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Volume Three

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Posted on Thursday, 7 February 2008

The approach of the Christmas holidays brought Mary Elliot back from Bath. She found that Kellynch Hall without Anne was much changed. Elizabeth had little interest in a sister six years her junior and she did not exert herself to entertain her, whereas Anne had always considered it her duty to speak to Mary even if the latter was not agreeable. Mary was even more bored than at school, she said. She liked Sophy rather well, in spite of the low parentage on her father's side, and she walked over almost every day. She soon begged to be allowed to live at Kellynch Lodge as well, but Sir Walter was clever enough neither to allow it, nor to reveal the exact reasons for Anne's apparent privilege.

While he might not consider it a privilege, Anne most certainly did. Lady Russell provided a much less stifling atmosphere and she did not have to fear that Sophy was bothering anybody. Sophy was in her short petticoats now and she could already move backwards on the floor. This accomplishment impressed no one except Anne and Lady Russell; everyone else was foolishly commenting on the little legs that became visible when she pushed herself back.

Edward had seen it and Anne had written to Sophia about it as well, but she had not received a letter from her in more than a fortnight. Sophy's little cousins were now four months old and they might well be keeping their mother busy. Anne had not thought much of it -- although she was eager for the post every day -- until a carriage stopped outside.

Calmly she walked towards the window to see who was calling. Lady Russell had reminded her that visitors did not run either and they would not soon be out of sight. This proved to be true, but when she saw who it was, she ran to the hall nevertheless. Sophy was safely on her blanket and Sophy must be checked before Mama did anything at all.

"He is gone!" Sophia Croft cried as she walked to the house. She carried a baby and a maid carried another, but there was no Captain Croft with her.

"Gone?" Anne asked. "Away? Or worse?" But he could not be dead; Sophia was not in black. The other dreadful thing must have happened. He had gone back to sea. He had improved so much that he was again able. But this was seemingly not good news.

"To the Mediterranean," said Sophia as if it could not possibly be worse.

As she looked very much in need of an embrace, Anne gave her a hug. "I am sorry. That is quick, is it not?"

"One visit to the Admiralty," Sophia said morosely. "Well, my dear, I said, if you insist, go and tell them. I did not think it would have such instant consequences! Neither did he. And now he is gone. Without me."

"Come in, come in." Anne suddenly remembered the two infants and Sophy lying on her blanket inside. She must not be away for too long and the babies must be brought in from the cold.

"Nobody understands me. I thought you might, though I do not understand you. I had to get away from those men. They do not understand. They tolerated us for James' sake, I am sure, but now that he is gone..." She let out a deep breath.

"He is not gone; he is away," a male voice corrected.

Anne had not noticed Mr Croft. She greeted him and begged him to come in as well.

"She would be welcome to stay," said Mr Croft rather unconvincingly. "But she had to go here."

Finally she had them in the drawing room, but Sophy's blanket was empty. "Sophy?" she cried out in a panic, looking around wildly, but Sophy had manoeuvred herself half under the table to chase after a shiny silver spoon that the maid must have overlooked. Anne did not know whether to devote her attention to this Sophia or to the other.

"Ignore my complaints, my dear Anne," said the elder Sophia. "I am sure they will become insignificant if I discuss them with someone else. I may even be able to go home again. Henry even said he would wait here for a few days until I make up my mind."

"If that is allowed?" he asked anxiously.

"Of course," Anne assured him. Lady Russell could have no objections.

Although Sophia had just said she could be ignored, she drew their attention to herself by speaking on. "I was very proud of James, really I was."

"And of yourself, since without you he might not have recovered."

"I contributed to my own misery, I know." There was already a glimpse of fortitude and humour shining through.

Anne was glad for it. She decided to leave Sophy under the table if she liked it there so much, but she kept a close eye on her. "But you could not have wanted to go with him. Thinking of your girls crawling over the deck. Look at Sophy -- she was on her blanket when I left the room and now she is under the table."

"I know. That is very good of Sophy. But why can I never have a husband and children at the same time? I thought you might understand me there, although you seem quite calm about his being away. But then," she said, recollecting something, "you are not aware of the particular dangers of the sea."

"Do not frighten me. Would they be any less if you were there?" Anne wondered. The dangers might be shared, but they would not become less, she believed. Or did sharing them reduce them?

"Some. Probably not as many as I think. I should probably not be allowed near guns anyhow with the babies."

Anne was surprised at the implication that she was allowed near guns without babies. She wondered which type of guns.

Kellynch Lodge promised to be as crowded as the parsonage had been, although Mr Croft usually hid himself. The ladies both understood perfectly that Sophia had chosen to come here if all the Croft gentlemen were like that. Although she did not completely abandon her worries, having some company helped and company was what she had been needing most of all.

Edward had been glad to have his house to himself again. He saw enough people not to feel lonely, but it was with horror that one day he observed Miss Greene being let out of a carriage which then drove on. Miss Greene walked straight to the house and Edward rang his bell.

"Yes, sir?" asked Mrs Dickinson.

He spoke hurriedly, for Miss Greene would be at the door any second. "It is Miss Greene. She is coming here. What shall we do?"

She gave his panicked face a bemused look. "Let her in?"

"But the ladies are no longer here. What now?" At that moment the doorbell was rung and he jumped up. "Oh dear. What shall we do?"

"Let her in," Mrs Dickinson repeated. "You could explain to her that the ladies are gone and then you can have a cup of tea with her and her father will collect her and it is over."

That really did not sound so bad, although he supposed he might have to talk to her and he had no idea what they could talk about. "Are you sure?"

"Certainly. If she bores you, send her to me, but you have to see her first. Shall I send her in here?"

"In here?" He was too anxious to think. "I suppose it does not matter."

Captain Wentworth had nowhere in particular to go; no one was waiting for him. The new year started out unfavourably, but the storm did not affect him as it did some others. That his boasting would have to wait a few days was probably a blessing.

Harville did not share his point of view, of course. They were in the Sound, but to him Plymouth had never been further away. He thought only of his wife. To do him credit, he also remembered his sister.

"I have a sister too," Captain Wentworth reminded himself. His family would care about him. It was unfair to think there was nobody at all. He was hasty rather than unfair. "Though she is probably still in the East Indies. And I have a brother. I shall write to him."

"We are lucky to have come in," Harville commented, trying to see the positive side. "Had we been a day later..."

The captain tried to look outside, but it was dark and wet. They could not do anything but talk and even that was at times made impossible by the wind. "A day later we should have died very inconspicuous deaths and our heroic deeds should have been forgotten. But now...we are indeed lucky that we were already able to send a boat ashore so they know about us."

"Did you see anybody?"

"The usual persons, but that great black sky cut my visit short. I should not have been comfortable in a soft, dry bed ashore while the rest of you were pumping to stay afloat." He had hurried back, wanting to be back on his ship before the storm started to rage.

"They are nevertheless dying to go ashore."

"They have my blessing," Frederick said with a grin. "But even Carter would not attempt it."

"He considered it yesterday," Harville revealed. "But it was clear he could only lie with a mermaid if he tried."

"Better than nothing. If your name is Carter," Wentworth added. It bore no semblance to his own opinion. "But he does amuse me. It is easy to win his loyalty. Just let him go ashore now and then. Mind you, Harville, if you were dying he would brave the weather today to fetch you your wife."

"Perhaps I should pretend to die," Harville sighed.

"Miss Greene," Edward bowed. He was all for clearing up the matter instantly, so that there could be no misunderstandings. "Has Mrs Dickinson told you that the ladies are gone?"

"No, she has not." She coloured. "I am sorry. I did not know. I do not know what my father will think now. He took me along so I could visit Mrs Wentworth. I do not know if he would approve of my visiting you instead."

"I do not know if he would approve of my turning you away instantly," Edward said reflectively. He drew a strange conclusion. "So that it is really his fault that you must stay."

"Perhaps you could give me something useful to do, Mr Wentworth. When any gentlemen call at home when my father and mother are out, I am not allowed to receive them, you see. And what with your not having a father or mother here..." She looked around herself. "If I can say I made myself useful..."

In spite of his discomfort, Edward's logic won out. "It strikes me as a little strange that your father would have let you out at the gate without checking who were home if he is so fastidious about whom you meet. I should almost think I was approved. My sisters also left me alone with their daughters." He was quite safe.

Miss Greene gave him an odd look.

"Oh well," he said when he did not understand her look. Perhaps she was like Mary Elliot, whom he had met at Kellynch Lodge and who had also not seemed to want to speak to him, although she was clearly more amiable. "Something useful? Now that would suit me better as well, because I have several things to look up. Are you good at looking things up?"

Chapter Thirty

Posted on Sunday, 10 February 2008

Edward found Miss Greene rather good at looking things up. She did not ask him any questions, but seemed well able to find her way through his bookshelves. She sat on the floor and made her notes there.

Mrs Dickinson brought them tea a while later, which she placed on his desk. "I see you are conversing with Miss Greene, sir," she said softly.

"Oh, I was not," he answered. They were busy.

That was what she meant. "Could you not give her a place at the table?"

"Oh. I am sure I could." He observed his table. It had not occurred to him to offer, because she had fended for herself and sat down there. It had suited him not to have her so near. "But it is rather full."

She piled up a few books to make room. "Miss Greene? You can sit here if you prefer. It will make it easier to speak to Mr Wentworth."

"But I was not speaking to him." She nevertheless gathered up her books and notes and sat at the table. "Thank you for the tea, Mrs Dickinson."

Such a remark pleased the housekeeper very much, especially considering that Mr Wentworth had not noticed the tea at all.

Edward worked on steadily, occasionally passing new requests -- on paper -- on to Miss Greene, who passed the answers back to him. This went on for a while until he realised she had not given him anything back for a while. He glanced at her and saw her placing slips of paper in a book. "Not that!" he cried in shock.

