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Chapter Thirteen

Posted on 2009-02-12

Sir Walter did not object when his wife asked if it was possible to have Admiral and Mrs Croft and their brother to dinner the next day. She even mentioned the name Captain Wentworth, but it did not seem to ring a bell. Sir Walter was magnanimous and saw it as his duty to receive his tenants and any family member they brought. Lady Elliot was glad for it and sent off a note to their hotel immediately.

Anne had been extremely preoccupied. Her mother had asked the Crofts to dinner in spite of their having Frederick with them. Neither her mother nor Mrs Croft had seemed to mind; they had only wondered if Sir Walter did. How could they be sure Frederick did? Or if she did? She minded, but nobody had asked her. She was curious and she wanted to see him, but she would prefer to do so from a distance first. A confrontation with his indifference would be unbearable.

She wondered what her mother and Mrs Croft were thinking. Mrs Croft must know the story. How could they think it good to force them in each other's company? This puzzled Anne a great deal, because in their stead she would have done as much as possible to shield the persons involved. What could they hope to gain?

Her mother believed Frederick did not like her. Anne was sure that he did not like her father either. There was only one person who remained and she did not think he thought very warmly of her either. It was possible that Frederick would not even want to see her. If that was the case he would pretend to have somewhere else to go and it would be very clear.

Lady Elliot was not as indifferent about her as Anne believed. She really worried, but she could not have gone back on her word. She had invited the Crofts. That they had their brother with them should not make any difference, if it was not for Anne.

Anne said nothing, however. She was as silent now as she had always been about the subject in the past eight years. When asked she said she was fine. Her mother did not know what to make of that, but if Anne did not say she would rather not see Captain Wentworth, he would be invited.

She started to plan the menu.

"We have been invited by Lady Elliot to dine there tomorrow," Mrs Croft told her brother.

He was alarmed, although he should not be. He had known Sophia would seek her out if they were here. "Did you accept?"

"Provisionally. If Sir Walter has no other plans, we are going."

"We?"

"Have you got other plans?"

"It is quite possible that he may have other plans," Admiral Croft cut in. "For we saw the Musgroves and no doubt they came here especially for Frederick. They have not asked him to dinner yet because they have not yet organised themselves, but I have no doubt that they will ask him for something."

"The Musgroves?" Mrs Croft asked sharply.

"Not my fault," Captain Wentworth mumbled. "It surprised me just as much."

"What are they doing in Bath?"

"Running into Frederick as many times as is possible in one day," said the admiral. "But they had so little of interest to say that I would rather not be part of more such meetings."

"Do not blame me," Frederick answered. "I could hardly have ignored them. They were coming straight at us."

He frowned when he thought of the dinner invitation. Sophia knew nothing about Anne, so he could not mention Anne as a reason not to go. He could say he did not like Lady Elliot, but Sophia would think he had nothing to base that on. There was very little he could say, except if he really was engaged elsewhere. And he was not.

He could not ask, but he assumed Anne would be there. She lived with her parents, being unmarried. She would be there, inevitably, and he did not want to see her. He had nothing to say to her.

Then he recovered a little. It might actually be preferable to meet her under the eye of others. They would have to restrict their conversation to the strictly polite. There would be others to speak to her. He might be able to get by with mostly silence.

What would she be thinking if she saw him? She would be prepared. If she did not want to meet him, she could be ill.

What did he really fear? He feared he would again feel the anger and pain he had felt eight years ago and he wondered if it was possible. Should it not have diminished? It should have, but he did not forget. A moment later he wondered if that did not also meant there was no danger. His feelings would not change, not even when he was confronted with the woman who had broken his heart.

He would meet her coolly and show her what she had thrown away. One meeting. And then he was off to Edward.

Before it was time to dine with the Crofts, however, the Elliots first had to dine with the other Elliots. Because the younger ones had been coming to the house even after having been dismissed to a hotel, Sir Walter and Lady Elliot had decided to have them to dinner once to get it over with and after that they would not be admitted except on invitation.

The Musgroves had called as well, but it had been too late to include them in the dinner party, given how many there were. Lady Elliot furthermore received the impression that the young ladies had other plans for the evening, or that they were at least waiting for someone to suggest other plans. She could not say she was sorry, but they were of course obliged to invite them the day after the Crofts, a long wait that did not please Mary much.

Mary and Lizzy were so different from Anne, their mother reflected.

"Are you not going out?" Lizzy inquired. "We should like to go out, but we know nobody and the tickets are so expensive. I thought you could introduce us to people."

"No, we are not going out," said her father. Lady Elliot had limited their outings to once a fortnight or even less if there was no new play or concert and Anne had said she did not want to go to balls, which was fortunate. He had not liked the limitation at first, but in practice it was not so bad. They could still go to private parties. "We are reducing our expenses."

"Have you retired from society?"

"You are being tiresome and tedious, Lizzy."

William Walter Elliot liked it just as little as his wife, but he understood that antagonising Sir Walter was not advisable if the man chose to live another twenty years. There was more money to be had if he made himself agreeable, even if at present there was nothing, and more knowledge about the estate, even if Sir Walter had never cared to involve him so far. He consequently silenced his wife with a look and strove to be pleasant company.

