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Chapter Thirty-Six

Posted on Thursday, 28 February 2008

Although the friendly young man named Dawson had tried to find out more, Anne had managed to converse with him without giving too much away. On no account would she tell him more than she had told Frederick and considering that she had not told Frederick anything, it followed that she could not tell Dawson anything either.

Anne had thought about Frederick's behaviour, naturally, but she did not know what else she could have done except to go away. He had been shocked and surprised to see her, that much was clear. That he had stood so absolutely still could only mean that he was utterly taken aback and powerless. She pitied him a little. She had had time to prepare herself for this meeting, but he had not. Under those circumstances she might have behaved in a similar fashion.

From Dawson's praise of his captain she deduced he was not usually stupid. It had done her good to hear him spoken of so well. Some of it had to be true, since it fitted much better with his character as she used to know him than his current behaviour did.

She hoped he would soon recover his senses and follow her, although he was certainly not lacking in pride and he might not. Reading about Miss Wentworth might make him curious, but his curiosity would have to be stronger than his pride for him to act upon it. Perhaps she should have been clearer about Sophy, but being clearer would have required instant explanations.

She suspected that all the men who were accompanying her ashore would like to escort her to her hotel as well, but that was not necessary. Sophia was waiting. She recognised the frightful hat that she had rescued from blowing away at the parsonage. What she had said had been true: Sophia had no other hat.

"There is my sister. Thank you most kindly," she said to Dawson and the rowers. "Perhaps I shall ask to be conveyed again tomorrow or so."

"It would be our pleasure, Mrs Wentworth. We shall be at your service."

Anne was glad that the sight of four ladies with four babies was not attractive enough to him to walk that small distance with her. She had not realised that he might then see Sophy was hers and tell Frederick. She approached Sophia and the young women by whom she was seated. They were probably some of Sophia's many acquaintances in Plymouth.

"Where is he?" Sophia asked before she was even there.

"He did not come," Anne said superfluously. Although they looked friendly and they had obviously been talking to Sophia, she did not know who these women were and what they were allowed to hear. Sophy had seen her and she was straining against Molly's arms, so Anne picked her up first. She hoped the men were no longer looking, but she could not ignore Sophy. "I am back, Sophy! Did you miss me?"

"This is Frederick's first lieutenant's wife and sister, Mrs Harville and Miss Harville," Sophia said to her. "And his daughter Lucy, of course. She is Sophy's age. They have invited us to dinner. Are you free this evening?"

She was a little taken aback by this communication, so she settled for greeting the women and giving Sophy another cuddle. Harville. She wondered if she had seen him. It might have been the young man who had said he would rather have Dawson take her to the captain. He had looked friendly enough apart from that.

Anne thought to herself that she was no longer surprised at the number of acquaintances Sophia had if she collected them with such ease. She presumed, at least, that they had met here sitting on this boat. Her sister-in-law had no qualms about even befriending people of lower birth if she could not have any others, which increased the number of potential friends. But if this was Frederick's lieutenant's wife, she might have a duty as the captain's wife to become acquainted with her and even if there was no duty, she admitted to being rather curious about his naval acquaintance. The only question was what they knew, but she supposed she could trust Sophia not to have told them too much.

"I am free, I think," she said hesitantly. If she went away to dine, she could leave the address at the hotel and then he could find her if he wanted.

Frederick found himself disturbed in his cabin a second time, not counting the usual interruptions by his steward and his boy. He was acutely aware of having told Harville that he had no wife. That Harville came to see him now could only be connected to that. The man could hardly ignore such a lie.

Harville sat down and studied him. This was a little unnerving and Frederick paced around the table. He was sure his lieutenant was waiting for revelations and he could send him away, he supposed, but having some company was also attractive, as long as they did not speak of wives. He would think of her too much otherwise.

"May I stay with my wife his evening?" Harville asked, but he quickly found this was not the most felicitous way of starting a conversation, for his request was instantly denied. He knew he had been lucky enough the evening before, so he was not too disappointed. The captain's brusque manner was too intriguing. Wives, it seemed, were a forbidden subject, when he ought to be happy he had finally seen his wife. Harville could not imagine anything less than his own happiness. Any argument dating from a year and a half ago ought to be long forgotten, certainly after seeing each other again.

"Drink?" Frederick inquired all of a sudden.

"A small one."

He located a bottle in one of the cupboards. Another captain had brought it a few days before to toast to him and there was still something in the bottle. He wished they could speak of similar subjects now, of chases and clever manoeuvres.

Harville spoke on while his drink was being poured. He was even more intrigued now. Neither of them was in the habit of drinking very often. "Your sweetheart was not here for very long. Did she charge you by the minute?"

"Yes, a shilling." Frederick knew he should be insulted, but since he sensed that Harville was not so much talking about Anne as he was probing, he could reply in the same vein. Besides, reacting offended would invite questions.

Harville whistled. "No wonder you got rid of her quickly. That adds up."

"Why do you call her my sweetheart?"

"I know you have no wife. Do not think I did not sense your cynical mockery of my wedding night."

Frederick had hoped it had gone unnoticed, but he was fair enough not to deny it now. "My apologies." He wondered why married men could not mock cynically. He was sure he would not change after marriage and that he would still be able to mock things that deserved to be mocked. Wedding nights in themselves were pretty useful, he supposed, but elation about them deserved a comment.

"My pity."

"Why?"

"Because you have obviously never had a wedding night. Any other arrangement --" Here Harville screwed up his face in disapproval. "-- does not compare."

"Why not?" Perhaps he should not have asked -- Mrs Harville would be called an angel again.

"Well, you cannot tell me that the company of a woman who charges you by the minute is equal to that of a woman who loves you and who gives you her devotion for free." Harville took care to keep his voice and face free of anything that could inspire ridicule.

Frederick knew Harville was provoking him deliberately, which would have been a dangerous thing to do if he had not first been invited for a drink. He did not really know what to respond. "What if I say she did not charge me by the minute?"

"Well, the visit was too short for love and devotion." Harville gave him a smug grin. He raised his glass. "To Mrs Wentworth."

Frederick did not raise his glass in response, but he showed a good glare. "What are you after? I offered you a drink so we could talk about our usual subjects and instead you only wish to gossip like an old biddy."

"Who was Mrs Wentworth? She was obviously known to you." He had not been able to conclude otherwise. There had been a prior acquaintance to account for the lady's confidence and the captain's mild -- yes, this was mild, he almost snorted -- reaction to a woman on board.

All the qualities for which he liked Harville were now working against him, he observed in frustration. He could not answer Harville's questions, because some of them were his own as well. "Questions will remain, whatever I say. I had best not say anything."

"But she was known to you before today."

Frederick contemplated it, but did not think it could hurt to answer truthfully. There was more respectability in receiving an acquaintance than a complete stranger. "She was. But whether she is my wife or not, I will not say."

Harville was becoming a little frustrated with his reticence. His tone was icily polite, though not yet disrespectful. He might be a friend, but he was still a subordinate. "Would you like to share what she came to do?"

"Oh, you have made up your mind about that already, have you not? Why ask?"

"A five-minute visit is rather short for that."

"If you say so." He did not know how long she had been here. It could have been anything between a minute and an hour. He had not been able to pay attention to time.

"You know, Wentworth, if you were in this mood while she was here, I do not wonder she left after five minutes. You are dreadful company," Harville exclaimed.

"I know. I am surprised you are staying." But there was something comforting about friends who stayed even when they were bearing the brunt of his foul mood. "Want an apple?"

"Please."

Frederick rolled an apple across the table and they munched away for a while. It prevented them from speaking much and he was glad for that. Harville could of course speak between bites, but he seemed to accept the tacit order to wait. Perhaps after the apple they could speak of something else entirely.

Anne and Sophia had gone to the hotel to dress and to give the babies some time to sleep. "What did he say?" Sophia inquired as soon as they had left Mrs and Miss Harville.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He merely stared at me in shock. I thought it was best to go away and to postpone the revelation until later."

"He had lost his tongue?"

"Not a word," Anne confirmed. "But I heard from one of his crew that he is very serious about not allowing women on board, yet he took no pains to remove me. I left of my own accord. I did leave him a note in which I wrote that Mrs and Miss Wentworth are staying at The Anchor. I tucked it into his coat." She hoped Sophia approved, but any frowns seemed to be directed only at Frederick.

"And all this while he was mute?" Sophia could not imagine it. Her brother, unable to speak!

