Beginning, Previous Section, Section III, Next Section
Posted on Sunday, 5 August 2007
Anne took a seat and sat on it stiffly. Frederick was not awake. That was a relief when she still dreaded his reaction. Any second she expected him to wake and to send her away. Why had she come?
She reviewed her feelings upon receiving the letter. Its beginning had confused her, but the mention of the Crofts had given her a shock. It was too much of a coincidence to read their name and she had read on with trembling fingers, hoping to see his name as well.
It had come eventually, but it had brought even more of a shock. He was seriously ill. The letter did not devote many words to it, but it was a very odd letter. She did not know Miss Harville and she supposed someone -- Frederick himself? -- had told her her name and where she lived. Frederick could not have any knowledge of this letter, however. She did not think he did.
Why the letter was so odd she did not know. There was all that talk of being a school friend that was untrue and the mentions of friends a real school friend would not have cared for. Perhaps Miss Harville, who seemed as much a friend of Frederick's as her brother was, did not know if she was married. Indeed, suppose there had been a husband? An all too clear plea to visit a former beloved would have not been well received by him at all.
The poem had made her gasp. It was written in Frederick's hand and according to Miss Harville he had done so a few weeks ago. Only a few weeks ago he had still remembered her well enough to write about her, even if it ended rather strangely, making it appear as if it was not about her at all. But she had met him at dawn long ago, although he had never thrown a stick for her.
The letter was not what she had been hoping for all these years. She had been wishing for a communication directly from him, or better yet a visit, but by now she was perhaps happy with even a message from an intermediary. Miss Harville seemed to think he thought of her still. As uncertain as it was, it was better than nothing.
She had had to travel here, of course. There had been no doubt. He was ill and he might be made better if she visited. She could not let him die. Not all hope had been lost and she could not live without taking any action. Should this fail now, she would give him up forever, but at least she would have tried the one thing this Miss Harville seemed to think could cure Frederick.
As she sat here now, she wondered if she would have gone had she not had any desire to see him. She was here partly for selfish reasons. Suppose he had asked for her and she had not thought of him in years? What would she have done then?
Admiral Croft went into the servants' quarters to find Miss Elliot's coachman. Two men, far better dressed than his own servants, though hovering on the edge of foppiness, were seated behind steaming mugs and entertaining the maids. Upon the admiral's entrance, the maids dispersed with a busy air, which suited him well.
"Who is Miss Elliot's father?" he began. Obviously it was a gentleman who ensured his servants were well-dressed.
"Sir Walter Elliot, Admiral."
"Hmm." He sat down and helped himself to a mug. It made him think of his early days on board and he was not at all inclined to leave quickly. The mug was also much easier to hold than a dainty teacup. He reflected on the sir in Sir Walter Elliot. "Miss Elliot thinks he will be angry that his carriage disappeared."
"That is possible," the coachman agreed cautiously.
"Is she not allowed to take it?" And why did Sir Walter Elliot not have several carriages?
The coachman and the footman shared a look. "She is allowed to take it on short trips, but she has never travelled this far."
"Where does she live?"
"Somerset."
Admiral Croft raised his eyebrows. That was several days away. That this Sir Walter Elliot was going to be angry was very likely indeed. "Will he be angry with her or with you?"
The men shifted. "We have talked about it, to be sure, but Sir Walter would be angry in any case -- if we did not serve Miss Anne and if we did -- depending on the effect on him. I do not think he ever said to Miss Anne that she may not borrow the carriage, but Miss Anne is not her sister and as such she never claims the carriage for long trips."
"Miss Anne paid for proper rooms for us on the road," said the footman appreciatively.
"But as I was saying," the coachman continued. "Miss Anne never gave him any reason to think she might ever need a carriage."
"And Miss Anne being the paragon that she is, you would drive her everywhere," the admiral concluded. He took over their habit of referring to her as Miss Anne, albeit slightly mockingly. "My wife says Miss Anne must stay, but Miss Anne says the carriage must return as soon as possible. How will you defend yourselves without her help?"
They seemed more concerned about something else. "You cannot send a lady like Miss Anne home by post."
"I have a carriage." He would send Miss Elliot home in a proper manner, either in a carriage or with a manservant. "And what has Miss Anne come to do here?"
"Did she not say?"
"Perhaps she told my wife." What the girl said was not necessarily the entire truth. Sometimes better truths were obtained from the servants.
"She did not tell us," said the coachman. "So we cannot tell Sir Walter. If it is something a father may not know, however, it will be involving a gentleman. We have since we got here heard which one."
"You speak with such certainty. How often are you asked to convey Sir Walter's daughters to see gentlemen?"
"Never," he said with equal certainty. "Miss Anne would never do such a thing."
"I forgot that she was a paragon -- who is nevertheless doing such a thing now."
"We are here because she never does it," the man agreed. "She must have had a good reason. And she is certainly not meeting any gentlemen where she lives. She will never be married if she does not go beyond the next village."
This dubious logic gave the admiral pause. "And Lady Elliot?"
"She passed away almost fifteen years ago."
He wrapped his hands around his mug and stared at them unseeingly as he thought. Miss Elliot's situation seemed rather bleak, despite the splendid livery of Sir Walter's servants -- an inconsiderate father, no mother and a broken engagement. She had only made it more bleak by coming here.
"Where is Fanny?" Sophia asked. She had expected the girl to go here, but only Captain Harville was still seated where he was when Miss Elliot had arrived. Everyone else had left.
"Is she not with her school friend?" Captain Harville wondered. He briefly looked up from his work. "I must apologise for her action. She should not have invited anybody if she is nothing but a guest herself."
"Do not fear. I only have a few questions for her at present." While she was looking at him, she got another idea. He was a good friend of Frederick's and had been for a long time now. It was more likely that he knew anything than that Fanny did. "Did you know Frederick was engaged once?"
He waited a few seconds before he spoke. "I did."
She felt hurt again at having been left out of the secret. "What do you know?"
"That the girl's father was a baronet from Somersetshire."
She could vent her displeasure at not having been told, but she did not blame him for never having told her. One did not betray one's friends. A man would certainly not tell a woman about her brother's disappointments in love and she ought to keep that in mind. After an indignant sniff she therefore moved on to practical matters. "We now have a baronet's daughter upstairs."
Captain Harville sat up straight. "Are you saying Fanny's school friend was the girl she was asking me about a few days ago?"
"Yes, I suppose. I do not yet understand how she found her, though." She sat down. "Could you tell me what you know?"
"I only know what he once told me when he had had too much to drink. He did not mean to tell me as much as he did -- and it was very little. I never got anything out of him afterwards. That her father was a baronet from Somersetshire was all he revealed. At the particulars I can only guess. Although, given when this occurred, I can make a pretty good guess. Baronets would like more for their daughters than captains without money. It is understandable to some extent, but he took it very badly."
"That more or less fits with what she told me," Sophia mused.
"Why did she come? It was years ago."
"She loves him still. Fanny is all admiration."
"Yes. Fanny." Her brother sighed. "He took it badly. He was successful at sea because he had no particular wish to live. He took risks that sensible men would not have taken. This may not have been such a good plan of Fanny's."
"Fanny said something about him moaning the girl's name." If that was so, Frederick had not forgotten the girl, even if it was years ago and he had at first been so hurt that he would not have cared about his life. But he had lived and perhaps he had grown calmer. Nevertheless, Sophia's heart ached for all the pain he must have suffered and for the support she had not been able to give.
"That is exactly the sort of thing Fanny would like to hear," said Captain Harville. "She is too romantic for her own good. If she does not hear it, she will imagine hearing it. I say, if he loved her so much, he should have married her. Yet he did not."
