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Chapter Forty-One

Posted on Friday, 14 March 2008

After he had spoken to his sister, Frederick left the hotel. From his visit to Mrs Harville's house he had learnt that babies could not be separated from their mothers for too long, so taking Anne back to the Asp was out of the question. If he wanted to spend some more time with her he would have to do so at the hotel. He was thinking of going back later -- he had asked Sophia to tell Anne that he might -- but he did like to have some basic necessities with him in that case and those were on board.

Harville had disappeared, he found when he came to the waterside, which meant he was probably using the opportunity to see his wife. Frederick retraced his steps and walked into the town once more, this time to Mrs Harville's house. The extra walk gave him some time to sort his thoughts, but he wondered why he did not go back to his ship to escape Harville's questions. There must be something he unconsciously wished to discuss.

A maid let him in and he found Miss Harville playing with Lucy on the floor. She scrambled to her feet. "Good day, Captain. Have you come for my brother?"

"Is he here?" He felt some satisfaction at having been right. Harville was so predictable.

"Yes, he is upstairs. They should be done by now. Please take a seat."

"They?" He sat down when she made an inviting gesture.

"Why, my brother and Fiona, of course," Miss Harville said with some surprise. "They are upstairs."

"Oh," he said stupidly. That explained why Miss Harville was playing with the child. "Well, in that case I should perhaps come back later. I should not want to hurry him. Or you could ask him to come to The Anchor when he is done."

"But, but!" she exclaimed. "I want to know about Mrs Wentworth. Well, I know all about her by now because she was here, but not why you implied you had no wife. And you have a child too."

Yes, he had a child too, but he did not know how to explain all that, certainly not to a young girl like Miss Harville. "Does she stand yet?" He indicated little Lucy, who had given him one or two glances, but who had not been interested in him in the least. The difference from curious Sophy was great.

Miss Harville looked impatient when he changed the subject, but she was not so impertinent as to tell him she disliked it greatly. "Stand? No, I have never seen her stand."

He had seen Sophy stand, but perhaps Sophy was older. "When was she born?"

"On the fourth of May."

In that case she was older or exactly the same age as Sophy, but his Sophy was more advanced. Frederick felt very smug about that. His pride surprised him. It was perhaps an hour or two since he had first heard of her and here he was already being proud.

Someone could be heard bounding down the stairs and a few seconds later Harville appeared, looking a little embarrassed. "Are we going back?"

"Well, I am." Frederick took in his reluctant face and wondered if he should be kind -- again. He was in a good mood, but perhaps not all of the highest-ranking officers should be pursuing domestic pleasures ashore. Then again, very little was likely to happen and if it did, it would be a chance for one of the other men to distinguish himself.

"But you have not yet told me anything, Captain," Miss Harville protested softly.

"How was Mrs Wentworth?" Harville inquired. "Have you quit her already?"

Frederick picked up his hat and got to his feet. Harville would not understand his speed, but perhaps they had not been spending their time in a similar manner. "Yes, I have. Are you staying here or are you coming back with me?"

Harville needed a moment to digest that question. "Is that to placate me and to stop me from asking about your wife?"

"You are coming back with me," Frederick decided.

When Sophy woke, Anne was free to return to the dining room again. She had only lain on her bed stupidly, or so she thought. There had been much to think about. Frederick had been here and he had kissed her. He had not said as much as he used to say in such a situation; in fact, he had not once told her he loved her, but she was not worried. He had teased her a little about frightening him and he had expressed his admiration -- or so she had interpreted it -- of her impertinence and courage.

He had asked a little about Sophy -- if it had been very painful and how she liked having Sophy. Anne was rather pleased with his questions. He cared about her feelings, even if he did not say so.

Frederick was no longer with Sophia, but the latter told her he might return later. He had not yet been certain of that, apparently. Anne did not really understand why he could not have come back to her to say this himself, but she shrugged it off. He had probably had his reasons. She did not think it made his return less likely. He had kissed her very warmly and she did not think it at all odd that he needed some time to clear his head. It did not mean he did not love her. She believed he did.

"What was his excuse?" Sophia asked.

"Did he not say? On second thought I am not surprised that he did not, as it was not a very clever one." He might want to keep his stupidity a secret, although she did not think it was stupidity at all. Sophia might. Anne did not know how Sophia had behaved. She could be a formidable opponent if she chose.

"What do you mean?"

"It was not exactly the case that he did not know what he was doing, but almost. I doubt he would like it if I told you the particulars." Anne frowned. "Not if he did not tell you himself. He was not to blame, I think."

"You would never think so."

It was true that she was usually disinclined to think so, but in this case she was right. Frederick was not to blame. "But it only matters what I think, does it not? Since I am the one who will have to live with him. Oh."

"Oh what?"

"I may literally have to live with him." If she was so slow in reaching such a conclusion, she could certainly not expect too much of Frederick.

Sophia was amused now. "Yes, you goose. But if you are thinking of that, I take it your talk went well."

"I think he is no longer angry," Anne said cautiously. "And Sophy was so interested in him! He was a little afraid of her, however."

"He did not strike me as angry with you. How could he have kept that up, I wonder, logically? He even went so far as to say he loved you then -- though nothing about the present. And Sophy -- it was only to be expected that she would wrap him around her finger. But it will be very boring for me if he comes back this evening. I expect he will want to talk to you alone."

She felt sorry for Sophia already. "I shall tell him we must sit with you first. You will want to hear some of what he has to say, will you not?"

Sophia smiled. "Of course, but I doubt he would like to say all that in front of me. We had best speak about his journey and if he does not want to speak about that, you must watch my babies for me while I go to the public dining room to talk to my acquaintances."

"Oh, you would not!" Anne cried. She did not know whether her dismay was about Sophia's leaving her babies or the babies being left with her.

"Margaret and Catherine are much less of a disturbance than Sophy, really. Is he aware of the disturbance that is Sophy?" Sophia watched Sophy try to pull down the gate that surrounded the fireplace. It was good that the poker was out of her reach, but she would nevertheless have to be watched closely at all times. There would not be much time for cuddling unless Sophy was the one being cuddled.

"I do not know what you mean." She had a good suspicion, however, but she did not want to make it seem as if her thoughts had tended in that direction.

"Well, he may find himself cheated out of a pleasant night," Sophia said with a shrewd look.

Anne coloured. "I told him so, but he would come to talk."

Edward had given the situation much thought, but he could not decide if he should have interfered. He supposed both Lady Russell and Mr Croft were old enough to realise what they were doing and a word from him was unlikely to stop them. They would simply continue their behaviour at home. Perhaps they intended to marry? Edward liked that thought. It would mean he had no reason to speak up. They were not a young couple and there was no reason to look out for a widow as one did for a young girl. A widow could look out for herself. As for Mr Croft, Edward did not know how old he was precisely, but he was no longer very young. Past thirty, certainly.

And both were now well informed thanks to his book. He should not forget that. There was no reason to fear they would be surprised like Anne. If they were to find themselves in the same situation it would be of their own choosing. There was no need for him to interfere.

He was still uncomprehending, but perhaps he should not feel so shocked. He seemed to be the only one who did not engage in such affectionate behaviour with anybody. This might reflect more on him than on others. It seemed it was very common.

He examined himself and decided that no matter how common it might be, he was not going to behave in that manner. Perhaps after he was married he would give it a try. The apparent pleasure the activity gave could not possibly outweigh the guilt and awkwardness he would feel if he did it before it was allowed. He did not believe so for a second.

Of course it was easy for him to reason thus -- there was no suitable young woman under his roof upon whom to impose. Had there been such a woman, however, he would still not have imposed on her. This begged the question of why Lady Russell had seemed to be moving towards Mr Croft at an equal pace -- or lack of it. There had been time enough for her to pull away, to scream or even to hit the man. She had clearly not been imposed upon, but she had sought the situation herself.

What would he do if he had such a woman under his roof? Edward felt a little uncomfortable at the thought that there might be women who would slowly move towards him with their lips. In such a case he would freeze in fear and shock and end up kissing them, he supposed. Had this happened to Mr Croft? He contemplated that, but Mr Croft had also not moved away. No, they were both guilty.