"A mute statue. Only his eyes moved." Now that she was removed from the scene Anne could look back on it with humour. She was surprised at herself. To have feared this for so long only to find he was more affected by a meeting than she was! "I am not that scary, am I?"

"Dare we hope he reacted with a little more presence of mind when he was under attack from enemy vessels? Perhaps I was right and he has not grown up in the least while he was away." Sophia gave a dissatisfied shake of the head.

"He is respected by his men. He must not generally be a mute statue. Do you think he will come to see who Miss Wentworth is?" She hoped she had done right and that he would not suddenly disappear overnight, to the Mediterranean or to the East Indies.

"What do you think? I do not recognise him from your description. What happened to the Frederick who was never afraid of anything?"

Anne thought that what was affecting him was too strong to be undone in a moment. She was the cause, she suspected, and she sighed because there was so little she could do. "I do not think my brief note will transform him. He will likely wait until I come again, but I shall leave a note at the hotel just in case."

Mr Peters had come by and spoken very seriously of evil and vice, of female modesty and transgressions. Lady Russell had felt quite overwhelmed and accused, and all without any reason. She had done nothing and she had attempted to tell him so, but his lecture had gone on and on. She wondered if the situation with Anne's elopement had caused such distrust, because she had always been regarded very highly in the community. At long last she had rung for Mr Croft, who was of course absent the only time that she needed him.

But he had been found and he was not unwilling to come to her aid after Mr Peters had enlightened him. He had looked astonished and not a little annoyed. "Do not look to me in suspicion. I am merely here to protect the poor lady from the unwanted attentions of other men."

This surprised Mr Peters as much as it did Lady Russell, but she saw no need to interfere yet. He was there to protect her from other men. How did he come up with such nonsense? It intrigued her nonetheless.

"Other men?" Mr Peters inquired in confusion. Such an attitude was not what he had been expecting. Usually people cast down their eyes, mortified at being reprimanded. Some tried to defend themselves, but none were as indignant as Mr Croft.

"Oh yes," Mr Croft said with a very serious nod. "I have not been here long, but I have already heard of one man proposing to her and now you are here suspecting her of seducing male guests. What is it about this woman that leads men of a certain age to think she is a temptress? The hair? The figure? I am quite insulted on her behalf. I can vouch for her not having laid a finger on me."

"It is undesirable for a man and a woman who are not married to --"

"Undesirable? Simply because you would have improper thoughts about unmarried females under your roof it does not do to accuse other people of such weakness!" Mr Croft retorted. "Please examine your own morals, sir, before passing judgement on ours."

Lady Russell was certain that nobody had ever accused Mr Peters of have improper thoughts about anybody at all. She was a little shocked that Mr Croft did it so easily, but even more shocked at agreeing with him wholeheartedly.

Anne and Sophia had taken the carriage to Mrs Harville's house because it would be cold and dark upon their return. It also allowed them to bring the babies without any difficulties, because the babies could not stay at the hotel. Mrs Harville had not expected anything else and she welcomed them very warmly, as befitted the relatives of her husband's friend.

Anne had some trouble understand what she was saying, so she very naturally gravitated towards Miss Harville, but Sophia understood her perfectly and they were soon speaking of the town where Mrs Harville had grown up, where Sophia had spent a few weeks some years ago. Sophy and Lucy sat on the floor and studied each other, while the twins lay on the floor being happy about nothing in particular.

Miss Harville was a nice girl. Anne learnt that she was fond of music and that Captain Wentworth had taken her and her brother to a concert. Anne was proud of him for having been so kind, especially when Miss Harville discreetly revealed that they were very poor.

In such circumstances she might have been living! Anne felt it keenly and yet she could not detect any signs of unhappiness in either Miss or Mrs Harville. They looked well-fed and healthy, but it was clear they had gone without some things that a richer person would consider the basic necessities of life, such as new clothing and entertainment. She did not know if she should be happy to have avoided it. Her disposition could have made such a life bearable, although she would not have had a sister to keep her company. Mary would never have agreed.

Sophia and she enjoyed their evening out, but Frederick never appeared. There was not even a note from him and both ladies went to bed with mixed feelings.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Posted on Sunday, 2 March 2008

Lady Russell had thanked Mr Croft for coming to her aid, but he had looked a little withdrawn and only muttered that anyone would have done it. She had not seen much of him after that, although they had companionably read their books on the sofa by the fire until bedtime.

The next morning they met again for breakfast, not so much by appointment as by virtue of their apparently very similar fixed routines. This morning he was more talkative. "One of my brothers is a clergyman, but he would never dare to approach respectable women with such censure."

"Is that because they are women or because he never feels censorious?"

"How do you know my brothers?" he asked suspiciously.

"Mrs Croft frequently complains about them." And from these complaints she had formed the opinion that they were not fond of women. Even Mr Croft himself went into hiding when there were too many women in the house. He had got better, but that was only because there was only one woman left and there was no other company for him.

"Has she ever complained about me?"

She seemed to have the upper hand this morning and she enjoyed it. "She does not single any of you out for specific complaints. That means that perhaps they ought not to be taken very seriously."

"I thank you for your trust. I was not sure you trusted me yesterday, although I was being quite chivalrous and it was all sincere." He gave her a very sincere look to underline his words.

"Thank you. But what will Sir Walter now think?"

"He is not a thinking man, I said. Besides, why should this Mr Peters tell him about his unsuccessful mission?" In his opinion Mr Peters could have nothing to relate, if he had been sent by Sir Walter at all. It was probable that he had used his own eyes and ears, living in the same parish.

"He might lie. No, he is Mr Peters." Lady Russell was a little more reassured by this thought. "Then we are safe?"

"Woman, you speak as if we are up to all manner of wicked things!" Mr Croft exclaimed. "Lady Russell, I mean. Lord! If we are supposedly up to wickedness, should I not address you by your name, instead of Lady Russell, woman or darling? Or would you prefer one of those?"

Lady Russell reviewed how they were seated at the breakfast table, with an appropriate distance between them, though still making it possible to hand each other something -- she did not know what had happened to her servants, but they were no longer in attendance at breakfast -- and to hold a conversation without raising her voice. It did not look very wicked. "But where are my servants?"

He gave her a strange look. "Would you ask your servants if I may use your name?"

"No, I have just noticed the footman is gone."

Anne had been keeping her eye on where she put her feet, which was difficult enough with her skirts. She had not been able to look up to see who was waiting to hoist her onto the ship, but now that she could it was Frederick. He was doing it himself! Anne hoped he would not expect her to speak. She had prepared her story, but she had never counted on him being out on deck. They could never speak here.

There she was again. Quite persistent and tenacious, coming back when he failed to seek her out. This time he was less surprised and he could devote some more attention to her appearance. Physically she looked the same as a year and a half ago, but her expression was different. She made a completely different impression. He had never known Anne to be so tenacious, but it was intriguing. Of course he could not help but feel pained when he looked upon her, but his respect for her was growing.

He held her rather tightly, not being used to bringing women on board in this manner, and then set her on her feet. With all his men around he was forced to greet her, but he restricted himself to a bow. Then he took her arm and led her down to his cabin, away from prying eyes. He descended first and held out his hand.

Anne wished she was unsteady on her feet, so he would be forced to catch her, but unfortunately she was in no danger of falling. He did not let go of her arm until he ushered her into his cabin. He did not step in immediately, but she heard low voices outside it, although she had not seen anyone.

He came in after he had ordered some tea. Evidently she anticipated a longer visit today, because she had not disclosed that important matter the day before. He had not been able to imagine what it could be and he had not shared anything with Harville, who had consequently not been able to give him any ideas.

"You did not come to see me," she said, laying her bonnet on the table when he did not give any indication of wanting to speak first. "I hope you are willing to converse civilly with me."

He was at first surprised by the cap of a married woman, but then with a scowl he supposed she was simply taking the deceit very far. But if she expected him to be incapable of conversing civilly, he would prove her wrong. She had no hold over him. What was she thinking? "I hope my sister is in good health."

"She is."

"I am glad to hear it. Why has she not come?"

"She is busy." She could tell him about the twins, but she really wanted to leave that to Sophia herself. She was silent as she wondered why he asked about Sophia and not Edward, but at long last she decided he had no real idea of what he was saying. Conversing civilly was rarely the same as conversing sensibly.

"How did you come here?" He glared at her.

Anne was not very impressed by such a silly question. How else could she have got here but by boat? But perhaps he meant to ask how she had found a boat. "How? Oh, I approached some officers by the waterside."

"Officers?" Frederick reacted as if it was a great sin to approach some, quite as great as actually coming here.