Sophia agreed with him, though she was still in doubt. "I shall have to keep a close eye on things. He could have gone back when he had made some money. You and she both think he could have. He could have thought of that himself as well. She seems a good girl, perhaps a little too timid for him. I must have a word with her about this, because I cannot set up a girl for heartbreak."
"Admiral," Anne said respectfully when he entered the room.
He surveyed the action his entrance had interrupted. It looked rather improper. "What are you doing?"
"I noticed he had to be cleaned, Admiral," she said very quietly. He did not look as if had any sympathy for that, but perhaps he had simply not realised what she was doing. It had looked strange, perhaps.
"How would you notice that if you did not look first?"
Anne hesitated as she wondered how to phrase it. "One can smell." And then one looked.
Admiral Croft looked suspicious. He even sniffed. "Why do I not smell anything?"
She knew she was not lying and she could look him straight in the eye. "Because I have washed him, changed his sheets and opened the windows, Admiral."
The window was indeed open. He glanced back at the bed and then at Miss Elliot. She was not strong enough to lift a grown man. Not at all. Yet this was somewhat required to change his bed sheets. "Changed his sheets? Without help?"
"He can roll over if you tell him to."
"Roll, Frederick," he ordered, but there was no reaction. He had not thought there would be. The man was not awake.
"He listened to me," Anne said defensively. She had nudged him a little and he had moved to wherever she wanted him to move. It had made her task less difficult. "He was a little conscious."
He did not know how else she could have done it, yet there was a messy pile of sheets beside the bed, so he supposed he ought to believe her. "And you washed him."
"I did."
"If I am not mistaken, this requires…" He did not know how to say it delicately. She could have washed his face, but faces did not smell.
"Fortitude and experience with small children. I have nephews. Only…" she hesitated. It might seem indifferent of her to move on directly to another topic, but perhaps it was more politic to appear indifferent. She had not possessed quite as much fortitude as she ought and she might be sent away if they found out. "My nephews do not yet require shaving and I should really like to see him shaved."
Admiral Croft was astonished. "He is ill; he is not a fashion plate."
She would not be insulted, but returned his look with dignity. "I should like it all the same. Do you have a manservant, Admiral? Or does he?"
"For what does he need one?"
"To shave him."
He gave her a funny stare. "Does your father not shave himself?"
"His manservant does." Anne wondered who shaved the admiral. It sounded as if he did not have a manservant at all, yet he was clean-shaven.
"Erm," he said, but his face spoke volumes. "And you insist on seeing Frederick shaved?"
"Please."
Posted on Wednesday, 8 August 2007
Fanny had hidden in the nursery after Sophia sent her away. She might be found in her own room and this one was at least near enough to Frederick's. Lucy and Freddy knew nothing about Miss Elliot and they did not care either. They were only all too glad for the distraction, keeping Fanny so busy that she could not even peek out of the room, let alone go to the sickroom to see if she could have a word with Miss Elliot.
When her sister-in-law arrived in the nursery, Fanny began her interrogation. Fiona had been with Frederick, but evidently someone else was there now. "Where did Sophia take Miss Elliot? Were you not supposed to be with Frederick? Did Sophia take her there?"
"Easy, easy!" Fiona smiled. She first lifted up her youngest for a cuddle.
"What happened?" Fanny was too anxious. "Is she now with Frederick? You cannot have prevented it."
Her sister-in-law was unfazed. She was rather shy as a rule, but she knew that was not what was meant. "Fanny, sweetie, are you still not reconciled to my dubious ancestry?"
"You do not even know what you are," Fanny said with a heightened colour. She had not intended any slight towards Fiona's parents, but it was a fact that they had not exactly belonged to the gentry, nor to any country in particular.
"On the contrary. I am the mother of these children and the wife of your brother." It was all the allegiance she needed to feel, although perhaps she had some loyalty towards the Navy as well, considering her husband's friends her extended family.
"I meant that you do not even think you are English! Or Irish! Or Scottish! But even that is not what I meant."
"I also have some French blood," Fiona supplied helpfully. "And no English blood at all. But I do not see why it should play any role in this case."
Fanny felt uncomfortable. "Well, growing up where you did and as you did, you cannot have had any objections to leaving Miss Elliot with Frederick. That is what I meant. I did not mean it slightingly, because I very much want her to be left with him."
"It was a very respectable tavern in which I grew up."
She was not going to argue about the respectability of a tavern she had never seen. "But is she with him or not?"
"It was Sophia's idea to leave her with him, because Sophia is very…" Fiona considered it. "Kind? And of course she is terrified of losing her child and your friend Miss Elliot very politely told us it was not good for us to be in a sickroom."
"I do not suppose it is, but Sophia -- did Miss Elliot ask to stay?"
"No, Sophia told her to stay. Despite my unrespectable upbringing and ancestry I did not influence Sophia at all." She smiled. "She is very capable of making improper decisions on her own, you know."
"I meant no slight," Fanny said unhappily. She did not want to upset her sister, even if Fiona remained calm. "I was merely hoping you would help."
"I did not dissuade her, so perhaps you would call that help. Fanny, if you are trying to run a respectable tavern…"
"I have never wanted to try."
Her dignified manner turned her sister into a tease. "Benwick might want to run one if the peace goes on long enough. He might like your assistance in that case."
"I should talk him out of it!" Fanny cried. "But do you not think that the presence of a beloved can make a man better when a mere nurse cannot?"
"Only if she is a good nurse as well as a beloved. Is that why you sent for her?"
"Yes, of course." Fanny thought it was obvious.
"What took you so long?" Sophia inquired of her husband. She thought he had only gone to speak to the coachman.
"When I could not find Miss Elliot, I went up to Frederick's room -- from where you had still not banned her, my dear, even though I told you so -- to tell her that her carriage will be going home tomorrow. She asked me to shave Frederick," he said solemnly, but he was quite clearly suppressing his laughter. "How long had she been in there alone? An hour? Well, when I appeared she had already managed to wash him from head to toe, only the stubble gave her pause."
"From head to toe?" Sophia cried. She wondered if she had done wrong in leaving the woman with Frederick. There had been no talk of undressing or washing him.
He nodded. "Indeed. And should I add she changed his bed sheets as well? I wondered how such a slight girl managed, but she replied that Frederick was not unconscious. I, by the way, noticed no signs of awareness while I was shaving him."
"But from head to toe?"
"Apparently having very small nephews prepares one adequately for that." He shrugged. "Leave the girl, Sophia. She looked quite pale and sickly when she arrived, but she already looks different now."
"But you wanted me to send her out of the room!" His change of heart confused her.
"Yes, I changed my mind. Leave her there. She is certainly never going to be married if she does not go beyond the next village, says her coachman. Tell me how she knew me. She may be from Somerset as well, but I did not think I was so very famous at home."
"She was engaged to Frederick. I assume he told her that I was his sister. She reads the newspapers and such," she said hurriedly. Other things were more important. "But my dear, if she could ask you to shave Frederick, why did she not ask you to wash him?"
He wrinkled his nose and blessed his good escape. "Perhaps she knew that we men are not cut out for that sort of thing."
She knew of what he spoke, since she had tried to get him to help her the week before. "That -- and her being from Somerset -- reconciled you to her being in his room?"
"I am a simple man, my dear," he grinned.
"Miss Elliot?"
Anne had heard the door open and she had turned around. Mrs Croft remained on the threshold, so she approached her. "Yes, Mrs Croft?"
