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Chapter Forty-Seven
Posted on Tuesday, 1 April 2008
It was decided by Sir Walter's excellent manners -- with no help whatsoever from his mind -- that Mr Croft would sit by him in his family pew, while Elizabeth and Mary were to sit with Lady Russell. After this was decided, he realised the brilliance of the scheme. His daughters were wont to fuss and whisper.
Elizabeth objected to this arrangement in particular, as she was rather fond of her special status in the neighbourhood, but at the same time she cared very little for being under the suspicion of becoming Mr Croft's wife, which she knew was exactly what everyone would think if he sat with them. He was neither too old nor too ugly to lead to such suspicions, although he was of course completely untitled and she had never cared to investigate whether he had any possessions. When she realised this she merely huffed a little and offered no more protests.
Mary liked her rank as much as her elder sister did, but while she could have sat beside Mr Croft without thinking anything at all, she disliked church services immensely and would rather sit unnoticed beside Lady Russell where she might close her eyes and yawn. Nobody would be able to see her unless they turned around and if nobody arrived late very noisily, that would not happen.
Lady Russell felt she was making up a little bit for having neglected the two other girls while she was so focused on Anne and she made a point of being very kind to them, disregarding any grumbling.
She declined going back to Kellynch Hall with them after church. At least, she consented to go as far as their gate, but then they went their separate ways.
Edward spent the remainder of the day quietly engaged in study, which had the fortunate consequence of yielding a very pressing question. He would have to consult Dr Greene about the answer. It was impossible to do so on a Sunday and he made copious notes so he would not have forgotten about it on Monday.
If he did not have his books he did not know how he would have spent his Sundays. In the evening he wondered if Frederick was ever going to come back. Sophia and Anne had left four days ago, which was rather short for them to bring Frederick back already, but it could have been done. If they had stayed but an hour at Plymouth on Friday, had found him directly and whisked him into their carriage they could have been back here by Saturday evening. He was sure it could be done -- although perhaps not by a carriage containing ladies. Men always made more of a point of travelling fast.
But since they had not come on Saturday evening and they could certainly not come today, perhaps they could come tomorrow? He did not think Sophia and Anne would stay in Plymouth indefinitely. There was Mr Croft to consider. They could not know that Mr Croft was well provided for in every sense, with food, lodgings and affections. Sophia would -- or ought to -- think of his carriage that she had taken away and that he might like back.
Thinking of Mr Croft reminded him that he had wanted to see what would happen if he invited him over. That too must be done tomorrow, preferably after seeing Dr Greene, for otherwise he would have to take Mr Croft to see Dr Greene, which he was sure Mr Croft would find very boring.
"There is no harm in Sir Walter," Mr Croft declared when he partook of some cold meat with Lady Russell after church. "I find I quite like him, despite his lack of rational conversation. It speaks well of him that he so easily concedes defeat when it comes to winning the hand of the most beautiful woman in the village."
"Will you not flatter me so?" she said uneasily. "You make me think you are speaking of me."
"They were his words -- the most beautiful woman in the village," Mr Croft said with a smirk. "I rather liked them. It is much easier for me to use them because he used them first. But is it not a great joke?"
Lady Russell looked at him in consternation. "By that I suppose you mean I am not at all beautiful?"
"Oh, no! I meant his using these words. He thinks you are beautiful and for that reason he would have liked to possess you, but he has no idea what is in your mind and as such it does not hurt him in the least that I got you. He will simply fix on another beautiful woman to complement his furniture. Is it still flattering?" Since he was not the beautiful woman, he only found it amusing and not annoying.
"Not really. How do I complement your furniture?" She wondered what his house looked like. It was perhaps thoughtless of her that she had not wondered about this before, but only now that she had accepted him. Suppose he lived in a ruin? And he lived with his relatives, which was something else that ought to give her pause.
"Who cares about furniture? It serves a practical purpose only. But there is no harm in the man, or it must be that he did not recognise the brilliance of your plan."
"Which plan?" she asked suspiciously. "Oh, my suggestion that Miss Elliot take Mary to Bath? If it keeps bringing him here I have to doubt that brilliance. Would he take his meals alone if the girls are gone, for all his complaints about their arguments?"
"If he comes here," Mr Croft said warmly. "I shall sit beside you and caress your hands or wink at you throughout the meal."
"Where do you get such ideas?" she spluttered.
"My brother and his wife. They have grown out of such behaviour for the most part, but let me tell you that it was quite sickening at first. While I did not understand it, I can remember enough to copy it." He would feel the same way now, although with an incentive he would not express himself in that same way.
Lady Russell imagined all this affectionate behaviour taking place in front of someone else. It was even worse than being called darling. "I should be mortified."
"At me?"
"To be caught blushing. It does not become a woman with my complexion."
"On the contrary. It suits your complexion very well, but it may clash with your hair," he teased.
"What will Sophia think?" Anne fretted in the morning.
Frederick was not concerned. "She will have seen the rain and drawn her conclusions when you did not return. Although if she always goes to bed early she may not even have noticed your absence until now. Is Sophy still alive? She is so quiet."
She had heard Sophy give a little grunt a few minutes before and did not have to check. "There is nothing like an evening full of flirtations to knock her out, it seems."
He did still not agree with either Sophy or himself being flirtatious, so he grimaced. "I am glad it was raining last night. Although I enjoyed dinner, I also enjoyed having you to myself."
"I never noticed," Anne replied teasingly.
He first looked surprised, but then he began to laugh. "You had me there." But before he could enjoy it again, Sophy stretched out one of her arms and groaned loudly.
"Sophy!" her mother said in dismay. "That is so unladylike of you."
Frederick, who was picking her out of her hammock, paused. He had wanted to give her a cuddle, but he did not know if he could proceed. "She smells."
"She is very good at smelling. I hope your boy washed and dried her other cloths. We obviously did not count on staying the night. Will you now not play with her?" She did not know how particular he would be about these matters. Edward had always gone away, but Captain Croft had sometimes helped.
"Well, would you change her first?" he asked sheepishly.
Anne would do that for him, but not without any conditions. "If you ever plan to be alone with her, it might be good if you watched to see how it is done. She will not be dry for at least another year."
Frederick looked doubtful.
By the time Edward got onto his horse to ride to Dr Greene at Clifton, Lady Russell and Mr Croft had just had breakfast, Frederick and Anne had just got dressed, and Sophia was wondering if she was ever going to have time to eat anything today. Edward had no idea he was so quick. He had simply got up when he was awake, because he had many things to do.
A maidservant let him in, but instead of to Dr Greene he was taken to the drawing room, where Miss Greene sat working with an older woman who was presumably her mother. He had never met her before and he was surprised to see she truly existed. He greeted the ladies most politely.
"Had you come for my husband or my daughter?" asked Mrs Greene.
"I have come because I have a question about an ambiguous translation of a Greek word that could place a few passages in an interesting light," he rambled nervously, wondering if she was of the same mind as Mrs Cannell, whom she might not even know. "I discovered this yesterday."
"Yes, but would you like to ask my husband or my daughter about it?"
"But it is Greek!" It was obvious that he needed Dr Greene himself. He needed someone with an unbiased opinion of the translation. Miss Greene would be useless to him. Well, she would only be able to judge which of the two translations made more sense, but not whether they were right or wrong.
"My daughter can read Greek. I think this is so I cannot check what she reads."
"Mama!" Miss Greene said with a blush. "But I have only read about classical...er...my favourite topic, Mr Wentworth. I am not sure I could be of help in matters religious."
Mrs Greene narrowed her eyes. "What is your favourite topic, Amelia? And how does he know about it?"
