No Longer in Silence

Posted on Friday, 27 January 2006

Twas the night of the concert. My family and I arrived early. I wandered away and found myself outdoors walking through the crowd that had gathered for the concert that evening. Frederic is in Bath, was the thought tumbling around in my head, softly but steady. No doubt my half-conscious mind had led me outdoors to try to catch a glimpse of him. I longed to see him privately, so that I could probe his mind for his feelings. Even more, I wanted to let him know mine. Even if he did not want me, I wanted to let him know that I was his for the asking. Even if it meant disappointment for me and a loss of pride. What did I care for the Elliot pride anyway. I had lived too long amongst pretenses – my family members excelled at superficiality. I had never wanted it and wanted no more of it in any part my life. I wanted Captain Frederic Wentworth to know the truth. I wanted him to know my heart. I still loved him and only him.

Though we had been thrown together many times during the recent months, never was there a time when I was completely alone with him, and that was breaking my heart. It was awkward in the carriage with Henrietta the night of Louisa’s accident. That night my head was spinning from the events of that day. My strength had been completely drained; I could not think, let alone talk.

I finally gave up my hopes of meeting him outside the concert hall and went indoors to rejoin my party. I stood alongside my father and sister but my eyes constantly glanced toward the room entrance. Suddenly he was there. I approached him and spoke. He spoke to me and then bowed to my family who had for once acknowledged him and gave him a respectable greeting.

We spoke of Lyme and of the events which had occurred there. He spoke of Captain Benwick and confided that though he approved of the match, he was surprised that Benwick had so soon abandoned his former love. I was convinced he was not only speaking about Captain Benwick, but also about himself. He was too animated and sincere to be speaking only of a third party. My heart jumped at the hope his words inspired in me. I could not tell him what I wanted since the concert was to start momentarily, but I was near certain that destiny was ours. Mine and Frederic’s. I had to let my hopes fly or my spirits would sink to depths where I was afraid to go.

Then the concert began and we were separated. He seemed to have disappeared in an instant. I found myself sitting next to Mr. Elliot and translating the Italian for him and Miss Carteret. I was uncomfortable and distracted while Mr. Elliot rained excessive flattery upon me without knowing how transparent and despicable I found him.

In the seconds before the last song was about to begin, I noticed through the corner of my eye that Frederic was leaving the concert room. I could not let him leave without speaking to him once more. The words he spoke during our initial conversation had given my heart wings and I wanted to hear more from him. I felt that he had been on the verge of divulging something important.

I hurried to intercept him but I was in time only to ask him if he was leaving. He answered yes, nodded to me and walked briskly away out into the night. He was in an excessive hurry and I stood in the back of the concert hall alone. People were staring and the new song was beginning. I had no choice but to retake my seat.

I sat in silent gloom and decided not speak again to Mr. Elliot or anyone else that evening. I listened to the last song, a beautiful Italian love song. Some tears filled my eyes but I was able to postpone the deluge until later that evening in my own private dark bedroom. Tears flooded from my eyes that night. It had been a very long time, perhaps eight years, since I had allowed myself the liberty of crying. My pillow was wet with my tears and I turned it over and shut my eyes with a prayer on my lips and Frederic's face in my mind. I then slowly, softly fell asleep.

The following day I walked to White Hart after a visit with my friend Mrs. Smith. Frederic and Captain Harville came a few moments later with Charles Musgrove. Charles had bought tickets for the theatre and had invited me but I had to decline due to a previous commitment to my family for a card party, to which they were also invited.

As the people in the room began to separate, Frederic approached me. I had turned and walked to an area of solitude, as the previous night at the concert demanded my thoughts. Frederic then said to me, “Perhaps you have not been long enough in Bath to enjoy these parties they give.”

I replied, “They mean nothing to me. Those who hold them believe the theatre to be beneath their dignity; but I am no card player.”

Frederic replied kindly, “No, you never were, were you?” He smiled a sincere smile; something he had done but rarely. At that moment, I felt I had been given a gift.

Then came my sister Mary’s voice addressing me, “Anne, there is our cousin down there in the street with Mrs Clay. Come and look".