He wondered when it had come about, but then he remembered that Sophia and Anne had left for Plymouth, leaving Mr Croft all alone with Lady Russell. So this was what came of such arrangements! It was interesting to behold the instant effects on two people of the opposite sex who were thrown into each other's company exclusively. He was learning quite a lot about people lately.

What would happen if he innocently suggested to Mr Croft that he stay at the parsonage until Sophia's return? Edward pondered that question, but he believed he knew the answer. Mr Croft would find an excuse not to go. It might be amusing to try out his new ideas on human behaviour.

They had walked in silence for part of the way. Harville wanted to bring up the subject well before they reached the boat, but his captain's attitude had put him off for a while. Eventually he spoke. "I heard that not only you have a wife but a child as well."

"Yes."

"But that cannot have been as much of a surprise for you as my child was for me," Harville said pleasantly. "You would have reckoned with the possibility during the wedding night." He slapped his forehead. "But you had no wedding night, I forgot! You have no wife."

"Harville." Frederick did not know whether to laugh at his friend's deplorable acting skills or to be angry. "I told you it was better for me not to say anything."

"I am beginning to understand why, although what do you think I am going to do with the information?"

"I have no idea," he had to admit. Harville would not get him into trouble. Any information was purely for his own amusement, but that was bad enough.

"Say, if my wife is asked to dine with the ladies, should she bring me or should I be the only man in that case? Three, five, eight females!"

"Sly," Frederick commented. "But I do not know how the ladies will phrase their invitation, nor if they have any objections to having you there. And your captain may not allow you to accept, even if you were invited."

"It is of course less flattering to share eight females with another man than to have them completely to yourself," Harville nodded. He suddenly hit upon another way to probe. Nobody would wonder at a brother's concern. "But do you think Mrs Wentworth, or the lady who passes herself off as your wife, is someone respectable enough for my sister to be acquainted with?"

"I beg your pardon?" Frederick was astonished that there could be any doubts about Anne's respectability. "Her father is a baronet."

"A baronet." Harville whistled. "You aimed pretty high. Is that why she is not your wife? The baronet did not approve."

That might make some sense to Harville, he realised, but before he invented the missing pieces it was better to give him another story. Anne's, perhaps. "We eloped."

"And the baronet did not approve of that either. I cannot imagine he liked such a sly way of becoming his son-in-law."

"He did not know about the elopement until she had a child, I suppose." Now that he was relating it to someone else, it began to be more comprehensible to himself as well. He was forced to think of the disjointed pieces of information that Anne had given him and to turn them into a convincing story. Furthermore, he was forced to keep silent about his own angry departure.

Lady Russell was cold again when Mr Croft and she arrived back at Kellynch Lodge. She was not only cold but also a little sore, not having ridden for a long time. Her carriage had been so much more convenient after Anne had come to live with her, not that she had often ridden long stretches before then.

Mr Croft escorted her very politely all way to the door of her bedroom and for a moment she wondered if he was going to join her in there, but he had no such plans. He said he would change and see her at dinner and that was that.

"You are very cold, madam," said Jenny when she helped her mistress change. "Was it wise to go out?"

"Wise?" Lady Russell wondered that herself. The alternative would have been the carriage, but when she thought of what might have happened in there, she preferred riding. "My muscles are not used to this exercise anymore."

"Mr Croft probably did not know that."

She had not asked what his reasons for riding were and she had not wondered. He might simply be fond of it. Although he had a carriage at his disposal, he might think it too much trouble if he was going out on his own. But it had been pleasant to ride with him, even if she had begun to feel it by the end of the ride. He had not gone as fast as he would have wished, naturally, out of consideration to her, but he had not asked her to ride faster.

"Why did he have to go out?" Jenny asked. "Mr Wentworth had just been here."

"That is complicated." And that meant that Jenny should not ask. Hopefully Jenny was by now capable of interpreting such an answer correctly. She wondered how everybody would know where they had been.

"I hope you were not too cold," Mr Croft said when he went into the dining room with her. "Although I suppose you may wear more layers than I do. I have only the one pair of trousers, but you -- it may be indecent of me to wonder, but it is meant kindly."

"Well..." She considered what she might tell him about her layers. It was best to lower her voice so the footman could not hear. He had to be present, what with the many more courses of a dinner table, and she made a mental note to ask Mr Croft why he had disposed of the servants at breakfast. "There is my coat and my gown, but there are several things underneath as well."

"Goodness!" he exclaimed. "It is a wonder that you still fit through the door. But I hope all those layers offered you some protection."

"I should have expected you to think otherwise," she said with her eyebrows raised.

"Madam," he whispered, looking a little shocked. "Warming your hands and face is as far as I will go. The other parts of you, while they are undoubtedly attractive, are for the blanket."

"Forgive me for implying..." she said, blushing. "But I did not know how far you would go."

"Unless you marry me, I will not go any further."

"Unless -- is that a proposal?"

"No, I am stating a fact -- unless you choose to accept it?" he said questioningly.

Chapter Forty-Two

Posted on Monday, 17 March 2008

The advantage of having a home became clear to Frederick when Harville joined him in the boat without bringing anything, because he already had everything at his house. Frederick, on the contrary, had wondered for fifteen minutes what to pack. After some deliberation had allowed Harville a second night off. After all, the man was married and none of the other lieutenants were. And of course he was placating him, although the story he had told ought to suffice. It made enough sense and Harville had been very sympathetic.

"What time shall we meet tomorrow morning?" Frederick had no idea how a wife and child would affect his getting up in the morning. They might have different needs that conflicted with his. He wondered if he was assuming correctly that they would all sleep in the same room. Anne had not said, but he did not think there was any point in coming back if they stayed in different rooms. That would make it a little difficult to talk.

"After breakfast. Mrs Harville would thank you for it."

"Why?"

"Because I otherwise slip out of her bed in complete darkness."

"Why is that a bad thing? Assuming you look a fright in the morning like everybody else."

"I did not know you were vain. It is more agreeable to have breakfast together -- and I do want to see a bit of Fanny and Lucy. Lucy will be about to go to bed when I get there. In the morning I can at least have her undivided attention." He did not want it to appear as if his wife was the only attraction.

"Oh." If he wanted some of Sophy's undivided attention he might need to stay for breakfast as well. Did he want that? Anne would want him to want that. She had brought Sophy here for him to see. That settled the question then. "After breakfast it is. The Anchor is on your way, is it not?"

It was and they parted in front of it. Frederick felt a little silly carrying his little bag inside, as if he was there for an illicit stay. He was greeted very civilly, however, and either it was very common for officers to visit their wives there or it made perfect sense. He was told that Mrs Wentworth and Mrs Croft had not yet dined, but were about to be served, so an extra place would be set at the table if he wished.

As it happened, he did wish it, so he was shown into the dining room where Anne and Sophia were seated. Little Sophy was present too, in a highchair at the head of the table, but Sophia's babies were not. He was pleased to note Anne's pleasure upon seeing him. It was hardly visible to one who did not know her, but he saw it clearly.

"May I dine with you?" he asked, but the servants had already set his place. Sophia moved up a chair, so he had to sit between her and Sophy. "I hope I do not have to feed her," he said a little anxiously. His sister would probably think it was good for a father to try, but he did not know if he agreed.

"You may," Anne said with an encouraging smile.

"But you will know what she likes. I do not." Sophy herself laughed heartily at his remark, as if she was perfectly capable of indicating what she liked, and Frederick looked at her in surprise. She could not possibly have understood.

"What a little flirt!" exclaimed Sophia. "She is going to be worse trouble than her mother when she grows up, because she takes after her father."

Frederick had never thought of himself as a little flirt, or even a big flirt for that matter. He was rather taken aback. "Well, she seems cheerful enough, but I should not call either of us flirts."

He missed Sophia's wink across the table, but Anne, at whom it was directed, did not. She laughed, if still with some reserve. "She likes the uniform, I think. So nearby. It excites her."

He gave Sophy an odd look, but she did seem unreasonably excited by him. "Well," he said, striving to keep the disappointment out of his voice. It had been flattering to think she liked his person. "Then any officer could have sat here to please her? The family relationship matters nothing to her?"

It did matter to Anne, that he mentioned it especially. It must mean he had accepted Sophy as his daughter. She did not know what to say and studied her plate. It was good she did not try to speak; she might have cried.

Frederick pulled a face at Sophy, which sent her into peals of infectious laughter. He was rather amazed at himself. "Everyone would mistakenly think they are funny."