"Shall I take him to Papa?" Miss Greene offered, getting to her feet with alacrity.
She was pulled down by her skirts. "Sit," ordered her mother. "What have you been reading in Greek that you cannot tell me about?"
"Nothing, Mama." She blushed deeply now.
Edward took pity on her, yet he did not know how to come to her aid. He tried to think of a suitable topic, yet one that had been covered by Greek authors that might have been read by a girl. "Plays," he said at last.
"I thank you for that contribution, Mr Wentworth," said Mrs Greene. "But why do I think you know that is not it because you know what it is instead?"
He wished someone would take him to Dr Greene instantly.
Miss Greene planned to do so. She stood up quickly while her mother was scrutinising Edward and she almost ran towards the door. "Come. I shall take you to my father."
He was as eager to follow her out as she was to lead him and they did not stop until she came to her father's study, the location of which he knew well. "Here he is. I shall return to my mother and attempt some sort of explanation."
"But what will you say?" he asked in concern. Mrs Greene had seemed ready to question her daughter in a calm yet indignant sort of way.
"That I should not have been so stupid as to keep it from her, but I had my reasons."
He understood that, but he would have thought that remaining silent was better. "Well, if she knew what you know..."
She opened her mouth and closed it. Then she tried again. "I have assisted at her last births. I am sure some of my knowledge does not surprise her. It is not that. It is -- my mother is not a reader. She has not the time. She has no proper idea of classical times, let alone of the extent of their knowledge or understanding. She would probably not understand why I did not restrict myself to modern books."
"Oh."
She gestured for him to knock on the door, so he did. Then she disappeared.
"Why, Mr Wentworth!" Dr Greene greeted him jovially. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? And who brought you here? I see no one. Why did no one announce you?"
Edward decided not to mention Miss Greene. "Your servants were not neglecting their duties, sir. I was announced very properly to Mrs Greene and your daughter."
"My daughter. I have several." He glanced at the clock. "But most of those would still be in the schoolroom at this hour. Ah. You must be speaking of Amelia."
"I suppose so, sir." But he had not come to speak about her. "I came to ask you about a Greek translation."
When Sophia had finally got around to having breakfast, she discovered that Anne had not come back. It gave her some amusement to think that Frederick must have consented to having two females on board and she intended to tease him when she next saw him. Meanwhile there was nothing amusing about two fussy babies, who were suffering from something she had not been able to discern until she lifted a spoon to Catherine's mouth. "A tooth!" she exclaimed. It was an exciting discovery that more than made up for their troublesome night.
The twins were lucky creatures whom the hotel's kitchen maids liked to treat, but they were not fast eaters. Consequently the last of them had just had her mouth and chin wiped when Anne returned.
"Are you eating already?" Anne wondered.
"Already?" Sophia scoffed. "This is still our breakfast. And where have you been? Do not tell me Frederick had women on board."
"Only two."
"What a violation of his principles."
"I suppose it would have been a worse offence to let us go back in the rain," Anne said philosophically. "And Sophy amused herself so well, did you not, Sophy? But Frederick and I managed to talk some more."
"That is good. Even I managed to talk to somebody, even if that was merely because the woman's husband was otherwise engaged. When are we going home?" She realised she did not have a home, but at least in Anne's home there would be more people to talk to.
Anne felt for her. "If you want, I could give Frederick up for a few days and go home with you. He said he would soon be paid off. He mentioned going to Edward, but if you want we can go sooner. He might work faster if I was not in the way."
Chapter Forty-Eight
Posted on Friday, 4 April 2008
Edward's question had intrigued Dr Greene enough for them to spend an hour debating the answer and looking up if nobody had ever thought of it before. Edward thought someone might have, since he was neither very brilliant nor the best scholar in Greek, but they could not find anything.
"This is very interesting," Dr Greene said at long last. "I advise you to write an article about it, Edward. I know of a few magazines that might be interested."
Edward was surprised. "Magazines?" Was he to write something that would then be published in a magazine?
"They pay tolerably well. If they like your contribution they might well ask you for more. I happen to know," he said with a cough for the lack of respect that might be implied by his next words, "that two or three regular contributors passed away recently. Your timing is perfect."
"I had never considered such a thing."
"Write something down this week and send it to me. I shall pass it along."
"But do they not only take very old contributors?" Edward was sure he was too young and uninformed. He was merely a curate. "Learned ones, I mean."
"Those tend to die. It does not hurt to try and get paid for something you already seem to be doing every day. Now, let us see if the ladies have something to eat for us."
That remark made Edward remember the time. He could not stay. He had to speak to Mr Croft, although he could not say so, for Dr Greene might ask why and he was not very good at inventing things. He could hardly say what Mr Croft had been up to with Lady Russell! If that was even all they had been up to, which he did not know. He blushed. "Oh, but I cannot stay. I know well you never invited us while Mrs Greene was here. She is here now. I do not want to impose."
Dr Greene laughed. "Mrs Greene is not the problem. My daughters are, however. My eldest four are girls and they are very pretty. No sensible father invites half a dozen young men into his house in that case, even if they are clergymen, who are as bad as the rest of them when it comes to girls. Do not deny it. I was young once."
"Oh." This had never occurred to Edward, nor that there might be several Miss Greenes. "I understand. How old are your daughters?"
"The fourth is fifteen. They are all in danger."
"Then you should perhaps allow me to leave," Edward said respectfully. "So as not to endanger them, which I do not think I shall, but you must of course be certain."
Dr Greene looked reflective. "No, this would be a good test for them, I think, to see how they conduct themselves in the company of gentlemen. Some of them can be rather silly and you are not the sort to encourage them."
"Silly?" He thought of Miss Greene, who could not be called silly in the least. Her sisters must be very different. He was not very interested in meeting them, but if the rector urged him, he must.
Sophia was regretting that she had ever asked Anne when they could leave, because Anne was now considering it in all seriousness. She could see that. "I should not have pitied myself so," she said. "You must stay with Frederick for as long as you wish. I can even go home all by myself if I have enough of Plymouth."
Although she would give it another day she was fast getting enough of Plymouth. It was so different to be here with two small children. She had always liked meeting acquaintances and they had always liked meeting her. Now she had hardly any time to see them and hardly enough arms to carry her twins, and if she wanted to go anywhere at all they must be carried. She could not venture further than the hotel's public rooms without them, although even then she had to return upstairs frequently to see if the nursery maid was fine.
"And why does everyone treat me as if my brain has gone away?" Sophia voiced her final complaint. "One is perceived as stupider without one's husband, but even more so if one has babies! And I have two, so you can imagine how stupid I have become. I hate complaining and I do not know why I do it all the time."
"I do not think you are stupid," Anne soothed. She believed Sophia when she said it used to be different and she would be equally disappointed if it happened to her. She could well understand Sophia's wish to return home if she had not found here what she had hoped to find. It was not really complaining.
"You are not disinterested, my dear. You depend on me and my carriage. Oh dear! I just remembered that it is Henry's carriage and not mine. We left him with Lady Russell. A woman."
"Yes, Lady Russell is a woman." It had not occurred to Anne before either. Perhaps Sophia's acquaintances had a point when they thought babies made one stupid. But Anne could think this of herself with a smile. It was not true.
"He dislikes women."
"That should be very interesting then. Would you like to go back to rescue him? Or rescue Lady Russell from having a man in her house?"
"Perhaps I did become stupid after all," Sophia said sadly. "I never realised it might be shocking. Of course it is. But what can we do? It is hardly less shocking to leave them for four days than it is for eight. The neighbourhood tends to draws its conclusions on day one and if anything should occur at all, I daresay they are happy we are away."