"Fellows in uniforms like yours," she clarified. She had assumed they were officers, at least, because of their gentlemanly appearance. "They were all very friendly and willing to be of help."

"They are always friendly to women! But it is not for the reasons you think."

Was he perhaps worried for her safety? She hoped so, but he must be the only fellow in such a uniform who was not friendly to her. Her husband, of whom she ought to expect the most friendliness, gave her the least. It was ironic. "They were friendly to me because I was friendly to them and I asked them a polite question." Whatever he said and whatever his expression, she must remain polite to him as well to see if that had the same effect.

"That is dangerous."

Anne was sure that swimming would have been even more dangerous, especially considering that she could not really swim. "I could not get here any other way."

Edward studied the package from Hardy and Sons curiously. He had not ordered any books lately and he could not remember still waiting for one. The book he unwrapped made him blink, but he did not have to guess who had sent it. He was concerned if it was proper to receive and read it. He contemplated asking Mrs Dickinson, but her answer would be predictable. She would say that if he wanted to read it, he should, and that no gifts ought to be rejected. She might even say it was time he educated himself.

Mrs Dickinson was too sensible and practical, and her manners and knowledge of propriety were of course not as excellent as those of Lady Russell, who would know what a gentleman should do with such a gift from a lady. Perhaps it was more proper not to read it, to send a note of thanks, or to recompense Miss Greene. This was an expensive book. It was thick and it had images.

He wrapped it back up and rode to Kellynch before it would burn so much under his hands that he would open it.

"I told you I had to tell you something important," Anne continued after some silence during which a pot of tea had been brought in by a boy. The boy had poured the tea and then left. The tea would be an escape during awkward moments, but she did not think they ought to escape those. Something had to be discussed and she had best start while Frederick believed himself to be conversing civilly. "You have a daughter."

Frederick stared. "I do not."

She spoke kindly. "You did not know, but I am telling you now."

"That is impossible." He did not believe her words, even if her gentleness was persuasive and he had never known her to be dishonest. He could not have a daughter. It was simply impossible.

"I know you think so, but it is true. You did something that led to a child." Her manner was still gentle, yet pressing. She had sat down, but he was not enough at ease to follow suit.

"You should not believe everything people tell you," he said. He supposed someone was spreading lies for some reason, although he could not begin to fathom why, nor why that person had approached Anne. It begged too many questions. And she had no right to come here and ask him about it. She had not wanted him. Why could she have an interest in his affairs? She had not even come to beg for forgiveness. No, she was only probing.

"Sometimes you should. You really have a daughter."

"I do not." It frustrated him that he had to say so once more. "Why do you keep insisting I have a child when I do not? Was this a joke from one of my men?" He wondered if Harville had such a poor sense of humour. Perhaps it was another man who had heard of Harville's surprise and who thought this was an excellent joke to pull on him as well. He did not think it the least bit amusing and he would see to it that a proper punishment was administered to the culprit.

"You have a child," she repeated. "But let us approach it from another angle."

"I have no need to approach it at all," Frederick cried. "Because I have no child. The person who told you so is lying."

She sighed when she met with so much inflexibility, yet she could not really fault him for it. He believed he was speaking the truth. "And why can you not have a child?"

Why! Well, that was obvious, he thought, yet he was not so aggravated as to forget that such matters should not be mentioned to a lady, certainly not one who had no business interfering in his life after she had rejected him. "I do not think I should explain that to you."

"It requires having done certain things, I know. Are you saying you never did them? You are so absolutely certain." She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but he would not like hearing that. He would not even believe it. She had to be more subtle and to make him realise it himself.

"It is better to be certain than to blow with all winds," Frederick snapped.

She winced at his harsh tone, but she had long settled that matter for herself. "You did something with me as well. Was I allowed to blow with that wind at least? You did something with me."

He coloured instantly and turned away. He did not want to be reminded of happy times when the source of his unhappiness was in front of him.

"I see you know what that was," she observed. "But I did not. At the time."

That made him turn back. He frowned. "How can you not have known?"

"Who should have told me about those matters? My father? Elizabeth? Lady Russell? They neglected to inform me because I never showed any inclination towards impropriety," she said simply. She understood them. There had been no need. In their stead she would not have seen any need either to delve into such embarrassing matters. She would not even delve into them right now if Sophy's future did not render it absolutely necessary. "Did you think I knew?"

He frowned irritably. "Yes. Yes, of course. You knew."

There would be no talking to a man who was not willing to depart from the truths as they were fixed in his mind, even faced with a correction. Anne hoped he would improve. She knew his mind; he was not stupid. She was resolved to try a little harder still. "I did not know. I did not discover until you were gone what you had done."

"What I had done," he repeated. "Only I? How? This could only have happened if you told somebody, but you did not think it important or worthwhile enough even to let it play a role when you jilted me." The bitterness and pain in his voice were unmistakable. He had felt himself ill-used, lured in and cast off. She had allowed him liberties that had made him feel very special, but they had meant nothing to her. It had not made him feel proud of himself, but he had tried to forget about his weakness at sea. Now she said she had not known what it was and he had not explained it to her. He could tell her she had not asked, but why, if she trusted him, would she have done such a thing? He pushed that thought away.

Her heart broke for him and she stood up. "Oh Frederick."

He turned away instead of into her arms. "Do not pretend to be sorry now. It is too late."

"It is not."

"You led me into such a situation and you did not care."

Anne was a little mystified by his self-pity. "Do you think I did you wrong by leading you into it? Are you not aware that it is considered to ruin a woman if she participates in it outside of marriage?"

"Accuse me now when you made no objections at the time! We were going to be married. Until you --" He could not say it another time. "You have used me ill."

She would not repeat another time that she had not known. He had heard that perfectly well the first time. "But the consequences for me were far greater!"

"Oh," he said with bitter sarcasm. "Did your father find out and did he turn you out of the house, so that you were even worse off than you would have been with someone as low as a captain?"

"I had to tell my father."

"Of course, because you are an obedient girl who will do exactly what her father wants," he spat out.

Anne straightened her back. "If that is so, sir, where is he now?"

Frederick had no answer to that and he remained silent. He was aware of perhaps losing himself in anger and bitterness too much, but he had been waiting for months for a moment to pour out his heart and he could not stop himself.

"My father is at Kellynch Hall, which is no longer my home. He did indeed turn me away," she said quietly.

He told himself he did not care, although he was surprised. He had not for a moment thought he was coming close to the truth.

Since he appeared to be fleeing into silence again, Anne spoke on. She was reassured by his not saying it was her own fault, which he could have done if his intention was to be spiteful. "Did you intend to get carried away before we started? Did you know what you were doing? Was there any premeditation?"

"Why should I tell you?" He did not know who this bold creature was, asking him such impertinent questions.

"But if you knew what you were doing, there were consequences that should have occurred to you, because you knew what it was, you say."

"Which consequences?" Frederick retorted. "There were none. We were going to be married very soon."

She supposed he spoke of her reputation, but it could suffer in many ways. "But children are a consequence!"

"Not of this action," he said confidently, but then he grew more uncertain. "Why, after giving me up, do you come here to probe whether I might have done more with someone else? You did not want me. Why can you not stand someone else having me?" Anne had no right to ask if he had been with other women. She had not wanted him. It should not matter to her what he had done, unless she would derive some sense of victory from his answer.

She had no right, he repeated to himself and he knew he needed to end this torture. "But my answer is that I cannot have a child. There. Are you satisfied? Now leave."

Anne stared. "You cannot have a child," she said slowly, "because in order to have made one, you would have needed to do more than what you did to me. Am I understanding you correctly?"

He did not want to get into what he had and had not done. It was none of her business. "I have no child. Leave."

She was decided. "You are misinformed."

"Someone who is uninformed tells me I am misinformed. That makes perfect sense."

Anne felt surprisingly happy. "I now understand why you think you cannot have a child. You are completely misinformed. I always knew you did not know as much as you would have liked."

"Oh, gloat away," he said when he saw her expression. He did not understand her.

"Do tell me why what we did could not have resulted in a child." She trembled in anticipation.

"Gravity would have prevented it. You were on top." He disliked being so explicit, but she was asking for it. He had expected her to be shocked, but she was not. Instead of fainting she looked at him as if he was an idiot. It made him uneasy. He was not an idiot.

"Oh, gravity. Gravity," said Anne when she had recovered her composure. Where did gravity come into things? She supposed it was unclear to her because gravity played no role whatsoever. But she still did not know for certain that he had not had any intentions. "Is that why you chose this position? Did you know it to be a safe way to satisfy your desires?" She did not yet know what that meant precisely, but everybody had mentioned it.