Mrs Croft looked uncomfortable. "I heard what you did and I do not think…"
Anne coloured. She knew exactly what was meant. "Under ordinary circumstances I should never have done such a thing, but I cannot leave a man to perish because he is not a pretty sight when his clothes are off."
Sophia's heart skipped a beat as she had visions of scars, remnants of vicious wounds that had given her poor little brother pain. "Has he been wounded in battle? He never told us."
"No, I did not see signs of a wound. Men are never a pretty sight, I suspect, wounded or not, but I could not tell the admiral so. The admiral is a man himself and he might feel offended. The admiral may think I coldheartedly undressed him, but in truth I was having some trouble being cold-hearted."
"The admiral," she repeated foolishly. "What did he say?"
"He said nothing about the washing when I explained why it was necessary, Mrs Croft." Anne grew a little more confident. "I did not tell the admiral that I fabricated a sort of napkin to keep the sheets clean next time."
"You should have," Mrs Croft said after some hesitation.
"I should have?"
"That is just the sort of thing that would amuse him."
"But it is not amusing," Anne protested. She had done it because it was practical, although any victim of such practicality would object. He was not a baby.
"We had best not tell Frederick when he recovers, I agree."
"I do not know if he noticed…" She had first kept looking at him to see if he would wake, but he had not. Eventually she had turned towards the window and she had been looking out on the park, turning only when she heard a sound. Even that had become less when she had begun to recognise certain sounds as innocent.
"If he did not protest, he did not."
Anne was silent until she remembered what she had wanted to ask. "May I speak with Miss Harville?"
"Miss Harville will not be allowed in here," Mrs Croft said warningly. "You will have to leave the room to speak with Fanny, but she is hiding herself. The room I have had prepared for you is the last door on the right."
"Thank you," Anne replied, but she did not think she would make any use of it. There was a perfectly usable sofa in here.
Mrs Croft seemed to guess her thoughts. "You may wish to change your clothes in there and not in here. You must know that I am too tired to have a very proper opinion on your staying here. I only want him to get better. Once he is better he can resolve the engagement pains with you. What if he will be angry with you?"
Anne tensed. She had asked herself that same question about a hundred times. "I have wondered, but I had to take the risk. Is knowing he is angry not better than not knowing anything at all?"
Mrs Croft gave a slight nod.
"I never really wanted to consider this part of my life finished, so when I received Miss Harville's letter I knew I must finish it, one way or the other. It would be no less painful than not knowing."
"I suppose…" She looked doubtful. "Did my husband speak to you about your carriage?"
"Yes, he did. He said he would include a note for my father to explain where I am, not what I am doing here." She must be grateful to Admiral Croft for his consideration and kindness in being willing to write a misleading note.
"It is indeed best not apprise your father of your improper activities here."
"Do you disapprove?" Anne was a little afraid. It would be very bad for future family relations if Frederick's sister were highly disapproving of her -- if there were going to be future family relations in the first place.
Mrs Croft sighed. "I sometimes believe the end justifies the means. Sometimes."
Anne had been summoned -- she could only call it that -- to dinner along with the other occupants of the house. Surprisingly being among people who knew her story was not as uncomfortable as she had imagined it would be. She supposed, at least, that all would know why she was here by now, as one of them must have told Captain Harville.
Mrs Croft had given her fifteen minutes to change her clothes in her own room and the lady had been very punctual in collecting her from there. Fifteen minutes were enough for Anne, but they certainly would not have sufficed for Elizabeth, she thought, but then, her sister would never had got herself into a situation like this.
It had not only been Mrs Croft who escorted her downstairs, but also the admiral. Anne had felt like a prisoner, being made to walk in the middle. They had assured her that Frederick would not die during this hour of her absence, but they were evidently not sure she was voluntarily accompanying them to dinner. She had indeed said she was not hungry, but that had not been entirely truthful. At present she felt too many worries about Frederick to feel whether she wanted to eat, but should she not eat now, she would feel very hungry later on.
She was inclined to think the Crofts very kind. They could of course only treat her with some reserve because they did not know her, but they had done so with much less reserve than she would have expected.
The admiral had been very obliging, shaving Frederick and showing her how to do so, even if the sharpness of the knife would not entice her to try it on her own. He had furthermore teased her a little about young ladies' preferences for tidy appearances.
Mrs Croft, for her part, had allowed her to stay with Frederick. That she had come upstairs to inquire about the washing had merely been a matter of form, because after having been so proper as to make a comment on it, she had abandoned the subject altogether.
At the dinner table she had been made to sit to the admiral's right, across from Miss Harville. This at least offered her the opportunity to study the young lady more closely, although she wanted to study all of them more closely. These were Frederick's family and friends, and good friends they were. They were very concerned for him and they had so far treated her very kindly, even if she had so far not done anything to deserve it. Coming here could easily have made her the object of ridicule in other company.
Captain Harville addressed her suddenly. "Were you ever acquainted with Mr Wentworth?"
She was startled, as she had not expected him to be the first to say anything. "H-H-His brother?"
"Yes, Edward."
"Yes, he was the curate of Monkford for a while, which is near us." That, she supposed, explained adequately how she had met Frederick.
This had a surprising effect on Mrs Croft. Her dark eyes flashed indignantly and she nearly rose from her chair. "Did he know? He must have known!"
"Flog him!" the admiral remarked in a tone of perfect unconcern.
"James, do not be so cool!" she chided. "They all knew and nobody told me. But before I get James to flog him, Miss Elliot, did Edward really know?"
Anne looked uncomfortable. Mr Wentworth had been an amiable man and not one she would like to get into trouble because of something she said. "Before I say anything," she said to the admiral, "would you really?"
"He knew," he deduced.
"He knew and he did not stop the travesty!" cried Mrs Croft. "Had I been there in his stead…"
"Yes, my dear, but you were not."
This silenced Mrs Croft, although she was silently fuming and obviously composing an irate letter to her other brother in her mind.
Anne hoped nobody would now speculate on how differently it might have gone; she had done so often enough and it was no use. Her sad face possibly alerted Mrs Croft, for the lady kindly apologised and said it was not her intention to have anybody flogged at all.
"She loves them too much," the admiral nodded. "Besides, they are stronger. Even Edward, though a clergyman, is probably stronger than his sister."
Miss Harville had been listening in concern. "I am truly sorry for throwing you into this kind of company. It is all my fault."
"I am glad I came. I did not expect it to be easy," Anne replied. It was not easy to sit with Frederick and to change his clothes; perhaps it was easier to sit here with his family and friends. They did not blame her for not having told them, at least.
Posted on Saturday, 11 August 2007
After the first awkward beginning, Anne felt rather comfortable at dinner. For a while people left her alone and then Miss Harville took it upon herself to ask a little about her family. "Did you get in any trouble with your family over my letter? I tried to word it very carefully."
"Very carefully indeed," Anne smiled. Miss Harville was fortunate that she had understood it at all. "But nobody has any interest in the mail I receive. I am more likely to get into trouble because I stole the carriage."
Miss Harville gasped. "Whose?"
"My father's," she said gravely. She was still worried about his reaction, but there was nothing she could do about it anymore. The carriage was going home in the morning, so he would have it back very soon. That she was not in it would not matter very much to her father, she believed.
"But that is not stealing."
"My father may not agree with you."
"Did you drive it yourself?" Miss Harville looked impressed. "It cannot be difficult in itself, except for people's comments."
Anne could not imagine herself driving the carriage on her own. The idea drew an involuntary smile. What would she have done if she had not succeeded in persuading the coachman? Thankfully she had not had to contemplate that. "No, I stole the coachman and a footman along with it."