Anne giggled at that. She would never have dared to think it, but now she was even giggling at the thought of Lady Russell alone with Mr Croft. Knowing Lady Russell as she did, it could only be perfectly safe, though Lady Russell herself would not feel it. She did not know if she could agree with Sophia, amusing though it was. It might be best to go home to see what was happening.
"So you must not allow me to influence your decision whether to stay or go," Sophia concluded. "Ask Frederick."
Frederick, of course, pulled a face. He was an affectionate brother and although Sophia had forbidden Anne to speak of her disappointment with Plymouth, Anne had done so anyhow. Considering how he had at first reacted to Harville, who had exhibited much the same loss of understanding upon becoming a father, he could well understand that there were other people who had reacted in the same manner to Sophia, albeit in a politer way, of course. He was a little ashamed of himself. Anne had not become any stupider, so Sophia and Harville could not have either.
"I have just heard I might be free in a week," he said with a thoughtful expression. He did not like to part from Anne and Sophy, but a week was not long and he understood that his sister might become rather impossible in a week. "I could see you again in about ten days. It seems long, but it is not."
"I thought you might be able to work harder if I was not in the way," Anne said softly. "I can be out of the way for ten days."
"You are not in the way."
"But you can stay on board if you do not have to visit me. It will save you some time. It will save you at least a few hours a day. You can start packing if you have nothing else to do," she suggested when she saw his expression. He was about to protest, of course.
Frederick sighed. "You are not in the way and packing takes no time at all. However, you are right that I may be a little busier when we are being paid off and I suppose it will be cheaper for you to await me at home than here. I am trying to be sensible."
"Do you have to try?" she wondered.
He smiled. "Not often, I hope. I also have to try to be sensible about the fact that you are living with that woman. Can you not persuade her to take a trip before I get there? I am sure she is as much looking forward to seeing me again and I am to see her." It would be perfect if Lady Russell could be away while he was there. Did she not often travel? Did she not have to make urgent purchases in Bath or wherever ladies of fashion made their purchases?
"Hmm." Anne considered it. "Do you not think that would only be postponing it, rather than dealing with it once and for all? You would only meet her at a later date and nothing will have changed in your mind. Hers, I think, is sufficiently changed to meet you with composure." She did not expect Lady Russell to be cold or uncivil, very likely not even in response to such behaviour from Frederick. She had not been thus in the past, although she had voiced her concerns in private. There was no more reason to do so, so Anne was certain that she would not.
"I do not like such things to be decided for me," Frederick said petulantly.
"Am I deciding things for you?" She was worried, but she did not think she had been too authoritative. She had merely been suggesting.
"No, I meant that I do not want that woman to decide for me that we shall be on a better footing."
"That is silly. I am sorry to say so. It is. Everyone else would be glad the other person took away some of the animosity without being prompted. You do not take pleasure in hating somebody, do you?"
"No, I do not take pleasure in that," he said slowly. "Very well, Anne. I shall do as you advise. You are more sensible and steady than I am, it seems. Let us see what the steady approach yields."
Edward was taken into the dining room, where four young ladies sprang to attention when Dr Greene and he entered. They looked like Miss Greene -- he supposed all of them were Miss Greene -- but not they were not alike enough to get confused. The Miss Greene he knew did not look as if she had cried, so her mother must not have taken her to task very much. She did not look at all repentant, but rather annoyed by her sisters, who were giggling.
Their giggling did not annoy him, but it did make him uncomfortable. He cast down his eyes and shuffled towards the table, hoping he would be invited to sit near Dr Greene. This was not to be, although being seated by Mrs Greene and her eldest daughter was preferable to sitting between the younger ones. No other children were present, yet he had thought there were at least five more.
"I heard, Mr Wentworth," said Mrs Greene, "that you have a sister who lives near you."
"My brother's wife," he said cautiously, hoping she would not bring up the elopement. In fact, he hoped she did not even know about it. Dr Greene might have kept it from her, yet Dr Greene might equally well have heard it from his wife who could have heard about it from their local equivalent of Mrs Cannell. Women gossiped, men did not.
"But my brother came into Plymouth last week, so she has gone to see him," he continued. There. They were a perfectly normal couple, elopement or not.
"Then you will soon see your brother as well."
"I hope so. They may send him to sea again very soon. He wrote that he distinguished himself, so it may count as a recommendation." That was clever to say, he thought. It made Frederick sound good, in case Mrs Greene thought of him as a man who had eloped.
Edward did not know what he preferred. It would be nice to see Frederick for a short time and Anne would think the same, but being given another command was of course exactly what a captain needed. They were not in dissimilar situations, although a living would set him up forever and a command for Frederick would not last long. He preferred certainties over excitement himself, but he was not always sure of his brother in that regard.
Mrs Greene spoke on. "Perhaps, if he is available, you would not mind asking him to speak to my second son. He wants to go into the Navy, but I am not keen on the idea."
"I do not think my brother would be very good at dissuading anybody," Edward said cautiously. He thought Frederick would probably only make the boy more enthusiastic if he was going to elaborate on what he had written in his last letter. Even Edward had recognised the excitement.
"I am afraid my son thinks the Navy is a game for grown up boys. Something you can stop playing when you are hungry." She obviously held a different opinion.
Edward was inclined to agree with her and he thought even Frederick did, a little. "My brother may think it a serious and dangerous game, but I am not certain he no longer thinks it a game at all. If he comes to see me I could ask him to speak to your son, if you wish, and ask him to be realistic about the dangers, but I am not certain he thinks they apply to him."
"From what I hear of your brother," said Dr Greene, "I cannot think he is like you at all."
"He is better suited to a life in the Navy than I am," Edward agreed. "I suppose we are alike in some ways, although our tastes differ."
"And he is already married," said Dr Greene a little forcefully for the benefit of the giggling crowd, who were displaying some improper interest in reckless sailors. "Perhaps this was not such a good idea of you, Hannah, to ask him to come to speak to George. Imagine a captain of the Navy here at this table in this company. I had best take George to Monkford."
"There are some questions I should like to ask him myself," Mrs Greene protested. "I shall take George to Monkford."
In the village of Kellynch the lovers were having a slight quarrel. Mr Croft thought that obtaining a licence speedily was of the utmost importance for reasons he was a little too shy to divulge, yet his beloved resisted and forbade him to ask Mr Peters where such a thing might be purchased. "Really, my dear," he said as patiently as he could. "I am not going to waste time riding around the country trying to find out if by asking one simple question I might hear directly where to go."
"But not Mr Peters," she begged. "Can you not try Edward? And wait until Anne is back?" She was afraid of everybody's reaction, although she was sensible enough to know it could not take place in secret. They would find out and say something.
"I do not know when she will be back," he said unhappily. "I am in a hurry."
"Why? Will you inherit a large fortune if you marry before your next birthday?"
"The flesh!"
Lady Russell looked uncomprehending.
"I know you have no flesh, but I do. It is weakening." It was even worse because she did not suffer from the same. It made him feel doubly wicked.
She was afraid. "What does that mean?"
He said nothing.
"Can we not go to Gretna Green? I have already been there." There would be nobody she knew and they would not have to tell anybody anything in advance. It almost sounded ideal.
"Gretna Green is my last resort, for when you keep putting up resistance. I shall then tie you up and force you into the carriage," he threatened half-seriously. He was not that forceful. At least, he had never been thus.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Posted on Tuesday, 8 April 2008
Edward had left the Greenes after the meal and gone straight to Kellynch, where he with his newly encouraged confidence planned to speak to Mr Croft. He was out of luck, for he found that Mr Croft had gone out -- without Lady Russell, which distressed her.
