’t have everything out in the open with you, I know I’ll never be able to be happy. We’ve hurt each other so many times -- I shouldn’t have listened, but I thought she knew more than me. I thought she’d know what the right thing was to do. She made me doubt myself, and then I was afraid I was going to be holding you back. I couldn’t do that.”

Fred started, becoming a little angry. “Your friend? You listened?” A little hardness briefly returned to his face.

“I resisted, but she made me think, and when I thought, I realized how young we were... I thought you had a great future, I didn’t want to hurt it... it was as much my own foolishness as Susan’s interfering.”

“You couldn’t hurt my future by participating in it,” said Fred, fiercely. “I must admit that I cannot think well of your friend, after hearing this, but I agree that it is best we tell each other the truth. It’s been a mess from the start, but I’m hoping you’ll agree to let us start afresh.”

“I’d like nothing better,” Anne agreed, blushing.

“Very well,” said Fred, dropping a kiss on her hair. “Let’s sort out the whole business from the beginning, and then put it all behind us.”

“Where do you want me to begin?” asked Anne, quietly. “I told you about Susan.”

“Very well. Susan questioned you, you panicked, and we parted.”

“Something like that, anyway.”

“What did you do then?” asked Fred. “Where have you been all these years?”

“I lived at home, quietly. I went off to college. Susan is now my roommate. I applied to study here at Uppercross for the year, and was accepted. I met you again.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It was after that point that things got complicated,” Anne replied, with a sad smile. “Tell me about yourself. What did you do next?”

“I was miserable. I went home, went back to school. I missed you.”

“Did you have girlfriends?” asked Anne, timidly, not sure if she wanted to know, but dying of curiosity all the same.

“Did you?” asked Fred.

“No girlfriends at all,” shot back Anne.

“Boyfriends?”

“No, not really.”

“Same here. I knew what I wanted and I couldn’t have it.”

“You could,” said Anne, a little sadly. “It makes me miserable to think of us both wallowing in self-pity and sorrow all those years.”

“If I had tried to find you again, talk to you after that summer, would you have listened?” asked Fred, struck by the thought.

“Yes,” said Anne. “Definitely.”

“Then I’m a fool. I thought about it, but I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me, and would report me as a stalker if I showed up on your doorstep.”

“Now it’s your sister’s doorstep,” mused Anne. “A funny old world.”

“I’d forgotten,” said Fred. “When my sister told me the house belonged to Elliots, and I connected Kellynch with you, I was astonished. I kept on imagining you walking through the gardens or into the room. I think my sister must have thought I was possessed, the way I kept on starting... and I’m not certain that I wasn’t.” He tightened his arms around Anne, and she gazed up at him.

“I’m in love with a madman,” she laughed.

“And I’m in love with the most beautiful, sweet, sincere, intelligent girl the world ever met.”

“You flatterer, you.”

“You deserve to be flattered.”

Anne’s face went cold a moment. “Elliot used to say that to me.”

A muscle in Fred’s jaw tensed. “The only thing I’ll ever agree with him about.”

“You must say, he has excellent taste,” teased Anne.

“I was afraid you were falling in love with him,” said Fred, openly. “At the concert... I couldn’t watch.”

“I didn’t like it any more than you did. Pompous little turd.”

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” Fred whispered in her ear.

“You’re very distracting,” Anne told him.

“Merely ‘very’?”

Anne laughed and touched his cheek. “All right, extremely. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Do you forgive me?”

“Now? Yes, because I love you. But I’d rather not think about the way you flirted with Louisa, and I certainly don’t want to talk about Elliot. Forgive and forget.”

“I don’t deserve you, Anne.” A sharp breeze passed them, and Anne shivered. “And you don’t deserve to be kept out in the cold on a day like this. Come, I’ll take you home.” Anne smiled her assent, and rose, keeping her hand tucked in his.

“So you will come to the party?”

“I have to keep an eye on you.”

“And after the party?” she asked, turning to face him. “What then?”

“Then the rest of this semester. And a summer in which we’ll see each other very often. Then I’ll have to return to school, as you must, to finish my degree. But if I were to ask you again if we might keep a relationship despite distances... and they are not very great distances, now... would you have a different answer?”