After she had spoken she hoped she did not sound too impertinent and indifferent. It was unlike her. She had really not so coldheartedly decided to take the carriage, but it had in fact cost her a great deal of distress. She had never done such a bold thing before and her uncertainty had only been made worse by the absolute necessity of succeeding.
"Miss Elliot steals in style," Admiral Croft declared. "Were they your father's coachman and footman or did you procure them elsewhere because of their pretty livery?"
"I did not know they had a pretty livery." She tried to remember what it looked like. Perhaps it was indeed pretty. Her father did want his servants to make a good impression.
"Was the poem about you?" Miss Harville asked in a whisper.
Anne self-consciously glanced at Admiral Croft, who could hear every word. He might wonder which poem and he might ask and then she might have to produce it, hidden as it was in one of her pockets.
"Uncle James is deaf to female conversation," Miss Harville assured her. "And he dislikes poems. Was it about you?"
After another glance at the admiral, who was making a show of not listening, she decided to answer. "I cannot be sure, but I think it was. Except for the last lines."
"I knew it!" Miss Harville said triumphantly. "It was so romantic."
"Was it?" Anne was a little surprised, because the last two lines especially had been as unromantic as could be. They changed the direction of the poem completely.
"Please," said the admiral. "No talk of romance right in front of me and certainly no talk of romantic poems. I am not as deaf as that. And I am not your uncle, Fanny."
Miss Harville gave him her most flattering look. "You are much nicer than my uncle."
"I am not so nice as to want to listen to talk of romance."
"You cannot be as unromantic as you pretend to be. Because you are married and Sophia behaves very nicely to you." She looked towards the other end of the table at Mrs Croft, who had not heard their conversation.
Admiral Croft smiled. "Perhaps that is because Sophia is very nice. You must give her all the credit for behaving nicely to me."
"What is that?" Mrs Croft asked from the other end of the table.
"Fanny thinks you behave nicely to me."
"I behave as you deserve."
"That is what I call romantic," Miss Harville declared with a passionate look.
The admiral looked as if he very much abhorred behaving in a romantic fashion. "Miss Elliot, let us talk of sensible matters. Our native county. Do you know of any nice houses there? We could not find any when we looked and we therefore took this one."
When Anne returned to Frederick's room, she was relieved to find him still alive. Mrs Croft, who had accompanied her, was equally relieved. Anne asked her if there was anything particular she needed to do during the night, but the answer was simple.
"Sleep," said Mrs Croft. "I suspect you will not go to your room. I slept on the sofa when I was here." Her facial expression became a little funny. "Now I see why my husband was so quickly won over to this plan, though he told me it was because you are both from Somerset."
"Is that not reason enough?" Anne smiled. She would not question the admiral's ulterior motives, if he had had any at all. His reason for allowing her to stay had hopefully more to do with her competence.
"I cannot stand here forever," Miss Croft decided with a sigh. "Good night."
When Mrs Croft hesitated nevertheless, Anne felt she was perhaps still a trifle worried about her brother and leaving him in the care of a stranger for so many hours at a stretch. "Where is your room so I can call you if necessary?"
"By the table with the large vase. You may disturb me at all times. I would rather be disturbed than have him get worse without knowing."
"I will call you," Anne promised. "I understand. I am not here to keep him to myself. Before I came I did not think of doing this and when I offered my assistance, I only did so because it would be better for you. I would never have been so presumptuous as to --"
"I know and I am very tired, but if I do it, I know at least that I am doing everything in my power."
"You are not failing him by getting some rest," Anne said softly.
"He should have been better already. Perhaps I have failed him." Mrs Croft almost wept.
Anne realised his sister was more concerned than she had let on before. She had then been calm and strong. "He will recover."
"How do you know?"
She did not. "It is what we must think. I shall tell him he must."
Fanny thought Miss Elliot was different from what she had expected, although of course she was still quite the thing for Frederick. She imagined them embracing at dawn. Miss Elliot was probably not one to complain about the early hour. She did seem proper and well-mannered, yet she might not have objected to a kiss. Fanny considered herself very proper and well-mannered as well, and she never objected either. She, however, had been engaged for several years now and kisses seemed to last longer each time she met Jimmy.
Thomas had been very silly to her, scolding her for inviting Miss Elliot. She had shrugged him off, since neither Sophia nor the admiral had said anything to her about it at all and it was their house. Her brother did not have to be afraid of anything.
She hoped Fiona would speak to him, but very likely Fiona would not think of it at all. She had three children to see to at bedtime and by the time she had kissed them all goodnight she would be exhausted. There would be no opportunity to defend Fanny's cause.
Tomorrow morning she would ride to Longbourn to tell Elizabeth that Miss Elliot had arrived. During the past few days she had not had the opportunity to go there. She wondered how long it would take for Frederick to benefit from Miss Elliot's loving presence. Could she slip away tomorrow without missing anything?
After having debated this for a while she supposed she could, if she went early enough. She did not want to be away when he woke. He might be surprised to see Miss Elliot. It would be odd if he was not. He might therefore not propose instantly. She would be back from Longbourn before he did.
Frederick was indeed still very far from proposing. He was even very far from noticing very much or even holding a conversation. If he noticed anybody by his bedside at all, he did not acknowledge it.
Anne therefore felt at liberty to slip into her nightgown. She checked once more if his shirt was dry, if the jugs and buckets were full of water, and if the maid was not leaving the antechamber. Then she lay down on the sofa.
A few seconds later she got up when she realised she had not spoken to him at all. It was difficult to do when one was not used to it and when one's patient did not appear to be listening. However, it could do more good than harm. She approached the bed and took his hand. "Good night, Frederick." When he did not stir, she almost pressed a kiss to his forehead, but she was not certain her lips touched his skin. "I am here. You will get better. You must. For your sister, for her child, for me."
Then, despite her worries, she slept rather well, knowing she was at last in a position where she might do something and having drawn the sofa very close to the bed, she could not fail to hear the slightest change in Frederick's breathing.
Posted on Tuesday, 14 August 2007
When it was still dark Anne was woken by a clattering chamber pot. She sat up with a start and got her legs tangled in the blanket in her haste to leave the bed to see why the pot had fallen over. There was a weakly uttered but colourful curse that gave her pause and then a thud on the pillow.
"Yes?" she said anxiously as she approached the bed. The single candle still burning did not illuminate much. If he could curse, he must be awake. It filled her with dread. "Frederick?"
His eyes were closed and he had fallen back onto his pillow after an apparently fruitless and exhausting attempt to reach the chamber pot. "Pot."
"L-L-Let me help you." She stuttered at first, but soon she grew more assured. This was like her little nephews. It must be treated similarly. She had managed yesterday and she would manage now.
After this episode Frederick slept on, but she did not. He had not recognised her. He had not even seemed to care who was with him. She was glad that he did not yet seem very aware. This was not a good moment to notice her. She would prefer his first conscious words to her to be something other than a curse or a request to hand him the pot. He would undoubtedly agree. He would not want to be caught saying either thing to a lady, or so she hoped. As long as she was not yet entirely comfortable here in this room and with these tasks, his unawareness was still a relief of sorts.
His shirt was soaked again and she changed it. The dirty linen and water she placed in the room where the maid was still sleeping. Because Polly had worked hard, Anne did not yet wake her. She returned to Frederick's room and tried to sleep some more.
When this did not prove successful, she peeked out after a while and Polly woke. "Oh, madam!" said the maid when she perceived the pile. "You have been busy already."