It was A Young Man's Guide to Marriage. Edward was mortified. It was shocking and ought not be seen by young female eyes. He had hidden it, but apparently he had not hidden it well enough. "If your father saw you reading that! If he saw I owned it!"

"Why do you own it?" Miss Greene put it down.

"The parishioners may have questions," he explained with a bright red face. He hoped she would not ask what sort of questions they might have.

"I had questions too after reading it," she said gravely. "I have marked the corrections to the questionable passages on separate pieces of paper."

Edward looked at her as if he did not understand a word she was saying. He was also confused by the utter lack of embarrassment in her manner. She appeared to be a little contemptuous instead, which he hoped was aimed at the book and not at him. "Corrections?"

"There are passages in this book that are incorrect."

"I have not yet read through it entirely," he defended himself, although he had got almost to the end. He had not noticed any incorrect passages, but certain things had been entirely new to him.

"Do not bother," she advised.

"But if your father does not even allow you to be alone with male visitors, what will he say about this?" Not only was he alone with Miss Greene, but he was giving her access to books he should not even possess.

"I do not understand that very well myself, although I suppose a girl may be in danger from male visitors, not from a mere book. A mere stupid book at that." She was outright contemptuous now.

"You must think very ill of me for owning it."

"No, nor do I think ill of myself for having read it. Perhaps you should hide it again. I have been here two hours. My father may return soon."

"I put it in the dullest book I had." Even he thought it dull and that was saying something. Everyone else would not even open it.

"My father likes those." She had the book in her hand and gave the fireplace a speculative glance.

"Do you?"

"I prefer my uncle's medical texts," she said with a smile.

Lady Russell was the one who saw most of Mr Croft, since she always saw him at breakfast when the other two were not yet up. Anne was, occasionally, but she let it depend on Sophy, an attitude that would previously have irked Lady Russell a good deal. She was no longer certain of her opinion now. Sophy certainly thrived.

Catherine and Margaret also thrived, but with a different approach. Sophia did not allow them to dictate their nursing times quite as much, but of course she had two infants to feed and little Sophy's will was stronger than those of her cousins' combined. Nobody could make Sophy drink if she did not want to, but the twins did not even mind that Anne nursed them occasionally.

"She is going to be a spoilt little tyrant," the nevertheless worrying Lady Russell said to Mr Croft. He was not likely to care, but he was the only person available and she had to express her feelings.

"Who, madam?" he asked absent-mindedly.

"Sophy."

He was by now used to the difference between Sophia and Sophy, so he understood. "I have no experience with children."

"But Anne allows her to decide everything. She indulges her too much." This could to great trouble at a later age, but she did not know when one ought to start implementing discipline. Sophia had clearly already started, but Anne did not think it necessary.

"She has not even got teeth. She can only be too stupid to notice. Sophy, that is."

"She has two teeth." Lady Russell wondered if he had ever examined Sophy very closely. Those teeth were very visible when she smiled.

"That does not make her any cleverer. But all daughters are tyrants, or so I have observed. Your daughter rules your life as you suppose her daughter to rule hers."

"Really?" Lady Russell was taken aback by such an unexpected observation. It was perhaps true, but Mr Croft was always hiding and he could not have noticed such a thing all by himself. If he was not hiding, he was looking away.

"But I am in the same situation of dependency myself. I am here, waiting for Sophia to tell me whether she is going to stay here or not. I am at her disposal, but I feel very little for going home only to be summoned back the next day, yet I must if she gives me no answer." He gave her a helpless look.

"I have little else to do than to be at somebody's disposal," she defended herself.

"Same here," he muttered.

"Though I did refuse Sir Walter's proposal of marriage." She was not quite so servile, although she wondered why she was telling him this. Perhaps it was because he was looking directly at her now.

"Did you? I am glad!" he exclaimed and then checked himself. "Unless you did so for your daughter's sake."

"For my own, I assure you. I would not marry somebody because Anne told me so." Again she wondered why she was telling him.

"Well, if he happened to be a wonderful man you would refuse for a silly reason in that case, but when it comes to Sir Walter -- we were there yesterday and he had nothing sensible to say for himself. Neither did I," he admitted. "But at least I was thinking many sensible things, as I usually am."

The first days after the storm Captain Wentworth was rather busy. One could not bring a French frigate into Plymouth without anybody noticing and several men visited him, in an official capacity or not, to hear the full story. In addition to his paperwork he hardly had any time to himself, but he did manage to write a letter to his brother, which he sent off during a brief trip ashore.

He had thought long, but he would not return to Somersetshire. He had no intention of again suffering the pain that had slowly diminished, which he might if he saw Anne. Living with his brother would have them meet occasionally and he did not think he could bear it.

He told himself that Anne had not wanted him, so she would have married someone else. It had been a year and a half and she was a pretty girl of twenty. Why should she not have met anybody in the meantime? Someone who had pleased Lady Russell and Sir Walter enough for them to give their consent and for Anne to respond to their orders by loving that man.

No, he could not bear to see Anne married to another man. And he had decided that he no longer wanted her, had he not? He could not go there and feel forced to ask her again. She might expect it of him if he appeared again.

It was impossible to be so honest in his letter to Edward. It would make him look weak, so he had settled for writing that he was very busy, which was not a lie at present, and that he had good hopes of being sent to sea again soon.

But as he was being toasted by fellow captains in his cabin, he doubted. He doubted very much.

When Mrs Dickinson came to serve some more tea and fruit biscuits -- a task she would not leave to the maid -- she found Mr Wentworth conversing quite fluently with Miss Greene on the subject of diseases. It was not a topic she would ever have expected a pair of young people to speak about, but neither seemed to think it at all strange. Miss Greene was no longer very shy and Mr Wentworth seemed to be less uncomfortable.

Edward found Miss Greene much more informed and interested than he had thought a girl could be. He wondered how she would have come by such information at school. "Are you not still at school?"

"At school!" she echoed in amazement.

"Or do you have a governess at home? You know things that I thought were not usually taught to girls. Or even to boys." He would admit that on the subject of diseases, at least, she was better informed than he was.

"I have never been to school," Miss Greene replied. "But we had all the usual instructors at home. My younger sisters still do. I am too old for classroom instruction. I educate myself, when I happen to find an interesting book."

"Too old?" It was Edward's turn to be surprised. "Your father did not strike me as one of those men who would take his daughters from school at too young an age. In my opinion the education of girls ought to continue until they are eighteen or nineteen."

"Indeed. I had my lessons until I was nineteen, but it got too crowded in the schoolroom by then."

"Until you were nineteen! But then you are older." He stared. She was older than nineteen.

"It would seem so. I am one-and-twenty," Miss Greene said solemnly.

Edward blushed. "I am sorry. I thought you were significantly younger."

"Did I not strike you as too clever to be a fifteen-year-old?"

"I do not know any."

"You would perceive a difference between my sister and me, I think. There is my father," she said when some movement outside caught her eye. "He can sometimes be very old-fashioned. I wonder what he will say."

Edward wondered that as well. He blushed again.

"You must not blush," she told him. "Tell him instead about your analysis of the riveting opinions of Dr Samuel Dunn."

"You never betrayed that you think him tedious," he spoke a little indignantly.

"Well..." Her eyes laughed. "Our governess uses quotes from the good doctor's texts when she teaches vocabulary. They contain words that are not in use elsewhere."

Dr Greene was shown into the room by the housekeeper and Edward got up immediately. He blushed again, even if Miss Greene gave him a look that conveyed he should not. "I am sorry, sir. My sisters are no longer here. Mrs Wentworth is back at Kellynch."

"So Mr Peters told me," Dr Greene said in an amiable voice.

"And then you came for me instantly," Miss Greene guessed.

"No, not at all, because when Mr Peters and I took a walk, we met Mrs Wentworth and Mrs Croft and they were very amused at the idea of Mr Wentworth having to entertain you."

"That is not sisterly of them," Edward remarked. He did not dare to say it was not very nice of Dr Greene either -- that he had apparently thought it amusing, not that he had not come to the rescue, for having to entertain Miss Greene had not been very bad.

"But I see you got along fine." He took a look at Edward's notes. "Indeed."

"We were too busy to get along," said Edward, who did not quite understand him.

Chapter Thirty-One

Posted on Wednesday, 13 February 2008

Frederick Wentworth stepped ashore with a scowl. He had made up his mind. Should he come across an Anne Elliot who threw herself at his feet to beg for forgiveness, he would of course sweep her up and kiss her, but the reverse was out of the question. His affections were not to be trifled with. He could not imagine himself going to Kellynch to ask very humbly if he was good enough to support her now.

Harville had asked him to accompany him ashore, something he had at first refused. He did not know why he had. Perhaps he had been afraid of the disappointment of not finding Anne, which was a silly notion that angered him. Of course she would not be there and he should certainly not be so foolish. He should go. He should not forget that he was eager to be ashore after that storm.

Nevertheless he had taken care to mend the damage to his coat as best he could. It was clear from the state of his coat that he had not spent his time at sea writing poems in his cabin. He was a little ashamed of the vanity that had forced him to commandeer a button off Johnson's coat because he turned out to be missing one himself. Thankfully Johnson had even been proud of being of such use, which was, of course, why he had chosen the good-natured Johnson.

Beside him, Lieutenant Harville gave him a curious stare. "Are you not happy to be back?"

"You have a wife." That made it different, he supposed. All he could think of was the wife he should have had and the wife he did not want anymore. They might have come to Plymouth with similar feelings of anticipation, but the difference was that Harville's were completely justified and his own were foolish. There was someone for Harville, but there was no one for him. It made no sense even to imagine it.