"Why, Anne," Sophia grinned. "Shall you and I start eating?"

There was nothing like a good meal to endear a woman to a man, even if she had not cooked it herself. Frederick had warmed to Sophy and she to him. After dinner he even allowed Anne to put the baby in his lap while he told his sister about his trip to the West Indies. Anne did not know which questions to ask, so she left that to Sophia, but she listened eagerly.

After Sophia excused herself an hour later and announced that she would likely not be back, Anne thanked him for having stayed in the dining room. "The twins do not yet talk and she was afraid we were going to lock ourselves into my room."

"Does she always go to bed at this hour?" It struck him as rather early and he suspected she had only gone to give them some time alone. But there was no need for Anne to thank him. He did not know where else he could have gone, since he was the guest. It was not his place to suggest they repair to another room.

"Yes, she does. Well, the twins nurse now and then she goes to bed. Sophy and I go a little later, because Sophy is never tired." She thought Sophia might be retiring a little earlier today, perhaps half an hour, but she did not say so, nor did she pull out her watch to see if she was correct.

Sophy did indeed not exhibit any signs of fatigue. She wanted to be bounced on Frederick's knee and she squealed when he humoured her. "She is not shy, is she?" he wondered. Although they were not flirts, perhaps Sophia had been right in saying Sophy took after her father. She did not have her mother's quietness, at any rate.

"I suppose not, but I cannot say. We do not often meet strangers." She blushed instantly. "I do not mean that you are a stranger, but you are someone she had not seen before. I am happy to see you get along so well. I knew you would."

"Why? Because she is not shy?"

"No, because you are --" She stopped and looked down. She was the one who was a little shy, not Sophy. "Because I know you. I knew you would not turn your back on her. I knew it before she was born. It is what kept me from worrying all that while. My mother thought I was frivolous and childish for not recognising problems, but I did and I dismissed them."

He should probably acknowledge her faith in him, but he could not. Not yet. "Your mother is dead."

"Lady Russell is my new mother. I asked her."

Frederick still disliked the woman and it showed.

"Please," Anne begged. "She was not wrong in what she did. It was her responsibility to protect me and she did it to the best of her abilities, both in warning me against an uncertain future and in taking care of Sophy and me when I was threatened with ruin. She feels guilty, you know, because she never enlightened me."

That Lady Russell felt guilty for something was a small consolation, but he could not yet admit that a future with him -- or without him, if he went to sea -- would have been uncertain. He had seen how Mrs Harville lived, but it was not bleak if Anne did not think so. Anne might well bear it as well as Mrs Harville, even if he knew he would not want her to live like that, not really. "Hmm."

"I do believe she has changed a little," Anne continued. "She has also stood up to my father and she has come to see that propriety is not always good."

At that moment Lady Russell was indeed infinitely preferring impropriety. She had asked Mr Croft if she was allowed to think about his remark before she reacted to it, which he had graciously allowed. The subjects of marriage and underclothes had not come up again during dinner, but now they approached the sofa she was reminded of them again when she saw the blanket. This morning she had told him he did not have to sit at the other end, so he would probably not do so. She took care to sit down more towards the middle herself.

He was not as quick in sitting down, because he at least remembered they always read here and he had got his book from a nearby table. "Shall I read to you? You have no book."

She was already busy arranging her blanket and she was startled by his comment. She had been so consumed by her thoughts that she had had none to spare for her book. "I forgot."

"Though our reading a book together is perhaps...a pretence," he said slowly as he sat down beside her. He could not imagine her very interested in his book, although he had got it from her library.

"For?" she asked nervously, although she could make a few guesses.

"Sitting very closely. I never knew it could be so agreeable. My family, consisting of all men, does not usually do it, unless we are six to a carriage, but then I feel annoyed and not tempted to kiss them."

Such an earnest revelation could only make her smile. "I understand." She had never known it could be so agreeable either to sit very closely, even without feeling tempted to kiss somebody. She made room for him under the blanket.

"Are the blinds closed?" Mr Croft suddenly wondered. "We do not want that Mr Peters peering in, nor your young friend Mr Wentworth, who I am sure was entertaining suspicious notions. Although he does not have the benefit of a female he likes, he learns quickly."

"The blinds are closed." When he kissed her, she had to think about his earlier words. He would not do more unless they were married. If he did, he would be just like Captain Wentworth. It was a little shocking that she could now almost understand it and that she did nothing about it.

"Will you stay?" asked Anne when Sophy began to make plaintive noises.

"I will." He had not known Sophy would monopolise their attention quite so much. There had hardly been time for a more personal conversation with Anne. Every time one of them had started, Sophy fell over or demanded attention in another manner. He would almost suspect her of doing it on purpose.

"What about Edward and his vows?"

Frederick looked at Anne, but he could not discern whether she was shy or teasing. "Does he think I never made you any promises before we made Sophy? And that without knowing she was going to be made!"

"But..." She bit her lip and gathered Sophy up onto her hip. "You would renew your promises before you made another, would you not?"

The notion of making another child was astonishingly new to him and he stood staring. It had not yet occurred to him, yet he saw now that Anne could have no way of knowing that. He would leave again soon -- that new command that he expected -- and history would repeat itself to some degree if he left her with child again. "I first promise I will not do that without your permission."

Anne looked flushed. "You cannot leave it only to me to think. I do have my bouts of stupidity."

As silly as that sounded, it made him smile. "I promise to do my share -- of thinking."

"I am sorry I am so insistent." She wished they would not have so much to think and talk about. It had been so much simpler the summer before Sophy and despite the consequences she wished they could be so carefree and uncomplicated again. She hoped he would not be relying on her judgement alone. Even she might be temporarily distracted into foolishness.

"You have every right to be insistent." He followed her out of the dining room. Before he would say more, he first checked if there was no one else in sight. "Did Lady Russell only take care of you until my return?"

Anne stood still, but it took a moment until she turned around. "No. She did at first not expect you to do your duty. I do not know what she thinks now. Some of her opinions have changed, but I do not presume to know her current opinion on you. Your writing to Edward that you refused to come to Somersetshire will not have done much good."

Frederick conceded that the lady might have a point. He still did not trust her, however. "Did she keep you in an attic?"

Even by the dim light in the passage it was obvious that Anne frowned. "To punish me for my conduct? No. I am sure that was my father's plan, but Lady Russell never considered it. I lived as her daughter, with every privilege attached to that position. We could continue in that manner, but I should prefer something else. It would be perfect if you came to live with us, but you will not want to."

"I see." They continued to Anne's room and he knew what to do by now. He accepted Sophy without speaking when the door needed to be opened. She did not wail this time; he was her friend.

He sat down as Anne went about her business. It appeared that Sophy had to be readied for bed first and that this took rather long. First she had to be caught and then laid down on a cloth, whereupon she was undressed. All these actions clearly took place against her will. Frederick did not know whether he felt sorry for Anne or Sophy. "Is it always like that?"

"Always," Anne replied. "You can get changed if you like. I have no time to watch now."

"I am not sure I mind." As he had only considered watching Anne, the idea of being watched -- or not -- had not occurred to him at all. He might prefer watching Anne be capable and efficient.

"Could you place this bucket outside the door?" she asked, pointing at a bucket.

"It smells."

"Yes, Sophy is not yet capable of using the water closet on her own," Anne said dryly. "If you put the bucket outside the door, the maid will pick it up and have all the cloths cleaned. Sophia and I are paying for the service. If we keep it in here, it will continue to smell."

He did as she asked and then undressed himself. Although she had said she was too busy to look, he saw she glanced at him a few times anyway. He was ready before Sophy, but Sophy fell asleep instantly when she was. Anne laid her on her mattress.

"Do they not have childrens' beds here?" he asked. "Do they ever?"

"Amazingly they had one, but Sophia has it. She was afraid the twins would roll off the mattress and hit their heads. Sophy can get off it herself. I suppose they never get such an influx of babies at once."

"And where do I sleep?" He supposed he would be allowed into the bed, but it was best not to take anything for granted.

"Where you like, with Sophy or me," Anne answered. She took her nightgown and spread it out over the bed so that she could slide into it more quickly when she was ready. Having Frederick so near was a little distracting.

"With you then," he decided and crossed his arms.

