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Chapter Sixteen

Posted on Saturday, 29 December 2007

The house of which Sir Walter had written was nearly a ruin. Lady Russell knew it. She shuddered at the thought of having to move into it, although the handsome part of Sir Walter's suggestion was that he would pay for restoring it to some kind of order. That Anne distrusted this offer did not sit well with her. After all the indecent language he had employed when he had first heard of Anne's condition it was indeed odd. Perhaps Anne was right, but Sir Walter, who had been shocked, should by now be over that shock and have recovered his manners.

She would have to confer with Mr Wentworth when she got there. After all, he would have to host them for as long as it took to find a house. He might not have considered this house Sir Walter wrote of, for he would of course not have counted on anybody paying for the repairs.

Or would Sir Walter let her buy the house and then not keep his word when it came to the improvements?

Sophy was about three weeks old when they left Bath. Being the perfect baby that she was, she slept for most of the journey and she opened her eyes and mouth just when the carriage reached the Monkford parsonage. Lady Russell had been very anxious about Sophy's ability to travel and she heaved a sigh of relief when they set foot on the ground without any accidents or trouble.

She and Anne had been able to converse normally while Sophy slept. Anne had been looking forward to moving so much that she had chattered incessantly, which made a clear difference from their first trip together when they had travelled to Mrs Sutton.

Anne's current happiness could only be augmented by two things: having Frederick and moving back to Kellynch. For the moment, however, she settled for this.

Mrs Dickinson met them outside, evidently delighted that they had come. She was more interested in Sophy than in her two companions, as if Sophy were Mr Wentworth's child and not his niece. "Oh dear, what a little beauty. What a sweet little beauty!"

Anne beamed. "Would you like to hold her?"

"May I? It has been such an age!" Mrs Dickinson took little Sophy and examined her more closely. "She looks just like the captain, I can tell."

When she was finished admiring the baby, she led them inside. "Mr Wentworth is out on calls," she explained his absence. "And Lady Russell, your servants have been here to deliver some things. They have left addresses where they might be reached should you be in need of them again."

"Thank you." She had seen no other option than to dismiss some of them temporarily. They would not be needed at the parsonage. It had been a great puzzle to decide on which she might need and which not. She had no idea when she might need their services again. "Sir Walter has suggested a house, but from what I know of it, it is impossible to take possession within the next few months because it is a ruin."

"Monkford Abbey? It is the only place not lived in, but it only wants some proper plumbing," said Mrs Dickinson.

"That is quite an important consideration to me. I would rather live in a ruin with proper plumbing than in elegant mansion where I had to wash myself at the garden pump. I hope the parsonage..." Suddenly she wondered if she had taken her comforts for granted.

"You will not have to wash yourself at the pump, Lady Russell," Mrs Dickinson assured her. "I shall show you up to your rooms. My apologies. I am sure it is nothing like what you are used to. And as to the little young lady, I was not sure what she needed."

"She can sleep in my room during the night," said Anne. She was very pleased at hearing Sophy referred to as the little young lady. It meant she was being taken very seriously indeed.

Edward arrived home when Anne had just put Sophy to bed, which disappointed him a little. She reassured him by saying he would see and hear so much of her from now on that he might come to regret it.

She was very happy to be there. It felt so much more like a home than Bath, even if she had not been in this house very often and the previous time she had been very sad. Few memories of that remained now. Everybody here liked Sophy too and that was very gratifying.

Edward had a less worldly taste in books than his brother, but he had read enough to keep a discussion going. Anne thought him very amusing when he did not understand what her favourite poem was about. They would have enough to discuss.

Anne settled in nicely. She had not known many people in Monkford -- her father would not have singled them out when it came to invitations, but she had met some elsewhere -- so her new surroundings were not completely strange to her. She suspected she was rather better known to them than the reverse, however.

It was somewhat embarrassing to be welcomed into the community in front of everybody, but she was glad it was only a small parish. She had been worried beforehand, for people would certainly discuss her afterwards, but Edward had said he was still worse off: they would stop discussing her after a few weeks, whereas he was still being discussed every Sunday.

She did not think anyone would have anything negative to say about him. Mr Peters, upstanding and serious clergyman though he might be, always left them in a rather more sombre mood than Edward. Perhaps it was their respective ages that accounted for the differing perspectives, but Edward's suited Anne much better.

Lady Russell had very little to do in Monkford and this worried Anne a little at first. She did not have to be mistress of the house, although Edward had quickly decided that having females in the house was quite useful. He deferred many things to her, whether he had previously taken care of them himself or not.

"Does he think I am his mother?" Lady Russell sighed to Anne one day after Mrs Dickinson had again come to her with something Edward should have handled.

"Who?" Anne asked absentmindedly. "You cannot mean Edward?"

"Yes. He has suddenly developed an inability to think for himself when it comes to household matters. That, or he no longer has any time to think of them. I was not aware that he suddenly needed to take care of Sophy all day."

"Really?" She had not noticed it. "Do you mean he leaves it to you?"

"Yes, but this is not my house and I am not his mother."

Anne chuckled. "But it gives you something to do."

"Yes. While I do not mind having something to do, I fear he shall come to depend on us so much that we shall never be allowed to move out." She had always heard that men were prone to forgetfulness.

Anne gave the matter some serious consideration, although she doubted that her conclusion qualified as very serious. "Then we cannot move out until we have found him a wife."

"I shall be too busy playing his mother," Lady Russell replied.

"You have a daughter and a son then. All set, without any pain."

"Are the consequences that I must also accept his siblings?" Neither she nor Captain Wentworth would like such an arrangement.

"Not yet." Anne knew she could not push her luck, but she hoped that two of the three people she loved best in the world would one day come to appreciate each other. She did not see why they could not. Both were mistaken about the other, but they had had her as intermediary and had rarely interacted directly. Their wishes for her had not been compatible. Once those were -- such as when she was happily settled as Frederick's wife -- it would all be right.

But the idea of finding Edward a wife appealed to her very much. "Oh, Edward should marry, if he has the money. He is so sweet."

"Anne," Lady Russell said warningly. "I hope that now you are married you will not come to like the other brother better. It is impossible."

"Not at all." Anne blushed at the thought of having been too affectionate. She did not think of Edward in that manner and she hoped she had not been giving that impression. "Brothers can be sweet. I have never had a brother. I do like it. Did you have any brothers? You never speak of brothers or sisters."

"That is because I have not referred to them as brothers or sisters, I suppose," Lady Russell said after wondering about it. "I do hope I have mentioned them a few times at least. I cannot be so unfeeling as to never mention them at all, I hope. I must have mentioned them, because I visited my brother less than a year ago. Was it? Or longer ago? After a certain age one's memory starts to deteriorate."

Anne tried to recall where she had said she was going. "Relatives, you always say."

"There you have it. Why should you care which ones precisely? But there. I do have brothers and sisters scattered all over."

Anne giggled. "Now I am imagining them in little pieces."

"Anne." Lady Russell rolled her eyes.

"And what do they think of what you are doing now?"

"Nothing, because they do not know. I suppose I had better write to my sister I cannot visit her in August."

"Your sister will be surprised to hear of your two children. But why can you not visit?"

"I cannot leave you here all by yourself with Edward. What would people think?"

"What would they think indeed? That you are supervising me every second of the day now?" Anne raised her eyebrows. She was sure people would allow Lady Russell to take a trip in August.

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on Wednesday, 2 January 2008

For a while all was quiet in Monkford. Anne enjoyed being in the countryside, seeing trees and grass when she looked out and not stone. She went for walks, alone or with Lady Russell. Walking out with Edward was prohibited, or at least strongly discouraged by their chaperone. Anne did not think Monkford would think anything of it. The inhabitants were always very respectful to her if she chanced to encounter them. A few had even visited her and Sophy, which was still more than her own family had done.