She nearly embraced Edward when he was shown in and clung to his arms. "Oh, Edward!"
"What is wrong?" he asked in concern.
"He has gone out because he is upset with me!"
"Is he wearing shoes, a coat, did he eat today?" Edward would not be worried unnecessarily. A man who had thought of all those things in a rational manner was not in any danger. He would be back unscathed.
"Yes, yes! But do sit down. I forget my manners. It is very good to see you. I hope you did not come for him." Her manners did not prevent Lady Russell's looking darkly as she spoke her last words.
"I did, actually," Edward was almost afraid to say. "But why is he upset with you? I assume we are speaking of Mr Croft."
She studied her hands and her eyes shifted from left to right. It was difficult to explain, given her desire to keep everything a secret. "Well, I agreed to marry him, but --"
"Marry him?" he interrupted. "I am glad for that!"
Lady Russell was confused. "Why?"
"He and you engaged in activities not intended for the unmarried," Edward said tactfully. He would not name it; it would embarrass them both.
"How do you know?" She paled visibly and clutched the armrests of her chair.
Edward could not say he had spied on them. He frowned and tried to think of another explanation. "Is it not what everyone thinks if a man and a woman are alone somewhere? I was suspected of having wedding plans myself, without having done anything."
Lady Russell was at that moment not capable of the mental quickness required to change to interrogating him. Her colour was returning slowly, but she was still clutching her chair.
"But I hear you do have wedding plans -- and yet he is upset with you," Edward continued. "Why?"
"I do not want the banns. I want a licence and I forbade him to ask Mr Peters where he might get one. He thought I was being foolish. Mr Peters will find out at some point, he said, so why not now?" She supposed it made sense, but it would be so embarrassing. This was very different from her first marriage. She had been too young to be conscious of anything at all except of making a good match. She had had no idea that people would have thoughts.
"Then I assume he went out to speak to Mr Peters." Edward could only think that. Lady Russell's fears were indeed foolish and he could well see Mr Croft choosing to ignore them. Putting his foot down by not wasting more time arguing, so to speak.
"He took a horse! I think he went home." She looked lost. She had no idea where he lived or where to find him should he never come back.
That would be easy to ascertain. "Did he take his other clothes?"
"No. But I do not suppose he cares about them very much."
Edward was called upon to give his opinion on every word Mr Croft had said, but he could not. Lady Russell's distress distressed him, for she was older and she should be in control of herself. She should be someone he could go to, not the reverse. He supposed he would not get the chance to discuss the four pretty Miss Greenes, at any rate. That was a pity, for he had thought about them.
Not long after speaking to Frederick, Anne and Sophia were on their way back to Kellynch. Anne had felt like lingering, but she had told herself that she might as well leave immediately. Prolonging the moment would only mean more agony. Frederick had reconciled himself to their departure and had not been troublesome. He had merely kissed them goodbye and said he hoped to see them again very soon. He had not even repeated his wish to find Lady Russell off on a shopping expedition. Anne was quite satisfied with it all.
She was equally satisfied with her daughter, who had gone to sleep instantly in the carriage, whereas the twins had decided to be awake and naughty this time. They liked playing with keys, but Anne was growing sore from picking them up every few seconds and her jaws were beginning to hurt from pulling funny faces to amuse them.
Finally they too went to sleep and Sophia and Anne could get some rest as well. While Anne was predominantly concerned with wondering how Lady Russell would react, Sophia was thinking of something completely different, as was evidenced by her speaking a long while later when she perceived Anne's eyes were open again. "I am very glad I am not expecting a third."
"You do not have enough arms. But how do you know? The captain has not been gone for long."
"Oh, do not scare me. I am fairly sure he was not that cruel. There is our history to consider as well. People do not start being ridiculously fertile seven or eight years into their marriage. They start out being so, like you, with a child in one shot."
"Two, actually," Anne said modestly. "Or one and a half? I cannot remember very well."
"Two?" Sophia cried. "This rather lessens your credibility when you say you had no idea, but stupidity is difficult to understand in any case. Two. Well, that still does not compare to our hundreds. I have not counted, but it is simply illogical."
"I hope along with you, Sophia, though it would be very nice for the captain when he got back." She imagined his reaction. He would be happy instantly and not wary like Frederick.
"Very nice for the captain!" Sophia scoffed. "Very nice indeed -- for him! He will not have done any work. He gets all those children for free. When he comes back my girls can walk and his arms will never have hurt at all."
"So far he has missed less than a month of hard work," Anne said in amusement. The poor man. She supposed he had some hard work himself on board and he would bring back some necessary money, which hardly anyone ever got for free. "But I think it will be enough of a reward to see the girls walk. When do you think he will return?"
"I have no idea, but as he cannot even be in the Mediterranean yet, he could never be back before they are Sophy's age and Sophy can stand. I am worried they will be afraid of him. They are not flirts like Sophy."
"Sophy is friendly, not a flirt," Anne corrected solemnly. "But after she turns twelve she may no longer see any officers. As a precaution, you understand, because we listen to her wise aunt."
Sophia smiled, a mixture of pride and amusement. "I am glad you do, Anne. I have no qualms about exposing my girls to officers myself, because her parents both proved themselves very sensible in their youth."
Eventually Edward said he had to leave and she would be left alone with her worries, which Lady Russell secretly thought very selfish of him. As she was entreating him to defy Mrs Dickinson by staying half an hour longer, Mr Croft appeared. Edward observed that he looked hot and sweaty and his horse must be looking worse, if it could. He was glad the man had come, although he hoped he would now not be called upon to settle any disputes.
"Henry!" Lady Russell cried as if he had risen from the dead. "Where have you been?"
Edward shuffled towards the door, but he needed not be circumspect; they were not looking at him. He did not want to look at them either, for the lady seized the gentleman in an embrace that made him blush -- it was not only the embrace itself, but also the complete disregard for both her surroundings and the gentleman's heated appearance.
"I got the licence," said Mr Croft when he was able to reply. "Mr Wentworth?"
Edward's hand was on the doorknob. He paused. "I am leaving. Do not worry." They could carry on their improper business in a second, not that his presence seemed to deter them at all.
"I do not suppose you could marry us this instant?"
"No, I could not." He had never received a stranger request and he stared. "I have to go to dinner. You can ask Mr Peters to marry you in the morning."
"In the morning!" Mr Croft approached him, looking a trifle desperate. "But what if I cannot contain myself during the night? I have been sleeping on my hands, but --"
"Sleeping on your hands, sir?" Edward was shocked. He repeated his father's words from long ago. "One should sleep with one's hands above the covers at all times."
"After sleeping my entire life with my hands neatly above the covers, Mr Wentworth, I have discovered that ladies prefer warm hands and if one cannot escape marrying one in the near future, one had best try and change one's habits well in advance."
"It is not very moral to have made such a discovery," Edward said primly, but he had every reason to doubt the man's morality, no matter what the man said himself.
"It is not more than logical that ladies should prefer warm hands," Mr Croft reasoned. "So do I. One does not require experience."
He was not going to be drawn into such a discussion. This was not the right time. "Neither I nor Mr Peters could marry you this instant. Your licence simply does not allow for the possibility. You will have to wait until the morning."
"Could you give us a watered down version of the speech to tide us over until morning?"
Such a request was appallingly shocking. Edward could hardly believe his ears, yet he perceived that Mr Croft was very serious indeed. "I think, sir," he said firmly, "that you will come home with me to Monkford to keep you out of mischief this night."
Frederick felt a surprising lack of energy after Anne had left. From having to get used that she was here and that she was his, which he had hardly processed, he had to return to his previous life without the anger. He had suffered great changes in his emotions and moods before and he had no doubt he would soon adjust, but for the time being he was tired and listless.
