Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Posted on Tuesday, 17 July 2007
"None of them," Frederick replied to Fanny's unspoken question. They had just left Longbourn, so her question could only pertain to the young ladies there and his opinion of them.
"That is not what I wanted to ask first!"
"Second then! But I shall answer it first. What did I think of them? Let me see…" He made a show of thinking to tease her, although there really was not very much to think about. Even after such a short acquaintance he was certain that he knew his mind. He always knew his mind and this was not a subject he had never thought about before. On the contrary, he had thought about it so often that he now had a clear idea of what he wanted. "They each have something, but none of them have everything."
"Your standards are high," Fanny remarked.
"Indeed they are." He had never known how high until now, because he had not met many women in the past years. It had been easy to dismiss a small number because of their small number, but now he realised he could meet hundreds and he would still have a difficult time finding her equal.
She had been perfection at the time and for a long time afterwards, until he had told himself it had very likely been his own youth and inexperience that were to blame for the impression she had made on him. While he would not detract much from her perfection, other than her weakness, he had then been certain there were more women like her. He had told himself there must be.
Fanny still seemed impatient. "But that was not what I wanted to ask. You mentioned you were engaged…"
He glanced aside and saw her interest. "I do not want to speak of it, Fanny. I have a headache as it is."
Thankfully she left him alone, but her probing had made him think of it again nevertheless. He wondered which conclusion he should draw from being reminded of her all the time. Yes, he was ready, even longing to settle, but not with her, he should think.
Even if he had wanted that, she would be married. He did not see why she would still be unattached. She would have accepted someone with better prospects, since that seemed to have been of the highest importance to her family. They preferred that to love -- and so did she.
He had loved Anne deeply. It was the first time he allowed himself to use her name consciously. It had always been there, but in the back of his mind, as if he feared that by using it he would admit he still thought of her. And who would want to admire a woman by whom one had been rejected?
Perhaps, if he kept looking, he would find a close approximation. He could compromise a little on beauty and demand more strength of character. Such a woman ought to exist. She would not be perfect, but he would respect her and she would raise his children well. He had just been in company with a few young ladies who each had several good qualities, as far as he could tell at a glance. Why could he not like them?
A moment later he believed he would never compromise and his feeling of discomfort increased.
"He will catch a cold," Mrs Bennet repeated to her daughters. She was very concerned for the captain's health.
"If he does, so will Miss Harville," Elizabeth pointed out. Her new friend stood an equal chance of catching a cold, if it was at all likely. It was not even raining yet.
Her mother ignored her and Miss Harville's health. There was something that was more important. "He will not come to dinner if he does."
"I am glad he is excused if he is ill, Mama."
"Do not be impertinent, Lizzy. He looked quite ready to fall ill to me."
"Then I suppose we shall not see him for a week," Elizabeth replied in a cheerful tone, although she would regret his absence. "What did he say to you, Mary?"
Mary, proud at having had someone interested in her ideas for once, was not ready to reveal all of her secrets. Only one. "He asked my opinions."
"Perhaps he wishes to lead a more moral life," Elizabeth chuckled. "Papa says sailors are quite immoral." It would amuse her father that the captain had spoken to Mary, although Mary did not appear to have preached and the captain did not appear to be very immoral.
"I do not think his morality is lacking," Mary said seriously. "The questions he asked were not of a kind to make me suppose he was in need of guidance."
Her sister was incredulous. "You must have missed that he writes poems about kissing women." That could not have failed to fill Mary with abhorrence.
Oddly, Mary did not seem to care. "While the captain had better choose a more suitable topic -- and essays or prose instead of poems -- a poem is not a diary."
Elizabeth was still guffawing about her sister's reply when she accompanied Jane to the room they shared. It was not often that Mary was able to stun her. "A poem is not a diary!"
"You cannot argue with that, my dear Lizzy, and you are far too curious about their conversation. The bits I overheard would, I believe, support Mary's opinion of his morality."
"Yes, you would believe so. You would believe it of everybody. Do you still like him?"
Here Jane withdrew a bit. "He is very agreeable."
"Certainly he divided his time well, giving all of us some attention. That was very agreeable of him." She studied her sister closely. Jane had received less of a share than Lydia, which was odd. Of course Lydia begged for hers repeatedly, whereas Jane would never do so.
"He did not single anybody out, you mean."
That was indeed the effect of giving everybody attention, she realised, and very likely it meant he did not have a favourite. "If one does not count Miss Harville, who is engaged to another man, he did not. This would disappoint Mama a great deal. Poor Mama."
"Are you not sorry?"
"A bit," Elizabeth admitted. Such a man would not quickly be thrown into their paths again -- wealthy, handsome, charming. "We must, if we care about our future, all be sorry, but we cannot force him to like anybody."
"Look!" Fanny pointed. "It is your sister and the admiral between those trees."
"Leave them there," Frederick advised. He was not in the mood to talk to them and possibly be subjected to even more questions. "They do not hide unless they have a good reason."
She did not think they were hiding. They seemed to be rowing. "I think they are in their boat still."
He regretted suggesting that they go left. If they had continued to follow the road, they would not have come near the river, but it would have taken them longer to get home. Nothing was ever perfect. "Leave them."
"You are very grumpy," Fanny complained.
"I do not feel well," he said curtly.
"Were there too many chattering women?"
He tried to smile at her compassionate tone. Fanny was a good girl and she did not deserve to suffer from his bad mood. "That too."
"I shall be silent and ride on hurriedly," she promised. He did look a little flushed, she noticed, as if he felt a little warm. Too many talking women and too many questions might indeed have worsened his condition. "I am sorry I asked you questions."
"You could not know."
As they rode on in silence she thought about his revelation. He had been engaged once. That had been quite a shocking thing to hear, although if she thought about it, it fit in perfectly with his usual reticence about women. An engagement that had come to nothing was not something of which one wanted to boast. She would expect complaints in such a case.
Fanny wondered what had gone wrong. The girl could have died or their engagement could have ended for other reasons. However, if she had died, there would not have been any shame in mentioning her. Or was there merely pain? To what did his silence point? She imagined the girl running off with another man, or perhaps saying she did not want him anymore. That would be painful. It would also fill someone with anger. She had never seen Frederick angry and she could not say how he was. However, silence was not unthinkable in the case of anger.
He could have abandoned the girl as well, but she did not think he was such a dishonourable rake. No, the girl had abandoned him, either by dying or breaking her engagement. She winced. Poor Frederick.
She reviewed what he had said today. He had high standards. Of course -- he did not want to be abandoned again. None of the girls here had everything. That implied that his girl had been a sort of paragon. She sighed. Yes, a paragon would be difficult to find again.
Frederick retired to his room when they arrived home. He had appreciated Fanny's silence, but he had forgotten to thank her. It cost him some effort to get ready for dinner and he hoped he was not really falling ill. It was better to be ill here than on board, but he disliked being confined to his bed all the same. To have to lie still with nothing to do and only his thoughts for company was never a desirable prospect, certainly not given his recent thoughts.