"Will you please not look as if the theatre is about to begin? It makes me nervous." She hesitated to remove more than her stockings, although she felt she was being foolish. They had a child and she had certainly glanced at him as well, though with much less openness.

He grinned. "It is better than the theatre."

Either Mr Croft had abandoned his principles entirely or he had adjusted them in some manner to fit the current situation, for before Lady Russell had fallen asleep he came into her room to join her. Although she was by now quite fond of kissing him, as scandalous as it was, she had never been fond of what he had now undoubtedly come for and she froze. "What have you come to do?" she asked stiffly, something she had never even dared to ask her husband. But Mr Croft was not her husband -- he had not even received an answer to his comment that might have been a proposal -- and thus he had no rights.

"I missed you."

She knew she would give in if he said something else that addressed her heart, but for the moment she tried to be strong. "I shall not like what you have come to do."

"What have I come to do?" He lifted the blanket and got into the bed, curious about her answer, but not put off.

Lady Russell moved out of his way. "I think that sort of thing is very unpleasant. I did not read that book with myself in mind."

"My dear, you may know that I am an eldest son and you may have inferred from my being at everyone's disposal that I have not yet done the duty of the eldest son and produced an heir. An eldest son cannot afford to procreate unwisely," Mr Croft said calmly, although he was rather startled by her aloofness. "I have always said that if I must do it at all, I should prefer to do it with a wife. I always thought this was an easy principle to maintain. I am perfectly capable of being here without violating it."

She was too uneasy to believe him. "I should not like to do it even if I were a wife. I was a wife once. This aspect of being a wife was very unpleasant."

"I am sorry to hear that. Why?"

"Why?" She forgot to move in her surprise and she got caught. She struggled and wriggled, but he had a firm hold on her.

She was forced to explain herself, which she did not like doing and which she did not think she ought, but she did it anyway. Mr Croft listened to her slightly incoherent account with interest and sympathy. He kissed her and said life was unfair. Lady Russell was reassured enough to stop suspecting him of having intentions and she could lean against him and close her eyes.

Chapter Forty-Three

Posted on Thursday, 20 March 2008

"Can we talk?" Frederick asked when Anne had blown out the candle. "Or did you want to go to sleep?"

"We can talk." She had got over her embarrassment and managed to get into her nightgown by only letting her shift slide to the floor after her nightgown had been pulled over her head. What Frederick had thought of it she did not know. He had not made any comments, although she was certain that while she was fumbling he had given her odd looks.

"Well..." This was difficult, but it had to be done. He was glad it was dark. "I would like to stay married to you. I do not know if I am reconciled to your reasons for breaking our engagement, but I am willing to overlook them. You might have lived happily. We shall never know."

"No, we never shall," Anne agreed softly, but she was happy he had reconciled himself to their marriage at least. The rest would follow. "It is easy for me to think that I could have lived like Mrs Harville, but I saw her only at her best and only once in her home. I could not know unless I lived her life."

"Perhaps I should not have wanted you to try. But I do not want to think about it. Let us discuss the present and the future. I do not want Lady Russell to take care of you as if I am incapable." He supposed he should be grateful to the woman for having done it until now, but now that he had some more money he wanted to take care of his own responsibilities. He was too proud to be thought leaving it to another.

"I should not mind living with her while you are at sea. If you are not, however, I want to live with you."

"In spite of everything?"

"Everything?" This confused her.

"I am aware of not yet having said very much," Frederick said cautiously. "I came to dine with you; I came to stay with you, but I have yet to say why. This is something I could not yet bring myself to do."

"I should have been very surprised if you could. You do not give in very easily, even if you want to. And you were given rather a lot to think about. I did not expect you to make sense of it or change your mind immediately." She took his hand to emphasise her words, but she was wondering what he was going to say if he could bring himself to say something. What, other than curiosity, had brought him here?

"You are too good." He leant sideways and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Lady Russell thought her many pillows, which had heretofore been no more than an affectation, finally proved their worth when she could place them over Mr Croft's head when the maid came in in the morning. In spite of her company she had woken at her usual hour and the maid, who could not know about it, had come in at her usual hour as well.

There was a soft good morning, the tea was placed on the table, the curtains were pulled open and the fire was lit, and the maid was out again. Lady Russell let out her breath. Mr Croft had not been noticed and she removed the pillows from his head. It was too dark to see his expression properly. "I am sorry, but I do not know what she would have done if she had seen you."

"I should have made my presence known," he lamented. "For I should have been thought to have compromised you and you would have had to marry me."

"Was it not a joke when you spoke of marriage?" She got out of the bed and brought her tea cup back to the bed. Every morning she made a mental note to get a larger bedside table, but she invariably forgot this as the day progressed. Old age, no doubt.

"Anyone who knew me would think it a joke," Mr Croft said wistfully. "But I think I have well and truly fallen."

She realised she had walked through the room in her nightgown and she blushed. "Fallen. Oh. But is that a sad thing?"

"It challenges all my preconceived notions and now I feel lost. And at the same time I am not lost at all."

"And you wish to marry me?" Lady Russell arranged a few pillows behind her back so she could drink her tea without spilling it.

"I do not know what else to do with you, yet you do not seem very keen on the idea."

She felt lost now too. "I always thought there was too much to lose if I married again."

"I know that feeling, but now I feel there will be much to gain."

She contemplated gaining companionship and warmth, and losing independence and solitude. "And what about Anne?" She could not suddenly decide to leave Anne, not if she did not know what Captain Wentworth's reaction was. Suppose Anne returned from Plymouth disillusioned, only to find her mother was going to abandon her as well to pursue pleasures of her own?

"Whether I bring back six females or three is all the same to my family. Too many in any case," Mr Croft said dryly. "I always thought it too many as well and I daresay I still feel that way if it concerns six females I am not acquainted with. I do not do very well with people I do not know well."

Lady Russell handed him her teacup. It was selfish not to share. "You do rather too well with me," she said a little sternly.

A few grunts and groans disturbed the early morning silence and Frederick felt Anne leave the bed quickly. She returned and placed something beside him. It moved and it grunted impatiently and Anne was making pacifying noises. "What is happening?" he asked. He hoped his talking had not woken Sophy.

"She is hungry."

"Inches from my face!" he exclaimed, but the deafening silence that followed upon his words made him regret them. "Sweet."

"What time is it?"

He grunted like Sophy and left the bed. When he returned to the room he could tell her it was just six o'clock. Sophy had already finished and she was just being put back in her bed. Anne joined him again a little later. "Is she asleep again?" he asked.

"Yes, we can sleep some more."

Frederick did not want to sleep. "I expect another posting soon. You must tell me where you want to live. Here in Plymouth or closer to home." There were too many possibilities. For him it had always been easy: if any of his family had been available, he had gone there. Having to look for houses was entirely new to him.

"Where will you go until your new posting?"

"My plan was to stay here, but if you want a house elsewhere I shall of course go with you." He blinked at his own words. The husband followed the wife, in that case. It was not how he had imagined it.

"What sort of house can you afford?" Anne thought it was best to settle that first before she began to think and wish.

"I have no idea. I am going to have a few thousand pounds. They have not yet been paid, but I am sure I could get a house." He did not doubt that. Even Harville had a house and Mrs Harville could not have brought much money into the marriage. He would be able to get a house for Anne. It might not be what she was used to before, not this year. In a year or two it would improve.

"Sophy and I have some money."

That was surprising. "From your father?"

"From Lady Russell."

He did not like hearing about the woman so often and he scowled. "Why could she not give you that money when you first wanted to marry me?"

Anne said nothing. He might know the answer to that himself and she supposed he did when he pulled her closer.

"I am sorry," he said. "This is not how I envisaged my return. I sometimes imagined you begging me for forgiveness, which I would then magnanimously grant and then dazzle you with my dashing deeds, but it turned out so very differently. I imagined many things, but not this." He let out a mocking laugh.

"But I was dazzled by your dashing deeds," Anne protested gently. "Even if I lack the knowledge to appreciate them fully, I did understand you were clever and brave and successful."

"And you were not at all as I expected either." Perhaps Anne was dazzling and not he. She was no longer a sweet but sheltered girl, but she had more concerns than he had ever reckoned with. She was raising a child.

"And I have Sophy. I am sorry you missed so much of her growth." And his own, she supposed, because she had grown used to taking care of her daughter as well.