"One pays for having a family," Harville said when he saw his captain yawn. Mrs Wentworth had stayed on board last night and they had not been up very early. The poor cabin boy had been seen trying to wash the baby's dirty linen at an earlier hour, although he had clearly been tempted simply to toss it overboard. Harville had been rather pleased to note that a captain's daughter also soiled herself, with no respect for her surroundings.
"My accommodations do not fit three people." The crowdedness had cost him some sleep, even if Sophy had slept perfectly well. Anne had not. She had not told him exactly why, but he had suspected that sleeping at sea was rather frightening to her at first. He had done his best to make her feel at ease and it seemed to have worked.
"Snug," Harville commented. He liked snugness himself, but he did not know where the dirty little Sophy had been.
"I can sleep well now. They have gone home to Somersetshire." Frederick could only say that calmly because he knew he would be able to follow them shortly. The new orders had not yet come. He supposed if they had come, Anne would not have left. She would have remained here with him until he left again. He must therefore not think she had done the leaving.
"Home?"
"Now that I know about Sophy they did not have many reasons to stay." He did not like admitting it, for he considered himself to be a large reason. "I can imagine that with babies it is more pleasant to be at home where they have their own beds and servants. My sister especially felt confined to her hotel." He had understood her and had some sympathy for her, truly.
"I see. But you will see them soon? You did not part with another argument?" Harville asked after a little pause.
"No, no argument. Everything has been settled." Frederick forced a smile, feeling he should betray some happiness. "I shall be staying on board every night now. Any reasonable requests you put in may be honoured. Meanwhile I do not want word to leak out to Mrs Johnson about women on board."
"Which women? I never saw any."
"Indeed. Take Johnson to see his mother. She is all too apt to rent a boat again, as I have no doubt she is still in town." He might be to blame for that himself, since he had told the Johnsons they would soon be paid off. If she heard the captain had allowed his wife on board, she might give visiting Johnson another try.
"Actually I would rather see Mrs Harville than Mrs Johnson," Harville replied. "Especially if as you say she is all too apt to rent a boat and board us."
"You could leave Johnson with his mother -- no harm will befall him then, I suppose -- and visit Mrs Harville, as long as you do not tell Johnson or his parents for which reasons."
"My reasons are usually surprisingly innocent."
"Usually."
Chapter Fifty
Posted on Monday, 14 April 2008
Edward had insisted on taking Mr Croft to Monkford, with which the latter had reluctantly complied. What Mr Croft had whispered in Lady Russell's ear to convince her, Edward did not know, but the lady had first looked shocked and then resigned. Perhaps Mr Croft had mentioned his hands to her as well, but hands could only be employed if the prey was nearby. Edward had dwelt on this for some time, but he was forced to give up his speculations when they arrived at his house.
"Mr Croft will be staying here tonight," he informed Mrs Dickinson. "I am sorry I am a little late for dinner. There were matters that needed to be settled."
She had not seen him all day and she was clearly curious, but she nodded and ordered for another place at the dinner table to be set. Perhaps the presence of someone else kept her from berating her master.
Mr Croft was too preoccupied to say very much and they dined in near silence, but Edward ventured a question towards the end of the meal. "Shall we play a game of cards or chess?" He never had any problems with not speaking, since he usually had no company. However, he did prefer company not to be so preoccupied with undoubtedly immoral thoughts. A game would be a nice distraction.
Mr Croft did not really have any objections. In fact, he looked glad to have such a distraction. "That sounds excellent. Anna and I usually read, but I like games just as well."
"Anna," Edward repeated. He was a little shocked at the familiar use of the name. "Lady Russell is already Anna to you? And Lady Russell and you already have a routine? That is quick."
Mr Croft did not think so. "Nothing had to be changed about my previous routine. It is what I do at home as well. She and I even like our breakfast at the same hour."
"I suppose that is as good a reason as any to get married."
"Why would you marry?" Mr Croft shot back.
"I have no idea. Ask me again when I have enough money to consider matrimony." He would put off thinking about it until he had that money, as he had always said. That was the easiest solution.
"Suppose you meet a girl one of these days, before you have money. It would be wise to define your precise opinion on the subject, lest you find yourself conquered."
"Well, I met four girls earlier," he realised and then wondered about his precise opinion. He had nothing else to talk about and might as well ask. He had never been conquered, but Mr Croft evidently had. It might teach him a thing or two. "How am I to connect them to marriage?"
"Did you like one of them better than the others?"
Edward contemplated that question. Did he? If he had to choose from among the four girls, he would choose the eldest, of course. "I suppose so. I know her best. I do not know when she eats her breakfast, though."
"You will find that out soon enough when you share a house. What does she read?"
"Extraordinary things for a young lady, I should think. Greek."
"Greek!" Mr Croft echoed. "Indeed, that is extraordinary. I have seen the usual in Anna's library, but not Greek."
"What is the usual? I have no idea. My sister was never very ordinary."
"I have no idea either, as I have no sister, but it cannot be very ordinary for them to read Greek."
"Because your Anna does not read Greek and she is ordinary." Edward had never known he was so wicked, but he quite enjoyed it. He hoped Lady Russell would forgive him for referring to her as Anna, although of course she would not even be Lady Russell anymore. He would have to think of her as someone else in any case.
"No, she is not ordinary," Mr Croft said predictably.
There was a note for Edward in the morning, which amused him. Apparently Mr Croft's routine was not so fixed that it could be changed in a case of emergency, because this could not possibly have been his usual time for breakfast. Indeed, Mrs Dickinson confirmed that they had had to serve breakfast earlier than usual and that it had therefore been very bare, but quite approved of by Mr Croft. The gentleman had not at all been demanding and he had hardly noticed what he ate.
"He is getting married," Edward offered as explanation. "I wonder who he plans to take as his witness. He may have forgotten."
"Married? To whom?"
"To Lady Russell."
"Lady Russell!"
"I suppose this means they are not too late, if you have not yet heard of it. Of course we do not live in Kellynch, but..." Such rumours could spread quickly, especially if they were about somebody as well-known as Lady Russell. She had even been known around these parts before she had stayed with him, he believed.
Mrs Dickinson looked incredulous. "And he is going to marry Lady Russell today? He never said a word."
"He was in a hurry." Edward shrugged. Now that this was all settled, he could return to his own business. He would see if he could write an article today. That business of publishing -- and receiving money for it -- sounded very attractive.
Anne and Sophia were on the road again very early, but this time with three protesting infants. Anne felt like protesting herself and she sighed. "I wish we had not gone."
"I am not going back!" Sophia said instantly. "We are closer to home."
Anne was aware that it would have been a stupid plan to turn back and that was not what she meant -- although she had not really meant anything in particular, she realised with a pout. She was as silly as Sophia. Perhaps babies did affect their mother's minds, but that was something she was too wise to voice. "But perhaps if we had gone at the same time as Frederick, Sophy would not have been quite so unmanageable. She misses her father."
Sophia snorted. "Sophy has no idea what a father is. She only sees handsome men in uniforms. Men in uniforms. She would not be able to tell a handsome man from an ugly one."
Anne thought a descent into silliness was inevitable. "Sophy would! She has eyes. Why do you think she has no preferences?"
"I doubt that her preferences are for the aesthetic." If that were so, she would not be so fond of making a mess.
"Simply because the twins' preferences are only for food...but Sophy is more advanced."
"It is her name. Sophys are always advanced."
Anne sighed and pulled Sophy's hand away from her cousin's nose. "This is going to be a long journey."
"Because of me?" Sophia wondered.