But no matter how he would dislike it after a few days, he longed for his bed now and especially for the opportunity to shed his clothes. He felt hot.
When he arrived at the dining table, he found that Fanny had informed the others, but he brushed off their concerns. "I am fine. I shall go to bed early." He was convinced it would help.
Her brother's condition only having got worse overnight, Mrs Croft was very concerned. He had come down to breakfast pretending all was well, but she could see it was not. "Go back to bed," she urged. "I shall bring you whatever you like."
"That is not necessary," he protested.
"You have a fever," Mrs Harville spoke. "I can see it."
"She is an excellent nurse," said Harville.
Frederick was not too unwell to roll his eyes. She had nursed her husband well indeed, but in his gratitude Harville awarded her too much praise. It did not mean she could spot fevers from across the table, he should think. Perhaps he did feel a little feverish, but that did not mean it was visible.
"Bed," said the two married ladies and there was no arguing with wives and mothers.
"Is it my fault for having taken him to the Bennets?" Fanny wondered anxiously when the ladies had escorted their new patient upstairs.
"We may at times pretend that an excessive number of silly women makes us ill, Fanny," said the admiral. "But it does not truly affect our health. Do not tell Sophia."
She laughed for a second, but then she was concerned again. "Then it cannot have been my fault?"
"No, it was not your fault."
She was not entirely certain of that and she hoped he would improve soon. "I thought he might have felt worse because the girls there liked him more than he likes them."
"Although I wish he would settle, I am glad to hear he is not in a rush to marry the first girl who smiles at him, although if there are five smiling at him at once it may be difficult to make a choice as well."
"Our examples are too good, I hope," said Harville.
Admiral Croft reflected on their examples and the goodness thereof. He gave a good-natured snort. "We picked them up in ports, man!"
Captain Harville was unperturbed. "But I gave her several months to dwell on my goodness before I returned to Cork."
"Now that I am older I recommend such a course of action, although if I ever have a daughter I am not altogether sure I should allow her to take a fancy to a sailor who was in port for only a week and who might return." He thought of the places where he had been only once and to where he could not return even if he had desperately wanted to. There were too many.
"You would prefer her to sail instantly with said sailor."
"Not even that, I confess. I think I should prefer sons."
Fanny had been listening quietly. Perhaps something of this sort had happened to Frederick. He had met a girl somewhere and he had never returned, or her father had objected. It was all too possible. The profession was full of uncertainties and any father would be justified in having his doubts. Even these two gentlemen here seemed to have changed their minds, despite what they had done themselves. "But if you are concerned about a brother, would you not be concerned about a son?"
"Yes, because he might bring home the most frightful --" the admiral coughed. "The younger, the more prone to making mistakes they are, and the older, the more prone to settling for something inferior."
"He is not yet that far gone," Fanny believed. He would not settle for someone inferior.
Posted on Saturday, 21 July 2007
She did not see Frederick until dinner, when he came downstairs and said he was fine. He looked ill, however, and while she would believe he felt better after having been in bed all day, he was not truly fine. After dinner he was sent to his bed again by the two other women and he complied far more readily than Fanny had ever expected him to comply.
The next day he did not come downstairs at all, although Sophia reported that he ate his meals fairly normally, if a little less than usual. Fanny was nevertheless convinced he was getting worse.
If he had asked for her, she would have visited, but Fiona said he would much rather be left alone. He was too proud to be seen in a bad condition, even by a close friend, and he tolerated his two nurses only because he must. Not even the two gentlemen were encouraged to visit. They were more philosophical about it than Fanny and repeatedly reassured her that Frederick was in good hands.
But now she had two men to worry about, for Captain Benwick had not yet arrived. Her worries about him increased every day as well. He could have been here already and she kept fearing something had happened to him or her letters. But as her brother kept telling her, he would make inquiries even if her letters had all got lost for some mysterious reason. It was but a small comfort that she had sent far too many for such a thing to become plausible.
Mrs Bennet had extended the dinner invitation to the entire party at Netherfield, although the chief object of her hospitality was of course Captain Wentworth. It was a grave disappointment to her to receive the news that the captain would not be coming to dinner because he was ill.
"Ill! We should have kept him here," she repeated numerous times. "I saw he was going to be ill. He should have stayed here and he would not have fallen ill."
"My dear Mrs Bennet," said Mr Bennet, who doubted the veracity of this statement. "Why, if you saw he was going to be ill, do you think this could have been prevented by keeping him here?"
"Oh, do not vex me so! You care nothing about his condition."
He would not deny the truth of that remark. "I rather think he would have fallen more seriously ill if he had remained here. Who would have nursed him back to health, do you propose? As I should not have allowed any of the girls to do it, only you and I are left, and in my care he would surely have expired."
"Mr Bennet!" Mrs Bennet was vexed beyond belief.
"What was so odd about my words, Lizzy?" he asked his daughter. "Is it so odd of me not to wish any of my daughters near a young man in a bed? Had he been poor, I might have considered it. But a wealthy man, no. It could only lead to trouble."
She laughed. "But Papa, you must not make fun of his condition, for I am certain it is serious. The note said that Mrs Croft is staying behind to nurse him and no grown man would require that normally, would he?"
"I thought the same," said Jane.
"Well, my dears, I stand corrected if you both say so. I hope for your sakes he is not dying. It would surely give us less to talk about."
Although Mrs Bennet's evening was a little spoilt, it was by no means spoilt entirely. Wealthy young men or not, she always took pleasure in giving dinner parties and putting her best dishes on the table. It was possible that Captain Wentworth would make inquiries of his friends and he must be told good things.
Admiral Croft had come and he had brought with him Captain and Mrs Harville, and of course Miss Harville. Not only was Captain Wentworth not among them, but his sister had also remained at Netherfield. Her absence would hardly have been noticed if it had not been for the admiral announcing it himself repeatedly. Captain Wentworth was more sorely missed by everyone else.
There was some talk of the captain at first, but Admiral Croft assured everyone that Captain Wentworth was not dying, that he had a fever and that he had a devoted sister feeding him and cooling his brow. He furthermore added that he had firsthand experience with Mrs Croft's good care and that he was living proof that she was good.
Elizabeth had been studying Miss Harville, however, and seen too much concern in her face to believe the admiral. When they had the opportunity to converse privately, she seized it instantly. "You are concerned."
"Yes, I am. It is probably nothing," she said to give herself courage. "But my parents died of a fever. I should feel better if Jimmy were here."
"I am sorry. But the admiral says the captain is in good hands."
"Yes, he says so." Miss Harville looked doubtful. "I know they are good, but what can they do against a deadly illness if it is deadly? And what if Jimmy contracts a fever on board? He has no sister there to take care of him."
"The odds of two friends falling ill at the same time in two different locations are very slim," Elizabeth believed. "He will return to you."