I was determined to show Captain Wentworth my indifference regarding Mr. Elliot by remaining where I stood next to him. I replied, “Mary, dear, I am sure you are right. Do they not make a very interesting couple? Perhaps now the whole town will stop its very unpleasant gossip about Mr. Elliot’s latest presumed future wife. I, for one fervently hope so.”

“Oh” was all that Mary was able to reply.

Frederic was looking at me but said to his good friend Captain Harville, "We will write the letter we were talking of, Harville, now, if you will give me materials." Materials were at hand, on a separate table. Frederic went to it, and nearly turning his back to us all, he quickly became engrossed in writing. Mary and Henrietta left the room to spend the rest of the day shopping for ribbons and lace for the double wedding of the two Musgrove sisters. Mrs. Musgrove was deep in conversation with Frederic’s sister, Sophy, discussing the two daughters and their upcoming double wedding.

Captain Wentworth wrote his letter giving instructions to a craftsman to re-make a miniature of Benwick as a gift to his new fiance, Miss Louisa Musgrove. Harville had requested Frederic’s help in the endeavor as the task was too much for him. The original had been made for Pheobe Harville, who had died while Benwick was at sea.

I had little choice but to join Captain Harville in his reverie as he peered outside on the rainy streets of Bath. Captain Harville's countenance re-assumed the serious, thoughtful expression which seemed his natural character when I joined him in conversation. He showed me the miniature image of Captain Benwick . Soon we were discussing the constancy of a woman’s love compared to a man’s.

"Poor Phoebe! she would not have forgotten him so soon!"

I lowered my voice, as I was mindful that he had lost a very dear sister. "No," I replied , in a low, feeling voice. "That I can easily believe. It would not be in the nature of any woman who truly loved."

Captain Harville smiled, as much as to say, "Do you claim that for your sex?"

I answered the question, smiling also, "Yes, we certainly do not forget you as soon as you forget us. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home, quiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us. You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately. And continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions."

A slight noise called our attention to Captain Wentworth's hitherto perfectly quiet division of the room. It was nothing more than that his pen had fallen down; but I was startled at finding him nearer than I had realized. "Have you finished your letter?" said Captain Harville.

"Not quite, a few lines more. I shall have done in five minutes."

"There is no hurry on my side. I am only ready whenever you are. I am in very good anchorage here.

“Well, Miss Elliot," Captain Harville resumed, "as I was saying , I suppose, we shall never agree upon this question. But let me observe that all histories are against you--all stories, prose and verse. I do not think I ever opened a book in my life which had not something to say upon woman's inconstancy. Songs and proverbs all talk of woman's fickleness.”

I smiled and answered, “But, these were all written by men."

Captain Harville smiled also but soon continued, “If I could explain to you all this, and all that a man can bear and do, and glories to do, for the sake of these treasures of his existence! I speak, you know, only of such men as have hearts!", pressing his own with emotion.

"Oh!" I cried eagerly, "I hope I do justice to all that is felt by you, and by those who resemble you. God forbid that I should undervalue the warm and faithful feelings of any of my fellow-creatures! I should deserve utter contempt if I dared to suppose that true attachment and constancy were known only by women. No, I believe you capable of everything great and good in your married lives. I believe you equal to every important exertion, and to every domestic forbearance, so long as--so long as the woman you love lives, and lives for you. All the privilege I claim for my own sex (it is not a very enviable one; you need not covet it), is that of loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone." I could not immediately have spoken another sentence; my breath being too much oppressed.

"You are a good soul," cried Captain Harville, putting his hand on my arm, quite affectionately. "There is no quarreling with you. And when I think of Benwick, my tongue is tied."

Their attention was then called towards the others. Mrs Croft was taking leave. Frederic took leave of the room with his sister and Captain Harville and gave me no parting look or word. I sat down at the writing desk where Frederic had written his letter. Mrs. Musgrove was busy watching out the window to try to determine if Mary and Henrietta had finished their errand.

I was quite surprised when Frederic returned into the room and excused himself to Mrs. Musgrove saying he had forgotten his gloves. But while Mrs Musgrove had her back turned and was still peering out the window, Frederic walked up right next to me and reached for something on the desk. He merely moved an envelope but did not pick it up. He then gave me a very direct glance and looked into my eyes. In the next instant he left the room while hastily bidding Good Day to Mrs. Musgrove.