Instead of her intended, Lady Russell saw Sir Walter come down the drive first thing in the morning. He was on foot and quite unattended. He was furthermore quite undesired, as he could not possibly contribute much to her marital felicity. Although she was dressed and she had been so for a long time, she was unable to receive Sir Walter, she felt.
But after a few moments she thought she was impolite and she went downstairs. She had eaten already and she received him in the front room, from where she had a good view of the road and where he would not be able to sit down to breakfast. Once he had sat down to that, there was no getting him up. Unless Henry was here, but he was not.
"You should not get up so early," Sir Walter began, scrutinising her face.
Lady Russell was aware of perhaps looking a little tired, but surely the most beautiful woman in the village could handle such a small setback. "No earlier than you, it would seem. You look a little --"
"Yes, yes. I came to tell you that the girls are off to Bath. I do not expect Elizabeth back until tomorrow evening."
"I hope you are not planning to stay here until then. I think you ought to enjoy your time alone. Is it not what you were desiring?"
"I merely came to tell you about it," Sir Walter protested indignantly. "You do not have to fear that I shall be in the way of you and your lover. Where is he?"
"I expect him any minute. We are going to be married this morning," she announced a little breathlessly. It was embarrassing to reveal it, but when she had done so she felt relieved.
"This morning!" He looked her up and down with an appalled face. "In that?"
Lady Russell did not know what was wrong with it. "It is once of my nicest gowns. And Henry would hardly notice!" She coloured nevertheless, for she had chose one that emphasised her figure. Henry might notice her shape, even if he was not going to notice in which it was wrapped.
"Henry," Sir Walter scoffed. "He is Henry to you, is he?"
"Well, he can hardly be Walter to me, now can he?"
"I tend not to see such a gown on women over the age of twenty-five -- and that is generous of me!"
"Perhaps because you do not look at anybody over the age of twenty-five," Lady Russell said with helpless maliciousness. She was not very wrong, however, and she knew it. Sir Walter had a preference for the young and the beautiful.
He stuck his nose in the air and turned on his heels to examine a painting. "It is not very appropriate for church, I should think. Peters will have an apoplexy."
"Well, if he has an apoplexy before marrying us, we shall have to go to Mr Wentworth," she said coolly, wondering what was wrong with the gown. It was very much like her others, only a little tighter at the top. Men only ever looked at one thing, did they not? If Henry should look at other women in this manner she would have a word with him, but oddly enough she had been flattered by his attention -- which had been a hundred times more gracefully expressed than Sir Walter's.
"I hope your Mr Croft will not have an apoplexy himself," Sir Walter said airily. "Who would you marry in that case?"
"Husbands are not as easily replaced as parsons, Sir Walter. I am sorry. And I am quite sure Mr Croft will not have an apoplexy. He will hardly be surprised." It was her turn to study the painting.
"No, I am sure he made a well-informed decision," Sir Walter sneered.
"Oh, give up the jealousy. You are not a child."
He took up a book that Mr Croft had been reading and that Lady Russell did not think could hold his interest, but he made a good show of pretending to read it. She made a good show of pretending not to look at the clock herself, but doing so was inevitable when Mr Croft failed to appear.
He did eventually arrive, but he was not alone. "It occurred to me that we need a witness. I brought Mr Wentworth. Have you got one?"
"I only have Sir Walter in the front room, but he is being very childish."
"Well, so is Mr Wentworth," said Mr Croft. "He only came because I threatened not to marry you at all, but sleep with you nevertheless this evening if he did not accompany me."
"Please." Edward averted his eyes.
"You are all childish," Lady Russell decided. "But no matter. Let us go."
Sir Walter was the least affected by the ceremony. For all his childishness he did not really feel any disappointment, nor any happiness upon seeing his neighbour wed. Mr Peters was still all astonishment and Edward was immensely relieved that the couple was now safe, for Mr Croft had a way of coming up with scandalous remarks that could only be a reflection of his inner morality.
"Be gone with you two now," he had said. "I want to enjoy my bride in private."
Edward had been appalled, though he had known that the man had every right to do just that and he certainly did not want to be a witness to more than the wedding ceremony. He had quickly gone home to study and write that article, the reason why he had not wanted to come along in the first place.
He was relieved when he could finally sit down at his desk and he hoped he would make some progress before his brother returned, whenever that would be.
Chapter Fifty-One
Posted on Thursday, 17 April 2008
Edward had worked very hard, but producing an article was more difficult than he had envisaged. He was certain of his thoughts and conclusions, but less so of the precise style to use. He was used to writing for a tutor, but that was not the sort of work that another would happily read. An article had to be more accessible than simply academic, he supposed, for he did not know the precise public of the magazines to which Dr Greene would submit it. Other than Dr Greene and himself and perhaps a few more, Edward had no idea who read them.
He tried to emulate the style of one of the largest contributors, but he found it did not suit him. There was no option but to be original, but being original involved the risk of not seeing his article accepted. Youthful originality was always frowned upon. Would Dr Greene reveal his age?
The following morning Edward decided to ask Dr Greene directly. If the rector said to rewrite, he would. He rode there to get the pressing question off his mind, but he found that the man was out. Preparing for a funeral, said Mrs Greene. This was quite a disappointment, though everybody had a right to die at an inconvenient moment, and Edward contemplated leaving his papers there nevertheless.
"Was your question very urgent?" asked Mrs Greene, who pitied his disappointed look.
"I am not sure. Your husband suggested I write an article, but I am not sure of which style to use."
Mrs Greene looked as if she had no idea of what he was speaking. "Style? Which style? Do you mean the paper? Or the hand?"
"No, the writing. I mean, the voice." He tried to explain it in simple terms that she would understand. "Do I write for a general public, though well-educated, or do I write for a collection of elderly gentlemen?"
"Oh, a collection of elderly gentlemen, to be sure!"
He stared at her in surprise, but she seemed to have spoken with the utmost seriousness. He had only mentioned the elderly gentlemen as an example of the other extreme. "But I read some of these magazines too."
"And you are not elderly, I know," said Mrs Greene as she patted his arm. "But you will not be offended if you are addressed as such, whereas elderly gentlemen are invariably miffed at informal language. We have some in our family, you see, and they always complain when they receive letters from one of my children that are not properly respectful. In some cases I have to agree with them, as I have laid eyes on passages asking them cheerfully if they were not yet dead, but in other cases I could see nothing wrong. I refer such matters to Amelia, usually."
"Rather too much is referred to her, I should think," Edward spoke before his mind caught up. He blushed. He had no business interfering in the Greenes' family life.
Mrs Greene looked a trifle surprised. "Do you think so? She never complains. Now, do I need to ask Amelia to look at your...what was it?"
"Article. There is no need to disturb Miss Greene on my behalf. I can simply leave these papers here for your husband." He did not want to be a bother and he certainly did not want to stay again for a meal.
"I am sure she would rather read a boring article than mend trousers."
Edward was a little startled at hearing his article described as boring before it had even been read, but Mrs Greene had already left him. He supposed she had not meant his article in particular. Although she seemed uninterested in scholarly pursuits, Mrs Greene was not unkind.
"I mend trousers very badly," said Miss Greene when she appeared. "I should probably not have children unless I could be sure they are all girls, but who wants all girls?"
"Boys do not care how their trousers are mended."
"Unfortunately other mothers do and they can be very annoying. My mother said you had an article you were not sure of." She looked expectant.
"I am not sure which tone to strike, because I am not sure who will read it." Edward spread his papers out on the table. He was glad to have someone else look at it, in spite of the fact that it might not help him at all.