"I shall cling to your idea of the odds, but it does not improve Frederick's health."
Elizabeth did not know what could, other than Mrs Croft's good care. "Is Mrs Croft not sorry she could not come along?"
"His sister is the only woman they could have left with him. I offered to stay, but she would not hear of it. I wonder why," Miss Harville said.
"But you are engaged to another man, Miss Harville." That ought to make it different.
"Yes -- call me Fanny -- I do not think that sitting with the invalid merely involves handing him a cup," Fanny said with a significant look. "There are all the things he used to do on his own that he now cannot, if you catch my meaning. And an unmarried girl is not supposed to see that. He would not want me to. He does not even want Sophia to help, but he must, and he must allow Fiona because sometimes Sophia needs rest."
"It does not sound very…" Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.
"Not very romantic, I agree. Nobody is sitting by his bedside reading poetry indeed. It is all buckets and towels. It is almost as bad as when my brother came home injured."
She had seen him limp. "I saw he still has trouble walking. Was it very bad?"
"Yes," Fanny said simply. "But he loved us and would not leave us."
"Can we speak of something pleasant?" Not only was Elizabeth not fond of such topics, but Fanny was clearly not made any happier by dwelling on them. "It will be better for you."
Fanny thought for a few moments. "I am going to have another niece or nephew, did you see?"
"Yes, I had been suspecting that," Elizabeth smiled. It was more likely to suspect that in a woman Mrs Harville's age than something else. "How many do you have already? I have never seen them."
"Lucy, Freddy and Mary. They are quite small, so they have not been off the grounds. I gave Lucy a music lesson this morning. We have no instrument of our own, so I seized the opportunity. I doubt there would be any money to send her to a music master. Fortunately she does not seem very talented. It would be a great pity if she were talented and there was not enough money." She paused. "Although it depends on Jimmy's fortune, we might be able to purchase an instrument. I should like that. And of course Lucy could always practise on it. Do you play?"
"Only a little. I do not practise often enough."
"Have you or your sisters any new pieces? The ones I know are all very old. Five years at least."
Elizabeth laughed. "Well, we are so fashionable that ours may be four years old! But I am joking. I think we have a few newer pieces. Come with me to the music room."
"This is lovely. There is an instrument but no music at Netherfield," said Fanny. "And until I am married I cannot afford either."
For a while they were engaged in examining music sheets and playing little bits. Elizabeth thought that if she could have such a friend nearby, she might practise more. It was certainly more pleasant to play with Fanny than it was with Mary, the only other in the house who played well enough. "Is there anybody else at Netherfield who plays?"
"Frederick does, a little, but he is a better listener."
"You and he are good friends, it seems."
"He is like a second brother -- and in times like these, when everyone else is married, we are in the same position. It does help that we are both somewhat clever. If I had been Thomas' slow little sister he would want nothing to do with me."
Elizabeth had to laugh again. "Ah, he is like that, is he?"
"Are you not?" Fanny countered. "He has enough patience with everyone, but he prefers a certain kind of people, I know."
At Netherfield, Frederick was far from being happy. It was not because he missed the excitement of dining at Longbourn, but because he felt utterly helpless and mortified at all the assistance he needed in addition to feeling very ill. Fortunately it was his sister providing this help and he begged her not to leave him to Mrs Harville's care, but firmly yet kindly she told him there was no other possibility than leaving Fiona with him sometimes.
"She does not care about those things," Sophia reassured him.
"But I do!" He did not want to be seen in this condition by anyone. He knew he must allow one person to help him, but he did not understand why it must be two. This was one of those times that he really wished he had a wife. It must be so different from a sister or a friend's wife.
"It is temporary and you know you cannot do everything yourself." She had seen him try.
"I wish I could!" he sighed. "This is horrible."
She stroked his hair. That he thought it horrible was plain to see and she pitied him, which he would undoubtedly abhor as well. "Well, my dear little brother, had you thought I enjoyed it?"
"Probably not."
"It is my duty and I will do it gladly for as long as you need help," she promised. "But you must forgive my grimaces now and then."
"And you must not treat me like your little brother."
"But you are," she laughed.
He did not like that either. "But I have not been little and helpless in many years, if I ever was."
"I know that and I am trying to make it bearable for you, but you must accept my help. You are very different from my usual patient. He loves my care."
"You must not think me ungrateful, Sophia," Frederick said a little contritely. He did appreciate her presence, which he hoped she knew, but to be taken care of by a wife was very different. "You are very good, but all the same I wish I did not need you."
"Then accept it and soon you will not need me anymore. Not because you are dead, of course," she added with an encouraging smile.
"You would joke by someone's deathbed."
"I am used to a different patient, I said, but perhaps I was wrong," she observed. "Deathbed indeed!"
Posted on Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Fanny could not contain herself and peeked into Frederick's room when she saw Sophia leave it for a few moments. After hearing his condition had worsened and that his fever had gone up, she had to see for herself that he was not dead.
He was not. He was moving in his sleep with agitated movements. There were sounds -- moaning and incomprehensible words. And then a name, loud and clear: Anne. It was followed by more moans and incomprehensible words.
Who was Anne? Fanny was shocked enough to close the door and to withdraw, as if she had intruded on a private moment. Who was Anne?
She quickly left the antechamber so Sophia would not find and berate her. For some reason Sophia did not think it appropriate for her to be there, not if there were two married women at hand who could take care of the patient. How would it look indeed if they let Fanny do it? She agreed, but while she would not volunteer to nurse him if there were others who could do it, she had wanted to have a look all the same.
Frederick was not well at all. Who was Anne? It could be the woman to whom he was once engaged. That must have been before she knew him, five to ten years ago. He would have been quite young. This Anne would have been quite young as well.
Of course it was possible that he had been engaged to someone else, not an Anne, and that he had met an Anne later, but it was odd that Frederick would have such a large collection of women in his past about whom he refused to speak unless he was delirious.
The delirium was not good. It worried her, but to keep herself from fretting she ought to focus on that Anne. He called for her. He needed her. The mysterious Anne might bring him out of his delirium. Unfortunately Fanny could not see any support for that notion among Netherfield's inhabitants, who were mostly sensible and practical and who would send for the apothecary or the surgeon first. But what could they do?
She would have to try her idea out elsewhere before she took any action. She had her horse saddled and she rode to Longbourn.
"Captain Wentworth was thrashing in his bed and moaning for Anne," Fanny whispered.
"Anne?" Elizabeth repeated. Although she had not truly entertained any hopes, she was a little sorry to hear it nevertheless. "Who is she?"
"That is what I should like to know as well." She paused to glance about, but nobody was listening. "He was engaged once. One assumes it was to this Anne. He would not give me any particulars. I could not ask for any, because he was already feeling unwell."
"What happened? Did she die, do you think?"
"He should be able to speak of her if she had," Fanny reasoned. "Yet he cannot. I depend on very small clues such as frowns and looks."