Sir Walter had corresponded with Lady Russell and she had even been to Kellynch Hall, but Anne herself had not received any communications from him. He planned to visit his granddaughter, but so far he had not been able to find time to travel the few miles that separated him from Monkford.

But Mary had written. That was a small consolation, even if Mary had asked predominantly about material issues and most of her letter had been a complaint. Anne had written back, mostly about Sophy and not giving much information about her husband other than her new name, so Mary could now address her properly when she wrote.

Although she was by now almost used to being called Mrs Wentworth, she was still not used to signing letters that way. But that was who she was now, Mrs Wentworth and mother of Sophia. Sophy grew well. She had already smiled and she could keep her head tolerably steady. Anne was very much in love with her, but she did not feel herself very old because she was now a mother.

Sometimes she felt more like Sophia's older sister -- and sometimes Lady Russell's younger sister. The one closest to her age predicament was Edward. After Lady Russell had told her Edward was shirking his duties Anne had kept an eye out and she had indeed noticed he was happy to refer more than a few matters to his female house mates. It amused her and she understood him completely.

It came so naturally to him. He would not mind having a wife to deal with the boring side of life. In fact, she would be most welcome once Anne and Lady Russell had moved out. Anne knew the additional expenses would probably be too much for his current income, however. That was a pity.

"It is Dr Greene!" Edward said in a panic when a carriage stopped unexpectedly outside. He was just having tea with the ladies in a room at the front of the house. "He holds this living."

He had still not informed Dr Greene of his guests because he had not known how to explain why he had had to take them in. It was too complicated and he was afraid he would reveal too much. A curious person would surely ask difficult questions. But he could not escape informing Dr Greene now. It was impossible to feign that Lady Russell and Anne had simply come over for tea. They might be doing so every time Dr Greene came, just like Mrs Greene was always away when Edward was there. But Mrs Greene's absence was not suspicious.

He rushed into the hall and only then noticed a girl of about sixteen who had come with the rector. This unforeseen complication stopped him short, though he told himself to ignore her and only to focus on relaying his message. The girl was said to be Miss Greene, but he hardly heard that. "I have something to say," he said. Of course Sophy began to cry that instant and he winced. He watched Anne shoot out of the drawing room and up the stairs after a curtsey in her flight.

Dr Greene looked after her curiously. "Might it be related to the young woman we just saw?"

"Yes." Edward blushed. He did not want to speak in front of a child, but he supposed that people who had nothing to hide would reveal such family matters openly. "That is my brother's wife."

"And his child?"

"Yes. He had not told me." That was what he should remember. Frederick had not told him.

"Do you now have a young woman living with you, Mr Wentworth?"

"Three, actually," he replied before he wondered if Lady Russell counted as young. Then he wondered if he should have stressed that one of them was Anne's mother, which made it all safe, no matter how young she might be. She was probably younger than Dr Greene.

"Three?" Dr Greene was astonished.

"They are each twenty years apart in age, or thereabouts," he realised. That was an interesting discovery.

"I beg your pardon?"

"They are forty, twenty, and zero. Do the elder and the younger count as young women? Please come into my study, sir." He wondered what to do about the girl. Presumably if he did not address her, she would go wherever her father wanted her to go and that would solve the problem.

"But about your brother..." said Dr Greene as he stepped into the study. His daughter followed him. "And his wife. He had not told you he was married?"

"No, sir." Edward was still blushing fiercely. He mumbled something about Scotland and the new Mrs Wentworth's being only nineteen. Was she still nineteen? He did not know. Perhaps she had been eighteen at the time of her supposed marriage.

"And a child."

"That is why it came out. The secret." He sighed. He did not want to say the child had also come out. Not in front of a child. "My brother is at sea."

"So she lives with you. What of her parents?"

"Sir Walter Elliot --" He did not know what else to say that did not sound disrespectful.

It turned out it was not necessary. "Oh, Sir Walter Elliot. Say no more. Say no more. And who is the other woman?"

"Lady Russell. She is Mrs Wentworth's mother."

This puzzled Dr Greene. "Her mother should be Lady Elliot."

Edward frowned. "New mother? Godmother? She means to get a house nearby, but so far we were not successful. She previously rented from Sir Walter, but that arrangement came to an end."

Dr Greene paced the room thoughtfully. "And you offered this small party a roof over their heads, Mr Wentworth."

"I did, sir." Edward tried to discern his feelings on the matter. Did he disapprove? Would he now strongly urge him to look for another curacy?

"And how are you suffering the change?"

"Which change?" Edward was confused.

"All these women in your house."

"Oh. But women are rational creatures, Dr Greene. Or so my sister always says." Sophia had said it often enough. She had even written it often enough.

Dr Greene laughed. "Do you not believe your sister?"

It would not have occurred to him to doubt his sister. "My sister would not always be saying it if it was considered a given. It follows that some are not and that some men certainly think some are not."

"I came to discuss some ideas of Amelia's that I have implemented in my parish," Dr Greene announced.

Edward looked at the girl. She might be Amelia. He had not attended to her first name.

"I thought you said women were rational creatures," said Dr Greene.

He thought Amelia Greene was a girl, though this by no means precluded her being rational. Women must start being rational at some point, naturally. He did not want to offend Miss Greene by implying she was too young to be rational. "Yes, yes, of course, sir."

"Will you explain, Amelia, or shall I?"

"You, Papa," she said very hastily and she seemed content to listen.

After they had discussed Miss Greene's ideas, for which she did not want to take any credit, the difficult part came: Edward's visitors must meet his guests. He was nervous, but Dr Greene and Lady Russell acted with such calmness that he soon recovered. Even Anne looked at ease, but she usually did when Sophy was with her.

Fortunately Dr Greene was too well-mannered and discreet to bring up what he must consider an unfortunate business. He restricted himself to asking how the ladies liked the house and Mr Wentworth's company. This was all very safe, since they could not possibly say they disliked him.

Dr Greene and his daughter did not stay long; they had to travel back and were expected home for dinner.

"I am glad they are gone," Edward sighed. "I was afraid I was going say something I ought not. Not even the truth, but I was also afraid I might say something a child ought not hear, such as about childbirth."

Anne, who had been seated by Miss Greene, laughed as heartily as she dared.

"Why does that amuse you? Lady Russell would agree with me." He looked towards the elder lady for confirmation.

"Indeed, Edward. You were quite circumspect -- and I agree children should not hear too much about childbirth. Nor should anyone else." She had heard and seen more than she had ever wanted to know.

"I spoke to Miss Greene," Anne said with barely suppressed chuckles. "I am sure she would not have revealed anything to her younger brothers and sisters, of which there are plenty." Miss Greene had said they were nine in all. It was not unthinkable that Miss Greene knew all there was to know.

"I do not know how many there are. Mrs Greene and her children were always away when I visited Dr Greene," Edward answered. "I was surprised he brought a child now; I was beginning to think that either they did not exist at all or I was not allowed to see them."

"The latter. Definitely," Anne said with a serious nod.

"I do not understand that."

"That is precisely why she was brought now, I assume." Again she nearly dissolved into laughter. She walked towards Lady Russell and whispered in her ear. "Miss Greene is twenty years old."

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on Saturday, 5 January 2008

Miss Greene's age remained a source of amusement between Anne and Lady Russell. Sometimes they brought up Miss Greene to see how Edward would react, but he never reacted at all. They had understood she had had plans for her father's parish, but what they did not understand was how Edward did not seem to realise she had to be much older than he assumed.

"Poor Miss Greene!" Anne exclaimed one day. "To be older than I am and to be thought a child. Does that mean I am a child too?"

"Sometimes you are," Lady Russell replied. "But it is not a great problem, since you exhibit enough common sense at other times."