"They are not difficult to come by. I see plenty who might be willing," Harville said with a nod at a few women who seemed to be sorry these fine officers were walking past.

"I thought we thought alike." Suddenly he wondered about the Mrs Harville he was about to meet. Harville had told him her father owned a tavern, which made her a barmaid of sorts. He could be civil to a former barmaid, of course, if Harville liked her. He would not have stooped to a barmaid himself before Anne Elliot, but he would certainly not stoop to one after Anne Elliot either. Not even to spite her.

"We do," Harville hastened to say. "But I was merely teasing. You are quite out of sorts, when you should not be. You have much to be proud of." They had done well at sea, made a little money and captured a few ships. They had tales to tell. The past few days had proven that everybody was interested in those tales.

The captain had taken risks no one else might have taken -- he had had nothing more to lose -- but they had paid off. He had been lucky his crew had not openly declared him mad at times, but after one success they trusted his madness.

Frederick looked around himself and thought he might be out out of sorts because Anne Elliot was not likely to be waiting for him in Plymouth to throw herself at his feet. Something was lacking without Anne, yet it was the height of human folly that he could not bring himself to capture Anne as he had enemy ships. He could not seek her out and conquer her. No, he must wait passively and weakly. He did not know what he hated more: being passive in itself or knowing it was merely a choice.

But he could not tell Harville about Anne, only that his mood was unconnected to the Harvilles. Even if Mrs Harville turned out to be the worst-dressed and most foul-mouthed creature he had ever seen, he knew which respect and civility were due to her as Harville's wife. "It has nothing to do with meeting your wife."

"Thank you. I am quite worried. She must have heard the Asp came in, but she has not come out to meet us."

"She was not waiting to throw herself at your feet at the first opportunity, you mean." Frederick looked away quickly when a woman appraised him as if she was thinking of doing exactly that. They had both glanced at every woman they passed, which had given some of them the wrong notion.

"No. This worries me. I sent her a note, but where is she?"

"At home, I say." If the ladies did not even come when one sent them a note, why should they come if they had received nothing, Frederick asked himself darkly. He should take care to shed his foul mood before they reached Mrs Harville's house. She would not understand and she would be left with an unfavourable impression of him.

"I hope so," Harville fretted.

"You did not receive a bad reply either," Frederick reminded him. There had not been a note saying Mrs Harville was dead or ill, nor a note saying there was no such person at the house to which the note had been delivered.

They walked on until Harville's paces quickened even more and Frederick suspected they must be very near his house. From the state of the neighbourhood he deduced it was not the sort of house he would ever care to live in, or even have his wife live in, which was a rather painful realisation. He had not had much more money than Harville when he had almost got himself a wife. Anne Elliot would surely have turned up her nose at having to live here. Just where he was supposed to have housed her he did not know.

Perhaps he ought to be glad he had not married, but he did not want to feel glad about that at all. He had not been wrong; he would have been able to support a wife. And a woman who loved him would sacrifice some of her comforts for a year or two.

But he should stop thinking of wives. What did he care about Anne Elliot anymore? She was not here and she was not likely ever to be here. He was here to meet Harville's wife and to be civil.

"There is Fanny, my sister," Harville breathed anxiously.

Frederick observed that Fanny looked nothing like a barmaid. She was merely a pretty girl of about sixteen. She ran very elegantly when she perceived her brother, but she did not shout. He watched them embrace and wondered if he should not have let Harville meet his family alone. But Harville had insisted, worried as he was, so he supposed he must suffer watching affectionate greetings.

There would be none for him. Again this was by choice, for he could certainly have written to Edward that he would be visiting him soon, but he had not. He had written that he did not have the time. That was a lie. It was as good as certain that the Asp was not going anywhere anymore; she was too old. There would be time to see Edward, but it was too near Anne. As long as she was there he would not go into that neighbourhood.

"Where is Fiona?" Harville finally asked his sister, who had been as composed as a happy girl could be, but who had certainly not looked sad. There could not be anything wrong with Fiona. This reasoning relieved him, but he still did not understand where she was.

"She and Lucy are inside."

He was a little miffed that she appeared to prefer the company of a stranger. "Lucy? Who is Lucy?"

Fanny's face split into a grin. "You do not know about Lucy."

"No. Should I?"

"Fiona would have come out to look for you, but Lucy was not being a good girl." Fanny looked at Frederick curiously, as if she noticed him only now.

Harville remembered his manners. "Fanny, this is my captain, Captain Wentworth. Captain, this is my sister Fanny."

Frederick bowed, but he perceived that Miss Harville was not as interested in him as she was in ushering her brother inside as quickly as possible. He wondered if it had to do with that Lucy, whoever she might be.

Harville was oblivious. "Fanny, did you get along with Fiona? I know I threw the two of you together without your consent, but --"

"Fiona is an angel. One starts to understand her accent pretty soon. Lucy is an angel too," she said with a mischievous smile. She pulled at his sleeve.

"I believe she wants you to meet Lucy," Frederick said helpfully when Harville failed to catch the hint. He did not understand who Lucy was either, but she was clearly important. "Perhaps I should leave you to meet your family alone. I shall have a drink somewhere." They had passed a few establishments where he would be sure to find an acquaintance or two with whom to pass the time and there would not be any women to bring up unhappy memories.

"No, no. Fiona will not mind. She would love to meet you and she would be offended if you did not come in. And what have you to do besides?" He strolled towards the door of the tiny house.

It was clear he was not allowed to go, so Frederick was surprised to be held back by Miss Harville. He gave her a questioning stare, though when she grimaced and gestured he quite agreed with her on waiting a while. Harville should be allowed to greet his wife alone.

"He does not know about Lucy," Miss Harville said in a soft voice. "But as it will be of no importance to you whatsoever, Captain, I shall reveal that Lucy is his daughter." She looked as if this was the greatest joke in the world.

Frederick stared at her in surprise.

"They will come out to get us, I daresay. If they do not I shall take you in after an appropriate amount of time has passed, of course." Miss Harville consulted her pocket watch as if she was in perfect control of the situation, in spite of only being sixteen or seventeen.

"His daughter. I do not think he knew he was going to have one." He could only think how good it was that Harville had not known and how it would have taken more than an insult to get the man to stop sighing about his family if he had known about a daughter.

"No. That is what makes it all the more amusing. Fiona really wanted to meet him in the harbour, but it is difficult to time that well, what with Lucy needing to nurse all the time and it being so cold. We tried, but we went home again."

Frederick felt a little stab that Mrs Harville had been waiting. Not all were fickle and indifferent creatures then. It was good to know -- for Harville's sake, naturally. "He was worried when he did not see her."

"Goodness, I do hope he likes the name Lucy," Miss Harville suddenly developed a worry of her own. "But she is such a little angel that she might as well be called anything and still be lovable."

He could reassure her, because he did not think the name of the girl would matter in the least. "He will be delighted. A daughter would only add to his joy, because he was very much looking forward to seeing his wife again. Even when there were more important things to consider."

"I see you have no wife," she remarked.

"How can you tell?"

"A little hint of sadness there."

He was startled, because he had thought it was mockery. "It is not sadness, I assure you."

She gave him a superior smile. "Of course, Captain. I must let you know that for months I relied heavily on my new sister's tone of voice to make out what she was saying. She is not from England and she was at first difficult to understand."

Frederick was amused in spite of himself. She sounded so sure of herself. "This makes you an expert on intonation, I see."

"Yes, quite."

"I shall not argue with you, Miss Harville," he said with a smile. It was best to avoid arguments with young girls. They were experts on romance as well as intonation.

She studied him smugly, possibly for more signs of sadness, but he was saved from having to say more by Harville coming out of the house with an infant. Frederick was not terribly interested in infants, but he displayed a polite interest. It was more intriguing to watch Harville conduct himself with such pride because he was a father. He could be made commander if he was lucky, but being promoted to father was apparently a greater feat.

Mrs Harville had come out after him, but she looked very little like a barmaid. She was simply a pretty girl with a wide smile. Frederick was sorry he had ever expected her to lack respectability and he was resolved to be less hasty and severe in his judgements. He did not always betray his judgements to others, but it bothered him when he was wrong and that was reason enough to employ more circumspection. It was another resolution, as if his previous one did not continuously fail.

He thought he might be intruding, but they did not at all mind his presence. On the contrary, he felt as if he could do them no greater pleasure than by staying. Therefore he stayed.

Edward had immediately checked his book after Miss Greene's departure and read her corrections. They were so interesting that reading them had kept him busy until the mail was delivered. It brought a letter from Frederick.

Frederick! He dropped the rest of the mail in his excitement. Frederick had returned!

Edward read all about Frederick's successes -- his brother had written about them without reserve, but apparently coming to relate them in person was impossible. He was apparently busy, but it could scarcely have cost him more time to travel here than it had cost him to write this epic. It was Anne, Edward believed. Frederick did not want to see Anne, or he would not have come up with such a weak reason to ignore his brother.

Frederick might think Edward was not acquainted with the ways of the Navy, but he knew enough to be certain that at this point there was always time for a visit, even with the promise of a new ship. If it was up to Frederick he would go directly from one command to another, but Edward knew all too well that other people had their tasks that must also be finished. While waiting for that he could easily come here for a week, as he had done in the past.

But it was clear: it was because of Anne that he was pretending to be busy. Frederick did not want to see her again. This attitude was a little inconvenient given the situation, for if he did not come he would not learn of his daughter and his marriage.

Edward went to see Anne immediately.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Posted on Saturday, 16 February 2008

Harville could not stop mentioning his daughter when they returned to the ship. "I had no idea!" he said again.

"But you will at least have reckoned with the possibility because you were married." Frederick did not understand how a newly-married man could be completely surprised. After getting married a family soon followed in most cases and in the remainder of the cases people wondered why it did not.