Elizabeth was fascinated. "She broke it off. She must have. When was this?"
"Years ago. It was not while I knew him, at least. He would like to see her again and she would make him better. We should find out where she is!"
"Where!" Elizabeth smiled at Fanny's eagerness. "Should we not first find out who she is?"
"Yes, but how?" Fanny's face fell a little. "Do you think it will be difficult?"
"Your brother! He may know. She may be married, of course," said Elizabeth, checking her excitement. "If she could turn down Captain Wentworth, she must not have despaired of her prospects." It led her to wonder what she would have done. She would have been a fool to reject him, since she liked him well enough. Everyone did, although she was not sure how much of that was because he was rich. He would have been charming enough while poor.
"Or she did not want a long engagement with a sailor. Years ago he may not have been made captain yet and he might not have been able to support a wife in the manner to which she was accustomed, yet a long engagement is painful. I speak from experience. One must make a choice."
"She is a lady then, not accustomed to poverty. It would have made no difference to a poor girl."
"Perhaps. But lady or not, she may have needed a wealthier man all the same if she was not bringing much into the marriage."
"We all need a wealthy man."
"A handsome, intelligent, wealthy man." But then Fanny sobered. "Of course she may well have jilted Frederick for an admiral."
"Ugh!" cried Elizabeth. She would disapprove of such a mercenary action. "I should not prefer a man twenty years my senior to a young man my age, no matter how rich he might be."
"Oh, you could even get admirals fifty years your senior. Admiral Croft is quite young," Fanny said very dryly.
Elizabeth did not want to say she did not think the admiral was quite young. "Fanny, you are horrible," she said with a shudder, but she liked Fanny's penchant for humorous dramatics.
"I so love to be horrible now and then, when I am feeling worried especially. But I could not imagine abandoning my poor Jimmy for a decrepit admiral -- one eye, one leg, one arm."
Elizabeth, although she had never seen Captain Benwick, could not imagine that either. She trusted her friend's taste. Captain Benwick would be a perfectly good-looking man. "But what about Captain Wentworth now? What if he does not get to see that Anne before he dies?" She did not know whether he was critically ill, but his condition might well worsen. It did not sound very good.
Fanny considered it. "We could write to her, once we know who she is. What if she has been waiting for him to return, as I have been?" She let out a sob.
"But if she jilted him, why should she wait for him?" Elizabeth wondered. "Would she think he would ask her twice? Would he?"
"Frederick?" Fanny considered it. "Never. That is why he is not married to her. Oh, it is so clear to me now. We must help."
Full of good intentions Fanny returned to Netherfield. She found that Sophia and Fiona were quite busy and that the children had been with their father in her absence, although they had looked for her. "Had you wanted to do anything?" she asked him.
"No," Captain Harville replied. "We had perfect fun here. They do not know how ill Frederick is. It is not a common cold."
She knew that already. "To whom was Frederick engaged? Where did she live? Who was she? Why did it end?"
He was wary. "Why do you think he was engaged? Did he speak of it?"
"Was her name Anne?"
He looked very serious now. "Fanny, how did you come by this rumour?"
"Observation and speculation and he told me himself that he was once engaged. Do you know anything?" She had hit upon a secret; he was too serious for her to be wrong.
"He does not like to speak of it, certainly not these days," her brother said carefully. "But I believe there was a girl once. Her father was a baronet and Wentworth had not yet made his fortune."
She tried to look calm and not as excited as she was. He would ask questions. "Where?"
"Somersetshire. Fanny? Why?"
"Thank you." She ran away.
"Is Captain Wentworth still alive?" Mrs Bennet asked most anxiously when a note was delivered from Netherfield for Elizabeth. Naturally any note could only be pertaining to Captain Wentworth.
Fanny had been concise and cryptic. She knew perhaps that Mrs Bennet was curious and to prevent anyone from understanding, she had only written down two words. Baronetage. Somersetshire.
Elizabeth puzzled over this for a while. She supposed that the clue to Anne's identity was to be found in that particular volume, though what Somersetshire had to do with it was not yet clear. She had no idea what was contained in the baronetage other than presumably information about baronets. It implied that Anne's father was one.
She would like to know how Fanny had discovered this. If all she had been told was 'Baronet from Somerset', his name might be found in the baronetage, but would his daughter's name be? Suppose there was more than one baronet there. Would Fanny write to all?
Then she spoke. "Papa, may I go and ask Sir William Lucas if he owns a copy of the baronetage?"
"He is not a baronet, so he may."
"Would you know if he owns one?"
"He and I are not wont to discuss such volumes, but you may of course try. Why do you need it? Is the Navy not enough for you?"
"No, I do not think the Navy is for me," she said calmly.
"Is it not?" He raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that all of you liked the man."
"Papa, you forget that he must like us too."
"Well, Lizzy," he said eventually. "I hope this realisation did not break your heart. You can always take solace in the fact that sailors are always off to sea and that he would not be much good to a wife anyhow."
Sir William Lucas did in fact own a copy of the baronetage. He was out, but Charlotte was able to point Elizabeth to it. She was curious, but her friend did not enlighten her about her precise reasons for needing it.
"I heard Captain Wentworth is ill," said Charlotte. "He did not visit here this morning, although some of them did."
"Did nobody stay with him?" Elizabeth asked absentmindedly. She was eager to take the book home and to start her research, but it was not fair to abandon Charlotte so quickly. "When they dined with us, Mrs Croft did not come."
"I think she would much rather have stayed behind, because she was very quiet. Who else would have looked after the captain?" Charlotte looked doubtful. "Is that proper?"
"Apparently. You must know that Mama would have looked after him herself if he had been so considerate as to fall ill at our house."
"How inconsiderate that he did not!" she smiled. "But yes, I suppose someone must take care of him."
In the absence of a wife, someone certainly must. Elizabeth would almost tell her of the broken engagement, but it was too much of a secret to reveal.
"Are you concerned?" asked Charlotte. "Do you like him?"
"Oh, no. I am setting my sights on a baronet." She tapped the book with a cheerful smile.
Elizabeth had spent a long time searching, well into the night, but eventually her eyes had fallen upon an entry that looked very favourable. The repeated occurrence of the word Somerset had made her go back to the beginning of the entry. Elliot of Kellynch Hall -- and there was an Anne among the daughters listed. This Anne was the right age, but Elizabeth still had to work through the entire volume to rule out the possibility of there being more baronets in Somersetshire with daughters of a suitable age named Anne. She hoped she did not overlook any in her excitement.
The book was too old to list any marriages of the daughters. That Anne Elliot had not been married at the time of printing said nothing about her current state, or whether she was even still living. Nevertheless, Elizabeth copied the most relevant details for Fanny.