"I can guess when you think I do not," Anne said shrewdly.

"Can you?"

"Whenever I mention Frederick..."

"Well..."

"But I am convinced he is good. He will love Sophy."

Lady Russell could not yet share that absolute conviction. "My dear, I hope he is worthy of you and Sophy."

"He is. He gets along with Edward and you like Edward too, do you not?" The more people who liked him, the more he must be worthy. That was common sense and Lady Russell had just said she had some common sense now and then.

"Of course." She did. A closer acquaintance had revealed that Edward was sensible, but young. Everything one had to know could be found in books, a belief he was perhaps already adjusting given what he had done for Anne.

As for his brother, Lady Russell had inspected his room in secret. Other than that it contained far too many goods for a young man without fortune, she could not find fault with what she had seen. He had taste, unless he had taken all his tasteless stuff with him to his ship. There were none of the horrors she had expected to find in the room of a young man.

"I am sorry I have not thought of Frederick as much as I used to." Anne looked regretful. "Perhaps only once a day. But I have been occupied by Sophy and other than that I should very much like to see him again, there is not much I can think, because I do not know how long it would take him to love Sophy."

"Once a day is quite often, if he is not here to give you new food for thought," Lady Russell soothed. "It is only natural that you would think of things that are currently more important." She was surprised to find she was now in fact hoping that Anne would not stop loving him, the exact opposite of what she had been wishing for a few months ago. But if she must give Anne up to him, he had better love her and be worthy.

Not long after Dr Greene had visited, Sir Walter Elliot appeared. Anne was apprehensive and she was resolved to be quiet and calm. If she did not expect anything, she could never be disappointed. He came with Elizabeth and they sat stiffly and condescendingly, almost ignoring Edward, who was of course as insignificant as could be.

"You look quite well," Sir Walter ventured after a few silent minutes.

"Thank you." Anne was sitting almost equally stiffly.

"Sophy is two months old," Lady Russell said with a hint of reproach in her voice. She was two months old and he visited his granddaughter only now. Suddenly she wondered if he had been afraid to find Anne looking worn out and if this accounted for his staying away. It would be exactly the sort of reasoning Sir Walter would employ. "Anne looked well already the day after the birth."

"In my experience women always look the worse for it," Sir Walter replied. "I have observed that nothing kills a woman's beauty as effectively as a child. Show me a woman who has borne ten children and who looks as pretty as she did before them. "

"I make no bets with you, Sir Walter," Lady Russell said decidedly. "And think -- if all pretty people refrained from having children, only ugly people would procreate and what would you have to look at in that case? Since I am sure you would agree that ugly people cannot have pretty children."

Anne, who had not in the least been offended by comparisons to women who had borne ten children, tried not to betray her amusement. She thought this a good moment to collect Sophy from the nursery and to show her to her relatives.

"Very pretty," Elizabeth said coolly.

That was all the praise her sister could bestow, Anne supposed. Her father gave his first grandchild a scrutiny that was no less cool. He declared she had a good nose. Anne wondered if she had a bad nose herself, since Sophy did not have hers from her.

After having done his duty towards his daughter and granddaughter, Sir Walter turned back to Lady Russell. "Of course it is impossible for Anne to remain here. This is a rather shabby place."

Anne glanced at Edward, but he had the good sense to remain silent. He almost smiled at her, however.

"Monkford Abbey is far more shabby in its current condition," Lady Russell protested. "It hardly has a roof -- and you would not, Sir Walter, want me to wash myself at the garden pump where anyone passing might see me!"

Anne could not tell what precisely Edward was thinking of Lady Russell washing herself at the pump, or perhaps of Sir Walter allowing it, but he turned away to hide his face.

"God forbid!" Sir Walter said in horror, but it was soon clear why he was horrified. It was not out of sympathy with Lady Russell, but with any poor fellow who might lay eyes on her. "Though it is a blessing you have not borne ten children. Such a sight would certainly knock out any passing man."

"I think," Anne said in a voice that she tried to keep from quivering."Sophy would like something to drink. Please excuse us. Would you like to adjust my pillows, Mr Wentworth?"

"Certainly," he said and got to his feet. When they had left the room he spoke again. "Which pillows?"

"The ones I am about to collapse in. I had to get away."

"Ah." He looked relieved. "I thought I had somehow missed your using pillows when Sophy was drinking. Not that I ever really saw it," he hastened to say.

"Not really," she giggled. "But a little?"

"I have not looked well," he said, colouring deeply. "You were outside."

"Think nothing of it," she assured him. She had not been washing herself at the garden pump. Thinking of that was enough to bring the giggles back again.

"I feel rather sorry for Lady Russell. Should we not go back to rescue her?"

Anne considered it. "That would be the loyal thing to do, would it not? But if it makes you blush, just think of what it would do to my father to see Sophy drink -- and I said she needed to drink."

"It did not make me blush to see it," Edward corrected. "But telling you I saw it, did."

"I was made to feed her in that manner." Nobody ought to disapprove of her doing something that was she was built to do.

"That is a very good point. Perhaps mankind should therefore not see it as an attempt to lead men astray." His face brightened as he pondered this interesting point.

Anne was afraid he would run to a book to look it all up, as he was wont to do. She did not want the opinion of men who had written those books, since they were men and she sought to discourage him. "I assure you, I was perfectly capable of leading a man astray without having to resort to using my physical attributes as they were made to be used."

Edward stared for a few seconds. "Oh, not those, but others, surely?"

"That is a good point too. But that exonerates Frederick. Thank you." She gave him a smile and ran off with Sophy. He must think of that. He must. They had not discussed it for months, so she did not know what he thought of Frederick now. It was not the best of arguments, but so be it if it helped him to change his mind about his brother.

She sat down in her room with Sophy, shaking her head at the notion that this sweet little scene could lead men astray. She did not believe it at all.

Edward returned to find Lady Russell and Sir Walter still discussing Monkford Abbey. From what he understood the lady had received the promise that any repairs would be paid for by the baronet, but that she would prefer a written contract. Edward did not blame her. With only a promise there was always the danger that he would not pay and what with him not being the most reliable of men, that danger was rather great.

Sir Walter was offended. "Have I not always been a good landlord?"

"You have," Lady Russell said, but without any intention to give in. "But if you are also a good father you will make sure your daughter lives in a decent home. My finances, I am sorry to say, are all tied up. I could buy the ruin, but there is not much more I can do."

"Tied up?" he asked suspiciously.

"Sophia is my heiress." Sophy would of course not inherit her entire fortune -- there might be more children -- but Sir Walter needed not know the precise nature of the settlement. She hoped this revelation would now not lead him to think he no longer needed to do his duty. "I have settled a small sum on her because you would not."

"On a bastard?" he cried. "Who is her father? Tell me who her father is. Captain something or other, the most undistinguished member of the Navy who ever lived."

"Written contract," Lady Russell repeated. "Or hope he will remember you after he has distinguished himself."

Given her inflexibility Sir Walter could only take his leave.

"I hope, Edward," said Lady Russell after her heart rate had settled down somewhat. She really did not like standing up to someone like Sir Walter, but for Anne's sake she must. "That you do not get it into your head to fall in love with Elizabeth or something as foolish as that."

Edward was surprised. "With Miss Elliot?"

"I strongly caution you against it. I prefer to go through this only once."

He did not think there was any danger. "She is very beautiful, they say, but --"

"They say," she repeated. This was an odd comment from someone who had just spent some time in the same room with the girl. "You have eyes. What do you think?"

"I think nothing until I have the means to suffer the consequences of my thinking."

"That is very good of you," she said appreciatively. "I wish such principles guided everyone. It would save us a lot of trouble."