"We could have another?" he suggested.

When Frederick and Anne approached their dining room for breakfast with Sophy, many voices could be heard from the inside. Anne looked guilty when she realised what must have happened. "Sophia fetched some friends because we are late."

He had no idea of the time, only that his stomach was growling because it took so long to get dressed if there were three people staying in the same room and one of them kept crawling away. "We are not late. We never gave her a time. It must be Harville. I never gave him a time either."

He was right, but when they entered the room it was not only Harville but his wife, sister and daughter as well. Sophia looked pleased to have so much company and Frederick wondered if was not a perfect solution to let Anne live with Sophia. She would then live in a better style, away from Lady Russell's influence and his sister would have the company she seemed to crave. He would have to suggest this to them. Sophia could not object. He never received the impression that she was very fond of her husband's family.

"Why do you not persuade them to have something to eat, Frederick?" Sophia called out. "They refuse."

Upon Frederick's insistence they accepted some coffee, but they would not eat. After he had finished, he rose. "We are leaving, ladies. I do not know when we shall see you next."

"Do not be so dramatic," said his sister. "If it takes too long, Anne has some contacts among your crew who would lend us a boat."

"I do not have contacts as such," Anne protested when she felt this to be a misrepresentation of the truth. She saw them off and had the pleasure of receiving a kiss when Harville was generously looking the other way on the stairs.

Returning to the others, she found that Miss Harville was most curious about her elopement. The questions pleased her, but only for the implications. Frederick must have spoken about it between his visits, which was interesting. For a moment she wondered about his indiscretion in telling a young girl like Miss Harville all about it, but then she heard that it had really been Harville who had told her.

But if she had told Frederick about the elopement that had not really taken place and he had told Harville and Harville had told his sister, what sort of story had it become? "Men focus on other details," she said cautiously. "Such as which type of carriage we took and how fast it went. I do wonder what you were told."

"Carriages were not mentioned, thankfully!" cried Miss Harville. "I do not care for them. I want to know how you felt to be doing such an illicit thing!"

"I do not think it is really illicit. In Gretna Green it is not," said poor Anne, who had no idea how she had felt. She would have been happy, presumably. "Happy."

"Oh and to have a child without your father's permission!"

"Er...well..." She caught Sophia's glance, but there was no support in it, only amusement. "I cannot see Frederick ask his permission, can you?"

"Why, no. But it was not very clever of him to get you in such a condition if your father did not know you were married," said Miss Harville. "What did he do?"

"Frederick?" Anne hoped she would not be asked to reveal it because she would not. But Miss Harville was right. It had not been very clever.

"No, I know that. It is obvious what he did," Miss Harville said with a sophisticated shake of her hand. "Your father."

"He was not too pleased."

"Oh, now what?" Lady Russell said irritably when she was informed that Sir Walter Elliot was in the breakfast room. She had been quite pleased with Mr Croft as well as with having got him out of her room before Jenny appeared, but this little news spoiled her mood. She glanced at her clock. "At this hour? Again?"

Jenny had nothing intelligent to say.

"There are all too many gentlemen calling on me lately and I do not want even half of them."

This surprised her maid. "Not even half! But some?"

"A fourth, perhaps," Lady Russell said reflectively after a quick calculation. "But even of that I am not certain. Well, I had better see what Sir Walter's business is."

She descended the stairs and found Sir Walter and Mr Croft sitting down to breakfast. For some reason this annoyed her. She liked eating with Mr Croft alone and all those other people coming to berate them were very vexing. "Sir Walter, are you making it a habit to breakfast here?"

"The girls. It really is too much for me." He shook his head as he attacked his toast. "They do nothing but fight. I should send Mary off to school, but she refuses to pack and Elizabeth refuses to pack for Mary because she does not want me to use the carriage to take Mary to school and -- they even come into my dressing room. I wonder that they did not follow me hither! But I escaped very slyly."

Lady Russell wondered if that involved only one servant seeing him out instead of four.

"I almost felt sorry for him," said Mr Croft.

Chapter Forty-Four

Posted on Sunday, 23 March 2008

Edward had had a quiet night, as usual. He had enjoyed an equally quiet breakfast, but then it all began. First Mrs Dickinson came to ask him all kinds of questions to which he did not know the answers. Her told her she was worse than his university tutors, but that did not make her stop quizzing him on which sort of jam he would like to be given next. Apparently no two jars could be open at once. He did not understand why, but there would be no arguing with her even if he had wanted to.

In the middle of this conversation there were visitors at the door and the housekeeper trotted off to let them in. Edward breathed a sigh of relief until he remembered he was the master of the house and they had likely come for him. Dr Greene and Miss Greene were shown into the breakfast room and Edward was glad he had decided against reading his book at the table. He gave them a rather awkward greeting nevertheless.

"I have not yet received your answer, Mr Wentworth," said Mrs Dickinson, who would not give up and who knew he would seize this distraction to get out of answering. "Blackcurrant or cherry?"

He sighed. "What is the difference? What am I eating now?"

She looked incredulous. "That! What is on your toast!"

Edward had no idea. It was red. It might be strawberry, but he really did not want to display too great a knowledge of jams, for it would undoubtedly be used against him. "Open a jar of the same."

"I can only do so until we run out of strawberry jars, which we will most certainly do before a new batch can be made," Mrs Dickinson said patiently. "You can eat strawberry for months, then cherry for months, then --"

"Rotate them in alphabetic order," Edward suggested and he looked smug for having known his current jam was strawberry. "Could you do the same to vegetables as well? I wonder why I never thought of this before." It would certainly save him much trouble. He was now being asked these tedious questions every week.

"Very well, sir." Mrs Dickinson gave Dr and Miss Greene an exasperated look and left the room.

Edward gave them an equally exasperated look, which made them laugh. "What a nuisance to be bothered by such trifles," Dr Greene said cheerfully. He took a seat at the table and his daughter followed suit.

"Do you not have it?"

"We always have several jars open at once. Large family. And the tastes of the young are so whimsical. They could eat ten slices of toast with strawberry jam today and declare it is the foulest poison tomorrow."

"I should never have dared to say such a thing," Edward said, a little shocked at the impertinence of the young Greenes. "My father had us well in hand."

"How many children did he have?"

"Three." Edward wondered if he had now implied that Dr Greene allowed his children to run wild. It would be a little disrespectful of him, but he did not think he was very wrong, considering what they said and which books they bought.

"When I still had three children, I had them well in hand as well, but at some point the table becomes so long that there are comments down the table that you do not quite catch and I know all too well that if there is something I must hear, they are capable of raising their voices. But are you really sure your father had you well in hand?"

"I think so. It never would have occurred to me to say such things."

"But your brother eloped with a girl."

"He would never have dared to say anything about the jam," Edward said solemnly, thinking Frederick would likely have got his ears boxed if he had tried. "And he eloped when my father was long dead."

"Or because of it," said Dr Greene, who as a father preferred that explanation.

"It was because of the girl's father. I do not think there is much harm in eloping if it is because of one foolish father preventing a sensible match," Edward said in a reflective tone. He was speaking in general, of course, and perhaps only a little of Sir Walter Elliot in particular. Anne and Frederick would have been a sensible match at a later point, but Sir Walter might not have allowed it even then.

Dr Greene looked rather surprised by this remark. "All young people think they are about to make sensible matches. Foolish fathers actually come in useful sometimes."

"They should apply to a third party. Not me," he hurried to add, but then he realised they might. "Not family, that is, but my family have all married, so I am safe from having to give subjective opinions. My parishioners may all come to me for advice, although I do not think I am very qualified to give it."

"Such a modest attitude does you credit, Mr Wentworth, but I think that if you really put your mind to it, you can tell a bad match from a good one."

"But as you say, they will all think their match a good one." He was not certain he could foresee problems if a couple painted him a rosy picture.

"Not if they come to you. But this is not why I came."

"Oh." Edward remembered the book and braced himself, although Miss Greene had not looked the least bit worried. He had managed to see that despite not looking at her overly much.

"I am obliged to take a trip next week and will be absent the next Sunday after tomorrow. I am here to ask you if you can step in."

"C-C-Certainly, sir." Edward blushed when it proved to be something different from what he had been expecting. This was an easy request, a flattering one.