"I suppose that since nobody is paid to read all articles in a particular magazine, it must be captivating enough to draw the reader in. It must have an interesting beginning," Miss Greene said as she sat down. She looked for the first page and began to read.
Edward hovered around the table, unsure of what to do. Should he sit? Should he stay on his feet? He had no idea if his beginning was interesting. He had never even considered that it should be, but of course what Miss Greene said made perfect sense. He tended not to read on after a boring beginning either.
"I see nothing wrong with it," she said when she had finished all of it.
"What do you mean?" He had been counting on people finding several things that could be improved and this verdict was a surprise. He took the chair beside her, still prepared to have bad passages pointed out to him.
She smiled. "It is very good."
He frowned nervously. "What do you mean?"
"That it is very interesting and well-written."
"But it cannot be. It is the first time I tried."
"You -- do you write nice sermons too? You are not at all dull."
"I am," he protested. He was rather frightened by Miss Greene's smile and compliments. "You must not say such things. I do not know what to respond."
Miss Greene lowered her eyes with a blush. "I am sorry. You are very easy to speak to."
"I am?"
"Well, you must be. I do not speak this much in general."
He was surprised. "You do not?" The first time he had met her she had not said much, he recalled, but after that she had spoken very normally.
She shook her head. "No. I am sorry."
Edward took pity on her for her obvious discomfort. "Do not be sorry. You say very interesting things. I do not speak this much in general either -- to girls. I feel very nervous speaking to interesting girls, really."
Miss Greene looked as if she could not decide between running away and speaking. As she was seated at the table, the former was rather impractical.
It was with feelings of great relief that Sophia and Anne unloaded the babies at Kellynch Lodge. Finally they would have some room to stretch their legs or even to get away from a fussy child. They both felt guilty for such unkind thoughts, but spending two whole days in close proximity of not one but three infants had been very taxing. Henry's carriage had survived, although it had a few more stains. To add to the inconvenience, there had been some spitting.
"I love them dearly, but where is dear Sophy's grandmother?" Sophia asked when she stepped into the hall. "Is she not very eager to cuddle all three at once after their absence?"
Anne hoped the same. Sophy was wriggling in her arms and eyeing the floor imperatively. It would be wonderful to put her down or to give her to someone else. "I am surprised she has not come out to greet us. Christopher, is Lady Russell out?"
"Lady Russell, madam. Lady Russell is no more. Not that she is dead," he hastened to clarify, "but there is no more Lady Russell. She is now Mrs Croft."
Anne first stared at him and then at Sophia. Mrs Croft? How could that be? She must have married Mr Croft, but how could that have happened? She did not understand it. "But we were only gone for a week."
"It took James less than that, but this is Henry!"
"Were you married in less than a week?" Anne was now even more astonished.
"No, but he asked me when he met me. I do not think Henry did that, but it seems he was still very quick. They must all be men of strong but quick attachments. And where is Mrs Croft?" Sophia asked Christopher. It was odd to call someone else by the name that had been exclusively hers for years and she grimaced a little.
"In her private apartments, madam."
"Anne," she ordered. Anne would be better able to disturb her mother there.
Anne stepped back. "No! Not if she is married! Christopher, where is Mr Croft?"
"I have no idea, madam." But he very obviously lied. To prevent any other difficult questions from being asked, he busied himself carrying their baggage up the stairs.
"I am sure he is there with her," Anne hissed. "You cannot want me to go there while he is there."
"He is Henry. What could he possibly do to you? Molly, will you get someone to help you get all the babies to the nursery?" she asked her nursery maid.
"Yes, Mrs Croft."
"We shall be right along once we have investigated the end of Lady Russell."
Anne gave Sophy to Molly, who headed for the passage to the servants' quarters, where everybody was undoubtedly eavesdropping. "But Sophia," she said a little nervously. "If she has locked herself into her apartments at this hour --"
"She may simply be dressing for dinner. Do you not think she will be eager to hear what we did in Plymouth?"
Anne had forgotten she had something to tell, although it had occupied her for most of the journey. "I suppose, but --"
Sophia was impatient. "Anne, come along."
"They are back," Henry Croft said over his shoulder when he opened the door to Sophia and Anne. This was surprising, for he had not heard them arrive at all, and he did not know what to say. It was best to refer them to Anna.
"And you are here!" Sophia pushed him aside. "In a lady's rooms. What is this we were told about the two of you being married?"
"Well..." Henry would not have opened the door had either of them not been decently attired, but he still felt a little embarrassed about being caught there, especially if Sophia made a point of it. "Why not, Sophia? Everyone else is married."
Sophia wished them joy and Anne followed suit, but Sophia had not done. "But we go away and you slyly get married."
He gestured for his wife, but she seemed frozen. "Why not?" he asked instead of waiting for her to speak.
"We did gave your situation some thought while we were away, as we had selfishly gone without considering it," said Sophia, "but while I jokingly thought you might be happy to be undisturbed I never thought I had in fact got close to the truth!"
"Undisturbed?" Henry chuckled mockingly when he thought of Mr Wentworth and Sir Walter Elliot. "Your brother would not let that happen. And Mrs Wentworth's father."
Anne sensed they were not yet very willing to speak. "Sophia, shall we refresh ourselves and dress for dinner? They can tell us all about it at the dinner table."
The new Mrs Croft had said very little apart from mumbling her thanks. She now forced herself to speak. "What about the captain? Is he here?" She did not think he would have been brought in here, but he could well be downstairs.
"No, he was not yet able to come, but all is well."
"I am glad all is well. What did he say about Sophy?"
Anne grinned. "I shall tell you after you have told me about your marriage. We shall dress now."
"Why is everyone so troublesome?" Mrs Croft complained to her husband when the ladies were gone. "As if we are at all interesting."
Chapter Fifty-Two
Posted on Monday, 21 April 2008
When Anne came downstairs for dinner, she found the former Lady Russell alone. That was good, for there were questions that were easier to ask if Mr Croft was not around. Anne had thought of many, but she could only voice a very simple one when the opportunity was there, shying away from the more impertinent ones. "Mama, what did you do?"
Mrs Henry Croft looked relieved. "I was not sure you would still call me that."
"Of course. You can do as you like," Anne assured her. She did not want to give the impression that she ought to have been consulted, because she would not have been in anybody's way. "But it was so quick. I am surprised. I had no idea you had ever spoken to Mr Croft before we left."
"At breakfast, though we certainly spoke more when it was just the two of us." She looked more relieved, but not yet very certain of Anne's approval.
"Was it his idea? Sophia says that Captain Croft was also quick in asking her." Anne could not think her mother rash and unthinking, if such qualifications applied at all to a marriage between older people. But was Mr Croft really old? As Captain Croft's brother he belonged to her generation, one would logically assume, because Sophia was Frederick's sister. It followed that Mr Croft was not old.
"It was his idea," Mrs Croft nodded. "But I gave him enough encouragement, I suppose."
"Encouragement?" Anne stared. "You? I cannot imagine it."
"Nothing very bad. It is quite pleasant to have a companion and it might make one less guarded and therefore encouraging." She blushed a little. "Did you see Captain Wentworth?"
"Yes. Yes." It cost her some trouble to switch to her own life. "Yes, I saw him. I had to go to his ship twice before he was reasonable enough to be told about Sophy." His initial behaviour made her smile. He had been so silly, but she could be fond of such silliness now.
"And?" There was anxiety in her tone and manner.
"He adores her now." Anne did not know what exactly he thought of her, but she supposed he loved her well enough. It was impossible to say of oneself that one was adored and Sophy had been such a distraction that they had not been able to speak of everything for as long as they had wished. His behaviour had indicated all that was good.