"If you are speaking of my brother," he said after a while. "Frederick believed he was able to support Anne, or at least that he would soon be able to support her even better."

"That is just like Sir Walter's promise. Promises are nothing."

"No," he agreed sadly. "But he really did believe it."

"And I really did believe it was not good enough." She rubbed her temples. If she had let them go ahead, what would have happened? There would have been a child as well, but Anne might have lived in poverty. Would she have exerted herself to help Anne if there had not been the threat of a scandal hanging over the girl's head?

"Next month," she said. "I am supposed to visit my sister."

"Supposed to?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Will you not go?"

"What would people think if I left Anne here with you?"

"That she must be growing very bored, the poor girl." He smiled. "I am considered very boring, I know. But Anne and I in fact think alike in many cases. The difference between us is that she knows many things intuitively and I have to look them up to confirm my opinion. If I stay out of the books perhaps she will not be very bored."

Chapter Nineteen

Posted on Tuesday, 8 January 2008

Lady Russell had doubted, but eventually she had reached a point where she could no longer write to her sister that she was not coming. No believable excuse could be thought of anymore; she had not suddenly become responsible for Anne, but she had been with her for months. She was not fond of lying and her manners forbade her to cancel at such short notice.

She would have to leave Anne alone with Edward, whom she had nevertheless tried to send away to Dr Greene for a visit in that same period. Edward had been surprised. He was not in the habit of imposing on people and without an invitation he did not think he would go. In spite of Lady Russell's urgings, he refused to write.

Such was the situation and she was therefore resolved to keep her visit to her sister short. A week or three would do.

No new tenant for Kellynch Lodge had been found yet and her furniture was still stored there. Sir Walter would not allow simply anybody to live in a house of his, but his acquaintance who might need a house were most likely to be of the kind who thought Kellynch too far away from everything, or the sort who did not value the inevitable daily intercourse with the baronet.

Lady Russell even considered moving back if he did not present her with a written contract with regard to Monkford Abbey. There was still no progress there. She did not really expect any during her absence either. Since there was a little time before she was to leave, she hoped both of these problems would be solved before then nevertheless.

"Good day, good woman," spoke a man from under an umbrella. "Is this the house of Mr Wentworth, the curate?"

Mrs Dickinson perceived a carriage. She had not heard it approach in the rain storm, which was odd. She had been looking out for Lady Russell's and Mr Wentworth's return, because they were both out in this foul weather and would like a hot drink when they got home, but they would of course come in through the back door. It was also odd that someone would call in this weather without being certain that Mr Wentworth really lived here. "Good day. It is."

"Would you have a manservant to help me lift my passengers out of the carriage?"

"A manservant! I am sorry, but our groom is out and so is Mr Wentworth. Do you really need help?" What sort of passengers was he speaking of? Were they even human? Animals? Children? Who would need to be lifted?

"One should help them out and one should hold the umbrella. Perhaps you would care to help."

"Oh dear. But why do they need help? Who or what are they?"

"The lady is the sister of your master."

"But she is here," said Mrs Dickinson, thinking of young Mrs Wentworth. "And the other is overseas."

"No more. Madam, we need to be in a bit of a hurry, as she is in quite a condition."

She did not understand him, but she bade him to wait a second. Mrs Wentworth was in the back sitting room, where the rain did not beat against the window panes as distractingly as in the front of the house. She would have missed the approach of the carriage. "Mrs Wentworth, I beg you to stand by. A coachman has come with Mrs Wentworth's sister from overseas in quite a condition. She must be helped down from the carriage by two people."

Anne had been sitting there alone with Sophy. Lady Russell had finally resumed calling on her friends in the neighbourhood and Edward was at the local tavern. He had some serious business there, Anne knew, but she had nevertheless teased him about it. Nobody would mind if he also had a drink, but he thought they would.

Mrs Dickinson's entrance startled her, but Anne had no intention of standing by when Frederick's sister was here. She pressed Sophy into Mrs Dickinson's arms. "What sort of condition?"

"I have no idea. But --" She looked surprised to receive Sophy.

"Perhaps call Sarah just in case?" Anne said as she went into the hall to join the coachman by the door. She was excited enough to want to go out into the rain. "Tell me what to do."

"If you will hold the umbrella, miss, I shall take the lady's hands."

She threw on a cloak and braved the rain. While the coachman opened the carriage door, she tried to shield the two of them with the umbrella. It was a useless effort and she only felt herself get wet.

A lady appeared. When she stuck out her head, a gust of wind took hold of her hat. Dark hair flew around to obscure her face. "Oh dear, my best and only hat," she said in a voice that was remarkably cheerful for someone in a peculiar condition who had also just lost her hat.

Anne was curious about her, but she had to try and keep everyone dry. Her umbrella turned inside out and she uttered something in dismay.

"Never mind," said Frederick's sister. "I am too large to fit underneath it anyhow." She was indeed rather voluminous and not very steady on her feet.

Anne took it upon herself to retrieve the lady's hat and to fix the umbrella, while the coachman escorted Frederick's sister inside. She turned back when she heard a thud, only to find a gentleman sprawled on the ground. He was trying to get up and she hurried nearer. If she had known there was someone else, she would have stayed to help him. She supposed he belonged to the lady, which would make him a relative of sorts. She felt guilty for having let him fall. "Did you fall out?"

He had two crutches and he pulled himself up with her help. "I thought I could swing myself out, ha."

"Did you hurt yourself?" Anne asked in concern. She hoped he had only got dirty.

"Not at all. Why did you pick up that frightful hat?"

"Because I did not know you thought it a frightful hat." In spite of their opinion of the hat, she was determined to give it back. They might come to regret the loss, although neither of them seemed to mind anything very much.

"Perhaps we should go inside?" he suggested with a chuckle when she stood still.

Inside, Mrs Dickinson and Sarah looked unsure of what to do with Mrs Croft. Anne remembered her name now. The man with the crutches must be Captain Croft. He had dragged himself inside, apparently to his wife's great surprise.

"You walked! You fell!" She winced and gripped her sides, or where those used to be. Whatever she felt was of no consequence. She beamed at her husband. "But you walked! With my crutches!"

"It is starting!" Anne exclaimed. Now that she could see her better, she saw that Mrs Croft was extremely, unnaturally and astonishingly round. This roundness did not match her face. She could only be expecting quadruplets.

"Is it?" She looked a little frightened. "I thought we could win time by travelling here and letting my husband's family send their carriage here to pick us up, but I do not think we shall be ready to leave any time soon. I hope Edward will not mind having guests."

"He will not." But then Anne did some calculations. She would not have reached the East Indies in three months, or she would have been sent there. The Crofts could therefore not have received a letter and have travelled here in response. Sophy was too young. "You have not received his letter. About me." She coloured, for what must Mrs Croft be thinking of a young woman in her brother's house? Mrs Croft would have no idea who she was.

"I do not think so. I never knew he was married." She glanced at Sophy. And it was clear that she had never known that either.

"He is not."

"That Edward," Captain Croft said with a smirk.

"No, no, you are mistaken," Anne said hurriedly.

"Is he home?" Mrs Croft appropriated one of her husband's crutches to lean on it. She breathed heavily for a short while.

"He is at the tavern," Anne replied automatically while she studied them. She divined that the captain's injury was the reason for their return. It did not seem so bad now, but if his wife had been surprised that he had walked, perhaps that was a recent improvement. Captains who could not walk would be useless. They might as well be shipped home.

"Edward, at a tavern? With a young woman in his house? What has been happening here?"

"It is nothing bad, I assure you," Anne answered with another blush. "Should we not get you upstairs?" She eyed Mrs Croft's shape doubtfully. She had been wearing a man's coat, but now that it was off, she looked very odd. Her gown seemed to be made up by pieces of two or three different fabrics that did not even match.