"Good, good. I shall settle the details with you when I come to pick Amelia up later."

Later? Edward's eyes grew wide.

Harville had of course asked how his captain had liked staying with his wife. Frederick had expected no less, but the questions had been phrased delicately enough for him not to have taken offence. He had even replied to all of them. Although he had never revealed the nature of the argument that had kept him away from Anne -- it was impossible to do so -- he had gone as far as to admit that he was well on his way to overlooking it. And he was. He understood himself and he was a little cross with himself for his anger, but Anne forgave him. In light of that it was pointless not to move on.

After they had gone over all of that, Frederick questioned Harville about renting houses and what sort of houses could be obtained. He was not as pleased with the answers as Harville had been with his, because it did not sound as if there was much that was worthy of Anne. He had been looking around himself as they walked and he suspected that all the houses and situations he liked were out of his range.

"I cannot imagine her in a small house in Plymouth," he said at last. "It would be small -- and noisy."

"And she is a delicate little flower," Harville said sarcastically.

He recalled Anne cheerfully wiping Sophy's dirty posterior. This had given him pause, but she had not flinched. Very delicate she was not and he had obviously no insight into what she could stand. "No! I should probably leave the choice to her."

He had no idea of Sophia's financial possibilities, but it would be perfect if they could share. They were here together as well, so they must get along and their both having small children would be an advantage.

Lady Russell had sat down to breakfast and wondered how she could get rid of Sir Walter. He could not allow his children to control him. He was the father. "You should put your foot down," she said.

He gave her a pitiful look.

Clearly he was not going anywhere until he had eaten and he had received the promise that she would reprimand his daughters for him. Her indignation rose, yet she wanted to remain civil. She also did not want to help too much, but it was her duty to help at least a little. "It is for you to decide how to use your carriage, not for the girls."

"But Elizabeth --"

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth has no say in anything. Mary has to go to school. Let Elizabeth take Mary to school then. You will be rid of both at once."

This was considered a splendid plan and Sir Walter brightened up instantly. "That is a wonderful idea of you, my dear Anna."

Mr Croft cringed as if he heard something grate very much on his ears. "My darling is indeed very clever."

"You speak very possessively, sir," Sir Walter said in astonishment.

"I was not contradicted or reprimanded, as you hear." Mr Croft shot Lady Russell a triumphant look.

Between that look and Sir Walter's astonishment, she felt very cornered. She had not reacted because she was not very good at reacting very quickly if they said such surprising things. It was a failure indeed and it was no wonder Sir Walter saw her as an extension of his household and Mr Croft saw her as his possession. She never protested. Even now she could only push her chair back and leave the room. The last thing she wanted was to arbitrate between two fools who used terms of endearment to battle each other. My dear, my darling! Where would it end? She did not want to hear.

"It is not very proper of you, sir, to leave your daughter with me," said Edward. This was not an accident like the previous time, but it was very consciously done. He wondered why.

"Are you not a proper gentleman, Mr Wentworth?"

"What would other people think?" Edward disregarded for a moment that other people had thought nothing at all when his sister-in-law had moved in with a small baby. In his own mind he was perhaps no longer a very proper gentleman and he had seen with his own eyes what proper ladies and gentlemen could be inspired to do after looking through such a book. There were no guarantees.

"Oh, I think I am above reproach," Dr Greene said cheerfully. His motives would not be questioned. "Besides, I am going to call on someone Amelia thinks boring."

"I am boring too," Edward replied, but then he remembered he needed to talk to Miss Greene about the book. He could do so if he was alone with her, even if he had no idea what to do with her after they had covered that subject. "But whatever you wish, sir."

It was not in Dr Greene's interest to question that change of heart, so he did not. "I shall collect her in about an hour. We have some more errands after that."

Edward did not have to ask Miss Greene anything when her father had left, for she spoke first. "Did you receive the book?"

"It was too expensive," he protested.

"It was worth its price, I hope."

He could not deny that and he blushed. "You must allow me to give you some money for it. You may now lack the money to purchase...the things girls purchase."

"Books?" she asked with her eyebrows raised a little mockingly.

Anne was glad that the presence of Mrs and Miss Harville temporarily prevented Sophia from questioning her. She could remove Sophia's last remnants of doubt about her brother or she could make it worse. That all depended on what Sophia valued in a man and a brother, something that was not yet entirely clear to Anne. Perhaps she should not worry, because there was nothing Sophia could do. She was merely an outsider.

"It did not take you very long to win him over," said Sophia, who also did not take very long to start her interrogation when the visitors left. They had a household to run.

Anne did not know if that was considered good or bad. Sophia's tone was neutral. "It was Sophy. I knew it would be Sophy."

"Or the prospect of staying with a wife?"

"I am not a fool, Sophia," Anne said with dignity. "I know to what you allude, but do you not think that if that had been his object he would have been very frustrated by Sophy's being in the room? Your daughters are probably so good as to sleep through anything, but mine is not." It seemed they were always better behaved than Sophy, which could be frustrating at times. Anne thought secretly that it was because they could not yet do very much, but Sophia always claimed it was her influence.

"And Sophy won him over in spite of frustrating his attempts."

She remained calm. "I noticed neither frustration nor attempts."

To this Sophia gave an incredulous little snort. "But what would you know of it, Anne? You never noticed the attempts that led to Sophy either."

"I do not know what you want!" Anne cried. She was utterly vexed by her sister-in-law. It was almost as if she was here with Elizabeth or Mary. "You persist in thinking the same of us still, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. It does not cross your mind that we might actually be sensible."

Chapter Forty-Five

Posted on Wednesday, 26 March 2008

Edward thought Miss Greene was a particularly sensible female if she spent her money on books, although that did not tell him how much of her allowance had gone into it. He looked at her closely to see if she wore pretty clothes and other things that might be expensive, but he could not tell. "But will you not say if you are now out of money?" he asked a little anxiously. "What if your family suddenly notices you have nothing left and you have to tell them you bought a scandalous book for a man?"

"Oh dear," she replied in a small voice. "But I hate to see misinformed people."

"What would your father say?" Although Edward did not think he was directly to blame, he was of course to blame for having given Miss Greene access to the book that had prompted her purchase. That his daughter granted herself access to worse volumes was something that Dr Greene might not care about.

"I have no qualms about keeping him uninformed." She thought he had so many children that she was doing him a favour by not acquainting him with every little thing she did. Suppose they all did so!

Miss Greene's words reassured Edward somewhat. "But do you not think that too much information will cause a man to act upon it? In general?" He was not speaking of himself. He did not think he would act in such a manner, although he did have a small fear that he did not know himself as well as he ought.

Miss Greene looked a little confused. "Because my father has nine children, you mean?" One could say he had acted upon such information several times.

"No, I am referring to the people who looked through this book whom I later discovered kissing." He gave that word the proper reverent emphasis. It was scandalous, yet intriguing. The parties engaging in it seemed to enjoy it very much.

"There is no kissing in such books," Miss Greene said readily. Contrary to Edward she had read it in its entirety and she could say that with absolute conviction. "It cannot have been because of the book."

That settled that matter temporarily. "But the money?" Edward pressed.

"I shall take a jar of your blackcurrant jam instead."

"I miss him so much. I am sorry," Sophia burst forth.

Anne was surprised by this turn in the conversation. She had expected to have her sense called into question, not an apology. She thought Sophia had been disapproving. "Who do you miss?"

"James! I do not know if I am jealous that you have Frederick or afraid that he does not conduct himself as he ought or both. And everybody will be happy and together except me." She looked incredibly sad, which made a stronger impact because she was not crying. It was not an affectation.

"But you have your girls," Anne tried. They had dealt with this subject before and a mention of the twins had always worked to lift Sophia's spirits, but never permanently. These feelings would keep resurfacing until Captain Croft returned. She felt sorry for Sophia now instead of annoyed. It was not easy to be living without her husband after having shared everything with him since their marriage. His attitude -- which she nevertheless understood -- had not helped.

"That is little consolation if everybody around me has a husband. I told him I was going to be miserable. I told him." Still she did not cry, but she looked angry that he had dared to leave her so heartlessly in spite of that.

"He will be back."

"I was not this miserable when he was injured." She had been worried, but at least she had had him with her and she would rather have a legless man or one who could not walk than not having him at all.

"But it is not my fault that he is gone, nor Frederick's."