"Yes, a bit. I should like some new water and some sort of broth. Is Cook up?" Anne put in a few more requests. Then she had nothing more to do and she brushed her hair. Twice she was alarmed by sounds from the bed, but it turned out to be nothing.
Miss Elliot appeared not to have stirred from Frederick's room all night. The maid who posted in the antechamber confirmed that. Since Miss Elliot had arrived, she had been sent for water, for a chamber pot, for clean linen, for a broth and she could not remember what else.
"A demanding lady, is she?" Sophia was bemused. Miss Elliot was certainly taking her task seriously and she appeared to be rather competent. Nothing she had asked for seemed to have been for herself. Yesterday evening she had not even wanted to eat her dinner.
"No, Mrs Croft. She is very polite, but she insists we wash our hands after every thing and all towels are to be boiled and such. I am to see to it myself."
"Thorough," she said, but she approved. She felt a little guilty for not having been quite as thorough, but of course Frederick had not been the only thing on her mind. Miss Elliot could afford to be thorough, not having a husband and an unborn child and guests. "Would you call her for me?"
"Yes, madam." The maid went into the room and soft voices could be heard.
A moment later Miss Elliot emerged. She looked even more tired than yesterday and Sophia wondered why James had said she already looked better. She did not. "You look tired."
"It is nothing," Miss Elliot said dismissively. "I merely woke early."
"How is he?"
There was a slight smile. "He did not die in my care."
"I am glad." Sophia blushed a little, although she hoped it was invisible in the bad light. She had of course come to check on that and she had put off her visit until a more reasonable hour, not directly when she had woken. James had not allowed it. He had nevertheless not been able to stop her from going here in her nightgown, something Miss Elliot had undoubtedly noticed and interpreted correctly.
"His condition is not changed," Miss Elliot said warningly. "Not worse, but not better either."
It had been like that for a while and she was used to it. Perhaps one of these days there would be an improvement. Meanwhile she ought to keep Miss Elliot in good health as well. "If you have even towels boiled, Miss Elliot, you ought to take a bath each day."
The girl raised her eyebrows. "But -- yes."
"And Polly. My husband will sit by the bed while you two take your bath." They had arrived at that arrangement as part of a compromise -- he had not really wanted to sit here, but she had really wanted to check on Miss Elliot much earlier.
The maid looked surprised. "Me? But it is not Saturday."
Anne was refreshed by the bath. It had been a very good idea and she was glad she had not protested. She was well-prepared for anything Admiral Croft would say when she returned.
"I smell something," said he.
She wondered how long he had been smelling it. Very likely he had waited for her to come back. She could not make any remarks on his reluctance to act, however. He was her host. "Will you or shall I?"
"You, you, you!"
She could not help making him think a little. "But what if you are out with your child before it is dry?"
He patted her shoulder. "You may laugh at me then."
"That implies that you will take action," she said, a little surprised. She would otherwise not laugh.
He gave her a surprised look in return. "What else could I do?"
Anne gave him a wide smile. "I am glad to hear it. I do not mean to influence you in any way, but my brother-in-law does nothing. He says he does not know how, so he refuses to do anything. And then his sons cry, unless someone else is with them."
"Sophia would have forced him. She forced me to do this last week."
As she worked, she thought about the admiral. He always seemed to be in good spirits and he had much more patience with girls than they deserved. Miss Harville's inviting a guest had not met with his disapproval. Said guest's improper behaviour had merely elicited a few questions and then, when he was satisfied, it was all approval. Frederick was fortunate to have such relatives. She was happy for him. "Is Frederick pleased that you married his sister?" she asked.
He was still there, watching and undoubtedly rejoicing in the fact that she was not making him do the work that in spite of everything had to be done. "Sophia and I are; good brothers then follow suit."
"Is he a good brother?"
"He is tolerable."
She hoped Frederick was not stealthily listening, but she believed he would make it known if they were speaking about him. "He must be a good friend as well if Miss Harville decided to risk disapproval by inviting me."
"He is a good friend -- and Fanny is of course very sympathetic to separated lovers."
Anne realised she did not yet know much about Miss Harville. She only knew what had been in the letter. At dinner there had not been much of an opportunity to ask anything. "How long has she been engaged?"
"A few years."
"A few years!" Anne echoed. She could have had that. Evidently there would have been chances of it turning out right. "Her family had no objections?"
"Do not think of that," the admiral advised when he saw her reaction. "I had practically no engagement and it turned out to be fine as well. It is impossible to tell in advance."
"But perhaps you had money."
He laughed softly. "No. Do not ask me, because it will only make you wonder what you could have done differently. That is not what you should do."
She knew it was not, but she had no idea how to suppress those thoughts and what she ought to do instead. "What should I do?"
"Help him. It will make you feel better because you are doing it yourself. Or does that reasoning only apply to Sophia?"
"She has come!" Fanny said, unable to contain her excitement. She was happy Elizabeth met her at the gate. There was nothing that stood in the way of her revelation. She did not have to be polite to the rest of the family first. "I did not think she would!"
Elizabeth set down her basket. Her work could wait. This news was far more exciting. "Tell me all about it!"
"Yesterday evening a Miss Elliot was announced. She is not at all what I had expected."
"No? But if she is Miss Elliot then at least she never married," she realised very quickly.
"She would not have come if she had married. Oh. But perhaps she is exactly what I had hoped nevertheless. She is so pale and thin. She must have been longing for him all these years." Fanny's affectionate heart burst with sympathy for the unhappy couple.
Elizabeth was less impressed with that than Fanny. "She has wasted away," she spoke dryly.
"Not entirely, but it has taken its toll on her, I think. She must love him as much as he loves her."
Her friend began to doubt. Captain Wentworth did not look as if he had wasted away. He looked very much like a strong, healthy and happy man. "Do we know for certain that he does? Perhaps we acted in haste. What did she say?"
"That she wanted to see him and say she was sorry."
"For what? Breaking her engagement?"
Fanny looked regretful. "She did not specify. Sophia took her upstairs and sent me away."
"The stranger -- to his room?"
"Why, yes. That is what she came for. I hid because I was afraid Sophia would take me to task for arranging it. She has not done so yet." She had slipped away very early, fearing Sophia might have put it off until today when they had more of an opportunity to be alone.
"You get all the fun," Elizabeth said a little sadly. "We get Mr Collins."
"Is he no fun? Oh, wait -- he is a clergyman. They are never fun." Fanny gave her a commiserating look.
"Will you come in to meet him?"
"Do tell him I am engaged. Although I would by no means steal a suitor of yours."
"You would have been welcome to him," Elizabeth said with a groan. "I fear he indeed thinks of himself as someone's suitor. But not mine, I beg you."
Mrs Bennet had been informed about a strange carriage that had passed through Meryton. Its driver had been so good as to ask Mrs Philips for directions to Netherfield Park, whereupon she had of course been impressed by the coat of arms on the vehicle and she had asked the coachman about his master. Mrs Philips had then been able to tell her sister that a Sir Walter Elliot was visiting Netherfield. Mrs Bennet's first reaction had been to ask if he was married, but to that question her sister could not give any answer and they could only speculate on what Sir Walter might be doing at Netherfield.
It was, however, not half as interesting as dissecting the character and appearance of Mr Bennet's cousin Mr Collins. Said gentleman had arrived the day before and he had so far answered very much to Mrs Bennet's wishes. To be sure, he could be richer and more handsome, but he behaved with perfect civility and great respect. He had even almost said literally that he meant to choose a bride from among the young ladies at Longbourn.
Now that Miss Harville was brought into the house, however, Mrs Bennet remembered Sir Walter and she immediately set to work discovering his business.