"No."

"But I assume you had a wedding night and...everything."

"Yes." At the mention of the wedding night Harville's eyes glazed over.

"Well! All conditions were met if you did what was expected of you." He did not have to ask Harville if he had done all that -- little Lucy was the answer. Harville seemed to have been distracted by other matters, though. Possibly the trip to the West Indies he had been about to make, but once there he had been thinking of his wife, so the possibility of having children could have struck him then. Frederick did not understand it much.

"I suppose, but it never occurred to me. I was far too occupied with my wife. Is she not an angel? I am so happy to see her again."

Frederick did not think Mrs Harville an angel, which was as it should be for another man's wife, but he granted that she was very sweet-looking and pretty. She had been charming and hospitable and she had made him feel at home. What she might have lacked in refinement she made up for in goodhearted kindness. It was no wonder Harville had been eager to see her again.

But Harville was looking like a fool, Frederick noticed. "Will you stop looking so -- as if she is appearing before you naked this instant?"

"Mmm."

He had not intended to give Harville any ideas, so he gave his companion a sharp punch in the side with his elbow. "As I am quite an agreeable fellow, if you promise me to stop now and to return at dawn tomorrow morning, I may be inclined to grant you permission to go ashore to stare at Mrs Harville this evening."

"Thank you!" Harville grinned happily and spoke on. Apparently he believed it was not yet clear what was on his mind. "You have no idea how a man feels when he sees his wife again -- and his child!"

The tones of utter awe and admiration began to grate slightly on Frederick's nerves. "No, I have no idea."

"You will understand me when you are married."

People said that all too often. It was annoying. He knew he would not think any differently if he married and he would certainly not become a fool -- if he married. "I have no desire to marry." He had had it once, but he did not have it anymore. If she came to him, he would marry her, but he would not go looking for her.

"Just wait until you meet the right girl."

But he had met the right girl once and she had not proved to be so right after all. How did one know? He would not easily meet another girl who was more right than Anne Elliot, he knew. He would pay her that compliment at least. With a little more strength of character a girl would be quite perfect, but he was not looking forward to going through it another time, to be drawn in, to be in love and then to be disappointed and hurt.

"Honestly, I have no interest in being married," he therefore said. "But I do not begrudge you your angels. Your sister was a little disappointed that you had so little interest in her, so I took care to distract her."

"Really?" Harville stopped walking. He looked worried. "Should I go back?"

"No. She understood, but you have known her longest and you paid her the least attention. She soon forgot when I asked her about her music. Perhaps you should take her to a concert this week. I could offer to take both of you, but then it would be my idea and not yours, you see." It was Harville who needed to take his sister out and to give her some attention that was exclusively hers. The poor girl was only sixteen and she had been looking forward to her brother's return very much, only to find him much more interested in his wife and daughter. She had made an effort at being brave about it, but he had seen her disappointment.

"How is it not your idea if it is your order, Captain?"

"She will not know that." But he wondered about that. Miss Harville had been rather sharp. She would know as well as he did that Harville rarely went to concerts unless he was taken there and that it might not have occurred to her brother himself.

"I hope I can spare the money."

"One concert for your sister? I think so. If you cannot pay, I will."

"I do not want to let you pay for that."

"Then it is settled. Let us go and inquire about tickets directly." He needed some distraction himself and a concert would be just the thing.

"He is back?" Anne was delighted. Even the evasive letter could not ruin her mood. "He is back and he is alive!"

He might be alive in body, but not in spirit, Edward thought. "But what do we do? Do we write that he must come? Do we write what happened?"

He had been thinking about it ever since he had read the letter, but he did not know if writing was such a good plan. If it concerned himself he might have a preference for being told in person, so Frederick might feel the same way. Even writing that there was something important he should hear was not likely to bring Frederick here if he was set on staying away. It might take quite an exchange of letters before they accomplished bringing him hither and Edward had to keep in mind that Frederick expected to be sent off again very soon.

Anne was of the same mind. "I do not think you should write it. Either he should come here or someone should go there. I should do it myself, I think." They could not possibly inform him of something as important as Sophy in writing. He had to see Sophy for himself so his reaction would be softened and she wanted to see his reaction to Sophy.

"I am willing to go with you. I know Plymouth," Sophia offered. She furthermore knew many in the Navy, of whom there would always be somebody in Plymouth, and she was as desirous of showing her offspring as Anne was.

"What about me?" Edward wondered. He felt a little left out when it seemed he was only good enough to deliver letters.

"You need to stay home in case Miss Greene calls again." His sister laughed at his face.

"I do not share your amusement," he said primly. "I heard you thought it was amusing that she was stuck with me, but that is not very kind of you."

"I am sorry." She gave him a kiss on his cheek, which he tried to evade.

"I suppose you also knew she was not sixteen."

"Why, yes."

"So you deliberately let me make a fool of myself."

Anne had listened to them, but their quibbling was taking too long. She grew impatient. Now that Frederick was back, there was not a second to lose. "I am going to pack. I am going to Plymouth."

She wanted to leave the room, but Lady Russell stopped her. "I am concerned, though! Anne, are you sure you are strong enough?"

Anne had no idea, but she could not shrink back now. "If I am not strong now, I shall never be."

"But he may be angry."

She showed that she had grown up considerably in the meantime. "Well, pooh." She shook herself loose and went to pack.

"But should we all accompany Anne?" asked Sophia. "That is unnecessarily costly and Anne is really the only one who needs to speak to him. And I am the only one who knows the Navy side of Plymouth. Besides, if a whole fleet descends upon him, he might become contrary."

"Become contrary?" To Lady Russell Plymouth had sounded as unappealing as seeing Frederick again, so she was glad that Sophia offered to accompany Anne. Sophia would also be able to talk some sense into her brother, something she herself would not be able to do. He would not listen to her, yet she did not expect him to behave very sensibly. "Perhaps it is best if you go with Anne..."

They had not known Mr Croft was in the room until he spoke. "I suppose I must again prolong my stay then, Sophia?" He sounded resigned.

"Did you not tell those people to go away?" the captain shouted over the whistles and cheers from his crew. It was the same every time. It always took them rather long to get rid of such boats. He did not think they were provoking or disobeying him, but it simply seemed to be extremely difficult for them to send away a boat full of women.

"Yes, Captain, but they keep returning."

"Fire your gun. No women on board -- and certainly none like that." He turned away lest he should like the look of one of them, although he knew he would not. "What wretched creatures. I do not understand that a man consumed with lust would not instantly turn sober upon seeing them."

"We cannot all pay for fine ladies, Captain," said Jackson, but he was still not really taking aim.

The captain felt a great need to seize that gun. "I do not pay for fine ladies."

"I beg your pardon, Captain. But we are also not all so dashing as to have fine ladies accommodating us for free."

"Shoot!" the captain ordered. "You know I have a great dislike of people who disobey my orders."

He retired to his cabin. At least he had the prospect of a concert that evening. Harville had spluttered and protested at the expense, but after Frederick had paid for the tickets his protests had subsided. It felt good to have done his friend this favour. It certainly felt a lot better to do people favours than to dwell on how badly he had been treated.

He deserved some punishment for succumbing to such weak thoughts all the time and he contemplated administering it. Sadly enough it would only invite questions from the crew and then he would have to explain himself.

Miss Harville would be very happy. She loved music, but she barely had enough money to buy new music sheets, let alone tickets to a concert. She would be very excited. He wondered how long she would need to dress. Harville and he must take that into account. They must not pick her up too late. Ladies always liked advance notice of outings so they could make themselves pretty. Even his own sister needed fifteen minutes.

Thinking of Sophia, he thought he ought to write to her. There had been letters waiting for him that she had sent from places on the way to the East Indies and clearly she expected some news back. Well, he had enough to tell and she would understand it better than Edward.

Anne and Sophia had gone packing, but they had not yet thought about transportation, or so the others thought.

"Either your or I will be prevailed upon to lend out our carriage," Mr Croft said to Lady Russell with a sour face. "Since we are equally likely to lend it out, no matter what our own best interests might be, you had better tell me what you would prefer. If I keep my carriage I can go home, but you will have to walk everywhere. If you keep your carriage I must stay here, but you will not have to walk anywhere."

"In short, it is walking or having you. But why must I decide if you should go home or not?" She did not want to decide that at all. It might reveal something of an opinion on Mr Croft and she had none, as far as she knew. He rarely made such long speeches.

"I am at everyone's disposal, even yours," said Mr Croft. "An eldest son has no other occupation."

"That is your own fault. But stay here, if you think you will be of more use here than at home."

"I shall lend my carriage to Sophia then. I must say she was much more practical before she had those children. Or perhaps she has become so impertinent now as to take my cooperation for granted." He did not understand how they could have gone to pack without ensuring transportation. Surely if they came downstairs with their heavy trunks and baby bassinets they would realise they could not walk to Plymouth?

He was wrong about that, for Sophia had thought they would take Lady Russell's carriage in return for that lady's staying home, which she seemed to prefer. She was even so practical as to take her maid. With three infants it was best to have three pairs of hands.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Posted on Tuesday, 19 February 2008

The twins had gone to sleep the moment the carriage had set in motion, but of course Sophy had no such plans. She tried to crawl around and even tried to look into the twins' bassinet. "Sophy..." Anne admonished gently. "I wish she would be a good girl and go to sleep, because it is quite cold for her in here."

Sophia shrugged. "She will sleep when she has seen it all. I see that by the time mine are her age, travelling is out of the question, let alone living on board. I was quite stupid all these years. Some of us grow up a little later."

Anne was surprised. "I never thought you were not grown up. In fact, I thought you considered me not at all grown up."