“Yes,” said Anne. “I would.”

“Then let’s play this game for keeps. I can’t say what will happen to both of us once we graduate, but I’m willing to do quite a lot, if it means I can keep your sweet company.”

“I love you,” said Anne. “I feel as if I could face the world right now, and triumph in my every endeavor.”

“Then I shall hurry you along to your hall so we can let our friends know the good news. I’m about ready to shout from the rooftops as it is. My Anne has forgiven me!”

“They must be able to hear you in York,” commented Anne, with a flushed face and a smile.

“York?” said Fred, “I was aiming for Manchester.”

They encountered their friends in the television lounge in Liddell hall. Anne had no soon rounded the corner with Fred beside her than Mary’s face appeared at the window. She blinked once or twice, shrugged, and smiled. Then, she leapt across the room, regardless of the others watching the television, and pounced on the couple as they came through the door of the hall.

“When?” she demanded. Anne looked at her a little blankly, and she spoke again. “Come on, I’m not blind. When did this happen?”

“About four years ago,” said Fred, firmly.

“What?” Mary looked confused, and Anne took pity on her.

“Mary, Fred and I were involved four years ago. We’ve just made up.”

“You’re a good one for secrets,” said Mary, still surprised. “All this time, and Louisa! I can’t believe it. Well!”

“What?” asked Louisa, coming out of the lounge. “Mary, it’s very unlike you to miss Neighbours.” She took in Anne and Fred, and after a moment smiled. “I’m glad you’re happy, Fred, Anne. Is this new?”

“No,” said Anne. “No, not at all.”

Louisa paused, and considered her statement. “Oh, I see.” She looked worried and a little guilty. “Then? I’m sorry, Anne!”

“You couldn’t have known,” said Anne. “Don’t worry yourself. It’s all worked out. You have Jamie, I have Fred.”

Louisa turned on Fred. “And for you, this is an old story?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should be ashamed of yourself, treating Anne so shabbily.”

“I realize it,” he said, miserably. Louisa melted.

“Well, just see that you spoil Anne rotten to make up for it.”

“Oh, I will,” said Fred, holding Anne closely.

“I love it when people talk about me as if I wasn’t here,” she commented, idly.

“Well!” repeated Mary. “ This is news. So many people are going to be interested in hearing this. I wondered about Elliot, but not you, Fred. But somehow, it seems right. You dears.”

“No, not Elliot,” said Anne, firmly.

“He’s going to be surprised,” Mary mused.

“I don’t care.”

“It’ll be interesting to watch, anyway.”

“What will?” asked Charles, emerging from the TV lounge. “Mary, you missed the end of a good episode.”

“You watch Neighbors ?” asked Fred, amused.

“He was the one who started me watching,” said Mary. “Charles, you won’t believe this... Anne and Fred!”

“Yes, I see them. Jolly good. Took you a long time to get back, didn’t it? I’ve been back for an hour.”

Anne looked up at Fred in surprise, it hadn’t seemed that long. Mary snorted impatiently.

“Charles, you dolt. Can’t you see how beautiful this is? Anne and Fred, an ill-starred romance brought right after four years? I don’t even know the details yet... Anne, you must tell me everything ... but I think it’s amazing.”

Charles blinked a few times, then nodded. “Oh, is that it? You do look better, Anne, not so peaky.”

“Thank you,” said Anne, softly. Charles shot her a glance, and Anne nodded. It had been Fred all along, and Charles deserved to know that, though it would be awkward to bring it up in front of Mary.

Hetty came through the door of the hall and shook out her umbrella. “It just started raining... good thing I was prepared. Well now, this is a pleasant little hallway gathering,” she said. “Any particular reason?”

“I think,” said Fred, “I should hire an airplane to haul a banner across the sky. It would be infinitely easier. How many people do we know, Anne?” Anne laughed. She’d cried in the past, and been in pain, but those days seemed far away. Now it was love, and friendship, and the prospect of a joyful semester and summer... and life. All that still remained was sorting out Elliot and her family... but that could wait until the party.

Continued in Next Section