"I know that, but I may still fancy myself jealous and miserable." Sophia made an effort to pull herself together. "I ought to count my blessings and not resent the fact that I am husbandless and reduced to giving milk."

"That is temporary," Anne soothed. She was still in that position herself, though Sophy drank only half of what the twins drank, of course. She was not concerned about Sophia's attachment to her daughters. They were well loved, if not allowed as frequent nursings as Sophy for their mother's sake. "They will not still want milk when they are ten."

"I should hope not. There would be nothing left of me by then."

Anne eyed Sophia critically. There would be nothing left of her. Why not? "Have you lost much weight then?"

"My appetite has suffered since James left and the girls' appetite has only got worse." There was a guilty look on Sophia's face that showed her aware of the implications and she did not at all object to being dragged to a cake shop, without the girls.

Lady Russell, in the privacy of her library, could dwell on the gentlemen at her leisure. She needed this time alone, for she found she was quite agitated. She sat down and pressed her hands against her heart. It was beating so rapidly. Someone ought to tell Mr Croft that winning her hand was not a game in which there were several contestants. The only one he had to impress was her.

But so far he had defended her very well every time, she had to admit. He had got rid of Mr Peters -- though she was afraid to think of the consequences -- and he was more than a match for Sir Walter. She hoped it was not the latter's silliness that inspired Mr Croft to be so impertinent.

He wanted to marry her. She ought to give him an answer. There was no doubt that she and Mr Croft could live very agreeably together if the past few days were any indication, but he might embarrass her terribly in company. However, if she examined what he had said, it had only been complimentary -- and shocking. If he did not speak in company he might be an agreeable husband and once he was a husband he might no longer feel the need to speak up at all. She hoped so.

But she did not know him very well at all. Lady Russell asked herself in desperation whether this was enough for a happy marriage until she realised she had once married on less knowledge. But she also realised now that there were men who were capable of inspiring greater feelings in her and stirring her more deeply than Sir Henry Russell had done. He did not seem to have left a lasting impression.

This was all very difficult and she had not formed any resolution at all when Mr Croft entered the room. "I got rid of him," he said. "Will you not come and finish your breakfast?"

"My appetite may be gone."

"I shall restore it." He had not yet finished eating himself, having had to speak with Sir Walter.

"How did you get rid of him? Please do not say you used even worse terms to describe me." She nervously took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

"Even worse than darling?" he wondered. "There was no need. Sir Walter understands perfectly well what I see in you. It needed little elaboration. He only wished to be assured of our mutual regard."

"Why?" And what had Mr Croft answered? She could not imagine it. She could not even imagine Sir Walter wishing to be assured of something like that.

"He cannot imagine a woman would choose someone like me over a baronet." He chuckled. "He has a point in terms of precedence."

"The choice would be easy if it were only between you and him."

"But it is not, I know." He pulled her arm through his. It was between widowhood and him. Widows, he had come to see, could be their own man, so to speak. He had no intention of making her very dependent, but she would not know that. "I could not give him any assurances."

Although his tone was not regretful, Lady Russell interpreted his words as such anyhow. "I am sorry, but I am in such a muddle. I am not used to being pursued."

"I am not used to pursuing. Perhaps I am not doing it right." Mr Croft gave her a concerned look. "I do not know how to pursue women. Perhaps one needs to be more subtle and patient and distant?"

"I doubt I should notice your pursuit if you were." She stopped him and seized his arms. "But what would you do with me? I cannot give you a son. Is that not what you need?"

He gazed at her earnestly. "I never felt I needed one before I met you. Why should I suddenly feel it now?"

She did not know that and returned to her breakfast. Her voice was too steady when she spoke. "But now that you find yourself capable of pursuing a woman, you might come to feel your time would be better spent pursuing the mother of your heir."

His hearing was selective. "Am I capable then?"

Lady Russell avoided his bright gaze. "You might prefer a younger woman. I fear I am older than you."

"Are you going to say no to me because you think you would be ruining my chances at fatherhood? It means nothing to me."

"Yes, then." She pressed her hand against her heart again. "Oh, to what am I committing myself?"

"To me."

After a perfunctory appearance on his ship, or so it felt, Frederick left again to go to his bank and several other offices. He would do his duty towards his family; no one would be able to say otherwise. He was eager to settle the matter that same day, if it could be done, and he did not see why not. With a little pressure he discovered it could be settled in two days, the barest minimum.

Since his business had kept him away for most of the day, he sent a note to Anne to apprise her of the fact that he was dining on board and staying there afterwards. She would understand, he hoped. He could take more liberties than his crew, but not yet all. A very odd thing was happening: he was wishing that his new command would not come too soon. This required some introspection and reflection, and certainly no exposure to Anne and Sophy.

In the evening he gave some thought to Edward. He had forgotten about his brother for a moment, which mortified him. There was now no longer any reason to avoid Monkford. If he had the time he might as well travel there to see his brother, whom he loved and whom he did want to see.

Mrs and Miss Harville dined at The Anchor because the gentlemen were not coming ashore. Sophia had other friends, but Anne had noticed there was less understanding about the babies there. Their bringing three babies to dinner would not be appreciated. In fact, after declaring the little ones were adorable Sophia's acquaintances in this hotel had even expressed their tactful astonishment at their having been brought along to Plymouth in the first place. They were not close friends and she could see them often enough, but dinner with them was out of the question. How this affected Sophia's occasional chagrin, Anne did not know.

At least Mrs Harville understood perfectly the needs of small babies and she was too poor to employ a minder other than her sister. She was forced to bring Lucy for longer visits and she was only too glad that she could do so now.

Anne began to understand some of what Mrs Harville was saying, which was a good thing considering they had daughters who were the same age. They compared their experiences for a while.

Edward had managed to speak very pleasantly of his orchard and gardens to Miss Greene and he had even walked her through them. When Dr Greene returned from his boring visit, Miss Greene was just discussing preserves with Mrs Dickinson and nothing could look more innocent.

The next day, however, it turned out that his neighbours had noticed his visitors. Although Monkford was small and the next house was a comfortable distance off, this had not stopped them from seeing things.

"How did the young lady like your gardens?" asked Mrs Cannell when Edward greeted her going into the church. Sunday was the best day for confronting the curate with exciting developments in his life. He could not run away then.

"Which young lady?" he asked.

"Sly, sly!" Mrs Cannell cried and she poked an oblivious Mr Cannell in his ribs. "Do not think we did not see you. Are we to expect a happy event in the near future?"

Edward had first wanted to reply that the banns for Joe Riley were about to be read, but then he became so astonished that he quite forgot to greet the next three couples.

Chapter Forty-Six

Posted on Saturday, 29 March 2008

Frederick paid a visit to his ladies the next day. He pressed long enough for Anne to consent tentatively to going back to the Asp with him to have dinner there. She was worried about Sophy, but he promised to see personally to bringing her on board in a safe manner. She could always be hoisted up in a crate, as she was still young enough not to climb out. He did not worry; more difficult things had been brought aboard.

From denying he had a wife two days ago, he had improved so much that he now wanted to take her on board. Anne was impressed and she could not suppress a comment. "But you do not allow women on board."

He laughed. "Did that stop you before?"

"But that was different. You could not stop me because I was determined, so you were not responsible for my being there. Now you will deliberately bring me."

"My wife has certain privileges, I suppose." He had always maintained that she would have none, but he had not had a wife then. Practice was different from theory. He now found he wanted her to see how he had lived and he wanted others to see her. She was allowed to tease him; he deserved it.

"But if I was a surprise to your crew, would Sophy not be?"

"They might be less interested in her than in you. But she must come. This is one of the last chances for her to come on board. Poor Asp will be taken apart." Sophy would likely not care at present, but if she was older she might like the fact that she had been on a ship. Her first ship -- Frederick could not imagine anyone not caring about it.

"When? Tomorrow?" If today was the last chance, it might happen very soon.

Frederick laughed again. "Not that quickly. First the crew must be paid off and obviously she cannot be taken apart in the middle of the bay."

"Oh." Anne felt silly. "I suppose not. She would sink. But where will you go when she is taken apart?"

He liked her hopeful look. "If I have the time you may take me to see Edward."

"You do want to see him then?" She was pleased.