Elliot of Kellynch Hall. Walter Elliot, born March 1, 1760, married, July 15, 1784, Elizabeth, daughter of James Stevenson, Esq. of South Park, in the county of Gloucester; by which lady (who died 1800) he has issue Elizabeth, born June 1, 1785; Anne, born August 9, 1787; a still-born son, Nov. 5, 1789; Mary, born Nov. 20, 1791. Principal seat, Kellynch Hall, in the county of Somerset.
Fanny would have to decide what she wanted to do with this information.
Posted on Friday, 27 July 2007
Elizabeth wondered for whom she had made such an effort researching when she woke tired. She had let herself be infected by Fanny's eagerness without thinking, but she supposed it would have been an exciting puzzle even if there had not been any chance of helping Captain Wentworth with it. Briefly she considered what her mother would think of her efforts to find the captain another woman who was not a Bennet. Her contribution to this scheme was best not revealed.
She wondered how she should contact Fanny about her discoveries. There was no time to lose, because a letter would take a while to reach Miss Elliot -- assuming Fanny wished to write -- and then it would take several days for her to travel here, during which time the captain might well die.
However, she did not have to take immediate action, for it was Fanny who rode over to Longbourn in the morning before breakfast. "I have little time, as I am commissioned to take Lucy into town to buy shoes. I came to discuss what we should do with what I found," said Fanny rather breathlessly. "Am I ever grateful to Frederick for buying me a saddle! I do want to give him something in return."
"I finished searching early this morning," Elizabeth yawned. She was glad that Jane did not have an inquisitive nature, or she would not have been allowed to read for so long. As it was, Jane had not displayed any interest in her book at all.
"Searching? For a copy of the baronetage? I had no idea where to find one."
"No, searching in the baronetage. Sir William Lucas owns one." She could not keep herself from looking triumphant. It had been a brilliant idea to think of Sir William. "But I think I found it. Anne Elliot of Kellynch Hall. She is twenty-seven. How does it sound?"
"That sounds good. The admiral is from Somerset. Did you know? I remembered that last night. I do not know where it fits in, however. What shall we write to this Anne Elliot?" Fanny was ready to deal with the matter at once.
Elizabeth took her to a writing desk and sat down. She would write; Fanny was hopping about too much. "That her former beloved is dying?"
"If he were dying there would be no need for her to come, as he might already be dead if she arrived -- if he were dying, which I hope he is not."
Very well, she would amend. "He would die if she did not come."
"Yes, but how to say so?"
"Literally?" Elizabeth suggested. She did not know how else it could be said, unless it was with synonyms.
Fanny waved her hands. "But in a letter one must be more poetic, more descriptive…"
"She must understand it clearly."
"She may be like Sophia," Fanny agreed. "She says I ought to write a novel and I do not think it is a compliment."
"Dear Miss Elliot, Captain Wentworth would die if you did not come to Netherfield, near Meryton, Hertfordshire." She quickly wrote that down. It was only a draft and it could be crossed out if necessary.
Fanny looked over her shoulder and provided the next line. "He is delirious and calls out your name. You must come at once if you care for him. Your old school friend, Miss Frances Harville."
"That is very short," Elizabeth remarked. Miss Elliot would think it an odd epistle, because she was undoubtedly proficient at writing polite and conventional letters to whomever a baronet's daughter was wont to write.
"It was your idea."
"Then you must elaborate and turn it into a novel," Elizabeth smiled.
Fanny took a deep breath. "Dear Miss Elliot, forgive me for writing so impertinently as I am sure you do not remember me. My brother and I are staying with the sister of Captain Wentworth, who has been seized by a most dreadful illness."
"Which?" Elizabeth interrupted.
"We do not know. A dreadful illness. He suffers from a high fever and he is often delirious. We need some company to cheer us up, because he is often calling --"
"Often?"
"Once," Fanny admitted. "He is often calling for the woman he loved and I am very concerned that she may be the only one who can cure him. Come and cheer us, my dear old friend."
"Why are you so circumspect? You are not saying Captain Wentworth mentioned her name in particular. Now it is not clear why you mention him at all, because she is your school friend and not his. Would she know a friend's brother? Would she understand that he is calling for her?"
"I have to watch my words because of her father, of course. Fathers are worse than brothers. They remember suitors, but not school friends. Miss Elliot will know what we mean. One mention of Frederick and her heart will be aflutter." Fanny's hands fluttered in front of her chest.
"Or so you hope!" Elizabeth hoped there was nothing that stood in Miss Elliot's way, such as a husband, a second attachment or an uncooperative father. She would think it strange if a father read letters addressed to a daughter of that age, but one could never know what happened in other families.
"If she loves as he does…"
"Did she even go to school?"
"A baronet's daughter?" Fanny did not doubt it. "Of course she went to school and of course she loved poor Frederick."
"If she is so romantic, perhaps you had indeed best write something more romantic to appeal to her."
Fanny closed her eyes, laid her hands on her heart and began. "My dear Miss Elliot. I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has been a long time since we spent our school days together. I look back on it with such fondness and I have been utterly remiss in not writing to you sooner."
"Only about ten years," Elizabeth muttered.
"Since the death of my parents I have been living with my brother, Captain Harville, and his wife. The Navy, despite their many virtues, are never settled in one place as they ought to be. Currently we are enjoying the hospitality of Admiral and Mrs Croft, who is the sister of a good friend of my brother's, Captain Wentworth. Quite a merry party, one would think, but Captain Wentworth has now been seized by a most dreadful illness. He suffers from a high fever and is often delirious."
"Will it become romantic soon?"
"We fear for his life. He often calls out the name of a woman; only she can save him with her love. Of course we have no idea how to contact her. Perhaps if you know some other Anne who once knew him, you could tell her to come speedily."
Elizabeth snorted.
"Well, that was worth a try, my dear old friend. You can also come yourself to cheer me up. I am very sad. I am engaged to Captain Benwick, the most wonderful of men, except that he has not yet returned from the sea. I shall go mad with worries for both these gentlemen if you do not come to distract me."
Elizabeth had struggled to keep up with the dictation. She finished the last sentence and then spoke. "Because you have no female friends here."
"None indeed," Fanny agreed solemnly. "And I am also not the sort who can make do with male friends. I am so lonely."
Her friend snorted again.
Fanny had a splendid plan all of a sudden and she gasped. "Should we include Frederick's poem? She might recognise it and up to a certain point it could be about a woman."
"Up to a certain point. And after?"
"You must see for yourself." Fanny took a piece of paper from her pocket. "I have kept it. Here."
So lovingly we shared a kiss at dawn
I was half sleepy, half alert before
But all my hesitations are now gone
And your embrace has made me wish for moreIt is yet dark but may as well be light
Your sparkling eyes illuminate my way
Fatigue evaporates through your delight
So much your wordless greeting can conveyEnveloped by the fog we are alone
You need no other company but mine
When our appreciation has been shown
We take advantage of this morning fineI wave a stick; you bark in utter bliss
Oh, what can be more wonderful than this?
Elizabeth read it attentively. "This Miss Elliot must be a peculiar creature. She barks? At a stick?"