"I am glad to hear that. Very glad. I was afraid he would be foolish and difficult." But she could not yet be completely happy. "Why did he not come?"
"He was not yet free to leave. They cannot sail in and leave the ship in the middle of the bay without anybody getting paid. I do not know what he has to do precisely, but it is related to that. We expect him in less than a fortnight. I hope you do not mind." He would be coming here, of course, into Lady Russell's house. Or was that now Mr Croft's house? The matters of rent and possessions were theirs to settle, though in feeling this would continue to be Lady Russell's house.
"Does he?"
"I told him not to." Anne had thought her mother had reconciled herself to Frederick, but she had best not hope too much. "You will not be unpleasant, will you?"
"I am never unpleasant."
That was true and while Frederick would not be unpleasant either, they could both be cold and Anne would feel that as keenly as sheer hostility. "Give him some time to be pleasant as well. He is wiser now, but I do not know how long it will take."
"I am glad he seems to be wiser. Did he give you any excuse?"
"Er...yes, but I do not think..." Anne said uncomfortably. She had not told Sophia and she did not think she could tell her mother either. "It satisfied me, but I do not think I ought to share it with you. It would embarrass him."
"It would embarrass him. Ah. I have recently come across such gentlemen. Perhaps he is in need of reading Edward's book?" Mrs Croft suggested. "He was all feeling and no knowledge, just like Edward is all knowledge and no feeling?"
"Well...I do not think Edward is unfeeling," Anne said with a doubtful look. "And which book are you speaking of?"
"The book is none of your business, my dear. I mean that he does not love anybody, as far as we know."
"All that can change in a day," Anne said a little more sharply than she had intended.
"Indeed it can, though not in a single day. I hope you will be pleasant to my husband as well."
"I have never been unpleasant to him, I think." Anne could not recall having spoken very much to him at all. She was sure she could come to think of him as her mother's husband, but what he should be called was a less simple matter. "But how am I to think of him? I already have a father and he is my husband's sister's husband's brother. He cannot be very old. What am I to call him?"
"I think he would not mind being called Henry. Why should you be the only one not calling him Henry? Mrs Croft -- Sophia does too. Two Sophias, two captains, two Mrs Crofts...I beg you to choose an original name for your second child."
"My second child? I think we shall try not to have one until Frederick has more money. I think he would prefer to use his money for it rather than yours." He had not said as much, but she thought it would be of great importance to him to be able to provide for a second child. He would not want her to live in the circumstances she had wisely avoided a year and a half ago. She would have to make an estimation of the costs, because she did not want Frederick to restrain himself unnecessarily. The greater expense was always for the first child, she supposed.
"I wonder if that is as practicable as it is sensible," Mrs Croft spoke. "But say no more on the subject. I hear someone coming."
Anne, who thought her mind had been read, wondered if it was indeed practicable as she waited for the person to come in. She had not heard anybody approach at all, but the door was opened indeed. It was Mr Croft. The notion that he was now her mother's husband was still a little ridiculous and she tried to keep her face straight, but she really wanted to giggle.
"Anne," Mrs Croft said sternly when a snort escaped her daughter.
"I am so sorry," Anne squeaked. Mr Croft had looked rather kindly at Mrs Croft and she had instantly reacted. It was an unusual expression to see on Mr Croft, but apparently his wife was by now quite used to it, because she had not even blushed. She supposed this was a good thing, although it was very amusing. "I wish you all the happiness in the world."
"Perhaps you would have liked me to wait so you could have your say," said Mr Croft. "But our being alone here in the house made such a delay undesirable. We have had several visitors pointing this out to us."
Anne was astonished. "You were in fact forced?"
"No, but it did give me ideas." He grinned.
He was very different from the quiet, almost shy Mr Croft she had left behind. Anne was even more astonished. He was a little more like Captain Croft now, although the latter would probably always be more talkative. It was perhaps very good for her mother not to have a very boring husband and Mr Croft certainly appeared much less boring than in the beginning. Anne did not want to condemn boring people at all, or rather those others would call boring, but certain people would do better with a little more liveliness.
"I hope," she said. "That your ideas were not very wild, as I am sure Mama does not like very wild things."
"I know exactly what she likes," he said with solemn confidence.
After Edward had settled it with Miss Greene that it was very difficult to speak to the opposite sex, they were surprisingly more at ease and had read through his article another time together. He was pleased with her verdict. Although it was difficult not to be flattered by praise, he felt that she would not bestow it undeservedly. She had too much good sense and cleverness for that, and furthermore no desire to ingratiate herself.
"But what do you read in Greek?" he asked curiously.
"The medical works are not as difficult to read. I do not know if I could read a tragedy, for instance."
"I do not think you have to understand the words to know how tragedies end."
She laughed. "I take it you are not fond of them."
Edward pulled a face. "I have never thought about it, but now that I do I cannot say I am fond of them. I think I am coming to prefer lighter works." This was surprising to him, as he had never considered himself to be very fond of lightness. He had always been serious and that was incompatible, he had always believed.
"That is good." Miss Greene smiled again. "I am more fond of hopes and cures myself."
Edward looked at the clock. "I must go now. Would you be so kind as to give my work to your father?"
"Of course."
"I hope he will not mind that I kept you from your work."
"I do not like mending trousers. I was very happy to be of service."
"But what would your father think?"
"I should think my trying to shirk my sewing duties was common knowledge around the house," Miss Greene said with a small shrug. "I am lucky to have sisters who actually enjoy sewing. They do not make a fuss if I slip away."
"But slipping away from a duty is not the same as..." He did not know how to call it, but it could never be similar to sitting alone with a young man. But that was something of which Dr Greene could not disapprove very much in this case. "Well, if you say so, Miss Greene."
"Amelia."
"Your father can never approve of that," Edward said in shock.
"But he named me."
Sophia was a little late to dinner. The others had already gone in when she hurried into the room. "My apologies. There was something I could not find and then Margaret needed me. Of course now you will not want to relate the entire story again."
"Which story?" asked the new Mrs Croft.
Sophia looked a little incredulous. "The story of how you came to be married, but perhaps if you are happily married you will want to tell everybody how it came about. Twice, if necessary."
"And my refusal would tell you I was not happily married?"
"No, because there are more reasons for not telling than there are for telling." She was reasonable enough to realise that, at least, although she was very curious. "Should I tell you about James and me? It might inspire you or you might see similarities."
"I doubt it," said Henry. "He did not even know you when he married you."
"I was not such a dazzling beauty as to have bewitched him with my looks alone, so you must be wrong," Sophia said sweetly. "Both of you are quick. But what will your father think?"
"My father?" Henry appeared to have forgotten that he had one. "I have no idea. He does not yet know. I think I am old enough to settle such matters without his interference."
"Yes, we all think that, but does he? I suppose you will bring your wife home or are you planning to stay away? I should not mind another woman there, but what about Anne?"
"What a different sort of young gentleman you have become, Mr Wentworth!" Mrs Dickinson exclaimed when her master arrived home after having spent another day almost entirely out of the house. "Always on the gad."
"Is that bad?" Edward could not quite make out her tone.
"No, no, it is very good not to be shut inside all day. Have you been visiting parishioners?"
He had not said where he would go. Although she never asked for it, he knew she was always curious. But there was no need to be worried, since he had not got into trouble. "No, nor any public houses."
"Fie! I was never worried about that."
He had had a pleasant conversation with a girl instead, but that was something he should not reveal to older women. They were all the same and would consider a mere conversation tantamount to an engagement. But while the first girl he would think of should he ever think of marrying would be Miss Greene, he was not thinking of marrying at all. It might even be Miss Greene because he knew no others -- except her sisters, but those did not count.