"Of course. I hope he did not think I was avoiding him." He had not really given any thought to his brother's feelings before, thinking that his own motives had been unmistakable enough. "I might have written him to ask if he could come here if I had enough time. I had not thought that far ahead yet."

"Fortunately for you that is all we did in the past year," Anne said dryly.

"Really?" he exclaimed. "But of course. Much hinged on my return and I was unaware of it. Of course you would have been thinking ahead, in case I did something as stupid as writing I would not come. But I was not stupid yesterday. I settled your finances. I can sign everything tomorrow. It is perhaps not as much as you would like, but it is the best I can do right now."

"It will suffice. Thank you." She embraced him.

Edward had been very astonished by Mrs Cannell's remark, although he had soon become distracted by the business of the day and he did not think of it again until the parishioners left the church. Mrs Cannell gave him knowing looks and half winks, which unnerved him. If he was not mistaken she thought he would soon announce his engagement to Miss Greene, simply because he had walked through his gardens with her.

It was odd that they had never thought anything about Anne, who had even lived with him. Of course nobody could have hinted at an engagement, but he had now seen that Mrs Cannell's face was very expressive and that she could express many a dubious hint if she chose. He wondered how he had understood them.

And he had done nothing but talk and walk with Miss Greene. This should not give anyone the idea he was about to marry her. The thought had never even crossed his mind. He could not yet marry, not until he investigated whether he could and he was resolved not to do so.

He thought of her as he walked home. She was a nice girl and after she had begun to talk she had been very sensible, but he also thought her very outspoken about certain matters and not at all aware of acting improperly. In fact, she behaved as if there was nothing improper about it and she had spoken very convincingly. Now that he thought about it, she merely had a great interest in medicine and education. He did not know what to make of her. She looked like a shy young girl, but she was an outspoken and knowledgeable young woman. She was a little formidable.

Why did Dr Greene keep bringing her? He had had an excuse for this second time, but Edward thought it nevertheless strange that he was being used to entertain a girl who would be bored elsewhere. She had not seemed bored with him, however. The house and the gardens interested her and she had made making jam sound very intriguing.

Edward concluded he did not mind meeting Miss Greene again, if only the village would not interfere. Perhaps he should meet Miss Greene at her home to see if that was any different.

"I think," Lady Russell said in the morning. She was afraid their understanding would be too visible in their manner. Mr Peters would have his eye out for certain and the relative ease and comfort between them would give him ideas. "I should arrive at church with either of the girls, which means I should head over to the Hall directly."

"We could catch them at the gate," Mr Croft suggested. He was loath either to cut his breakfast short or to be abandoned. "And have Sir Walter as our chaperone."

"I certainly never thought I should ever have Sir Walter as my chaperone. What did you tell him yesterday?" In her agitation about her engagement she had forgotten to wonder how he had got rid of the man, but it had happened rather quickly.

"The truth. Do you not plan to talk to Mr Peters about our plans?"

"I am afraid." They had first sent him away, implying there was nothing going on and now they would have to tell him there was. She had every reason to fear his reaction. Not only would she be immoral, but she would have lied.

"You will need to involve the man. I know a little of these matters. One of my brothers is a clergyman."

"No. I prefer a licence. Really. I could not bear to have the entire church look at me when our intentions are announced. Several times! I should be mortified."

"But you could bear to be looked at as Mrs Croft?"

"It is not you. That would be afterwards."

"After the wedding? I do not see the difference." If she was mortified at having intentions, how could she not longer be mortified after they were carried out? But it was not about being married, she said, although he did not know what it was instead.

"After it! One does not notify the entire village when it takes place, not if one has any delicacy at all. A woman of my rank can simply not have her intimate business known to the entire world." She blushed and hoped she would not be called upon to explain.

"I do not understand you, but I shall bow to your wishes. If you want a licence, that is what you will have." He touched her hand comfortingly.

Lady Russell blushed again. "I am sorry."

Mr Croft shrugged. He had noticed that she was peculiar at times, but it did not really bother him. The best thing was to humour her or to be a little firmer with her, whatever the case demanded, and her stiffness improved somewhat.

He had, because he had not looked forward to getting pillows over his head again, taken her to his room the previous night, to which she had naturally protested. Being a little firmer had worked there as well. He had simply dragged her along in spite of her protests and miraculously they had soon ceased. It worried him a little nevertheless. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, although I was very concerned in the morning."

"Since there are never any maids coming into my room, why? I furthermore do not have as many pillows as you do." There had been absolutely no cause for concern for either of them, unless, he thought now, her maid had noticed her bed had not been slept in.

Lady Russell laughed, albeit weakly. "I do not know why you are not in the least concerned about anything."

Mr Croft looked reflective. "Well, perhaps that is because there is nothing to be concerned about, although I might have thought so before I took up with you."

"Before you took up with me!" She was a little shocked at hearing the situation described in such terms. They could not apply to her.

"Indeed," he said very seriously. "I was always very fastidious and proper. I still am, but it may not seem so because you are worse. But examine yourself. You would not have given in if I had been very different from you. You would have disapproved of me. But one must take the initiative and you think that the duty of the man."

She looked even more shocked at the possibility of it being otherwise. "Not mine, certainly."

"Even if the man is the youngest and the least experienced," he teased.

"I am beginning to doubt my age and experience," she mumbled, but then she collected herself. She was sensible and steady, and there was nothing wrong with her morals. One could not become engaged in another manner. That nobody behaved affectionately and uncertainly in front of others was not because it was wrong, but because it would be sickening to watch and hear. Or perhaps not quite sickening, but definitely tiresome. "Let us try to meet the Elliots at their gate."

Anne had fretted and wrung her hands, but Sophy had made the journey to the Asp unscathed. She had not once looked inclined to dive overboard and Frederick, bless him, had had a good grip on her. Anne did not know what he would have done if she and Sophy had both gone overboard. He could not possibly have saved both and she did not want to worry him by asking.

Arriving at the ship he had done as he had promised and personally seen to hauling Sophy on board. The strange girl loved this and she set foot on deck with a wide grin, only to fall over instantly because the helpful sailor who had taken her from Frederick did not know she could not stand on her own. But with so many worried young men around her she could not remain unhappy for long and by the time Anne had climbed up, Sophy was smiling again.

Frederick took them to his cabin where he and Anne had something to drink. Sophy had some too and then she fell asleep in a hammock, supervised by a nervous cabin boy, while Frederick took Anne for a tour of the Asp. Like Sophy she must be able to say she had seen it.

"And now we are under the water line," he said at one point, merely communicating a point of interest.

She was instantly afraid and stepped very close to him. "Under water?"

He tapped the side and pointed up. "Beyond this is the bay and up there is the boat we came in."

Anne was not very comfortable with that idea. She tried to be a good naval wife, however. "I know it is probably safe, but can we go back to Sophy very quickly?"

He took her hand when he perceived some nervousness. "We are safe now, though not if we tried to cross the Atlantic another time."

"You narrowly escaped drowning," she said with wide eyes. "If you had come from just a little bit further away..."

"Do not think of it. My next ship will be in impeccable condition, I am sure, and you will not have to worry."

"I hope you will be with us for a little while," said Anne, still clutching his hand and still hoping they would climb up that ladder again, preferably more than one ladder. "You have already missed Sophy's first months."

"We could have another, I said," Frederick smiled.

"Oh, you are just as simple as Captain Croft!" she exclaimed. "He said the same. But that would only work if you came back within nine months. Within nine months of making the other, that is."

"Should I miss the early months of the second, we could have a third." He pushed Anne up the ladder, finally. "I suppose I should not mind it in the least. But to pay for all that requires much more prize money. Let me get that first and then enjoy my offspring. Would you like to catch up with Sophia? It appears to be difficult in practice, what with Sophy, but in theory?"

"Certainly. I should like to give you a little boy some time." She smiled, but she was glad he did not set a date for it.

After the tour of the ship and being acquainted with the principal men and their duties, dinner awaited them. Although Frederick had told her about the quality of dinners on board, Anne was surprised. The higher officers had been invited for the occasion as well. She had never been the only woman among so many men, but she liked it.

It was only until Sophy woke, for then all attention was hers. Anne began to fear that Sophia had been right. She was certainly charming and responsive to flattery, to the point of being a flirt indeed. "In a few years this will be forbidden territory for her," Anne commented.

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