"All of us have much to learn," Sophia replied and she stared out of the window for a while. She wrung her hands absent-mindedly.

Anne watched it. After a while it gave her the impression that Sophia was imagining she was holding hands with her husband. It had become obvious to her that they enjoyed each other's company and close presence, and as such a physical separation must be even harder to bear.

It made her think of her own situation. She had not had the time to become used to frequent touches and she did not really miss them. She admitted to imagining Frederick embracing her comfortingly, but that was not exactly the same. It would be a response, not a habit.

"I was not really used to touching anybody before I met Frederick," said Anne. "It was really quite odd in the beginning to want it."

"Hmm?" Sophia turned back and she looked a little disoriented.

"I was thinking that perhaps you have a habit of touching the captain." She spoke very respectfully so as not to give the impression that she condemned such a thing. She did not. "And that you now miss him as well as your habit."

"Yes. I am fortunate to have two replacements to sleep with. I really do not know what I should have done otherwise."

Anne took that to mean that she generally slept with the captain, even if there were enough rooms. She wondered about Frederick. It was too hasty of her and she did not dare to voice the question, but what would he prefer? He had liked spending time with her, so why not everywhere? But it would be quite odd. She did not know if she could grow used to sharing her room with a man, even if he was her husband. He would see everything and he might be in the way.

"Anna thinks they will be spoilt if they sleep in my room," said Sophia.

Anne, who was still thinking of husbands, was a little confused until she realised they were the twins. "Who is Anna? Oh, you mean Lady Russell?"

"When she introduced herself she said her name was Anna -- Russell, yes, but not Lady. I cannot call her your mother, because she is far too young for that. But she thinks my girls will be spoilt."

"She thinks the same of Sophy, but I thought she had been leaving you alone." Anne had thought that Lady Russell would only interfere in her granddaughter's upbringing, not in someone else's. She had not minded the comments about Sophy. They were only meant to be helpful.

"Yes, because I told her to. Nicely. She is rather sweet, however, and would have done well with a few of her own. It is a pity she had to be married to such a bore."

"How do you know he was a bore?" Anne had no clear recollections of Sir Henry Russell, but Sophia could have absolutely none at all. She could only have heard something from Lady Russell herself, but Lady Russell never spoke of him. "Because he was not in the Navy?"

This made Sophia laugh. "No! His portrait is in the dining room and she sits with her back towards it. Of course he was a bore! I suggested she take it down, but she asked if she could. I said yes, with a ladder."

Anne chuckled at Sophia's deliberate misinterpretation. "She might think it disrespectful to remove him. I had guessed she did not love him because of how she did not understand me. That, out of doors?" she mimicked Lady Russell's tone and expression.

"Anne!" Sophia cried and she looked a little scandalised. "I am quite of her opinion, I must say! Could you not have smuggled him into a bedroom? I am fond of the outdoors, truly, but I have my limits."

"I told you I did not know it would occur," Anne said a little worriedly. "And before you ask, neither did Frederick."

"You poor girl, to have been thus assaulted in the middle of an innocent walk," Sophia said with an insincere look of compassion. "No wonder you broke your engagement."

Anne had to laugh in spite of herself. "You are very evil. But why do I not cry anymore when you mention that?" It was odd that she could laugh, when a few months ago she would certainly have cried. Was it indifference or confidence that it would all come right?

Sophia held another opinion. "Because you are on your way to become a sensible girl, perhaps."

Wentworth and Harville presented themselves at Mrs Harville's tiny house an hour before the concert. This should give Miss Harville at least three quarters of an hour to groom herself and they had deemed that sufficient. Harville had no recollections of his sister being exceptionally vain, although he allowed for the possibility that she had become vain in the past year because she had that age.

Miss Harville was overjoyed and Frederick smiled as if it was his own sister he was doing a great pleasure. He had been a little worried what Mrs Harville might think of it, since she was not invited. Harville had taken her aside, however, and seemingly he had explained it all.

She now approached him with a warm smile. "You are too generous, Captain."

"Not at all," Frederick denied. Now that he was here a second time, he could well see that Harville had not fretted about the money without reason. Mrs Harville's hospitable manner had temporarily obscured her poverty. She survived, but she might well like to reserve her money for less frivolous causes and that was sensible of her. He had more money than Harville, so it did not matter to him. "Your husband is taking his sister and I am merely coming along."

"I was also thinking of your allowing him to stay here this evening. I must thank you for that."

He would not accept her gratitude for that either. "I am sure he would do the same for me if our situations were reversed." As he said that, he felt all too acutely that it was not likely to happen, but luckily Miss Harville was not here to accuse him of sadness. He was not sad; he was his own man and he did not have to worry about his family. For a fleeting moment he wondered if that was what Anne had meant, but he did not want to think of her now.

Miss Harville presented herself after half an hour, in her best gown and with her hair done to the best of Mrs Harville's abilities. She looked slightly nervous. "Will they not refuse me entrance? They might think me too young."

"As long as you do not stand on chairs and beg for sweets, nobody will know," Harville assured her.

"Do I look older than before you left?"

"Of course. It would be very odd if you looked younger."

"I wanted to look very old at your age," said Frederick, who understood her. "Because my sister was still taller."

"No!" Miss Harville said in amazement. He was rather tall now and she clearly could not imagine that his sister had ever been taller. "And now?"

"She shrunk. She is now a normal height."

The house was quite empty without the young mothers and their daughters, Lady Russell found when she was left only with Mr Croft. That she would be alone with him here for days had not struck her until that moment. Alone with a gentleman. "How long do you suppose Mrs Croft to be gone?" she asked him.

He was seated on the other side of the sofa that stood by the fire and consequently he could not miss her question. There was only one sofa there and he had had no choice but to share it with her. "I have no idea."

"But now I am alone with you here." She sounded a little dismayed. It was rather stupid of her not to have noticed. They were even sitting on the same sofa. She must consider having another one pulled up, although that would preclude the card table from being set up there. Would she play cards with Mr Croft? Anne did not enjoy it, but perhaps he did and he had no children that wanted him halfway through a game.

Mr Croft raised an eyebrow. "Was that not your design in sending all the young ladies away?"

Lady Russell was too comfortable under the plaid draped over her legs to jump up. She contemplated not giving him the obvious answer, but she did not want there to be any misunderstanding. "No, it was not."

"Thank goodness," he replied and returned his attention to his book.

"But what will Sir Walter think?"

"He does not strike me as a thinking person, madam," Mr Croft answered without looking up.

She thought about Sir Walter. Thinking about her entertaining a man in her home hardly required a strong understanding, nor a philosophical nature. It might well happen to Sir Walter. Perhaps he would not find out. He displayed little interest in what went on here and she hoped he would think the circumstances here unchanged.

As for other people, they were of course far worse than Sir Walter, for they would be neither as frank in acquainting her with their exact thoughts, nor as likely to accept her unbelievable excuses. Little would they know that she only sat on the sofa with Mr Croft, each in their own corner and each with their own book. It was all very boring and domestic.

It was rather pleasant that he had no taste for conversation, but she was tired and only here, late at night and on this sofa did she allow herself to lean back or stretch out, which could now not be done because of Mr Croft. Several minutes later she spoke. "Shall we retire?"

"Separately, please. Think of Sir Walter."

"Oh, you are tiresome. But I am retiring. Good night." She shivered when she laid her plaid aside.

He closed his book. "I suppose it does not matter whether I read here or in bed."

They had gone and it had been a great success. Miss Harville had enjoyed herself thoroughly and even Harville admitted to having liked the music. Frederick himself had considered it a pretty decent performance, although after a longer period ashore he might grow a little more fastidious again. In the meantime he had picked up a little Italian from Miss Harville, whose French was so excellent that Italian posed no problem for her. His own French was passable, good enough to communicate with men from captured ships, but of course they never covered the subjects dealt with in these songs.

Harville thought the same thing. "You are quite the scholar, Fanny," he praised. "Wentworth and I know only indecent French and Spanish."

"Oh, speak for yourself!" Frederick exclaimed when he felt himself to be misrepresented. "I can communicate very decently."

"Do you need French at sea?" Miss Harville was surprised.

"Well, we do," Frederick boasted.

"Because we actually capture French ships," Harville added. "I daresay others have no need for French at all."

"Because you are so very good, Thomas," Miss Harville said warmly. "I am very proud of you. Your sister must be very proud of you as well, Captain."

Frederick laughed when he thought of Sophia. She might be proud, but never as proud as Miss Harville. "I doubt it. She may have captured more ships than I have! She has a captain of her own."

Miss Harville frowned as she tried to make sense of that. "Do you mean she is a lieutenant?"

"More like an admiral, I think!" He could see she did not understand and he was amused. "She is married to a captain and she sails with him. They are now in the East Indies."

"But why is she an admiral?"

He hoped he could explain it and do both of them justice at the same time. "Because her husband listens to her."

"Oh. Does that mean you do not listen to Thomas?" she wondered after a few seconds. "You should, you know. He is quite sensible."

Frederick smiled. He knew Harville was sensible, but he would not yet commit himself to listening to him at all times. He was glad he was a captain.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Posted on Friday, 22 February 2008

Midshipman Johnson was very worried. He had seen his mother approach and this had two very serious consequences. One, he would be ridiculed excessively by the rest of the crew if she came on board to be her usual self. Two, the captain would have her shot if she wanted to come on board. He had heard what the captain had ordered with regard to that boat full of unrespectable women and while his mother was highly respectable, she was nevertheless female. That ridiculous hat his mother was wearing would only prompt the captain to order someone to take aim at it.

Johnson had finally dared to approach the captain. He had doubted for a while, but the fewer people knew about this, the better. The captain had furthermore proved himself to be strict but fair and he might have some sympathy for his plight. "Captain, know that I have nothing to do with this, but my mother is approaching the ship."