Frederick paced the cabin. He supposed he was an honourable man at heart and being suspected of having deceived her did not sit well with him. She might have deceived him, but he would not be accused of the same. He was better. He was the injured party.

It took him a walk around the table to come to a decision. "I suppose you have a right to know that, at least. No, by the time my desires manifested themselves, we had long been in that position and I was prevented from speaking because you were kissing me and you seemed altogether too comfortable to be interrupted. I simply let nature take its course -- as I assumed you were doing as well." It had cost him surprisingly little effort to say that. He was glad, in fact, at having got that out. It had been weighing upon him all these months.

Anne gave him a brilliant smile. "Thank you. I was the only one who trusted you."

"The only one! Precisely how many people have you shared such intimate details with?" he demanded, focusing on the most comprehensible of her words. "And why do you no longer trust me now? Why do you think I have a child by some other woman?"

She took a deep breath, but her smile did not really disappear. He might be ready for being told what he had not yet put together. "I do not; you have a child by me."

He was very confused now. "By you? How? Gravity. I did not do enough. You did not cry. I was hardly active. It is impossible."

"No." She shook her head. "Active enough. It takes very little. And gravity plays no role." It could not even prevent twins, if she had understood Sophia correctly.

"Yes, but --" Frederick coloured. Something had happened, but had that really been enough? He forced himself to stop wondering. He could ask about that later. First he had to find out why she was making this claim. "So you had a child."

"I did."

"And it came out of your body? Just like that?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he tried to imagine it. He would have sworn her body had not changed. She looked unchanged.

"Not just like that," she corrected. "With a great deal of pain."

"I need to see this child with my own eyes before I can believe its existence. Where is it?" He could not yet completely believe her. It challenged all his previously held beliefs, as did Anne's being here.

"I am very willing to show her to you. She is with your sister at The Anchor. Shall we go there immediately?"

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Posted on Wednesday, 5 March 2008

Edward found that Lady Russell was not at home when he called, but he was invited to wait. He was shown into a room where Mr Croft turned out to be reading. To his surprise that gentleman received him warily, despite having stayed with him when he had come to take Sophia home and never having been the least bit unfriendly to him then.

"Have you come for Lady Russell?" Mr Croft inquired.

"Yes, sir."

"What is your business with her?"

"I should like to keep that private," Edward responded. He thought Mr Croft was being very impertinent. The man was nothing more than a guest in this house. He had no business asking him in such a tone what he had come for.

"You are a clergyman."

"I am." He wondered why this seemed a cause for concern -- not only concern but hostility. He sensed it was not his rank but the nature of his profession that accounted for this reception now. At Kellynch Hall it was the reverse, but everywhere else he was treated respectfully.

"Have you come to lecture on the lady's morals?"

"No, I hope she will lecture me on mine." This took away some of Mr Croft's hostility and Edward was interested enough to make inquiries. He was, as far as Mr Croft could know, not in the habit of lecturing and he wondered what had prompted the suspicion. Lady Russell was not in need of such guidance either. "Has there been a clergyman who lectured Lady Russell on her morals?"

"Mr Peters, the local --" Mr Croft swallowed a bad appellation. "But you have also not come to propose marriage to Lady Russell?"

Edward was astonished. "I almost consider her to be my mother." She was forty or thereabouts, too old in any case.

Mr Croft was now very friendly. "What of your morals? I am a very moral man myself. Perhaps I can be of help?"

Edward was only very glad of someone to listen to him and he readily unwrapped the book. It might even be preferable to have Mr Croft look at it. He was a man. "This I received from an anonymous person, although I think I know her -- his or her, naturally -- identity. I do not know what to do with it."

Mr Croft thought that people sending books could have only one motive. "The anonymous sender would perhaps like you to read it. What else could have been her -- his or her, naturally -- intention in sending it to you?"

"It is not a book that can be read as such. It is a reference work."

He did not see what difference that made. "Then she -- he or she -- wished to refer you to a certain part of it."

"An expensive way of doing so!" Edward cried. She had bought that book for only a few pages. Either Miss Greene was a very rich young woman or those few pages were of the utmost importance.

Mr Croft came to the table where the book was laid open for examination. He looked at the cover and leafed through it. "Indeed. It must have cost a tidy sum. Which parts of this -- or rather, of the human body -- were you interested in?"

Edward doubted, but he revealed it after a few moments. He would not get an answer if he remained vague. "The ones we know least about."

"Internal organs."

"Of the female." Edward's voice was a whisper. He might now be lectured by Mr Croft, instead of the reverse. It was nevertheless much better to speak to Mr Croft than to Lady Russell.

"But those are just like ours!" Mr Croft exclaimed. "It is their external organs that --"

"Their internal organs cannot be like ours. They can bear children."

"Right. I was thinking more of their having hearts and lungs and stomachs." He consulted the table of contents. "Page 106 might have what you are looking for. But are you certain that your anonymous friend wishes you to learn about her -- his or her -- body? That is rather disreputable."

"Oh, stop mocking me. You know she is a girl and she knows I do not want to know about her. I want to understand the process of having children in general."

Mr Croft was astonished. "Good lord, why?"

Frederick led her out of his cabin. "Prepare a boat," he ordered a loitering figure, but he did not look well enough to see who it was. Anne's hand was on his arm; he had placed it there himself, but it was rather distracting. Her hand was there and she left it there. It was all for appearances' sake, naturally, although a part of him wanted to keep such an unpredictable creature within his reach to reduce shocks.

A boat was readied very quickly and he prepared himself to go down the ladder. Anne descended with more courage than he would have expected, but of course she had almost become a regular visitor by now and she did this every day. He made sure he was the one to catch her after the last step and he set her down within his reach. Only then did he look at something else and he perceived more than three dozen men seeing him off. Anne appeared to be rather interesting to them, although they dared not treat her to their usual whistles and waves.

Harville gave the order to row off.

"Harville?" Frederick recognised him only now. "What are you doing in this boat?" It was a stupid question. Harville was curious and abusing his position to probe. It was clear that he hoped to learn more about Mrs Wentworth, about whom he had only learnt last night that she was not a stranger to his captain.

"Taking you ashore," Harville said, looking unperturbed.

"Harville?" Anne cut in in surprise. "Lieutenant Harville?"

He was equally surprised. "At your service, madam."

She shot a shy glance at Frederick. Mrs Harville had known before he did and she hoped he would forgive her. She should not have said anything to Harville, but he might later think it strange if she had not. "I dined at your house last evening. Your wife invited us. You have such a lovely wife." It was true; Mrs Harville was a sweet and generous soul and Anne had hoped to find the husband equally worth liking. He seemed to be.

"Where did you meet Mrs Harville?" Frederick inquired sharply. Anne with her warm smile and her praise of the angel was already winning Harville over, he could see. The entire world was conspiring against him. What had Anne been doing in Plymouth?

"Yesterday when I came ashore. Sophia had found her."

"How?" He did not see how Sophia could find the wife of one of his crew. She would likely not even know their names. Finding that out and then finding their wives would take more days than she could possibly have been here. He had written to Edward only a few days ago. As he thought of that, he realised that Sophia and Anne must have been very near Edward to have been able to come here so quickly. Were they all living together?

"Sophia is very good at making new acquaintances," Anne said with a shrug. "Sophia is his sister, Lieutenant. She and I had dinner with your wife and sister."

"Your sister is here as well!" Harville exclaimed with a questioningly raised eyebrow. "I thought she was in the East Indies."

Frederick scowled. That was not something else he appeared to have lied about, although Harville would think so. He had not known Sophia was no longer in the East Indies and he had not deliberately kept her return from anybody. Why were the whereabouts of his sister suddenly so interesting now?

Anne took it upon herself to explain the matter to Harville, because she sensed that Frederick could not. She was kind enough to want to spare him the awkwardness. "They came back to England because her husband was too seriously injured to continue his duties."

"I am sorry to hear that. An injury would be bad enough, but to be shipped home uselessly! How is he doing?"

"He walks again and is on his way to the Mediterranean. Not on foot; by ship." She chuckled.

Harville looked impressed. "Then it was perhaps not a very serious injury after all?"

"The first time I saw him he came falling out of a carriage because his legs were not yet strong enough." She laughed at the memory. "But he worked very hard to improve, because as you say, he did not like to be useless."