I looked at the paper. It had my name on it. I could not believe it, but it was indeed there in front of me. "Miss A. E.," was written in his handwriting upon the envelope. My hands trembled uncontrollably while opening up the letter. I read the first two sentences. "I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach.” I could hear my heart start pounding . I turned toward the door so that Mrs. Musgrove would not notice the emotion in my face. These are the words in the letter which Frederic wrote for me that morning:

"I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W. I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never."

I felt something between disbelief and ecstatic joy. It was overpowering happiness. I was overwhelmed with his letter. It was an answer to all my prayers of the past eight years. Then I felt I must leave the room immediately. I excused myself to Mrs. Musgrove and left the room telling her I had forgotten an errand. I took care not to let her see my face as I left.

When I reached the street, I had to stop and lean against the building. For just a few seconds I closed my eyes completely and started breathing deep, but slow breaths. Then I knew that I must start walking or others would begin to stare at me . I decided not to walk to my own residence; but I would go to the gardens where I could sit and contemplate in solitude without causing undue concern.

Sydney Gardens was very near my lodgings. I went there directly to gain a few minutes of solitude and reflection. I tried to remember which location Frederic and Harville were going to after leaving the White Hart. I felt a great need to see him before I returned home. I read his letter again. I stared at the words he wrote. I felt a great relief in the knowledge that he loved me again as he had when we first met. I kissed his letter and then held it against my heart. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and saw his face in my mind.

Then I heard him call my name. I almost fainted.

“Anne!” I opened my eyes and turned toward the direction of his voice. He was standing there just several steps away. I arose and turned to face him and our eyes met and held.

I smiled and said to him, “I am too happy. Please tell me this is not a dream.” I still held his letter in one hand. He walked toward me and then slowly lifted his gloved hand in a gesture which was waiting my response.

I put my hand in his and his grip tightened gently around my fingers. His face revealed joy as he said, “Anne, my Anne, I tried to forget you… I thought I had.”

He looked up for a moment and then he again met my eyes. His head tilted somewhat and he lowered it to place his lips on mine.

My eyes closed and then opened, as I smiled up at him. In those exquisite seconds I felt that I finally was loved, wanted, and cherished. We then strolled down the riverwalk arm in arm. We both spoke of the past with regret, but we also shared with each other our own faults and mistakes. We instantly forgave each other. Although we had lost the last eight years, this fact seemed to insure our future as one of lasting sweetness and unquestionable loyalty and trust between us.

He asked me if he could visit my lodgings that evening to ask my father permission to fix a wedding date. I agreed and we reluctantly walked toward my door. It was hard to leave him then but I would see him again soon. The party at our house would begin in a few short hours. He told me he might be late but he would arrive with his friend Harville and that to expect him to ask my father directly and publicly for his permission. After that we would become officially engaged. I knew not what my father’s reaction would be. I never did. From that time on it mattered little to me. In any case, I knew my father would not be able to refuse to give us his blessing.

That evening our guests arrived at our residence for the card party in our drawing room. Soon after everyone was assembled and in their places at the card tables, Frederic arrived. After my father greeted him, Frederic told him he had come on business. He lost no time in announcing that his proposal of marriage had been accepted by me and he respectfully asked my father for permission to fix a date. I know not how my father answered. I looked only at Frederic and smiled at him. I was not aware of anyone except him.

Our marriage took place one month later in the town of Lyme-Regis. We spent the first week of our honeymoon in a cottage in the countryside there. Frederic insisted that I choose the locations where we would spend our honeymoon. After the first week we sailed off for a month stopping at quaint coastal towns off France and Spain. It mattered not where we were. We had a glorious time in the company of each other. We shared mutual tenderness and affection with no restraint. When we returned to our home in England, Frederic’s family and friends welcomed me warmly.

I pondered whether my decision at the age of 19 had been correct, but I soon realized the answer mattered not. Each day when I awoke next to Frederic I felt luckier than the day before.

- The End -