"I am not a dressmaker," she said when she caught Anne's look. "There are not many materials on a ship full of men. I had to alter my dress every week because my size increased so rapidly."

"You look fabulous, my dear," said Captain Croft.

"But three gowns do now not suffice to cover me where I used to wear only one!" This bothered her more than the jumble she was wearing.

"Perhaps you should take the young lady's advice and go upstairs. I think she has some experience with your condition. No?" He raised his eyebrows when he looked at Anne and Sophy.

"Y-Y-Yes," Anne replied in hesitation. "But I only had one child." She did not want to guess at the number Mrs Croft must be carrying.

"And we have had none, so you have the advantage. Go upstairs, Sophia."

Mrs Dickinson was always prepared to receive visitors, but the rooms were all taken. Never would she have expected Mr Wentworth to have so many guests at once. There must be a little shifting to free up a room. "Perhaps you could move to the nursery," she said to Anne. "You have the least to move."

"Yes. But that leaves..." Anne gave Captain Croft a self-conscious look. "We could set up a bed in the back sitting room." She did not want to find him at the foot of the stairs as she had found him outside the carriage. Mrs Croft, if she went upstairs, was not likely to come down until she was steady on her feet again, but the captain was a different matter. Of course he could always stay with Edward if he insisted.

The coachman had carried all the baggage inside. Mrs Dickinson handed Sophy back to Anne and spoke to him, while the captain was still contemplating being banned to a back sitting room. "Tell me, madam, were you in great need of your husband during the delivery?"

"I knew he could not be with me," Anne stammered. She was not certain whether he was questioning her or wondering if he might be needed. "S-S-Sarah, would you please fetch whomever one fetches for births in Monkford?"

She had gone through it once, but she did not know how it worked from the other end. Lady Russell would, but she was out and furthermore rather too delicate to enjoy watching more than once. That was entirely in her own opinion, naturally, for Anne believed she could well put her delicacy aside and be useful. But the local surgeon might be best -- if there was one.

"Was he banned to a sitting room?" the captain inquired.

"No, he was...away." She followed Sarah with her eyes as if to make sure the maid really went.

"That is odd. When you were about to have his child?"

"Oh!" she cried in mortification. She wished he would not be so vexing. "He does not know!"

"Then he is not Edward," the captain said smugly. "That had been bothering me all along. Edward!"

She did not want to say anything about either Edward or Frederick, so she turned towards Mrs Croft. "Can you climb the stairs?"

"The back sitting room will do for me as well," Mrs Croft said bravely. "I do not want him to be injured again."

Chapter Twenty

Posted on Friday, 11 January 2008

"Very well. The room has everything. Could you follow me?" Anne was decided. It was indeed better for them to remain downstairs, unstable as they were, although she was sorry to give up her favourite haunt. Frederick had first kissed her there -- on her hand, but it had been no less exciting. His warm declaration that she was everything one could want in a girl could still make her heart beat faster.

She walked backwards to keep an eye on them, although with Sophy in her arms she would be able to do very little if they fell. Fortunately they did not. The sitting room had a large fireplace and two large sofas. She installed the captain on one and Mrs Croft on the other. Both were rather glad to be sitting, she saw.

"I shall take my daughter to the nursery and then return," Anne promised. She had never been particularly useless, but when had she become able to take charge? It dazzled her a little. "Would you need clean clothes from your trunk, Captain?"

"Captain?" Even Mrs Croft turned her head, although she was breathing heavily again.

"Is he not? I..." Anne walked backwards towards the door. Perhaps she had revealed too much knowledge. She realised that in the distress about their arrival, nobody had performed any introductions. She had not needed any herself and she did not think now was a good time to delve into the particulars of her own relationship with Frederick.

"How does she know that, Sophia, if it was not from you?" the captain inquired from his sofa.

She fled. It was either very obvious or they were very clever. Since Frederick and Edward were also clever, it was no surprise that their sister might be and that she would not have married a stupid husband.

She was very excited to have them here. Both Frederick and Edward had spoken highly of them and she was sure she would like them. But because the brothers had been so complimentary, Anne feared that Mrs Croft was so excellent a woman that she would have her reservations about what her brothers had been up to, unless it was explained properly and that was precisely the problem now.

The lady could now not be in the most reasonable of moods and Anne did not want to make a bad first impression. Hopefully she would be able to put off the explanations until the child -- or children -- had been born.

"We agreed with the young lady that we are staying here in this room," Mr Wentworth's brother-in-law said to Mrs Dickinson. "What is her name? Curiously enough she forgot to tell us."

"Here?" Mrs Dickinson looked around in dismay. She did not want her master's relatives to sleep in a sitting room. "But that will not do."

"Will it not? It is a great deal more comfortable than the passenger cabin we lived in during the preceding months."

"Well..." She frowned. The coachman was taking care of his horses and Sarah had walked out to the apothecary, which meant that two people would be at the kitchen table in a short while in need of a hot drink. The kitchen maid had been set to work. That left only Nora and that uppity maid of Lady Russell's, who could only be asked and not ordered. She would send Nora up for sheets and blankets if the couple insisted on remaining here.

"It will do."

Mrs Dickinson left when Anne returned. She had brought both of the trunks because she did not know whose clothes were in which. She would not dare to open them without their permission.

Captain Croft pulled one of the trunks towards himself. "What will Edward say? When will he be back? And where is his brother? Who must be Captain Wentworth by now, I assume."

Anne stood very still when his name was mentioned. She hoped her expression and tone would give nothing away. "He went back to sea a year ago."

Mrs Croft groaned suddenly. "How long does this take? Why did I ever want this?"

Anne was glad for this distraction. It was easier to speak about the birth than about Frederick. "You will soon forget. I hope my mother or the surgeon will come soon. I know very little about it myself."

"But you have a child."

"But I was very ignorant." Anne blushed. "I had no idea how she would come out."

"Do not tell us," the captain begged. "We shall throw a blanket over my wife and then suddenly a baby will emerge from it."

Anne laughed in spite of herself. "My mother would have preferred that. Clothed and washed, too?"

"Do you mean it is not clothed when it comes out?"

"If we use a blanket you may never know, but I think it will be very difficult to wash and clothe it properly if one cannot see anything due to the blanket."

"May I clothe and wash myself, madam?" He had finally selected a new outfit to replace his muddy clothes.

Anne left the room and made Nora give the sheets and blankets to her. She would wait until the captain was dressed. What would Edward think when he came back? He would be happy to see his sister, but very surprised. She hoped he would come before things got very bad. If he came in the midst of the action he would not be able to speak to his sister at all. He would not even be allowed near.

Mrs Dickinson reappeared, wanting to be of use. "I have quite forgotten what is needed at a birth."

"I never even knew," Anne answered. "I was busy feeling sorry for myself when they made everything ready."

"Now madam, you never feel sorry for yourself."

"Then I was simply busy," she smiled. "But towels and water. One can never go wrong with that. And the sofa and the floor may get dirty, so they will have to be covered."

"And the captain, where is he going?"

"I received the impression that he is not going anywhere." In spite of his talking of throwing blankets over Mrs Croft, she believed he really wanted to stay. She had got the impression that Mrs Croft also wanted him to stay. It made her think about Frederick. Would she have wanted him there instead of Lady Russell? Perhaps she would not at all have liked him to see her like that.

"Would he attend?"

"Yes."

"That is very strange."

Anne shrugged. She did not know what they usually did with men. "If he keeps to his sofa, he cannot get in the way, can he? He is now changing his clothes, so we have to wait here. I do hope the surgeon or my mother will get here soon. They must not make us do it!"

"He is ready," said Mrs Croft, peeking around the door.