While Harville talked to Anne, Frederick let his mind dwell on what she had told him before. She had a child and her father had turned her out of the house. He would not have expected any less from Sir Walter, but where had this left Anne? She would have been on her own, unmarried and with an illegitimate child, yet she neither behaved nor looked as if she was shunned by polite society. He knew enough of polite society to know they would have cast her out.

But if she pretended to be married she might not be. Would Anne pretend? Not merely to him, but to everyone?

What did Sophia think? What did she even know? And Edward? They must have met through Edward, which must mean that Edward knew about the child, if there was one. Edward might not shun the mother of his brother's illegitimate child, but Frederick could not see him openly acknowledge the connection either. He was a curate. Yet he lived near enough to Anne to send her here instantly.

Anne was taking him to see the child, so there must be one. Since he could not speak to her in front of Harville, he had to resort to thinking about her. He wondered if her having a child accounted for the different attitude. She seemed older, very calm and wise. He admitted to feeling a little resentment at finding she had borne their separation so well. Had she not missed him? Had she not suffered from regret?

She had come to him now because she needed a father for her child, but she might otherwise not have come. He knew the answer: she would not have. It would have been up to him to seek her out and he had written to Edward that he would not. That was how she knew and why she had come, but this did not tell him if she would have wanted to come otherwise.

Harville was still talking to Anne, encouraging her to do so, of course. Frederick thought she spoke guardedly, although he was sure Harville would not notice the difference. She chose her words carefully and apart from her initial revelation that she had met Mrs Harville, there was hardly anything shocking anymore. He could at least be glad that Harville was already married.

He thought of Captain Croft's injury. It must have been bad if he had returned home, but he was now recovered enough to command again. "But why did Sophia not go with him? Was she injured as well?" he asked suddenly, careless of interrupting the others. His sister was the highest example of female constancy he knew. She loved her husband deeply and went wherever he went. It was incomprehensible to anyone who knew them well that they were now separated.

"Er..." Anne said uneasily. "She was not exactly injured, but she could not go. She chose not to go."

Harville nodded knowingly and Frederick disliked him for being so understanding and friendly, neither of which he seemed to manage so far. "She would never choose that," he said. "She would never abandon him."

Anne felt that comment was equally well an accusation directed at her and she winced. "She would rather tell you herself."

Edward and Mr Croft had perused certain sections of the book together. Their studious natures ensured they were well amused and consumed by their research. As they were studying some images another time, Lady Russell returned. They quickly shut the book.

"What brings you here, Edward?" she asked. "Have you heard from them?"

With his newly expanded knowledge in mind Edward could only stammer and blush. It would seem strange to say he had come to ask if he could open the book when he was found looking through it. "I-I had a question, but Mr Croft answered it."

"Partially," said that gentleman. He did not want to appear knowledgeable, certainly not about the human body. Now if they were to ask him about livestock he might have any answers they could want. They might not know there was little difference.

"Do tell me what your question was, Edward," Lady Russell said curiously. She thought they were looking very funny.

"I received a gift from an anonymous person and I wondered if I was allowed to...er...receive it. I thought you would be perfectly aware of the social niceties surrounding it."

"Oh. What was the gift?"

"A book. This book." He patted it.

"And what did...Mr Croft conclude?" She appeared to have forgotten his name for a second.

"Nothing about that impropriety, madam," Edward said hastily. "Although he was very helpful in assisting me in finding the answer to my other query, the one that prompted the gift of the book, I suppose."

Lady Russell looked pleased to find Mr Croft so helpful. She walked towards them to have a look at the book.

"Perhaps you should not," Mr Croft said in concern, holding her back by the waist. "It contains images."

"I see," she said when she saw its cover in spite of being restrained by Mr Croft. "And which query prompted the gift of the book? Surely you had no sudden interest in the names of all the bones in your hand, Edward? Is it connected to that other book you spoke of once?"

He was surprised she remembered. "I was told that book was worthless by the person who sent me this."

"And who was that?"

"I cannot tell you that, madam." He quickly spoke of something else. "How do you know the bones in a hand have names?"

"How is it possible that you do not? I broke my hand once. But there is nothing wrong with it anymore now," she said, removing Mr Croft's hand from her waist.

"But should I send the sender a note of thanks?" Edward inquired. "It was an anonymous sender. I think I know who it is, so I could."

"I do not think that is required for an anonymous gift. You may be wrong, after all. You ought to respect the sender's wish to remain unknown." She thought that outweighed the need to thank him.

"But the expense! Should I not repay some or all of the costs?" Edward felt guilty for having prompted Miss Greene to buy such an expensive book. It was his fault that she had considered it necessary, but he felt he should be responsible for his own education.

"You had best make discreet inquiries when you next see your anonymous friend," Lady Russell advised. "Why did he want to remain anonymous?"

"I cannot tell you that."

"There is a lot you cannot tell me," she said curiously. "But I shall not ask. Perhaps instead of repaying your friend, you could buy him something in return."

Edward had no idea what to buy for a young lady, but he could not say so. He thanked her instead.

Frederick was familiar with The Anchor, so he did not require Anne to show him the way. He gave her his arm and led her along. They had covered some distance when he spoke. "I hope my sister is doing well. What did her husband suffer?"

Anne did not mind that he asked about his sister first. She hoped he would come to feel more at ease by talking of someone else and hopefully they could then gradually progress to more important subjects. "Two broken legs and some damage to his back, I believe, but less than they suspected."

"Why did she ship him home?"

"They were told he would never walk again. They did not want to spend the rest of their lives in the East Indies, I suppose." She had never questioned why they had returned. It had made perfect sense to her that they had not wanted to remain on the other side of the world.

"I believe she would rather spend the rest of her life in the East Indies with him than all by herself in England," Frederick said in a belligerent voice. He was not sure what his intention was, but it made so little sense to him. Were all women fickle?

"Neither of them knew he would begin to walk again. He did not improve until they were underway. You are right in thinking she would rather have been with him, but he was very desirous of proving himself."

He could understand that desire, but for them it had always been compatible with their desire for each other. "He is attached to her as ever a man was attached to a woman and there are no impediments. Why did he not take her?"

"He would have, if there had not been any impediments, but there were and I am afraid he could ill afford to sit at home on half pay." She was not entirely sure of that. Captain Croft had never disclosed how great or small his fortune was, but perhaps she could be reasonably certain of it not having been wise for him to sit at home for too long now that he had two daughters.

"What sort of impediments?" Frederick demanded.

"Please. It is not my place to reveal that for her," she begged gently. Sophia would like to reveal her own news. She would probably not even mind if Anne did it for her, but the best thing would be to leave it for herself to do.

"But you could?" Her gentleness reminded him the old Anne, but her firm expression indicated that she was no longer easy to sway -- if she had ever been in matters in which she was absolutely right. And she was absolutely right. It was not her place to reveal Sophia's secrets and he should not press her.

"I could. But I will not."

"Fine," he replied, but his reflections were not as curt. She had only been polite and friendly so far. Insisted and determined as well, but in a rather gentle way. His angry tone and deplorable manners had not affected her in the least. He might as well give them up.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Posted on Saturday, 8 March 2008

Arriving at the hotel, Anne was informed that Mrs Croft and all the young ladies were upstairs. She was glad for that. Sophia, if she was not counting on her bringing Frederick back with her this time, could easily have packed them all up and gone to visit Mrs Harville or another friend who would have offered some conversation. The little girls did not and Sophia had shown herself to be in need of some conversation every day.

"All the young ladies?" Frederick inquired suspiciously. "Are you running a school?" He wondered if that accounted for her not appearing shunned and poor. She might have been forced to turn to teaching after Sir Walter had turned her away. But a second later he wondered why, if she ran a school, she would bring all her pupils to Plymouth if she wanted to speak to him. It made no sense.

Anne smiled. "You will see."

What he had seen were one or two faces in the public area that he recognised. The entire town would have heard of his so-called wife and daughter by now. There was no getting out of it, although he was not certain he wanted to. It had felt remarkably good to be walking into the hotel with such a woman on his arm. All his successes had wanted only a woman and a new posting to top them off.

When they came to the dining room, he saw Sophia sitting at a table and three babies on the floor. Three. This was an astonishing number, not in the least because he could not fathom why there were so many. "You spoke of one," he said, turning to Anne. One of those must be the child she had spoken of. He could not remember her having spoken of several. Such a thing would frighten him immensely and he would have remembered in spite of not having felt very clear-headed. Neither one nor three was compatible with the number of times he had been with Anne, but such reasoning was very likely misinformed again.