Fanny laughed. "I think twelve lines are about Miss Elliot and two are about some dog. Do not forget that he and I were writing for fun and he wanted to tease me. Well, it worked. I screamed when I read about the barking. I demanded that he tell me what it meant in sailor speak and he fell off his chair laughing."
"What would Miss Elliot think if you included the poem? Would she like that he wrote about her? Mocked her? Turned her into a dog?"
"I cannot say, but I could write to her that he wrote this a few weeks ago, so that this is further proof that she is still on his mind. Write it out neatly and I can send it as an express when I go to town. We cannot waste any time."
Posted on Monday, 30 July 2007
During the next days Mrs Croft and Mrs Harville grew very tired and anxious. They had been taking turns sitting with the patient, but they had also taken occasional breaks. Now his condition no longer allowed that and they were required to sit with him during the night as well. Such a task could not be left to a maid. Sophia, as Frederick's sister, felt it should be her duty to take care of the most difficult hours, but although she mostly slept by his bedside during the night, her worries still made her very tired indeed.
"Can you not take over?" Fanny anxiously asked the admiral. "Sophia will fall ill too if she keeps this up."
"I have offered," he said with a grave look. "But she insists. It is her brother, she says, and if I sit there, she will simply come and sit with me. However, I agree with you that she is almost too tired and I shall lock her up soon. She has been expecting him to get better and he has not."
"We are all worried. If only she would allow me to do my share."
"You are doing your share, Fanny."
For a moment she feared he knew of her plan, but then she supposed he must be referring to her keeping the children occupied.
She took them to Longbourn to get them away from an atmosphere that was slowly beginning to be oppressive due to everyone's fears and worries. They took the carriage and Lucy and Freddy were delighted. They were not often taken on trips.
"I have new shoes," Lucy announced as soon as they set foot in the Bennets' house. She was so proud of them that she would share it even with people she did not know.
Miss Bennet took the children away for a game and Fanny was free to answer Mrs Bennet's queries about the captain. After a while, after explaining and repeating what he ought to have done or avoided so he would not have fallen ill, Mrs Bennet went away to see to other matters.
"I sent the express," Fanny could finally say to Elizabeth. She had been pleased to see that Miss Bennet immediately claimed the children, but then Mrs Bennet had come to delay everything. It would not have been so bad if the woman had not had a habit of repeating herself. "Now we wait. But she must come quickly, because he is not doing well at all."
"Is there no improvement?"
"No -- and what is worse is that his nurses are growing tired. They each spend twelve hours in his room in addition to their other duties. I have offered to do my share, but they will not hear of it. Frederick would very likely not like it if I were to take care of him, I agree, but he is ill and is therefore in no position to make demands."
"But you take care of the children," Elizabeth pointed out.
Fanny felt frustrated at not being able to do more. She wanted to do something that was directly helpful to Frederick. "That is what they say as well, but it does not help."
"And you sent the letter."
"Yes…" she sighed. Although she knew it was too soon, she had been hoping for a reaction already.
"Perhaps we shall need you shortly to help us with our visitor. We received a letter from our cousin Mr Collins," Elizabeth said in a lowered voice, although nobody was near.
"Oh, why do you speak in so ominous a tone? Is he horrid?"
"We do not know him, but his letter promised a man of little sense."
"Oh, I am glad you told me beforehand. I may now choose to stay at Netherfield," Fanny laughed. She felt her laugh was insincere because she could not really be merry. "Do warn me when he arrives, although you can visit if you do not bring him."
"My mother thinks he may want to marry one of us, because our estate is entailed to him. She is very excited already. Another young man!"
"Is your cousin in the Navy?"
"No, he is a clergyman."
Fanny gave an elegant shudder. "Do not marry him. I always find clergymen indescribably dull."
"His letter did indeed not sparkle with any particular sort of wit or sense of humour. You are all for the Navy then?" Fanny's prejudice amused her.
"Oh yes. You must come to stay with me after I am married. I am sure we could introduce you to many very nice officers. Because of the peace many will be looking for a wife."
"I shall give it some consideration," Elizabeth promised. "Though I cannot say I am already ready to marry. In return for my telling you Mr Collins has arrived, you must inform me when Miss Elliot comes. I am sure she is more interesting than our cousin."
A few days later towards the end of the day a Miss Elliot was announced and most of the party at Netherfield were confused or surprised. Fanny, the only one who was neither, jumped up. She was so excited she could hardly speak. "That is for me."
"Fanny?" her brother asked sharply. "Who is she? I did not know you were expecting anyone."
"Nothing, dear brother," she said airily. She had quickly recovered and realised she must involve her hostess and Frederick's sister, but also that she did not want to explain matters in front of everybody. "Sophia will you come with me to the blue drawing room to receive my old school friend?"
Sophia was curious and assented. Their confused-looking visitor was taken away before the gentlemen got a good look at her.
Sophia very curiously looked at the young lady in the blue drawing room. If she was not mistaken she was a few years older than Fanny. How could they have been at school together? This woman was close to thirty and nothing about her indicated that she was happy to see her friend at last. Something about this situation was very strange.
The young lady looked mortified when she perceived her curiosity. "Did you not tell Mrs Croft?" she inquired of Fanny.
That surprised Sophia. "Are you acquainted with me?" They might well have met once, although she could not remember either face or name. The woman was a delicate thing who would not have lasted overseas, yet for the last few years that was where Sophia had been.
A blush spread over the young lady's pale cheeks. "You are Captain Wentworth's sister."
"Indeed I am, but how did you know?" Sophia's eyes travelled to Fanny. There was something she had not been told, which might explain why Fanny had wanted her to leave the room with her. "What did you need to tell me?"
Fanny looked flustered. She had not considered at all that Sophia might be critical. "This is Miss Anne Elliot. Anne."
The emphasis was no great help to Sophia, yet it mortified their visitor. She took pity on her. "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Elliot, but I am afraid I do not understand what Fanny is about."
"Have you not heard him say Anne?" Fanny was almost desperate.
"Who?"
"Frederick!"
"No. When am I supposed to have heard that?" Sophia took pity on the two desperate-looking girls. Fanny's plans had evidently gone slightly awry and Miss Elliot seemed to be an innocent victim of them. And what did she have to do with Frederick or he with her? "Right. Let us start at the beginning. A minute ago I first heard that an old school friend had come for Fanny."
"We never went to school together, although you wrote that to me," Miss Elliot said to Fanny. "I assumed it was a pretence for writing about…the other matter."
"Yes. Oh, please do not send her away, Sophia!"
"Do you know each other?" Sophia inquired. She began to suspect that the only one who knew Miss Elliot was Frederick.
"Not at all," Miss Elliot replied. "Before now."
"Yet you know me." But if she knew Frederick, he might have told her about his sister -- not only that he had one, but her name and description, for Miss Elliot had not had to guess at all.