Posted on Friday, 17 August 2007
No matter how many times Elizabeth had suggested that Sir Walter himself needed not have been in that carriage, Mrs Bennet still believed that he had and even Elizabeth could not have been certain that the man had not accompanied his daughter. Perhaps he had travelled here to have a serious word with a dying captain.
Now that Fanny had come, she at least knew Miss Elliot had been inside that carriage, but Mrs Bennet did not yet know. "Did a Sir Walter Elliot come to Netherfield?" Mrs Bennet inquired, very greedy for news that would amaze her friends in Meryton.
Fanny was a little nonplussed. "Sir Walter? No, he did not."
"But his carriage did. Was it empty?"
"Oh, his carriage! It contained his daughter."
"His daughter!" exclaimed Mrs Bennet. "What has she come to do?"
"Mama!" said Jane in embarrassment. She was not the only embarrassed one, but the others would all like to hear the answer. Any new arrival was interesting, if only for a few moments.
"She is a friend of Mrs Croft's," Fanny fantasised. It might not be a lie; they might well be friends by now. Shared worries were always good for creating bonds.
Mrs Bennet was surprised. "I did not know Mrs Croft was so well-connected."
"An admiral is a fairly good connection," Elizabeth muttered. She shared a look with Fanny.
"Indeed, but she is attached to the admiral, not connected. And Sir Walter is but a baronet," Fanny said teasingly. "Though I heard from the admiral that Sir Walter's servants have pretty liveries."
"Why did you not bring Sir Walter's daughter?" Mrs Bennet asked. She would have liked to boast to Mrs Philips of having Sir Walter's daughter to tea, even if she had no interest in the woman as a person.
Another lie was inevitable. "She is with Mrs Croft."
That was very inconsiderate and Mrs Bennet was reassured by the fact that Sir Walter's daughter was at least not in Meryton visiting Mrs Philips. "We have a guest too, Miss Harville. His name is Mr Collins. A very pleasant young man. He will inherit this estate upon Mr Bennet's death, but he is very pleasant."
"Being pleasant is always a pleasant characteristic in a guest," Fanny said with a polite look.
She was forced to listen to information about Mr Collins, his living and his noble patroness. When the man himself came in, she expected a change of topic, but it was not to be. He was as proficient at speaking about himself as Mrs Bennet was. He was furthermore of the disposition to enjoy a young, female audience -- the more, the better.
Elizabeth took Fanny away as soon as she could. She sighed. "Pity us! He is not yet leaving! And I believe he means to leave with one of us, too!"
Fanny did not think the danger to her friend was very great and so she merely laughed. She could, when this was very likely the only exposure to this Mr Collins that she would have. "Who is Lady Catherine De Bourgh? I have never heard of her, but it seems I should have."
"You will never forget her now!" The two girls giggled and then Elizabeth remembered why Fanny had come. "What of Miss Elliot? What is she doing with Captain Wentworth?"
Fanny gave her a demure smile. "Let us not wonder…"
They giggled again, Elizabeth a little more shocked than Fanny. "I assure you I could not begin to wonder, because I am not engaged."
"Neither are they, so there will be nothing to wonder about."
When Captain Benwick was announced at Netherfield, the gentlemen's first thought was of Fanny, although Benwick himself lacked the courage to ask about her instantly. A servant was sent away to find her while Admiral Croft and Captain Harville greeted him.
The only ones who were found were the wives of the gentlemen, not Fanny. "She rode to Longbourn," said Fiona. Fanny had been so kind as to tell her that she could not play with the children.
He looked disappointed. "Longbourn? Where is that? When will she be back?"
"I do not know. She is hiding from Sophia."
"Why?"
"Yes, why?" Sophia echoed. She was genuinely surprised to hear it.
"She thinks you have been putting off reprimanding her," Fiona said gravely.
Benwick dreaded the answer, but he had to ask. "What did Fanny do?"
"Frederick is ill with a high fever," Sophia explained. "So she invited the woman to whom he was once engaged." This was too much news at once for him to speak. She therefore continued when she received no reaction. "And apparently she thinks I am now angry."
"Are you not?"
"No."
"But…" Benwick clearly needed more time to make sense of it all. Wentworth was ill. He was engaged. Fanny was meddling in it. "I did not know he was engaged. Is he very ill? Is that woman now here? And when will Fanny be back?" He hoped he did not sound too pitiful, but he longed to see and embrace her.
"Yes, that woman is here. Perhaps you should ride to Longbourn to get Fanny."
"I am tired." He had ridden day and night to see his Fanny and when he finally arrived she was out. He could not muster up the energy to get on a horse again and he sunk down onto a chair. He ought to go, because she would expect it.
"Besides," the admiral spoke. "You might miss her coming back. Men and women always have different notions of what is the quickest route."
"You must have something to eat first," Fiona said in concern.
Admiral Croft was amused. "I warn you, Benwick, there are two expectant mothers in the house and food is always the first solution to any problem."
Benwick did not look any less confused. "Fiona and…?"
"Well, you need not worry that it is Fanny."
"Wentworth's woman?" His eyes were large. Any man, he supposed, could make a mistake, even if he had never supposed it possible that such a thing could happen to Frederick Wentworth.
"You are teasing me," Sophia said incredulously. Was there not a more likely candidate in the house? She was at least married, if old.
"I cannot believe it of him, but perhaps it was her fault. I cannot even believe he is engaged." He rubbed his eyes in fatigue and offered his congratulations to the Harvilles.
"Perhaps, Jimmy," said Sophia. "You should not congratulate Miss Elliot, because she will have no idea of what you are speaking." It might even be a little insulting to her, given what she had been doing. Miss Elliot would not stoop to taking advantage of the situation in such a manner. She could not believe it.
There was something in her tone and perhaps in her figure that alerted Benwick. He jumped up in consternation. "Mrs Croft! It is you!"
"Why, yes. It is."
He turned red. "I had always thought -- please forgive me. I had always thought -- but this is very good. You are very good to children, as I well know." He offered his warmest congratulations to her as well. Despite his being a captain himself now, he still addressed his former captain's wife very respectfully, as he had done when he had been but a child himself.
Anne had slept a little. There had not been much to do. Frederick had slept as well, rather more quietly than the day before if she might tentatively think. Of course just as she was dwelling on that, he began to move more violently and this did not stop until she had cooled his brow. Then he drifted off into a calmer sleep again and she stood by the window.
She was just opening it to let in some fresh air when there was a loud scream from the park. A horse with a wildly squealing girl on it approached the house at a fairly high speed. At first she wondered if Miss Harville was injured, but the man who ran towards her could not have known that. She deduced they must know each other and it could therefore only be her captain, whose name she had forgotten.
The letter that contained his name was safely in her pocket along with the poem, but Anne could not tear her eyes away from the scene below. His name could wait. Miss Harville jumped off her horse and the pair gave a shocking demonstration. Anne could still not look away. She was embarrassed as well as amused, for Miss Harville was jumping about so wildly that she could hardly be kissed.
Anne turned away when Miss Harville calmed down sufficiently for an exchange of affections to take place. She had never been as unreserved as that herself, yet it brought back memories. Under Frederick's influence she had done much more than she had thought she dared. He had not been very reserved when they were alone, but while he had been an unreserved suitor, she had been an unreserved nurse.
She sat by his bed when she felt a sudden need to be near him. He could not do anything to her now, unreservedly or not. Though it was presumptuous of her to wonder if it helped, she rested her head on his chest.
When she woke again, surprised that she had dozed off, there was one hand on her hair. It had not been there before, but although her neck hurt from having lain in an odd position, she did not move.