"Yes, one. Sophy?" she called. Sophy dropped her toy and crawled nearer, for once being so good as to obey an order directly. Anne was extremely proud of her.

Frederick looked at her warily, studying her for a resemblance to himself. That was difficult, since he was not in the habit of looking in the mirror every day. "She looks like Sophia," was all he could grudgingly conclude. He was aware of resembling her himself. There was a family connection then. This was the proof. It was stupid that he had needed some -- or had he? Anne did not lie.

"Sophia, who has not even been greeted!" cried his sister.

"I am sorry." He gave her a perfunctory kiss when she came to him and then he resumed his observation of little Sophy. She was pulling at Anne's skirts and trying to get her feet underneath her, but it was clear she was not yet a walker. He had not seen Lucy Harville do the same and she had been conceived before their departure. This probably made Sophy older, which confirmed that she had been conceived before he left as well. Everything pointed to Anne's having spoken the truth, yet he had dared to doubt her. It was quite frightening that Sophy was his.

"I cannot leave this room, you understand," Sophia said to Anne. "The bedrooms are too cold for the girls. Perhaps you should take him there."

"And Sophy?"

"She has had all manner of goodness from the kitchens -- fruit, a little bread. It is amazing what the maids can spare for a sweet little girl. I think she can do without you for a while if she needs to. If you think her a distraction, that is." Sophia thought she might be. She had hardly been greeted herself because there was someone more interesting to look at and she was torn between amusement and indignation.

"I shall take her," Anne decided. Frederick must get to know her. "Let us go to my room," she said to Frederick as she lifted Sophy up.

"Those are not yours?" He pointed at the two other babies who had been kicking their legs and biting toys without paying attention to the newcomers. If they were not Anne's, whose where they? Were they here to play with Sophy? They paid very little attention to her in that case.

"They are mine," Sophia said proudly, but she reluctantly swallowed her pride. "But come and look at them later. Talk to Anne first."

"It was rather indiscreet of you to touch me in front of Edward," Lady Russell said to Mr Croft when Edward had gone home. She would not have mentioned it if Edward had not seen it, but he had and so they must come up with a response in case he required one.

"I thought you would rather be touched than lay eyes upon drawings of naked men," he replied matter-of-factly. "And I assure you that Mr Wentworth did not notice it at all, unless you pulled a very displeased face, which of course I could not see. Was it unpleasant?"

"No, no. But you kept your hand there very long."

"My apologies, but I did not think it very unpleasant either." He had not realised his hand was still in place until she removed it. It must therefore have been pleasant.

Lady Russell was overcome by a strange sensation when she looked at him. "Perhaps you would prefer not to sit at the other end of the sofa this evening."

"That is very sweet of you. We can be snug under your blanket together."

"Well..." That was taking it rather further than she had imagined, but it did not sound very unpleasant either. He smiled kindly as he spoke, at any rate. Nothing awful would befall her and nobody else was there to see it. "If you wish."

He beamed at her. "I shall go out first to become very cold. It will be all the more enjoyable then."

"For you or for me, sir?" she exclaimed.

"Henry, I said. You would prefer Anna to darling and I prefer Henry to sir."

They had indeed discussed that, although she had considered it a wicked arrangement. Anna or darling was not really a choice, but she had had no doubt that he would vex her if she did not give an answer. "Yes, yes, we have settled that -- but to have such a cold person under my blanket! How is that enjoyable?"

"For me it will be."

"If you tell me what Edward was interested in, I may allow you." There, she could play that game too. She was only used to games like cards, but this was surprisingly easy. And she was curious, although she had not questioned Edward.

"Breeding."

"Breeding?" she cried.

"That what Mr Peters thinks we are up to. It was why I kept you away from the book. Was that not kind of me? But perhaps you would have wanted to keep me away from the images of women." Mr Croft looked doubtful. "Although they meant nothing to me. You are much prettier."

"But --" She did not know what to reply, except something very childish. "I want to see what you saw."

He did not think her desire to read the book as well strange at all and his plans to go out could only be improved upon by such a wish. "I am as always at your disposal, you know. Saddle your horse and we are off to Monkford, my darling -- Anna."

"My horse?" Lady Russell had not been out on her horse in ages. "And it is cold!"

"Think of the blanket."

Frederick felt less enlightened than before when he followed Anne to a bedroom. Sophia and she seemed to think nothing of that, although he supposed Sophia had a point about the babies having to be in a warm room. But where had she got babies as well?

"Well," Anne said a little shyly. "This is Sophy."

He had heard that. She was supposed to be his daughter, but he did not feel it. She was simply another child. He admitted to being more curious about her than about Lucy Harville, however. "Sophy," he repeated. He supposed she was named for Sophia. "Who named her?"

"I did." She stopped in front of a door. "Please hold her for a moment. I need to find my key."

"What? No! I do not know how." He stepped back, although he knew it could not be very difficult. It would simply take some practice.

"Please? One hand under her and one hand behind her."

Frederick gave in only because if he did not allow Anne to take out her key, they would have to hold their conversation in a narrow passage that other hotel guests would use. It was not advisable that he was overheard questioning his marriage as if it had taken place in a drunken moment. He took over Sophy and hoped he would not drop her. There was an instant wail, of course. It did not surprise him. "She hates me. She does not want to know me."

"Hush, Sophy. He is sweet. He is Papa."

Surprisingly that silenced both Sophy and Frederick. He was sweet? He was acutely aware of not having been the least bit sweet so far. How could she say he was? And he was Papa. This was incredibly frightening. He might have to behave in a particular way to live up to that name.

Anne finally opened the door and let them in. He expected her to take Sophy from him again instantly, but instead she only smiled at them and threw a log on the fire. The room was chilly and lighting a fire was wise. "Let me do that for you," Frederick offered in an attempt to get rid of the baby, who was now pulling at his clothes. He was certain she would wail again soon.

"I have finished," Anne replied. "Please sit down. You can set Sophy on the floor."

He wasted no time in doing so, but she returned to him and pulled herself up by his leg, staring at him curiously with large dark eyes. There was a little of Anne in her, he thought, and a little of Sophia. This was the Miss Wentworth Anne had written about. He had been a fool, thinking she was referring to his sister! If he had known, would he have come here the day before? He could not really answer that question to his satisfaction. Without Anne's verbal explanation he would not have known what to make of such news. He supposed he grudgingly believed her now, but he would not have done so without hearing her out and he might have suppressed his curiosity until the next day.

Anne sat waiting for him to speak, he saw, but he did not know where to begin. First he examined the room, but it was an ordinary one, impersonal and small. There was a small bed on the floor for the baby, he assumed. But she was not poor if she did not share with Sophia. "Your father turned you out of the house, you said. But you cannot have had any money."

Finally there was some concern in his manner. Anne was happy to note it. "Lady Russell." She saw a flash of dislike across his face. "No, no, you must not hate her. She helped me. She allowed me to keep Sophy. I should otherwise have had to give her up."

"I see you did not give her up. But she is a natural child and...well, you were not married. When did you start pretending?" And why? She had not wanted him.

She must now not be hasty and let him think she was married to Edward. This tentative improvement in his mood could so easily be undone by a few careless words. "That was everybody's concern, but Lady Russell could not see me unhappy and I should have been devastated if I had had to give up your child while you were not in a position to help me. I was sure you would have helped me had you known. I could not make the decision for you to give her up. You might come back to me and I should have to tell you that you had a child in the meantime, but that it had died in an orphanage. No, I could not. I would rather live in shame."

He said nothing, but he was affected by the weight that must have been on her. She had thought of his wishes when she had made her decisions and she had been right about him. He would have been honourable, in spite of everything. He would be honourable now if she wished.

"Lady Russell could not do it. She wrote to your brother, but he could not do it either. Give up the child, that is. But I did not have to. I married a man named Frederick Wentworth in Gretna Green." She cast down her eyes, but peered up at him a second later.

"What?" he cried.

Anne jumped up and pulled a document from her trunk. "Here."

Frederick read it. It did indeed say that Frederick Wentworth had married Anne Elliot in Gretna Green. "But I was never there."

"No. But there are not many people who know that. Most people in the neighbourhood think you only came to live with your brother because you had eloped with me months before."

He looked at the document again when her eyes remained fixed on him expectantly. 1806. "Does my brother know?"

"It was his idea." She took the document from him again and put it back. "For his niece's sake. He was angry with you, but he could not let his niece suffer. And I was not yet twenty-one, so I had to go to Gretna Green -- we had to, because we did not need my father's consent there."