The reply was given very softly. "I used to know Captain Wentworth."
"Ah. Matters are beginning to clear, perhaps. Fanny wrote to you about him, pretending to be an old school friend, and you came here, pretending to be an old school friend." It still did not tell her why, but at least it cleared up the how.
Miss Elliot could only nod.
"Fanny, did you write that he was dying?" Sophia saw Miss Elliot flinch in response. Obviously that would not be a good development, as far as Miss Elliot was concerned. It was not odd that Frederick had made a conquest somewhere, but Miss Elliot looked so very little like the silly girl one had to be to travel to see a man one had once liked. Sophia wondered if she was even pretty. She was thin and pale and had dark rings around her eyes. In a happy state she might be pretty, but she was clearly not happy.
"No, I wrote he moaned her name. I wonder why you never heard it. I only went in there once and I heard it," Fanny said unhappily. She had assumed that mentioning the name of Anne would make everybody understand. He would not only have moaned in her presence.
"Is he dead?" Miss Elliot had gone as white as a sheet.
"I do not think so," Sophia answered and she hoped she was still speaking the truth. "He was not dead an hour ago. Would you like to tell me when and how you knew him?"
"We were engaged once."
"Engaged?" Sophia felt shocked.
"Although I cannot and do not expect he has forgiven me, I felt that I must see him one more time and say I am sorry and sit with him, perhaps." Her tears rolled down her cheeks. "I had not thought of what I should do after I had told him. I merely wanted to see him. I am sorry."
Sophia was still not over her shock. She had barely heard what the girl had said. "When was this? This is a great surprise to me."
"Eight years ago. He never came back, even after he had money, and I could hardly have gone after him. I am not sure he would not resent my coming now, but Miss Harville wrote that he spoke my name." Her voice dropped to a mortified whisper. "I am sorry. I am not usually insensible or rash, but I cannot go on wondering if he will ever return. This time I need to know for certain. Perhaps not all hope is lost."
"My passionate heart was pierced," Fanny declared. Her eyes were as shiny as their visitor's.
Sophia was not impressed with such a display and she silenced her with her hand. "Fanny…"
"What was that?" Admiral Croft bemusedly asked Captain Harville.
"Fanny is up to something," the latter replied with a shake of his head. "I do not know of an old school friend. I am sure she had a few, but she has not to my knowledge invited them here and she cannot possibly do so without asking your permission."
"She can, because she did." There was one in their blue drawing room at present.
"I hope Sophia will say something about it."
"About one girl? I think not." He was not sure Sophia or he would have anything to say about it. Perhaps he trusted the good sense and manners of his guests. They would be reasonable.
"But what with Frederick being ill…this is hardly a good time to be inviting friends," Captain Harville protested.
It had been difficult enough to get the Harvilles to accept the invitation, the admiral remembered. Harville had his pride as well. He would rather be poor than be a burden. Although Harville would invite all of them and their friends, he had trouble being a guest elsewhere. Telling him his sister could do with a little fun might not be received well, since it implied he had no money to provide her with any. "We shall see," he said therefore. "Leave it to Sophia."
Posted on Thursday, 2 August 2007
"May I see him?" Anne felt it to be a hopeless request and she was not sure why Mrs Croft honoured it, but the lady simply nodded and took her by the arm. Miss Harville was sent away as if she were a little girl, but she gave Anne a sort of helpless grimace that indicated she would like to talk to her later.
Anne was not yet over her mortification. "I did not mean to impose on you unannounced. I assumed Miss Harville had settled everything with her hosts. It never occurred to me that you might not know." She did not blame Miss Harville, who had acted in perfect goodness, if not in perfect openness.
It was as if Mrs Croft had not even heard her, because she looked aside wistfully. "Engaged? What happened?"
"I was nineteen. My father would not give me any money and Frederick had none. My godmother persuaded me that it would be better if I broke off the engagement. I thought it was for the best, but it has not made me happy. I hoped --" She swallowed at the painful memory and the uncertainty about Mrs Croft's opinion. She might well side with her brother without any regard for the circumstances. "-- he would return for me after I had read he made a fortune, but he did not. He was very angry when we parted."
"He has never spoken of it," said his sister. "But to Frederick, who has been successful in any thing he undertook, this must have been a blow. I can see why he would not gladly speak of it, but why did he not return?"
"He would have been successful two years later," Anne said sadly. "I had by then long realised what I had given up. I supposed he did not love me anymore, but I could not forget him so easily. I still love him. When I heard he mentioned my name, my hope returned."
"You speak very calmly."
Anne gave her a weak smile. "I have practised this over and over again on my journey hither. I did not know which explanations were required precisely and I preferred to think of explanations than of his condition. Miss Harville seems to know something of our past, but I do not know how much. Some explanations were evidently required."
"Miss Harville is a clever girl," said Mrs Croft and she looked a little hurt. "But how could she know anything, if I, as his sister, did not?"
Anne could not answer that, but she could say something else. "When I knew him, he was very fond of you." She had not remembered everything he had said about his sister, but the general impression had remained. Now that she could judge for herself, Mrs Croft seemed as agreeable and sensible as her countenance indicated. Anne had thought she was only a few years older than Frederick, but she looked older than expected.
"Still he never told me."
They walked in silence for a few moments. "I do not want to inspire sympathy or compassion," said Anne. "And I do not want to impose on you by having arrived without notice. I shall look at him, if you allow, and then leave. Miss Harville did not write of it, but I could not be certain he does not have a wife."
"He does not."
Anne was grateful, but to what or whom she could not say. They met a gentleman in the corridor who looked at her curiously.
"Sophy…" he said to Mrs Croft.
"Yes, my dear," she replied in a mild voice. "I shall be with you after I have taken Miss Elliot to see Frederick."
"Miss Elliot," he said with a bow, although quite clearly he understood nothing.
After such an intimate way of addressing him Anne could only think he was Mrs Croft's husband, Admiral Croft. She knew his sister was married to a rear admiral of the white who had been in the Trafalgar action as a captain. He had since then been stationed in the East Indies.
She could list all these facts if she was asked, not to mention the names of the ships he had been on, but as all this information came to her in a flash, she felt embarrassed by having the knowledge. How could she explain that she had followed his movements as well as Frederick's simply because he was married to Frederick's sister?
Anne curtseyed and could not keep herself from addressing him as he deserved. He seemed a nice man. "Admiral."
"She knows me," he said in surprise. "Tell me about that later, Sophy."
"Yes, darling." She waited until he had passed. "How did you know?"
"Navy List. Newspapers. Frederick," Anne mumbled. Mrs Croft's inquisitive stare made her blush. It was made worse by the hint of surprised approval, of which she could yet not be certain.
Mrs Croft opened a door. She led Anne into an antechamber where a maid was working and through there into a bedchamber. There was a woman sitting by the bed. She got up when they entered. It was not a servant and Anne was glad Mrs Croft had just said that Frederick had no wife. The woman was young enough, perhaps her own age, and expecting a child.