"You should change too, madam," Anne told her as they stepped inside. "Do you have a nightgown? Is that all you brought from the East Indies?" They had two small trunks. Although Mrs Croft was probably wearing most of her gowns at once, she should have more than this. It might be a feat to change her, what with her contractions, but it must be attempted.

"You must tell us how you know all that," said the captain, who was neatly folding up a coat. "Did someone speak of us?"

Mrs Croft saved Anne. "I do not fit into my nightgown. I have not worn it for months."

"You must wear what you wore instead then, because this gown, I think, is very difficult to work with. It looks very layered and bulky and not easily pulled up." Anne studied it critically. It was not very wide, due to all the additions, and Mrs Croft would have to be lifted entirely if she wanted to pull it up, which might be impossible for herself as well as for someone else.

"I wore nothing," Mrs Croft said tersely as she felt another attack coming on, or perhaps she did not want her gown to pulled up at all.

Anne was a little shocked. She stood still.

"She would no more leave the cabin in her nightgown than she would without it," Captain Croft assured her. "And there was no one inside it but me. She was too busy remaking her day gown to also have time to redo her nightgown. It costs a lot of time to take care of me."

"I-I-I do not doubt that, sir." Anne had to adjust to the image of Mrs Croft tossing her nightgown completely aside. She should remain practical. "But she should wear something now. Perhaps one of your shirts? May they get dirty?"

While Anne was negotiating with them about their attire, Mrs Dickinson was covering the sofa and the floor.

"Precisely what are you expecting?" asked the captain, looking a little wan. "Dirty shirts, dirty floors?"

Unfortunately Sarah returned to say that Mr Gregg was at Tindall farm and that he would be sent hither directly upon his return, but that it was unclear when that might be. Anne had got Mrs Croft into an old shirt of Frederick's -- the first time she had been into his room, but she had not dared to take one of Edward's when the captain declared his own too fine to be soiled -- and this together with the sheets covered her pretty well. She was covered, but not comfortable. Anne feared it would all come down to her.

She was in luck when Lady Russell returned. Edward was not with her. "His game had not finished yet."

"Which game?" Anne cried. She did not understand how he could be so idle at a crucial time like this, even if of course he did not know. "His sister is in the back sitting room giving birth."

"His sister?"

"You must help her. Mr Gregg cannot come. I would help her, but I know too little. From that end." She would try, of course, if there was no one else, but she trusted that Lady Russell knew more than she did. She had watched.

"Why is she in the back room?"

"Because her husband is an invalid."

"That makes no sense at all, Anne."

Anne thought it made perfect sense and she felt no need to explain. "You must help her. You have seen it. And Sophy will want to drink right in the middle. You know how Sophy does not understand delays. She will not understand how her little cousin may have only her head out and I am busy." If all else failed, Sophy must be kept waiting, but the thought that the little girl would feel hungry, lost and desperate broke her heart.

"People insist on sending me to an early grave." Lady Russell sighed and went to investigate.

Anne had stayed nearby, but outside the room. It would not be comfortable to Mrs Croft to have so many strangers with her at such an embarrassing time and she had chosen to leave. Lady Russell had not come out again, so she presumed all was well with her. There had been no panic and any disgust was well-disguised. Anne was almost breathing a sigh of relief, though she could not fully do that until Mr Gregg got here. What could be happening at that farm?

As she had predicted, Sophy did not brook delays and the nursery maid carried her downstairs. Anne sat with her in the hall, startling Edward when he returned.

"I am sorry," he said, averting his eyes when he saw what she had hidden under her shawl.

"No, no, come back!" Anne called when he stepped away. "Why were you out playing games? Your sister has come."

He turned back in surprise. "But she is in the East Indies. I was not out playing games. I was at a meeting and afterwards I was invited to a game of cards, which I could not decline because it was raining outside anyhow and -- but how can my sister be here?"

"Her husband was injured. They are in the back sitting room, but do not go there. She is giving birth."

"Having a baby?" He sat down beside Anne and looked astonished.

She was glad he did not instantly run to the door. There was something to be said for thoughtful people. "Yes, so you had better not go in or you might be shocked. Or she might be shocked at being seen. Lady Russell and Mrs Dickinson are helping. And the captain is there as well."

"But he is injured." He frowned. Evidently not everything was making sense to him yet.

"Yes, that is why he is there. He cannot go upstairs. But he is not dead. We must wait."

"How long have they been in there?"

"I have no idea," she said automatically, but then she remembered how she measured time nowadays. "This is Sophy's first nursing since they arrived, so that is less than three hours. Oh and your sister is not having a baby, but at least four."

Edward stared. "Anne, that is impossible."

"Is it? You have no idea how fat she is."

He was not entirely ignorant. "Women cannot feed more than two babies at once, so they cannot have four. Dogs and other animals can feed many, which you would see if you took a good look, so they have many."

Anne supposed he had a point. "Then she is having two. But not one. No. Or it is already twice Sophy's size. I cannot believe it."

Chapter Twenty-One

Posted on Monday, 14 January 2008

Edward sat with Anne and Sophy. Sophy had emerged from under her shawl and was eyeing the hall with great interest. He had refrained from speaking until she had finished drinking, something he considered very respectful, but now he could speak.

Anne had said that Captain Croft was injured and that they had returned because of that. He must have been injured a long time ago and quite seriously. He felt for his sister. And for the captain, naturally. He hoped he would not be told the precise nature of the injury; he could not stand blood.

He tried to remember when he had calculated for them to receive his letters about Anne. If they were here now, they had not received even the first. They knew nothing, because they would have set sail before Anne had even come to him. "What did you tell them?"

He had been wondering about that as he waited, being no less nervous about his sister's opinion than Anne was. She was honest and did not like duplicity, yet she might have some sympathy for love. He could not predict which side would prevail.

"Nothing yet. I wanted to wait until she was more lucid."

"Was she not?" His sister was always lucid.

"Well, she was in pain. I do not think pain makes one very clear-headed."

"Pain," he repeated and he felt for his sister again. He agreed that a woman in pain should be spared the complicated revelations that might only upset her. Since she had come here, to his house, he assumed she wanted to see him, but he did not want to bother her if Anne did not think it a good idea. Sophia might indeed not want him to see her like that, although he did not have a clear idea of what that was like.

Anne and he could only remain here in the hall until someone came out of that room.

Captain Croft, taking a break from the birthing scene for perfectly natural reasons, had forced himself to walk out of the room with the aid of the crutches. Edward and Anne jumped up when he appeared and he was surprised to see Edward, but he had no time yet. "Let me do my business first, so that I may rush back in if necessary."

They waited patiently for him to return and fretted a little. "He was so calm," said Edward. The sight of him would of course not have been any surprise, but his brother-in-law ought to be unsettled by the activity in the back sitting room. Instead he had behaved as if nothing was going on, although his words had belied that.

"And he saw us sitting here together," said Anne, though it would have struck her as very strange if they had sat waiting in different rooms. "Although I told him you were not Sophy's father."

"I am in no mood to be interrogated like a naughty schoolboy," Edward said in determination. He would start the interrogation himself. That would surely prevent at least a few difficult questions from being asked. "When were you injured?" he asked when the captain returned.

"Almost ten months months ago. Nine, perhaps."

"And you can still not walk?" Edward was impressed. It must indeed have been a serious injury, although all limbs were still in place.

His brother-in-law shrugged. "They said I could never walk again, so I have recovered pretty well, I say. There is not much opportunity for practising on a ship, so I am not as advanced as I should have liked."

"But nine months ago! And Sophia is having a child?" The latter took nine months, a period of time that had held some significance for him recently, which was why he had picked up on it. If he was not mistaken, the captain had already been injured before Sophia had begun to expect. He did not understand how that could have gone.

"Yes. I do suspect that is one of the reasons I can now walk."