"Then we are...married?" That last word came out with something that sounded like a squeak to him. He hoped that had only been so in his mind. It was difficult to grasp. She had not wanted to marry him that summer, but months later she had. He did not know if there had been alternatives, but this was what she had chosen.

"We are," Anne nodded. "I am sorry if that is not what you had envisaged for the rest of your life, but Sophy is much better off this way."

It was once what he had wished. Even a few days ago he had wished it, on the condition that she threw herself at his feet first. Anne had not done so now, but there was another female at his feet now. She was still looking up at him very earnestly and, as if she could read his mind, she suddenly smiled. He uttered a strong word.

"I am sorry," Anne whispered with an anxious expression. "I know you do not like such important things decided for you by others, but we had no way of contacting you. I thought you would want the best for your child. You have a heart."

His child was still coaxing him to be sweet and forget his anger. Just when he felt he might not resist much longer, she turned and dropped onto her belly to make her way back to Anne. There she made some insistent noises and she was quickly rewarded. Anne lifted her up and fumbled. "What are you doing?" Frederick inquired after a few moments.

"She is drinking."

He began to be disgusted, but when Anne looked indignant he willed himself to appear indifferent. "Well, as long as you do not mind it," he mumbled in embarrassment.

Her eyes flashed. "How could I mind feeding my own child?"

Frederick felt uncomfortable. "It does not look very pleasant and to be doing it in front of me -- perhaps I should go back to Sophia."

"Sophia has twins. She sits like this more often than not -- and it is not unpleasant. Besides, your sister would not give you an easier time. On the contrary. She was angry with you when she first heard."

He stayed put. "The child has changed you," he observed. "You would not previously have been so..."

"Careless?"

"Fierce." He thought that was a better word. "I do not think you are careless, because I see nothing."

"I am sorry about that," she smiled. "But the circumstances may indeed have affected me. I have to take care of Sophy because she cannot take care of herself."

The announcement that they had come to look at his book had nearly caused Edward to have a fit, but as a proper clergyman he settled for looking uncomfortable. At long last he had produced the book and he had left them alone. When he wanted to look in on them some time later, fearing they were nevertheless criticising him, he found something very shocking.

Mr Croft and Lady Russell were regarding each other with great intensity. They were moving towards each other slowly, although he hardly saw their progress. Eventually their lips met and they did not move apart. The book, which had been in their laps, slowly slid towards the floor. "My book!" Edward mouthed silently in shock. The book moved even slower than the couple had done, but any unpredictable movement could make it fall in such a way as to damage its pages. He was far more concerned about his book than about any imposition on Lady Russell. She was probably enjoying it.

Edward had a fright when Lady Russell raised her hip and the book slammed shut, but this sound did not disturb the lovers in any way. The book got stuck in the folds of Lady Russell's gown when she also raised her leg and Edward nearly gasped. Still the book did not tumble to the floor.

It did not do that until Mr Croft moved a knee under Lady Russell's and pulled at her waist at the same time. There was a dull thud as the book hit the carpet. Edward heard only that; the lady's squeak passed him by. His book had landed safely.

So had Lady Russell, but Edward did not stay to spy on them any further.

Chapter Forty

Posted on Tuesday, 11 March 2008

"But such a marriage cannot be legal and valid," Frederick said after he had dwelt on it for some time. He had had to do something to keep his eyes off Anne and he had absent-mindedly played with a large wooden ring he found on the floor.

"Hush!" Anne said insistently. She pointed at Sophy with her free hand and made a gesture that she should wait.

Frederick opened his mouth, but she instantly placed her finger across her lips again and with her eyes begged him to remain silent. He sighed in frustration -- even that sigh earned him a reproachful look from her and he scowled in return. The child was a tyrant. Why could it not stand noises? He could only think of that marriage again, but without her clarification he could only draw the same conclusion over and over again. He was not really married.

Then Anne laid the child on the mattress in the corner and tucked it under a blanket. She came to sit beside him. "We can talk, but softly."

Although he was a little startled by her proximity, he tried to focus on what he had wanted to tell her. "Our marriage cannot be legal and valid, because I was not present."

"Only Lady Russell, Edward and I know that you were not." She frowned a little, hoping he would not make trouble over this.

"But you cannot have been to Gretna Green in the April of 1806, before you even met me."

"No, we were there in 1807, but the minister wrote the date incorrectly. Edward thought it was a little help from above, a blessing of his plan. They are very disorganised in Gretna Green, or so Edward says. As long as you do not tell anybody it was not you, we are married. You must not think I married Edward."

"Edward. You call him Edward." It made him jealous. She had never called him Edward before his departure, yet now she used his name with such familiarity. What had they been doing in his absence? He had never even wondered if they might become better acquainted. Why had he thought they would never meet again, simply because he had told himself he never wanted to see Anne again?

She spoke gently. "He is my brother now. He insisted on it."

"Were you staying with him, that you could be here so quickly?"

"No, I live with Lady Russell at Kellynch Lodge. You must not be angry with her. She has been very good to Sophy and me. Edward rode over as soon as he received your letter, to ask what we should do. Sophia had come to stay with us after the captain left and she offered to come with me because she knows Plymouth. I should not have known where to find your ship otherwise." She paused to catch her breath. There was so much to tell that she could not tell it all in a logical order. It made her sound very scatterbrained, but she did not know how to compress more than a year into a few sentences.

Evidently much had happened in his family's lives while he was gone. They had had children and made new friends and travelled all over the place. His confinement to a single ship and its crew seemed dull in comparison. "Why did Sophia come to you? She did not know you."

"Yes, she did. She came to Edward's directly upon arriving in England and she gave birth in his house. Lady Russell and I were still staying with him because Sophy had to be baptised in Monkford. No questions from Edward, you see."

Finally there was something that made a little sense. Frederick was glad for it. Other things were not as clear. "But Sophia never had any children before."

"That is why she could always accompany her husband until now and why she could not do so any longer. She loves him as much as she ever did, in spite of everything she might have to say about his desire to go back to sea." Anne gave him a wistful smile. "You must not doubt either of them. Even sweet things have their bitter side."

He felt as if he had about a hundred more questions to ask. "How old are her children and how old is Sophy?"

"Sophy was born in May and the twins in August."

"When I saw them I was at first afraid they were all yours," he revealed. "I cannot see the difference in age."

"Not yet," Anne assured him. Suddenly she was a little shy again. They were talking now and more at ease, but she did not know if all was well. "I hope you will visit us often enough to be able to tell."

"But if we are married to the world..." he said. He supposed he could not escape behaving as if he was married, even if the arrangement sounded illegitimate to him. "There are acquaintances of mine staying at this hotel. They believe we are married, I assume."

"They do, if they are the same people Sophia knows. We were careful enough not to speak of you too much. I understand if the arrangement upsets you," Anne said in a gentle voice. "It will not upset me and I so much wanted to keep my baby."

"It would have upset me two days ago." Frederick did not think it would upset him very much anymore if he had to play her husband. Perhaps it would not upset him at all. His anger was gone and his pride had become useless. He did not know what he was feeling instead yet. He had been assuming she did not want him, but she had behaved as if she did. "Perhaps you should not have come on board to tease me."

"Tease you?" She looked startled, most of all at the expression in his eyes. It might be teasing.

"The first time I could not even speak."

"I am very sorry about that. I had every intention of telling you everything, but I lost my courage."

He snorted. "If that was losing your courage..." He wondered what she looked like at her most courageous. Quite a sight, he expected.

Anne began to suspect he had had a change of heart and a colour quickly overspread her cheeks. She was not wrong; he kissed her even before she had wondered what might happen next.

They had looked through the book most agreeably together and if according to Mr Croft certain images had inspired an admiration of the divine in Edward, they appeared to have inspired something different in him entirely, although Lady Russell was not sure it was the images per se or their cool discussion of them. Because the discussion had been cool; there was no doubt about that. It had been as cool as their hands and faces after riding.

But now everything was quite hot. She felt warm and he was warm under her touch. She exhaled audibly. "That was..."

"Inevitable," he replied. He gently pushed her into an upright position. "Though quite scandalous on a clergyman's sofa. I should have restrained myself, though I believe I met you halfway. But you stopped." He gave her a questioning look.

"I thought too much time might have passed and someone might come in," Lady Russell admitted with a blush. She was acutely aware of implying that she would have continued had they been at home, although she was not sure she would have. She was not entirely sure, but she suspected that she was beginning to be a little attracted to such excitement, always having a lived a life she could now only describe as dull and uneventful. She had been to places that mattered, but she had never felt what mattered, or so she felt now -- a little.