"All hands on deck; it is Johnson's mother!" said the captain, but far too loudly to Johnson's taste.

"I do not want everybody to know!" the boy said hastily. "Will you not shoot my mother?"

"What is your mother coming to do?"

"Heavens, I have no idea! But she is like that. She was laid up with a cold when we set sail, or you would have known her already." His mother had threatened to see him off and he was glad her illness had prevented her. She would have made such a fuss and he would still have appeared like a schoolboy. He did not have fond memories of being collected from school.

"Oh."

"But you ordered the men to shoot at those other women," Johnson said nervously. "And I would rather that you did not shoot my mother or make it look as if she was one of those, Captain, because she is still my mother."

"The hat?" The captain looked out over the Sound and his eyes gleamed.

"Yes." Johnson's courage sank. The hat was a perfect target. Already. There was danger when the captain's eyes gleamed.

"Get a boat ready, Johnson."

A boat was not a gun. His face lit up. "Yes, sir."

Miss Amelia Greene was a well-known customer at Hardy and Sons, Booksellers, and she was completely at ease when she stepped into the shop. It was Mr Hardy himself who asked her if he might be of service. "Why yes, please," she replied. "I have been so careless, you would not believe it, sir! I spilt my tea over a book of my uncle's and I have promised him to replace it as soon as I could. This little note here has the title and author. Would you have it in stock?"

Mr Hardy saw little glory in such a simple errand and he very politely passed the note on to one of his assistants. He preferred, of course, his work to be a little more difficult. Amelia did not mind, since she was planning to ask if they could send the wrapped parcel for her and Mr Hardy might know her uncle's name was Mr Greene.

The assistant found it for her speedily. "Is this it, miss? Is it for you?" He sounded surprised.

She wondered if he was going to consult one of the Mr Hardys to see if he was permitted to sell books on anatomy to young ladies, so she spoke quickly. "I am buying it for my uncle. He is a physician."

"Oh, that explains it. I should wrap it then?"

God forbid her looking into it, of course! Amelia gave him an angelic nod. "Please. I should like to have it sent to him, too. Is that possible?" She knew it was; she had used their services before.

"Of course, miss." He wrapped the book quickly lest she should get a look at the drawing on its cover.

Amelia thought this highly amusing. She was so familiar with its contents that the cover meant nothing to her anymore. Her father's habit of sending off his family to their uncle had had some advantages. "And you may send it to Mr Wentworth at the Parsonage in Monkford."

"But if he lives in a parsonage he is not a physician."

She had reckoned with that problem beforehand and her answer came smoothly. "He has friends. My uncle is currently staying with him. I am merely arranging this the way they want it. I spilt my tea over his book there, you see." The assistant looked as if he was familiar with clumsy females. Amelia smiled apologetically and then parted with far too much of her pocket money.

Frederick had come to understand Johnson perfectly. It was not a bad boy and that he recognised his mother's peculiarity worked very much in his favour. Frederick had been disposed to be very complimentary about him to his parents, who had of course come to make sure he was safe after the undoubtedly hazardous journey. Poor Johnson.

At least the boy was somewhat cheered up by his captain's praise and it also had the effect that Mr and Mrs Johnson were not visibly offended by having to turn back in their rowing boat. He could not help but think that young Johnson was very grateful that they had not only intercepted Mrs Johnson at a safe distance from the Asp, but that they had also gone ashore, a privilege rarely extended to him.

His own mother had been dead when he went to sea, but he had had a sister who had even married his captain to keep an eye on him, or so he had thought at the time. He therefore also understood Mrs Johnson perfectly. Suppose the sister of one of his men would try to marry him to keep an eye on her brother? The only sister he knew of was Miss Harville and she was too young. Whether she would go to such lengths in a few years he did not know. Whether he would succumb to a kind of Sophia himself was something he did not know either.

What he did know was that even a kind of Sophia would not come with him. "I am sorry," he had said pleasantly to the Johnsons. "But I do not accept women on board." Before Anne he had not been in a position to decide anything, since he had only just been made commander at the time. But now, when he was able, such rules suited him very well and he did not know whether he could ascribe it all to the unhappy affair. Not everything was because of her, he reminded himself. It was a pity that it took so much time and effort to maintain his principles, but at least after one drink with the Johnsons he perceived a captain he was acquainted with and he excused himself.

Lady Russell was enjoying her breakfast with Mr Croft -- her breakfast, not Mr Croft, as she told herself -- when Sir Walter was announced. "This early?" she inquired, but it was really true. She had never known him to be out and about at this hour. It usually took ages to get the man groomed.

"Caught in the act," Mr Croft remarked.

"Which act?" she spluttered, but that was all she could say. Sir Walter was shown in. If she was not mistaken, some locks of hair were out of place. Clearly he had been in a hurry this morning. She begged him to be seated and her servant provided him with a cup and a plate. More became clear when he attacked his food hungrily. He had foregone his breakfast to come here. This worried her.

Fortunately he had not come to check up on her troubles, but he had some of his own. He had hardly even taken notice of Mr Croft, certainly not enough to be curious, when he spoke. "Elizabeth needs the carriage, but Mary needs to be taken back to school. I thought you might be able to help."

"Am I to speak to Elizabeth?" She had lately been thinking a lot about spoiling girls and here was the prime example of what too much indulgence might do to a girl. It was preposterous that Elizabeth claimed the carriage at such a moment.

"No, I thought you might want to take Mary back to Bath."

"Take Mary to Bath," she repeated. "I will do no such thing, Sir Walter! You had best tell Elizabeth she must wait."

"She would not accept it," he said uneasily.

"Are you not her father? She must do as you say." She was appalled at both of them.

"But it would be easiest if you consented to lend out your carriage to take Mary to Bath."

This made her a little angry, especially because she knew she might give in for Mary's sake and then Elizabeth and he would have their way again. "Easiest! For you! And for Elizabeth! Not for me. No, I will not lend it out."

"You cannot lend it out in any case, my darling," said Mr Croft calmly. "You have lent it to Mrs Wentworth."

Lady Russell and Sir Walter battled for the honour of wearing the most shocked expression.

Two days after hearing that Frederick was back, Anne and Sophia were in Plymouth with the little girls. He had now been there a week and according to Sophia he could no longer be very busy, even if they had heard of the storm that had raged for four days.

The number of acquaintances that Sophia met in their first hour of being in Plymouth amazed Anne. She grew a little afraid that the news of a wife and child would reach Frederick before she had had a chance to speak to him. Fortunately everyone was more interested in Captain Croft's children, his injury, his repatriation and his miraculous recovery. Because Anne had nothing naval to share, they did not question her.

"Here I go then," she said when they had settled into their rooms and partaken of some refreshments. Sophia's acquaintances had hardly allowed them to go upstairs and it had taken a little while, but Anne had seen how happy Sophia was to be here and she had not pressed.

"I would go with you as far as the boats, but someone would need to carry Sophy after you leave," Sophia said regretfully. She could not carry two babies in her arms over such a distance and neither could their nursery maid. "Do not take Sophy to the ship. If he wants to see her, he should come here."

Anne agreed. Sophy had not liked the carriage very much. Now that she was mobile, she wanted to move all the time and such a small space offered too few opportunities to her taste. She would disturb conversations and require constant vigilance. On the other hand Sophia had said it was abundantly clear she had inherited some traits of Frederick's that he might recognise.

Anne took a deep breath. Now that the moment was near, she felt nervous. "I do not know what to expect. What if he will not see me?"

Sophia hugged her. "You have paper at your disposal -- and his sister, though I shall not step in until I really need to. He would prefer to hear it from you. Remember, you are not going to ask him to marry you or give you a child. You already have both."

It helped to be reminded of that. She was indeed not going to ask him anything. He was bound to her and he did not yet know it. That was all she was going to tell him. It made her feel much calmer. She would approach him calmly and strongly. "True. I am simply going to tell him something he may not want to hear, but I shall not be as certain of a negative reception as I was when I told my father I was expecting a child. If I lived through that, I can live through this."

She pulled on her outdoor clothes and went out. The streets were noisier than in Bath, especially as she came closer to the sea, but there was very little elegance. Some women, tastelessly dressed, were flirting with a group of men. If those men were sailors she was not sure she dared to approach them, but thankfully she perceived some in uniforms further on. Those had a more gentlemanly look about them.

Anne approached the small knot of sailors. She could not tell one uniform from the other, but these were officers. She hoped she would not be offending any captains by asking them if they were somebody's crew members. A captain's wife might be expected to know. "The Asp? Captain Wentworth?"

They pointed at another group and she repeated her question there.

"Yes, madam," said a few of them simultaneously.

The next question was easy, for they were all looking interested in obliging her. "I am his wife. Would you be so kind as to take me to the ship?"

"His wife," said one. "But he is not married."

She bit her lip and looked around herself. Sophia's directions had ended here. She had found some of Frederick's crew and they could take her with them when they went back, but Sophia had not reckoned with this sort of reaction. Some cleverness was required. The whole truth would not do, but perhaps part of the truth would. She lowered her voice confidentially and looked regretful. "I was afraid of that. We parted with an argument, you see. I am not surprised he denies all knowledge of me. He is a proud man."

They could not deny that. For a while they doubted, but eventually they decided that the problem was the captain's to solve. They were afraid of being punished if they refused to take his wife to him and her story was very credible. He might have decreed he wanted no women on board, but his wife would be a different matter and a very pretty and genteel young woman she was. Nobody would refuse to do her a service.

Anne was very pleased with herself and she thanked them very kindly. The trip in the rowing boat frightened her to no end, but she sat proudly in her best imitation of Elizabeth. The water was not still and if she was so unfortunate as to fall out of the boat, she would drown. But she must be as composed as the sailors in the boat, who did not at all seem to think it dangerous.