"So you tried to walk because you were having a child -- but did you try to have a child because you could not walk? Or were you miraculously cured because you made a child?" He was very curious.

"Edward. In front of a lady?" The captain looked at Anne.

The lady in question was too busy studying him to mind, now that there was no Mrs Croft to distract them. Like his wife he was in his thirties, so he had the advantage of age over Edward and her. He had also really been married for several years, so he had that advantage as well. He might exploit it. If Edward continued, he certainly would.

"I cannot believe you took advantage of my sister like that. All men are the same." Edward looked disgusted. His poor sister. "Subjecting women to their lustful desires. Even when they are injured."

The captain raised his eyebrows. "What have you been reading now?"

Anne's lips twitched. There was obviously a long-standing acquaintance between them if he knew Edward liked to read and she did not know whether to be amused or to side with Edward.

"Nothing," said Edward.

"You have become quite a champion for the blameless sex," Captain Croft observed.

He would not be distracted by incomprehensible comments. "Because I have seen to what it might lead."

"You are speaking nonsense, Edward. Why do you not fall in love and marry somebody?"

"Because I have also seen to what it might lead if one falls in love before one can afford to marry." It had happened to Frederick and it had been complicated, no matter how well it appeared to be solved at the moment. He would not make the same mistake himself.

"Well, if she is not yours," Captain Croft said, looking at Sophy, "yet she lives with you, I assume you must feel some familial obligation anyhow, as you were not previously prone to taking in stray females. Is she Frederick's? Her father does not know about her and Frederick went to sea a year ago. That fits." He seemed surprised by his own discovery.

"I love Frederick," said Anne before he could be condemned. The captain was mocking; he might have as little patience with foolish love as he did with Edward's opinions.

To her surprise the captain merely smiled. "You agree with me about the blameless sex."

Since his smile was kind and conspiratorial, Anne did not think he thought her a loose woman. Mrs Croft very likely loved him as she loved Frederick and they were not blameless at all. It was a relief to be understood and not condemned. Lady Russell and Edward still did not quite understand the love part. They loved nobody in such a manner, of course.

"But why did he not marry you? He is not a rake."

Anne gave Edward a triumphant look before she burst into tears. Her guilt and regret were still too strong. She could not explain.

"Edward, take the babe," Captain Croft commanded.

Anne felt miserable. How could she explain her own weakness? "It is not his fault."

"All right." The captain sat down beside her because he still was not called back into the room. "May I tell Sophia?"

"Not if she will be angry with Frederick or me. Edward said she would not be. He would have sent me to her if she had not been in the East Indies." She looked hopeful. She had only the brothers' good opinion to go on and she wished they were right.

"She only gets angry with people who injure me." There was a flash of something across his face. "But how can an unmarried mother live with Edward? Have things changed so much in our absence?"

"She cannot, so she is not unmarried," said Edward.

"That makes no sense. Did you marry her?" There was a frown.

"No. Frederick does not yet know he took her to Gretna Green."

The captain looked baffled.

"I said I was Frederick," said Edward. "It was easy. They do not know what Frederick looks like in Gretna Green. There are a lot of things they do not know in Gretna Green."

"That is very wicked."

"My conscience would have plagued me more if she had ended up in the poorhouse because Frederick could not save her," he said defensively. He had struggled with this, truly he had, but he had finally settled on this defence. Everything else would have been much worse.

"Sophia will not be satisfied with this illogical explanation and she is too busy. I should go back in soon. She will want me back." Captain Croft glanced at the door, but he was still not called back.

"Say that Anne is Frederick's wife and Sophy is their daughter."

"Sophy?"

Anne had been listening, but she had not seen any reason to speak while Edward was handling the explanations. Sophy's name, however, had been her own choice. "When I thought of a name for a girl, only Edward had wanted to help me and he and Frederick had always spoken highly of their sister."

"Sophy is a good name and she may have helped you indeed. But your mother is here. She must have helped you too."

"She became my mother after she helped me. She had first persuaded me to break off my engagement --" Anne's lip trembled too much to continue. There was so much to explain that she did not know where to start without doing injustice to someone or some part of the story.

"Engagements are very bad things," the captain said seriously. "He should have married you right away."

"Food first, then love," Edward interjected.

"What! Which book is that in? Food comes before an engagement too. I must go back. I do not want to miss the moment." He positioned his crutches so he would be able to get up, although another of Edward's remarks might well floor him again.

"There will be several moments," said Anne.

"Anne thinks Sophia is having four babies," Edward explained. He gave Sophy back to Anne, so that he might help his brother-in-law get to his feet.

"I am glad I am already seated!" Captain Croft exclaimed. He dropped his crutches and had Edward pick them up again. "Four babies? Why?"

Anne wished Edward had not said anything. She would now have to say Mrs Croft was fat and that would sound very unkind. Mrs Croft did not deserve any unkindness. It was not her fault that she was so bulky.

"Because Anne was not as large," Edward said very helpfully.

"I have never heard of any woman bearing four children at once, so I think the possibility of me having inflicted this on my Sophy is too small to bear contemplation. I have heard of one or two. I am not opposed to four at all, provided that it does not make Sophy suffer too much, but the possibility, and the irony of it being like a rain season, is not there."

"I would rather get my wisdom from a book," said Edward, who had got lost halfway into that speech.

Louder voices could be heard from the sitting room and the captain became edgy. "Help me up. She needs me."

There had been voices, then the thin crying of a baby and then Lady Russell appeared, her arms covered in blood. Edward sagged sideways. He nearly fainted.

"Edward, what are you doing?" Anne cried in concern. She was holding Sophy and she could not push him up.

"This is why I never went to sea! Blood!"

"Edward, nobody died," Lady Russell said a little irritably. "Be strong. I need more hot water." She disappeared again.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Posted on Thursday, 17 January 2008

When Mr Gregg finally appeared, he was no longer needed. Instead of resenting him for his lateness, they all felt rather sorry for him, because he had obviously hurried through the awful weather to be with them in time. He arrived to find everything had been taken care of, perhaps not as well as he would have himself, but it sufficed. All he could do was check mother and daughters and pronounce them healthy.

But since Mrs Croft had done that herself already, nobody was surprised.

Edward had been biting his nails in the hall. Anne had been admitted into the room, but he had not. He had only seen piles and piles of bloodied sheets being taken out by the maid, up to a point where he thought they would all be sleeping in unmade beds that evening. All the women in the house kept going in and out of the room with things. If he had at one point not been told all was well he would really have felt forgotten and invisible. Even Anne, who repeatedly ran up and down the stairs, no longer saw him.

Just when he wanted to give up on waiting -- although he was not sure what he would do instead -- Mr Gregg came out of the room to request his assistance. "Mr Wentworth, may I call on you to lend a hand?"

Edward was wary. "With what precisely? Has it all been cleaned up?"

"Your sister needs to be carried up the stairs."

He would like to see his sister and he got up with alacrity, only to find he had grown stiff from sitting in a tense position. He stretched his limbs and then followed Mr Gregg into the sitting room. It did not look as before, for they had shifted almost all the furniture. But Sophia was there and he recognised her. He bent over to embrace his sister, but to his surprise she stood up.

"Mrs Croft!" cried Mr Gregg, as if something horrible was happening.

Sophia, with her arms around Edward, whispered in his ear. "I need no carrying, but so as not to offend the manly sensibilities, I shall suffer it."

"What happened?" Edward wished to know. He had still not been told anything about the child -- or children, if Anne had been right. He had heard crying, but that was all.

"Just carry me, or we shall have to carry Mr Gregg," she said in amusement. "Do what you must, gentlemen. I am at your disposal."

They lifted her up after some deliberation and carried her up the stairs. Edward was a little fearful of possibly touching wounds -- the blood had scared him -- but thankfully he only had to hold her in a very safe fashion. Anne had run ahead and pointed them to the room she had previously occupied. Edward supposed she had moved out of it now.