"The Meryton surgeon is here," Sophia hurriedly said to her husband. She had just been informed of his arrival, but instead of going to him directly, she needed to speak to her husband first. "But Miss Elliot is with Frederick."
"Obviously a Miss Elliot cannot be with Frederick." He thought quickly and hit upon a solution. It was too easy. "She must be Mrs Wentworth."
She stared. "I was counting on your saying we must get her out of there as soon as possible or not show him up."
"If Miss Elliot wants to play Mrs Wentworth, she must also pass the surgeon test."
"She is not playing Mrs Wentworth and it is not a test! Besides, we have not called for this surgeon and I really do not think we should pay simply to have gossip spread. We sent for Mr Bateson last week and --"
The admiral laughed. He was still amused by the fact that it was his wife who preferred naval surgeons and not he, but it was of course her brother who was ill. It had cost more to send for Bateson than it would to pay this surgeon, too. "Perhaps he heard and he is offended. Very well. I shall speak to him. You speak to Miss Elliot."
Posted on Monday, 20 August 2007
Anne raised her head quickly when she heard voices in the outer room. She must not be found like this, lying half on Frederick. Her neck was sore, but the hand on her hair had made up for that discomfort. Now it no longer worked and she massaged her neck.
Mrs Croft appeared in the doorway not two seconds later. Anne joined her there, as she had done before.
Mrs Croft began speaking instantly and she had much to say. "We have had to tell the surgeon that you are Mrs Wentworth. We could otherwise not explain what you have been doing. He is not the surgeon who was here last week. We had sent for a naval surgeon then. We have not sent for this man and we have no inclination to pay his bill and my husband is telling him so, but perhaps if he promises not to send a bill he may have a look at Frederick. Evidently he is counting on our being so concerned as to admit him anyhow, which is a very underhand method to come by his money, if you ask me."
Anne would agree, although she was still dwelling on having been called Mrs Wentworth.
Frederick's sister continued speaking when there was no interruption. "So you are Mrs Wentworth if he comes to see you."
"Oh." It would be nice to be Mrs Wentworth, even if it was not true. It would be very nice indeed. It was also very nice that Mrs Croft could say so in a perfectly friendly manner.
"That requires the least explanations."
Perhaps with an incapacitated Captain Wentworth Mrs Wentworth had some power as well, despite not being real. Anne acknowledged that Mrs Croft held the true power, yet she could not tell the surgeon so. This matter must be settled beforehand, before any questions might arise. "Could I, if this surgeon suggests bleeding, tell him no? My book, you see, advises bleeding, but I am not fond of it and to be asking you in front of him would appear odd."
"Your book." Mrs Croft stared.
"I brought a book on medicine. I am no medic, but I do not think that taking so many fluids from the body would be beneficial in this case. I also should not like to see holes being made in Frederick," Anne added in an embarrassed whisper. That was of course a far more important consideration. She would not be able to bear seeing his life seep out of him.
It cost Mrs Croft some trouble to reply. "The naval surgeon did not bleed him for that very reason last week. Or was it the week before?"
Anne was hesitant. Reasoning sensibly she could only think of one reason, but even she was not reasoning sensibly. "The fluids or the holes?"
"The holes." She shuddered.
The discovery that Mrs Croft was possibly as silly as she was, was an astonishing one. Anne felt a smile creeping onto her face.
"Men have no patience for such reasons," Mrs Croft warned, but she smiled too.
"I thought even women did not." But she was infinitely glad that she had met one who did and who understood her.
"No holes in my husband and brothers. I hear them," she said hurriedly. "Stand your ground, Mrs Wentworth. You will be alone with him."
"But may I really…" Anne did not know what she wanted to ask precisely. The charade was only for the surgeon's benefit. She had not thought she would be given the power to make decisions on behalf of the patient, nor that she would be alone.
"You can call me if you are in doubt. I shall be next door."
The surgeon was a little miffed that the Crofts would refuse to pay any bill, or perhaps that they had accused him of having a tactic to come by his money. He nevertheless came upstairs to examine Frederick, asking Anne what she had done for him.
He called her Mrs Wentworth and did not seem to suspect that she was not. The first few times he used the appellation she froze and she could not resist anxious glances at the bed. Frederick might wake and ask who was passing herself off as Mrs Wentworth. Mrs Croft had not thought of that and Anne herself was sure she could only stammer if that came to pass.
But Frederick hardly stirred. He did not lie motionless in shock, nor did he jump up and cry out that he had no wife. He was simply as he had been before.
When Mrs Wentworth refused to have the patient bled, the surgeon became even more miffed.
"No," she repeated, knowing she had no good arguments to defend her opinion. He had better not ask her for any. "I do not want it."
"But Mrs Wentworth, you know nothing about medicine," he said in exasperation.
"I do not want it." Had she not just spoken to Mrs Croft, she might have given in, but now she stood her ground firmly. They were united in this. One person might be silly, but not two.
"He will die."
"I do not want it," was all she could say. She derived some strength from the fact that the naval surgeon had not bled him either and that he had not died. Frederick had lived for a week or more after not having been bled. He would not die now. She took his hand. "He will not die."
The surgeon, evidently extremely exasperated with her stupidity and unwillingness to listen and comply, left after having told her to do some things to the patient that she had already done. Anne could not help but feel a little smug. Perhaps she did know a little about medicine.
"Well?" Sophia was on the threshold not long after the surgeon had departed. She had been good and left him to James.
"He did not suspect me. He did not do anything I did not want -- we did not want."
She was relieved. "Thank you, Miss Elliot."
"Oh no." Miss Elliot would not hear of it. "You must thank the admiral, since he told the surgeon I was…Mrs Wentworth." She could barely say the name out loud.
"And what do you think of his condition?"
"Well…" She seemed to hesitate. "I should like to say he is improving, because I want him to be, but is he really? Am I not interpreting the slightest move as an improvement?"
Sophia felt instant hope. "What did he do?"
"He…moved his hand."
She was a little disappointed. "But he moves all the time."
Miss Elliot looked very uncomfortable. She even coloured. "Er…onto…er…me. I ought to think it a coincidence. It was."
"He never moved his hand onto me at all," Sophia said with a hopeful frown. It was of course possible that Miss Elliot had placed herself in a good position under his hand, but why would she do so?
Miss Elliot remembered something else. "And this morning he cursed."
Sophia's face lit up. "He has not spoken for days. I do not care that it was a curse. Do you?"
"I think I shall be able to forgive him."
"We had best not tell Fanny that his first words were not romantic." Fanny would not be able to believe it and it might actually be amusing to see her reaction.
"Would she still care? I saw from the window that…"
"Oh, did you? Her brother had a fit at that display, but we thought it was rather funny." Perhaps, given how hesitantly Miss Elliot spoke, she had also had a fit. "Perhaps you thought it was improper."
"No, I was very happy for her." There was a faint smile. "And slightly envious."
It was not until a good long time after arriving that Captain Benwick remembered Captain Wentworth and his condition, not to mention his engagement. "What of it?" he asked his Fanny, who was as near as she could possibly be. They were in one of the public rooms, so they could not be suspected of bad intentions. That nobody wanted to sit with them was not really their fault.
She turned large, innocent eyes on him. "He moaned her name. What could I do but send for her?"
"Indeed!"
Fanny beamed up at him. Here was the one person who understood her perfectly. "You think I did well?"
"You can never do wrong," he said warmly. "Because I love you."
She gave that the appropriate response and then continued speaking. "Thomas knew he was once engaged. Did you?"
"No, I did not."
"I am sure he loves her madly."