The ship was large. It was not as large as some others nearby, yet she was afraid of how it loomed up above her with its cannons undoubtedly pointed at her. She knew from reports of battles that there were ships with many more cannons than a sloop -- those must be even more frightening to approach. The side of the ship was slightly damaged, she saw when she was very near. The wood was splintered in places and it had been patched up roughly. She shuddered involuntarily when she thought of another ship aiming its cannons at this one. They could have hit Frederick! They could have sunk this ship too and then he would have drowned.

Getting onto the ship was even more frightening, but she must persevere, even if there was someone looking down who shouted that no women were allowed on board. He even had a gun and before he gave her permission, she would not dare. There was a brief discussion between him and the highest-ranked of her companions and then she was allowed up.

"I shall look the other way, madam," the officer beside her assured her.

"But then you will not see me fall," she said nervously. Obviously nobody ever fell, because he gave her a very strange look. It gave her some courage and she gathered her skirts together. Arriving on deck, pulled up by a helpful pair of hands, she was greeted by many more men, all of whom stared. The entire crew had assembled, by the looks of it.

"Good day," she said very politely. "I am Mrs Wentworth." No doubt the captain would think his wife deserved to be greeted by this many men, she thought, although he would want them to be respectful rather than curious. Where did she find the courage to find humour in the situation? She was amazing herself.

Some looked disbelieving, some incredulous, but then the spokesman from the rowing boat appeared beside her. He addressed a young man in a uniform. "I shall take her to the captain, Lieutenant."

"Rather you than me, Dawson," said the lieutenant and he stepped aside.

Anne wondered what the punishment was for bringing forbidden goods such as women on board. She asked Dawson, who seemed a cheerful young fellow and very keen on being of service.

He chuckled. "I do not know, madam. Nobody has ever really tried. Not long ago we even shot at a boatful."

"I shall make sure my husband does not punish you." She tried to remain dignified when she followed him down some narrow steps.

"Captain?"

"Dawson?" Captain Wentworth was not used to being disturbed by Dawson in his cabin. He had subordinates to take care of simple matters. "Do you need me in particular?"

"Yes, Captain. Your wife is here." Dawson spoke respectfully, but with a smirk.

"I have no wife. No women on board, Dawson. I thought I had made that clear. It applies to everybody's wives, including the ones I do not have." He had felt a sharp pang of regret at the word wife. He should have had one, but he did not. Dawson should not be taken in by schemers, but of course he was only nineteen or so. He would either think either it very amusing to take schemers on board or he would not recognise them as such.

"I know that, Captain, but she did not accept your decree."

"Did...not...accept?" Frederick was incredulous. "Send away the boat."

"It was one of our own boats, captain. She is on board."

"No women on board," he repeated. How could he make himself clearer than that? Such disobedience was unbelievable. How had a woman got on board in spite of his orders and how could Dawson dare to tell him about it? And not only that, but that the woman was posing as his wife?

"Too late, sir. She asks to see you. May I say Mrs Wentworth had a very convincing explanation as to why you deny all knowledge of her?"

He had to end this charade. "Send her in and I shall toss her overboard single-handedly." He would show his crew what he did to such women and if he persisted, Dawson would follow suit.

"As you wish, Captain," Dawson muttered.

Upon stepping in she was immediately face to face with Frederick. Anne could not look away. He looked very good in his uniform and his personal attractions were far from diminished. He would be extremely handsome if it were not for that scowl that had quickly replaced his look of surprise. She noticed it, but she was too caught up in studying him at first. The sight of him had always, except perhaps the very first time, been able to make her smile. It was still the same now, she found. She was happy to see him physically unchanged, healthy and handsome.

Her smile, which she hoped had been too faint to be see, faded. Yes, she was Anne Elliot and she was here. She acknowledged his surprise with a nod and a curtsey, but she could not waver, not even when she recalled all too painfully how he used to look at her. It was nothing like that now. All affection appeared to be gone and only anger was left. He had loved her once and she loved him still, in spite of the anger she had been expecting. It was painful, but she must go on for Sophy's sake. She would do anything for Sophy, even confront him.

He stood stiff and proud while she took a few steps as she looked around his cabin. She must not show any weakness, she told herself, and she tried to behave like Elizabeth again. He disliked Elizabeth, but her sister was always cool. She needed to be steady. The cabin looked comfortable, yet small if this was all he had for working, eating and living. There was no bed, so perhaps he had another space where he slept.

The wooden panelling hid drawers and compartments. She thought it intriguing. Frederick had still not spoken and he did not seem to have moved either. His obstinate silence began to amuse her in her nervousness and she opened a compartment. It contained books. She sighed, for due to where he was standing she would have to ask him to step aside if she wanted to explore some more, which she guessed he would not do, although he had not stopped her from opening the compartment either.

"I hope you are in good health. Your brother Mr Wentworth is," she began, her voice a little unsteady. "And so is your sister. She has returned to England because the captain was injured, but he recovered and he is now in the Mediterranean."

There was nothing but silence from Frederick, not even curiosity at her knowing so much about his relatives.

"You will be wondering why I came, I assume," she said. "Since they could have come to tell you that themselves."

He still said nothing.

She looked at him. "I have something important to tell you."

Anne thought she did not only detect anger in his eyes. There was something else, but this was evidently not the right moment for him to admit what it was, or to be so weak as to speak. A year and a half might not have been long enough for him either. He was far from indifferent, but it was not clear which emotion would prevail when his anger subsided.

But she would not tell him if he was not responding. Perhaps she was glad he was not; it was unnerving enough simply to be here without having to counter his irrational anger. Frederick in an angry mood was something she had not handled well, or not in such a way as to impress him. She had dissolved into tears then and he had been scathing. While the situation was not as desperate today, she did not care to see how she would react.

As cowardly as it was, it might be better to go away so he could let it sink in that she was here. This would give her the opportunity to work up some more courage for the difficult part of her message. She would give him time to recover and to be civil. "I realise you may be taken aback by my arrival, so perhaps we could speak at a later time."

Frederick was still glaring silently. He displayed no curiosity, though he also did not display a desire to be rid of her.

She walked towards the writing desk where he had been working. She wrote something on a sheet of paper, resisting the urge to pour out her heart, and folded it carefully.

"You should not have Mr Dawson flogged. He was simply obeying me." With a smile that was no honest reflection of her emotions she tucked the note into his coat. He allowed it; only his eyes had moved since her entrance. Then she left.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Posted on Monday, 25 February 2008

Frederick stood still for another few seconds after she was gone. He had felt unable to move and he was not instantly capable again. Anne Elliot! Anne Elliot, who had posed as Mrs Wentworth to gain access to him. He was absolutely shocked by her behaviour. She had got his men to take her here. Goodness knew how many other men she had accosted in Plymouth. The risks she had taken made him very angry indeed. What an ignorant fool she was! Did she think they were all nice? They might -- no, would -- have taken her for someone unrespectable and they might have treated her accordingly.

When he had spent his feelings of anger, not only at Anne but also at the men who had taken her on board in spite of his very strict orders, and possibly at whoever had dared to bother her in town, he could devote himself to wondering why she had come. And why she had come as Mrs Wentworth. He admitted that given his orders one could not manage to come on board as anyone else, but he did not think she had known about those orders. It must have been her plan all along to pass herself off as his wife.

She had, after rejecting him, posed as his wife. This was odd. While he wondered why, he could also not help regretting that she was not. Perhaps it was due to his long time at sea, but he had had difficulties suppressing his admiration. The sea air, even as briefly as she had likely been exposed to it, had done her good. He could recognise the beautifying effects of a salty breeze.

Anne Elliot was still superior to any woman he had ever met -- although he told himself immediately that he had not met many recently and that this qualification held no value. He disliked how she could still evoke the responses in him that she had evoked in Somersetshire. He had been vulnerable then, though not literally naked it had very much felt thus, and he had ceded control to her. He knew now why he disliked not having the upper hand -- it had done him no good.

She was that same girl who had managed to make him forget himself, but at the same time she was a completely different person. Had she changed so much in a year and a half? That modest and gentle girl would never have come here on her own. She would never have given him arch looks, appearing so very much in control of herself when he was not. It had almost not been Anne Elliot at all. And it had almost been an Anne Elliot he rather liked in spite of what he had been determining on these past months.

He had not swept her up and kissed her, but she had not thrown herself at his feet either. It had been easier to imagine such a scene beforehand. When he was faced with her he had been unable to move or speak, which had been all the more vexing because she had not been similarly afflicted. He remembered the note and drew it out. She had even been so calm as to write in a steady hand.

Mrs and Miss Wentworth are staying at The Anchor.

That was all. He thought she had taken longer, but this was it. Mrs Wentworth was staying at The Anchor. Splendid. Was he supposed to visit? He did not know why else he was informed. Why did she call Sophia Miss Wentworth? Was that to emphasise the connection between them that she was now feigning? And when had Anne come into contact with Sophia? She said Sophia was back, but that was no reason for them to meet, to become friends and to come here together.

Was Sophia behind it? She had to be. From what he rationally knew of Anne she could not have come up with this by herself. Anne had once more yielded to persuasion. Sophia had heard from Edward and then she had forced Anne to come here. His lips curled up in contempt. No wonder she had said so little; she did not want to be here and Sophia had not been there to whisper in her ear. Well, as far as he was concerned they could wait until hell froze over, together at The Anchor.

He wondered what Dawson and Harville knew of the matter, although he was too proud to ask them anything. They would be curious enough as it was. A woman on board and he had not tossed her overboard. If that was not as good as an admission that she was indeed his wife, he did not know what was.