"That is very sensible." He picked the book off the floor. "Had we finished reading?"

"I believe we had." They had begun to do something else, so they could only have finished.

"Let us return this book to its owner then." He gave her a hand and pulled her up.

"But...is this something we shall do again?" Lady Russell stopped in front of the door and blocked his way so he could not pull it open. She had to ask, because it would bother her if she did not know the answer. If the pleasure was never going to be repeated, she was quite wicked, yet she was also wicked if it was going to be repeated.

"I do not know," he replied truthfully. "I shall think about it."

"But I insist on knowing." She had never felt so anxious in her life. What had Anne said again? People of forty no longer had any feelings, or something in that vein. Never had anything been more wrong. She had more feelings now than twenty years ago.

Mr Croft would like to know the same, but he noticed he would not obtain a useful answer from her. It made him afraid to commit himself to anything. "I cannot know if this was the end or the beginning of something. For you."

"I do not know what you mean."

"Were you all wound up and now sensible again? Or were you finally sufficiently at ease to drop your reserve?" Both sounded rather logical to him. Although he knew which of the two applied to himself, it was useless to come out with it before he knew anything at all.

"Oh. I do not know." What a vexing question that was! She moved aside and noticed something. "This door was not closed! Everybody could have looked in!"

"I have been thinking..." Frederick mused all of a sudden.

It had been very pleasant to have him back and Anne was almost deliriously happy. She had certainly not done much serious thinking. "Yes?"

"I expect everyone will expect me to stay here tonight because I am married and I am the captain and I do not have to ask anybody for permission. If I go back, Harville will come to interrogate me, his eyes glazing over at the memory of his wedding night and..." Frederick sighed. Harville would most certainly bother him about his wife, whether he stayed with her or not. That could not be avoided now that Anne turned out to have dined with Mrs Harville.

"But...?"

"You must say whether you would like such a thing or not." He feigned disinterest. "It would be hypocritical of me to say we are not married, but I do think it would be different from lying down on a coat in the woods."

"If you had come to Monkford while I was there, Edward would have reminded us of the vows first," Anne said gravely. She wanted to postpone a real answer. She would not mind if he came to talk, but he was right that it would be something very different.

"Edward!" cried Frederick. He imagined coming home, only to be subjected to some mock ceremony. "What business does he have being flippant?"

"He was deadly serious."

While he had undeniably broken some promises he had made to Anne, Edward did not know about those unless Anne had told him. Frederick felt it ought to be his own responsibility to realise and remedy, not his brother's. "What good is a vow if it is imposed by Edward?"

"I do not think he intended it that way. I think he simply wanted to absolve himself."

It was not Edward's duty to absolve himself, Frederick thought, but he was not quite ready to discuss who had been guilty to which extent. "Hmm."

"I hope you would not only consider staying because Lieutenant Harville would otherwise think you strange," Anne said bashfully. He would be hiding here in that case and they might not do as much talking as they ought.

He gave her an earnest look. "Would you like me to stay?"

"I would like you to stay, but I should also think it a little frightening. What shall we do?"

Frederick shrugged. He wondered the same, even if nobody else would wonder. He could not tell Anne what his crew had undoubtedly thought of her visits to the ship.

"I do not want you to be disappointed in the morning because Sophy demanded so much attention," Anne said in a cautious tone. They were able to talk now, but it would not always be like that. It was difficult to speak seriously if Sophy was being adorable or troublesome. "She does not always sleep. In fact, she sleeps very little when there is action to be had."

"I think we still have much to talk about, Sophy or no Sophy," he decided. From a free man with few personal responsibilities he appeared to have become a man with many. If he received the posting he was counting on, he would have to make arrangements for a wife and daughter. He must ask which role Lady Russell had played so far, but at the moment he still felt a reluctance to bring up the woman's name. She might well only have looked after Anne and Sophy until he returned. She would not want to have anything to do with him and the task of taking care of Anne and Sophy might now well be entirely his.

"Sophia would like to see you too," Anne reminded him. "Talk to her first and tell me afterwards what you have decided."

Edward examined his book closely when it was returned, but it still looked to be in good shape. It was only then that he remembered that its readers were the naughty two before him, but the couple looked remarkably stoic. There was not a hint of a blush in Lady Russell's complexion and Mr Croft's voice was as steady as ever. They acted as if nothing had occurred. It surprised Edward very much, but he did not know how to bring it up. He had been eavesdropping and he had furthermore not interrupted the moment. To be mentioning it now would be hypocritical.

"Thank you," said Lady Russell. "I wanted to see with my own eyes how scandalous it was."

"With your eyes," Edward repeated before he could check himself. He was glad that he could at least stop himself from mentioning mouths.

"Edward?" she questioned.

"Never mind me," he said hastily. "I hope you had a satisfying read and I also hope you will not suspect me of acting upon my knowledge now." That too was a rather unguarded comment, or was it? Perhaps he was trying to elicit a reaction. He was failing at his profession, was he not?

"With whom could you possibly do so?"

"Indeed. There are no suitable young ladies under my roof, so you need not be concerned about me."

"I am glad," she said warmly.

"I am furthermore a moral man." He willed himself not to look at Mr Croft, who had said this about himself. Certainly the man would no longer dare to describe himself thus!

"We are glad," Lady Russell said, but her tone was slightly less warm now. "We shall ride home now, I think?"

Mr Croft caught her questioning glance. "I am at your disposal."

Edward snorted and turned away. At her disposal! Was that how they called it?

Sophia was still seated at the table, but her babies were now covered with a blanket. Frederick nevertheless approached her cautiously and he kept his voice down before she too would tell him not to disturb her offspring. "Can we talk?"

"Certainly, you immoral rake."

"Are you teasing me?" he wondered, feeling rather taken aback. Perhaps it was meant affectionately. "You must be."

"What was no more than a fun romp in the hay for you, could have had disastrous consequences for her." Knowing Anne, Sophia doubted that she had impressed that on Frederick. Anne would have made light of any consequences. She was not one to complain and in truth there had fortunately been little about which to complain. But it could easily have been different

"It was more than that to me. Besides, there was no hay in sight," he said to be obnoxious.

"What was it to you?"

"We were going to be married."

"That is not an answer. That only tells me why you felt you could indulge, not what you felt upon doing so."

"I loved her. It happened." Frederick gave his sister a stubborn look, because he was certainly not going to reveal more than that. He nodded at the infants. "There is the proof that you know how it goes."

"Contrary to you I am very capable of combining love with rational thought."

"We are not all perfect," he muttered. He tried not to look away from her gaze, but it was too all-seeing.

"Indeed we are not," she said calmly. "And now?"

He shrugged. "What is this about my being married?"

"I can vouch for there not being a soul who questions it, if that is what is worrying you. Everybody thought you were exactly the sort to elope."

Frederick did not think that as reassuring as it was intended to be. "Exactly the sort! It never crossed my mind. It should have. It would have solved many problems."

"What will you do now? Will you cause trouble?"

"No."

"I am glad. They do not deserve it. Although she has not had to suffer poverty or the like, she did for a while think she would have to give up her child for the sake of her reputation. I do not wish that on anybody." She glanced at her daughters. She would not even have considered leaving them ashore all by themselves.

"Why was she allowed to keep it?" He wanted to hear if Anne's account of Lady Russell was objective. Anne would think highly of her now, of course, but it might not be deserved.

"Her mother -- Lady Russell -- is stiff but sweet. She wanted to do what was proper, but she could not let Anne be unhappy."

"Sweet. I do not think she is," he scoffed. He also did not think she was Anne's mother, but simply an interfering acquaintance and he was still angry with her. "She told Anne to break the engagement."

"I leave it to you to rethink everybody's wishes and conduct at that time," Sophia said softly. It would be more effective than telling him what to think. Telling Frederick what to think had never been successful, as Anne could probably confirm. He had always been confident about his own abilities and that included the power of his mind. "But in the meantime, will you not congratulate me on my daughters?"

"I am sorry," he mumbled and he sat down beside her. "I did not mean to slight you, but it seems it was either slighting Anne or you. But you may be happy to know that I asked Anne how old they were. Congratulations to you and the captain. Is this why you chose to return to England?"

"No. I was not yet expecting when we set sail." But she was definitely expecting a comment now.

His eyes widened. "But he could not walk!"

"Walking is not required. If you are not looking for a good spot outdoors, that is," she said with a grin.

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