Benwick was more undecided about that. "I have often wondered if he could love a woman as much as his profession."
"He loves his profession because he could not love her. But there is nothing to love about his profession now, so he can love her completely." Fanny could imagine it completely and she looked very appreciative.
"Yes, well…" He looked hesitant.
"Do you not agree?"
"My darling, I agree with everything you say, unless you want us to wait a week or more so we can have a double wedding." He would speak up and disagree.
"Oh!" Her eyes brightened. "I -- but you do not want it."
"We should be married as soon as possible, Fanny. You cannot keep a man waiting, especially not a man who has just come from the sea. I spent all that time thinking of you and thinking of…you. A week would be much."
There were never any secrets in Meryton. It did not take long for Mrs Bennet to hear there was a Mrs Wentworth. The surgeon's wife, who had no daughters, was not personally affected by the discovery and she had no qualms about spreading the news that she had heard from her husband, who was quite unaware of it being news and who had merely vented his exasperation about such a stupid woman to his loose-lipped wife.
Such news naturally necessitated a conference with Mrs Philips, but they could not solve the problem. Captain Wentworth had been single before he fell ill. At last Mrs Philips hit upon the answer. "He is dying and she is with child!"
Elizabeth, who had been wondering silently along with them, rolled her eyes. Although she had not been able to come up with a good solution -- she would have shared it otherwise to end the discussion -- she was sure this was not it. She had thought of Miss Elliot, but why that lady would pass herself off as Mrs Wentworth to the surgeon was something she could not explain to her satisfaction. Admiral and Mrs Croft could not possibly condone it.
Mrs Bennet loved her sister's theory. It had the right mix of scandal and romance to appeal to her and she added special licences and local clergymen to the story. Who was most likely to have performed the office?
Elizabeth did not think Miss Elliot was with child. There had not been time. Miss Elliot and Mrs Wentworth might well be one and the same, but there had also not been enough time to make her a legitimate Mrs Wentworth. If necessary she could ask Mr Collins for the precise amount of time that was required to pass in that regard. Then she realised he would very likely think she wanted to marry him as soon as possible and she guffawed.
When her mother and her aunt cared only for embellishing the story, she realised she was on her own in wondering how Miss Elliot had come to be Mrs Wentworth, not to mention what the lady was doing in the captain's room being stupid and contradicting the surgeon. The latter amused Elizabeth greatly. Anyone who was not used to being contradicted deserved to be so and therefore she applauded Miss Elliot. Fanny had told her that Miss Elliot was pale and thin and had wasted away, but evidently she still had her spirit.
She wished Fanny would visit so she could ask her about Mrs Wentworth. Her mother and aunt turned out to have that same wish. They even attempted to get Mr Bennet to call on Admiral Croft, but he saw their purpose and refused.
"Did I not warn you about sailors?" he said to his second daughter.
She cried out in shock. "You believe Mama!"
Admiral Croft had eventually decided that the two lovers had had enough time to themselves and he had taken it upon himself to separate the two, making them sit at different ends of the table. He sat the gentlemen near himself and inquired about Captain Benwick's journey and his ship.
Anne had met the captain briefly before dinner, which she was again forced to attend. There had not been any time for conversation, but now that the admiral was talking to him, she could observe him. He was a friend of Frederick's too and therefore he needed to be studied. He beamed when he laid eyes on Miss Harville and she did the same in return. Anne liked it. They were very much in love and their long engagement had not weakened their affections. It might have been like this had she remained engaged.
The captain had looked at her curiously too, but with far less curiosity and far more acceptance than she would have imagined. Had somebody told him she was Frederick's wife, he would have regarded her in the same manner, she believed. But if Miss Harville had spoken to him, she might have persuaded him of her romantic notions.
After today's positive developments, which she would yet hesitate to speak of to anyone but Mrs Croft, Anne felt quite energetic. She was better at eating her dinner, but she knew that the closer they got to Frederick's full recovery, the more trouble she would have again eating. She would then fear what he would say to her. This was as yet not a great worry. It did not look as if he was going to be aware this evening. His fever must go down first.
But what would he say? Everyone else here seemed to take her presence in stride, but he would not. She did not expect him to greet her as a long lost friend he was glad to see again.
There was another reason than the acceptance why she felt comfortable in this company; they were all sensible people. There was good conversation and at any joke she could smile.
Suddenly their agreeable dinner was interrupted and a servant came in with two people. Anne recognised the man as Mr Wentworth, Frederick's brother, even before he was announced as such.
Miss Harville leant towards her. "Big bellies are all the rage this season."
Anne had noticed that too in the lady she assumed was Mrs Wentworth. Mr Wentworth had not been married when she knew him, but that was years ago. It was to be expected that his situation had changed. Hers had not. "I am not in any danger," she whispered back.
"Oh, you sly girl!" Miss Harville sounded delighted. "Was that an emphasis on the pronoun?"
"Er…" She had not intended one, but if one examined the matter, she was indeed less at risk than Miss Harville.
"But you are right. I must marry quickly, for 'tis in the nature of love to be in danger."
The conversation with Miss Harville had drawn her eyes away, but when she looked back at Mr Wentworth, she saw he was staring at her curiously and with recognition.
"It is such a long time since I was a poor curate at Monkford!" he said, evidently putting off the burning question of who or what he was right now. "But I recognised you instantly."
She blushed, for how was she to explain her presence?
Mrs Croft saved her. While Anne had been talking to Miss Harville and Mr Wentworth had been studying them, she had been speaking to Mrs Wentworth, but she was now done and caught the last words. "I had already heard you knew all about Miss Elliot, Eddy, and I think you are a dreadfully bad boy."
Mrs Wentworth looked astonished at hearing her dignified husband thus addressed.
He nearly smiled. "Are you speaking of that, Sophia?"
"That, which everyone knew except me!"
"But it seems to have come right?" he said inquiringly.
"No, not at all," said his sister. "Frederick has no idea that Miss Elliot is here." She beckoned for two chairs to be pulled up to the table.
He had already inquired after his brother upon his arrival -- the servants would know -- so he was no longer as anxious as he had been and he could focus on other matters. "There also seem to be things here that everyone knew except me," he retorted. "You may have been a dreadfully bad girl."
"Are you speaking of this, Edward?" She laid her hands on her abdomen and looked shocked. "I have been bad indeed, but I never thought you would mention it at the dinner table!"
He changed colour and said nothing.
There were some chuckles from the other end of the table where the sailors were seated. "I think, my dear, you were bad because you had not yet told him," said the admiral. "Not because you were bad; indeed, you were very good." He grinned.
Mrs Croft was not affected by his grin. "I had every intention of telling you eventually, Edward, but I thought you would be shocked and James is much better at telling you shocking things."
"You have guests," Edward spluttered.
"But they know," the admiral said with a questioning look. "And if you are speaking of Miss Elliot, nothing shocks her."
He was speaking of her, of course, Anne knew, and it might seem as if she could indeed not be shocked. She hoped the admiral would not share those details.
"Why is that?" whispered Miss Harville.
"Why do you not tell me why it is in the nature of love to be in danger?" Anne countered. She had never known she could be so bold. Or was it merely clever of her to distract Miss Harville with such an attack?
An inveterate romantic such as Miss Harville was far from shocked by the question; she was even prepared to answer it to the best of abilities. "Because I really want to run around the table and throw myself into his arms, you see."
"Is that dangerous?"
"I do not believe your innocence," Miss Harville said after a moment. "If you had to meet Frederick at dawn, you could only have had naughty things in mind."
Anne's eyes opened wider. "Well…"