Had she found a wife here, in such a condition, she would have gone away and not given her any pain. It would pain the wife as much as it would pain her, yet the wife would not deserve it. Anne was glad there was none.
"This is Mrs Harville," Mrs Croft explained in a very low voice. "She and I have been taking turns sitting here. Fiona, this is Miss Elliot. She -- I shall explain it to you outside." They retreated and left Anne alone.
This surprised her. She needed a few moments to adjust herself to Mrs Croft's unusual kindness. That she was allowed to look at Frederick was one thing, but she had certainly never expected to be left alone with him.
After a few moments she dared to look at the bed. She recognised him. He had changed very little if one did not count the consequences of his illness. She supposed, at least, that he would normally shave. His face was not pale and sickly, but it was reddish. So was his sister's and it might therefore not be due to his fever. His eyes were closed. He did not see her and he did not wake.
Seeing him so powerless and incapacitated almost made her cry. She knew at the same time that she could not be powerless and incapacitated, but that she wanted -- no, must -- do everything in her power to make him better. Although her feelings had overwhelmed her initially, soon they settled into something calmer and more determined.
She approached the bed, but dared not speak. What if he woke and became angry with her? Yet she had come here to offer her apologies and if she left without doing so, she would regret it. No, she must go through with this. She touched his hand, softly, but he did not move. "Frederick? She whispered. Perhaps he was not ready to wake. "Frederick? Can you hear me?"
She stood there a long while until he stirred. His eyes opened, but she was not sure he saw clearly.
"Thirsty," he said, sounding as if he would rather not speak. It seemed to cost him trouble.
Anne glanced around, eager to help. There was a glass on the table and she gave it to him. She had to hold it for him, because his grip was weak.
He emptied it. "More."
"Yes, yes, just a minute," she said anxiously, looking around the room. There was no jug anywhere. She opened the door to the antechamber. "He asks for water and the glass is empty."
The maid handed her a jug. "I am sorry, madam. I had not yet brought it in."
Anne went back into the room before Mrs Croft could say anything. She refilled the glass and wanted to put it to Frederick's lips, but he was asleep again. She did not have the heart to wake him and whispered. "I am sorry. Frederick, I am sorry. I should have maintained our engagement. You may not forgive me, but I wanted to let you know that I love you and that I always will."
She felt foolish speaking such words to someone who could not hear her and she left the room. Mrs Croft and Mrs Harville sat waiting in the antechamber. She wondered how long they would have sat there and if they would at some point have got her out. "I had my chance, I suppose, although he could not hear me. I am very grateful that you would give me the opportunity to see him and to speak to him, even though --" her voice faltered a little. "-- he did not hear me. Perhaps if he wakes you could tell him I was here. I shall take a room in the village and await the morning so I can travel home."
"You will do no such thing," spoke Mrs Croft in a decided voice.
Anne felt a little desperate. "But I stole my father's carriage."
"Is that stealing?"
"I took my father's carriage without his permission."
Mrs Croft gave an inquisitive little shrug. Seemingly asking permission to use a carriage was something she considered ridiculous.
"I practically stole it and he -- he does not walk." He would be angry enough at having to do without his carriage for a few days. She could not possibly prolong the inconvenience by keeping it away longer.
"Is he an invalid?"
"No, he is…" Anne considered it. "A baronet."
"My dear girl! A baronet!" Mrs Croft was astonished. "And he cannot walk, yet you took his carriage without his permission? But -- but if he does not walk, he never would have given that permission!"
Anne faltered at such logic. "This was important. But now I must return home. My father will be angry with me. The carriage will be needed." She did not want to leave Frederick, but she must. She had seen him and there was nothing more she could do now.
"Send the carriage home."
"But what shall I do?" Anne did not understand what she could mean. It seemed she was not yet allowed to leave, but she did not see why. Mrs Croft could not know how she felt.
"You will remain here until you are satisfied. I do not think you are yet."
"No, but…" She did not know what to respond. "I had not counted on…this."
Mrs Croft rose. "Neither had we. I have just conferred with Fiona and we think it is best that you stay."
Anne thought of it only now, when Mrs Harville rose gingerly. "Forgive me for saying so, Mrs Harville," she said a little anxiously, not knowing how her words would be received. "But if you are expecting a child you should stay out of the sick room. Could Mrs Croft not do it alone?"
"You would tell me to stay out of there as well," Mrs Croft said wryly. "Do you propose we let Fanny do it?"
"I can do it," Anne said bravely, her heart beating in her throat. "I should do it gladly. I should be glad to be of use to Frederick. I have no other purpose."
"Have you any experience in a sick room?"
"My sister is always ill, but I should prefer to look after somebody who was truly ill. But I am a stranger to you and I should understand perfectly if you did not want to leave it to a stranger. An unmarried stranger," she added softly. What was she offering to do? She had not thought that through before she spoke. She had only thought of her need to help him.
"We had not thought of our children, but you are right. Frederick was our first concern. He ought to remain our first concern. You were engaged to him," Mrs Croft said thoughtfully. "I can have no objections to your sitting with him."
"Thank you. Do you have any other children?" Anne asked bashfully when she could think of nothing else to say other than a repetition of her thanks.
"No, I hope this will be my first."
"That is wonderful. Frederick always wished --" she broke off her sentence with a self-conscious look. She should not speak of him in such a manner. It was too presumptuous.
"What did he wish?"
"That you would have them."
"Did he wish that for me?" Mrs Croft seemed surprised, either that he had wished it or that he had shared that wish.
Anne nodded. "But what do I do now?"
"You go back in. Polly will be here if you need anything. I shall have a room prepared for you."
"A simple bed on the floor here will do," Anne said hastily. "But the coachman…"
Sophia saw her husband and stopped him. "Could you speak to Miss Elliot's coachman? She took her father's carriage without asking and she thinks he will be angry if it does not come home straightaway."
"That depends on where they live."
"I did not ask," she realised. "But of course it would make a difference if she took it for three hours or for three days -- although I cannot imagine she would travel for three days."
"To see Frederick? Why indeed? When you told me you were taking her to see him, I tried to imagine why. I assumed it was a local friend of Fanny's who had once met him, but it all remained very questionable." He had never known Sophia to have such patience with silly girls. "I can imagine that many girls would want a look at him, but why you condone it is incomprehensible."
"They were once engaged."
"Frederick was once engaged?" The admiral was incredulous.
"Yes. Could you discuss with the coachman whether it is best to send the carriage home without Miss Elliot? We can always send her home later. She thinks she should go home, but I think she does not want to."
"Where is she now?"
"With Frederick."
He could not believe his ears. "Sophia…"
"No, I am not out of my mind. She said it would not be good for the child if I spent any time in the sick room." She gave him a very persuasive look.
"Well, she is a sly one indeed," he spoke. "Very well. I shall speak to the coachman if you get that girl out of there."