Sophia was installed on the bed and Edward was left alone with her. "What did your husband tell you?" he asked. He wondered if there was still something to explain.

"Tell me? Oh, that I was doing well and that I must not give up. Where are my babies? Will they bring me my babies? Or does James know I have no intention of staying here?"

"Babies. How many? Four?"

"Four? Goodness, is that possible?" She looked amazed. "Two was enough of an ordeal as it was."

"I knew there could not be more than two." He was relieved that he had been right and not Anne. "But I am very happy for you. I know a little about babies now, living with one, and I have seen the happiness they bring."

"I quite forgot to think about that baby. She is not yours, is she?"

"No, she is not mine." He played with his buttons and did some thinking. "But what would you have said if she had been mine?" Her reply would also apply to Frederick, although her opinion would not matter anymore -- he would have to reveal it now, whatever she thought.

"I should have asked you for more particulars, such as why did you not write to us that you had your eye on a girl? It would be quite sly to arrange it all in secret." She laughed.

She would have wanted to be informed then. He had expected as much. Had Frederick known? And if he had known, had he taken the trouble to write to her about Anne before everything went wrong? He did not expect his brother to have written afterwards. "Did Frederick write to you?"

"No," she answered, but then she frowned. "Frederick? Why do you mention him?"

"I wrote to you about the girl Frederick had had his eye on," Edward said seriously. "Because I did not know what to do. But it seems you never got my letter because you were already on your way home. If it seems that I slyly arranged it all in secret, it was only because I was forced to and you must not be angry with me."

"What did you arrange?"

It had been easier to explain this in writing. He had been able to sit and think. Now he had to get it all out at once, at the risk of forgetting half and of seeing her disapprove. "About half a year ago she came to me. Anne, that is. You saw her. She came to me and told me she was expecting a child. Frederick's."

Sophia's expression changed from attentiveness to surprise. "Frederick's?"

"Yes and he had got a command a few months before, so he was no longer here."

"But --" She shook her head. "Why had she not gone with him?"

Obviously Sophia expected another woman to do the same as she had done, but she had married a different man and furthermore Anne had not even been married. It felt too complicated to explain. Edward sighed. "Should I ask her to speak to you?"

"Is that man gone?"

"Which man? Mr Gregg? He said he would go, so I suppose he is."

"I shall return downstairs with you."

"Sophia!" he pleaded. "It is clear from his instructions that he does not think you should be walking."

"It is clear he had no idea how I feel. I am not going to take a walk; I am going downstairs. But if it makes you feel better, you may give me your arm."

Anne had been busy dressing the babies in clothes of Sophy's. Lady Russell and Mrs Dickinson had kept their heads cool throughout the birth, but they were now recuperating with the aid of a glass of strong liquor, of which the housekeeper kept a secret supply because Edward did not. They had not offered Anne a glass and she would have declined anyhow. They had offered Captain Croft, but he had no need for it, he said, because he had seen worse things. Consequently Anne was left with him, Mrs Croft having been carried upstairs, but this separation puzzled her. She had expected him to follow, if he had even stayed with her during the birth.

It no longer puzzled her when Mrs Croft returned on Edward's arm. "There we are again," said that lady. "I can rest here until bedtime. I have not yet talked to everyone I must talk to."

Anne supposed she was one of those people and she blushed. She wished she could do like Edward and begin the interrogation instead of waiting to be subjected to it, although Edward had had the tables turned on him as well and it was by no means a guarantee.

Mrs Croft lay down on the sofa. "Edward has been telling me some interesting things, my dear," she said to her husband. "We have a niece."

Anne braced herself.

"They told me so earlier," said the captain. "Her name is Sophy."

"And you kept it from me?" she cried.

"You were busy." He peered into the baskets with the babies.

"But Edward will not tell me why she did not go to sea with him." Now she looked directly at Anne. "And why you came here."

"Edward," said the captain. "Let us leave the ladies. You take care of the hungry and the homeless, do you not?"

He was by now surprisingly agile with his crutches and Anne was soon left alone with Mrs Croft. This frightened her a little, although Mrs Croft had only been mild-mannered and calm so far. Still, her eyes were sharp and she had got her way. Disapproval was possible. She had a niece, but she had not said she had a sister. There was a difference.

Mrs Croft continued. "Are you married to Frederick? Edward was not clear about that."

"Because it is not very clear," Anne conceded. "And it may involve details of which you may disapprove."

"Start at the beginning," Mrs Croft ordered. "Edward did not."

"I knew him a little until Frederick came to live with him, as one knows people in the neighbourhood who dine with almost the same families. After that I knew them much better. Both of them. I liked Frederick very much. We became engaged." She paused, for the next bits would be much sadder. "I knew my family did not like him as much. Or rather, they had no opinion because he was not...rich and important enough for them to have an opinion. But I loved him and I did not care."

"Is your family rich and important?"

"I cannot say whether my father is rich. He spends as if he is, but that is not the same thing, is it? As to importance, he is a baronet and I leave it to you to determine whether that is of any importance. It is very relative, of course."

"When it comes to his opinion on Frederick, your father's actual wealth and importance do not matter," said Mrs Croft. "But in his perception Frederick was very much beneath you?"

It cost Anne some trouble to voice it. "Yes."

"And he would not give his consent?"

"He would not give us money. My godmother persuaded me that Frederick did not have enough to take care of me. He told me he would soon be rich, but my godmother could not trust that. She was convinced I was doing a very foolish thing. I also did not want him to feel burdened by me if he did not yet have a fortune, but I was not very clear in expressing myself and he did not listen well and it all went wrong." The memory of how he had not listened well and how he had jumped to conclusions was so painful that she nearly cried. "He said I did not love him enough, but I did. I loved him and I did not want him to worry about me."

"And then..."

"He left. He had every right to be hurt and angry with me. But there was only one thing he wanted and I was telling him it could not be. After this he left and he went back to sea."

Mrs Croft was silent for a few moments. "That explain his departure. It does not explain your daughter, because you seem to have broken your engagement before you could be married."

"You must not be as angry with him as Edward is," Anne protested softly. "I am still convinced that Frederick did not know what he was doing."

"Do you think that such an excuse would apply to Frederick at any time? Frederick and not knowing what he is doing!" Mrs Croft snorted incredulously. "He cannot have changed so much from when I last saw him."

"But if he did know, he would not have gone on, would he? Because he would have known what might ensue. Or would you say he counted on being married very quickly so that it would not matter?" Anne looked shattered. She had always believed in his innocence. Perhaps only his sister could change that.

"I do not know. Was he confident? I am sure you remember the occasion. Was he self-assured? Did he tell you it would not hurt? Did he place you in a position that would be more convenient for him? Did he do anything at all that would give you the impression he knew what he was about?"

Anne gave her a bewildered look in response to this interrogation. Lady Russell and Edward would never have dared to be so frank. "No, none of that. Everybody seems to be under the impression that there was but one occasion, but there were several nearly similar occasions and perhaps we progressed a little bit each time. The first time we only talked. The second time I think we may have kissed. But I did not keep a journal of the exact moves!" Her cheeks were bright red in mortification. "It was all very agreeable and I hardly remember."

"Agreeable? Did it not hurt?" Mrs Croft was surprised.

"I do not recall. I would not say something was painful if he was saying he loved me very much. I did not want him to stop loving me. It was mentally quite agreeable." She would not comment on the physical. One ought not.

Mrs Croft studied her in silence for a while. It made Anne nervous, yet she did not know what she could say. This was not the right moment to speak cheerfully of something else.

"That is all a little too self-effacing to my tastes," Mrs Croft said eventually.

Continued In Next Section