It was better not to say anything at all. He did not know how to extricate himself from this mess. If he said she was not his wife, why had he received her and not thrown her over the side as he had promised? If he said she was indeed his wife, why had he at first said she was not? And what convincing reasons had she used? He was curious, although he was certain he would not be convinced.

Sophia had been so worried and curious that she had packed up the twins and Sophy in spite of not really having enough arms. It would be useless to go, she knew, but she could not bear to stay in her room. The weather was good enough to go out and in case Frederick returned with Anne -- which she hoped, but did not count on -- she would have Sophy ready for him to view.

While Molly her nursery maid carried Sophy, Sophia had both daughters in her arms and hoped nothing would make her stumble on the way. Her arms were quite sore by the time she arrived, but thankfully she could sit down on an overturned old boat on which two other young women were already seated. One of them also had a child with her and naturally some conversation soon ensued, for the youngest of the two women, a mere girl, had never seen triplets before and she was very interested.

Sophia was perfectly comfortable with her question and she smiled. "Twins. The third one is their little cousin. Do you see she is bigger?" They were all wrapped up against the wind, but of course Sophy had already partly unwrapped herself in her desire to look at everything that was going on and there was much to see.

"I have never seen twins either!" said the girl. "Though I have heard of those, at least. They look so much alike! How can you tell them apart?"

"I guess." She laughed when the girl believed her. "No. I can tell them apart by now."

It soon came to light that the two young women were waiting for the husband of the elder, who was also the brother of the younger. Whether he was truly coming they did not know, but they said he had a nice captain who might allow him this today, as he had been allowed yesterday. "My brother is first lieutenant of the Asp," his sister said proudly.

"Oh, then he has a very nice captain indeed!" Sophia exclaimed. She could say that of him, whatever he might have done ashore.

The girl was surprised and excited. "Are you acquainted with Captain Wentworth?"

"I have been acquainted with him all my life," she replied, amused at the reverent tone. "He is my little brother."

"Your little brother!" the girl was amazed. "Little? He is very tall. He said you used to be taller. And you are in the East Indies besides."

"Captain Wentworth's giant sister is in the East Indies! Well, I was, but I returned and I was never a giant. Captain Croft, my husband, was injured. Although now of course he is no longer injured and he is on his way to the Mediterranean and I am left all alone with my girls, so I have nothing better to do than to sit here on this boat to see who might be coming ashore." She had seen several men she knew by sight or name. It was a good vantage point.

"You must come to dinner," said Mrs Harville with a smile after introductions had been made. "The captain has been very kind to us, so we should love to have his sister to dine with us."

Sophia was glad she had travelled extensively, or she would not have understood that accent. "I should love to, but I am waiting for my sister and I do not know her plans. She went to the Asp." She could only treat it as the most ordinary and well-known thing in the world herself. Where Anne had been would come to light anyhow if Anne returned when she was still here, because she might bring Frederick.

"He spoke of only one sister," Miss Harville said with a frown.

"His wife." Sophia was certain he had not spoken of a wife. They seemed to know him a little and had probably invited him to dinner once as well. The mention of a wife ought to surprise them, but she did not know how she could explain that Frederick had not mentioned her to them. He had been very kind apparently, so they might think it odd that he had neglected to mention his wife when he had spoken of a sister. It was indeed odd, she agreed.

It surprised the lieutenant's wife, but not his sister. "I knew it! I knew there was something strange about him and wives. I thought he had none, because he looked sad, and he did not deny that he had none, but now that I think of it, he said nothing one way or the other. He will have been sad for another reason, the reason he did not want to speak of her."

There was very little that occurred to Sophia in response to that.

"But if she went to the Asp," the girl continued. "She will be back very soon, because Captain Wentworth does not allow women on board."

Although this was not entirely surprising to the captain's sister, she hoped he would make an exception for Anne. "Not even a wife? But if he does not, she will indeed be back very soon and I can ask her about her plans for the evening."

"Aha," her new acquaintance said knowingly. "If she has plans with her husband, you mean. But I am sure you are welcome to come to dinner without her as well. Is she not, Fiona?"

"Of course. We should be delighted to receive you."

"Very well then," Sophia smiled. "I shall come to dine with you and I may bring my sister."

"I thought you had nobody to live for," said Harville when no explanation was forthcoming. The captain had been out on deck for fifteen minutes without referring to his female visitor. There were many among the crew who did not require an explanation, as the situation was obvious, if quick, but Harville did. He remembered that comment.

"I think it is best for me not to say anything," Captain Wentworth replied. "And for you not to ask."

"You never receive women in your cabin. Everyone is wondering."

"Good for them."

"Dawson spoke to the lady -- to Mrs Wentworth," Harville said, eyeing the captain closely to see if he took the bait. There was a scowl, but some tensing of the jaw muscles. Poor Mrs Wentworth had probably not got much more.

"Good for him." It sounded indifferent.

"She said -- but why should I tell you if you do not want to speak of her?" He began to turn away. He had to, to hide his knowing smirk.

"Indeed. I do not want to speak of her."

Harville smiled to himself, but he was determined not to volunteer any information. His captain was proud enough not to ask anything for a while, but that same pride was working to his disadvantage, if Mrs Wentworth was to be believed. Dawson had said so. He had believed Dawson and Mrs Wentworth, for it was unclear to him why a strange young woman would suddenly appear and say she was the captain's wife. Young ladies did not lie about that, especially young ladies of good birth to whom furthermore nothing happened when they were left alone with an angry captain who had promised to toss them overboard.

Dawson, just returning from having seen Mrs Wentworth back ashore, approached him with an innocent question, but he lowered his voice as soon as they were out of earshot. "What did he say?"

"Nothing." Harville caught a glare from the captain. Dawson's caution was not working. Wentworth knew very well they were speaking about him, but surprisingly he did not interfere. Harville did not know whether to be curious or to be a friend. He settled for the former. "And what did Mrs Wentworth say?"

"Such a polite young lady, Mrs Wentworth. We talked very agreeably, but I realise she told me nothing. She smiles very sweetly whenever the captain was mentioned. Very sweetly. To think he talked of tossing her over the side! Such a sweet young lady!"

Harville kept his eye on the captain so he would not be surprised by an interruption. Even from a distance it was clear that Dawson was all admiration. "But he never tossed her."

"No. It must have been quite an argument to cause such an attitude. I should not like to have an argument with him. Has he not yet ordered to have me flogged, Mr Harville?" The order would have come instantly, but he was nevertheless worried.

"No."

Dawson looked relieved. "He does listen to Mrs Wentworth then. She promised to tell the captain not to punish me."

"But if you express your admiration of her too much, he might still take you to task." Somehow Wentworth struck him as a man who reserved the right to deny that he had a wife, but who would still not like it if someone else admired her. "If she is indeed his wife, that is."

It had not occurred to Dawson that she might not be. He had believed her unconditionally. "Of course she is. She did not say she was not."

"But he did," Harville pointed out. All of Wentworth's reactions of the day before had pointed to that. He had consistently spoken and behaved as if he did not have a wife -- as if he did not even understand what it was to have a wife. Harville did not understand where Mrs Wentworth could come from so suddenly. According to Dawson the couple had parted with an argument just before sailing, but the captain's acting skills would still have to be great in that case. It was very puzzling.

"I see," Sir Walter said coldly, looking from Lady Russell to Mr Croft when he recovered his composure. "I see." He turned on his heels and marched out of the room without mentioning the need for a carriage again.

Lady Russell stared at Mr Croft and repeated his words in her mind. "Why on earth did you call me darling?" she inquired, her colour rising along with her anger. He had no right to call her thus, certainly not in front of Sir Walter, who would now be thinking all manner of things.

"I was a bit hasty," he admitted. "Would you pass me the salt? I was growing vexed because I was sure you were going to give in and when I am vexed I say unpredictable things."

She wondered why she was so civil as to hand him the salt under the circumstances.

"Thank you."

"But there are other things you could have said!" He could have restricted him to saying she had lent out her carriage to Anne, which was not even true. He had lent out his own. That was why he was still here.

Mr Croft looked unaware of having done wrong. "I thought it was most effective. Did he not leave? He wanted to marry you, so another man calling you darling would surely put him off, I thought. I was right."

"But --" She struggled to get her thoughts into order. "I rent this house from him and why should he want to keep a woman as a tenant who has immoral dealings with a man to whom she is not married?"

"There is nothing immoral about calling you darling," said Mr Croft and he sounded very certain of himself.

"But you do not mean it!"

"So if I meant it, it would have been allowed?" he wondered. "And Sir Walter would have had precisely the same reaction. I do not see the difference." He nevertheless gave the footman a dismissive nod.

Lady Russell did not even notice it. "But if you had felt such a way as to warrant your calling me darling, you would have had some compassion for my feelings of mortification upon hearing me thus addressed!"

"Mortification? Not gratification? Madam, you are indubitably..." Mr Croft paused to consider it. "Indubitably too complicated for me to be able to call you darling upon so brief an acquaintance. Were I a simple man, I might take one long look at your figure and the sparkles in your hair in front of the fire, and be a lost man, but I am not quite so simple."

She stared. Her figure and the sparkles in her hair? Sparkles? The man was truly and utterly mad.

"I am furthermore determined to remain virtuous and untouched," he continued.

"Virtuous men do not call me darling," she remarked with dignity. "If there were such a thing as a virtuous man, that is. I do not believe there are. I know that when they come of age they are initiated in immorality and -- you know the rest."

Mr Croft looked interested. "I have heard the same. They are initiated by widows, because those have no virtue to lose."

"You are teasing me on purpose." Lady Russell examined her breakfast plate. There was still food on it. Perhaps she should eat it. Or she could throw it at Mr Croft's head, but that would not be very well-mannered and she was resolved to behave with dignity whatever that teasing man said.

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