"I do not understand why he did not simply marry an heiress," Lady Elliot sighed to Anne long after dinner when they were alone. Her sigh was not for William's choice, but for her own uncharitable thoughts of late. She tried to console herself with the notion that it was some degree of self-protection: her married daughters were taken care of and now her money and attention were needed for Anne and the unborn child.

"Perhaps he was fooled into thinking Lizzy was one."

"During that time we did live on a grander scale," her mother mused. "It might have fooled him. I feel very selfish, but we have always done too much for them and now they have come to expect it. Why does she think tickets are expensive? I thought William had some money."

Anne shrugged. "They are not likely to tell me about their financial situation. Not being married, I can have no understanding of it." She hesitated and then smiled. "Mary thinks the same way, but she thinks she can therefore tell me anything, because I shall not understand a word of it."

"I can imagine that of them. Do you understand them?"

"I understand most actions, but not all behaviour is comprehensible to me," Anne said cautiously. She referred of course to her parents. They were less comprehensible than her sisters. "I doubt that would change if I were married. That is what I mean."

The next day Anne was indescribably nervous. She had always thought of herself as calm and collected, but Frederick's unpredictable behaviour was giving her a headache. She hoped she would not crumble under a scathing stare, although she thought it unlikely, and she even went so far as to wonder how she might prevent such a stare.

She gave a little more attention to her appearance than usual and she was ready a full hour before the arrival of their guests. Not even her father was this punctual. She sat in the drawing room and looked at the rainy street. They would come by carriage in this weather and she would not know until the carriage stopped. She must take care not to sit too close to the window, or they would see her if they looked up.

Admiral and Mrs Croft were allowed to; she would not mind. They would not think she was looking out for them and draw the wrong -- or right -- conclusions, which Frederick might do. It was pure curiosity, so that she might familiarise herself with how he looked before he could see her observe him.

But the long wait made her fidgety and she sat down at the pianoforte to distract herself.

Captain Wentworth felt a little restless when he and his companions were shown into the Elliots' residence. He was hungry, naturally, and he had had to stay in their rooms for most of the day because of the weather. He had been out very quickly to buy a book and some magazines to pass the time, but that was all. It was pure hunger and a lack of patience with the weather, he told himself.

The servant was as pompous as one would expect of a servant of Sir Walter Elliot's, but the house was tasteful and not at all ostentatious. Neither was Kellynch Hall, Frederick reflected a moment later, although the baronet might have had as much of a hand in its appearance as he had here.

Someone was playing the pianoforte. Soft tones floated down the stairs of a tune he did not recognise, but he thought he knew the performer. It could not be anyone but Anne. She had not lost her touch. He heard music only infrequently, but he still recognised it when the performance was good. He would rather not appreciate her talents, but in this case he must. She was good and he almost found himself hoping she would play after dinner.

The playing ceased when they were announced, as it must. Sir Walter had changed but a little, Lady Elliot he had seen recently, but his attention was predominantly trying not to be on the figure in blue who approached them from the right. She moved slowly, but he focused on Lady Elliot. He disliked feeling so uncomfortable, as if he were meeting his first captain. But, as he glanced at that man, he knew he had come through that unscathed and unconsciously he stood even straighter.

She was introduced to him. "Miss Elliot," he said with a bow that was as confident and steady as his voice. She did not look quite the same as eight years ago, but he had only glanced at her for a moment. Her face was thinner and she was no longer a girl.

He was relieved when they all sat down and he would have to turn his head to see her. Sir Walter was all affability and it struck Frederick that he had forgotten to study the man for signs of recognition. Either the baronet was a great actor or he truly did not remember him, because he was included in the conversation as much as the admiral was. This was possibly as unnerving as being in the same room as Anne Elliot again.

The ladies fell into a conversation of their own, which he could not follow.

Anne had played until their guests were announced. This had been against her father's wishes, but she had ignored him. It had been against her own wishes too, for she would have preferred to be so silly as to lie in wait. That would not do for a young woman her age and she had played on.

She had hardly been able to look at Frederick, but he had not changed much. He might even be more handsome now. Her father appreciated that, she saw. Admiral Croft would certainly have lost his position as the best-looking sailor Sir Walter had ever seen. She was a little sorry on his behalf.

But his voice in acknowledging her had been rather cold. She could not rejoice in his being handsome and healthy if he was cold and indifferent.

Mrs Croft and her mother began to speak of the weather, but Anne did not have anything to add yet. She had noticed the weather, but contrary to the other ladies it had not prevented her from doing anything she wanted. Today she had wanted to do remarkably little for some reason.

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on 2009-02-16

They would have to go into the dining room together. Anne had not considered it before, but she was not sure she liked the idea. Together. The dining room here was furthermore on the floor below, due to the narrowness of the house. They would have to descend the stairs together without stumbling. They would have to be in close proximity for such a long time, when he had not exchanged a word with her yet. Seemingly nobody had noticed that. Save for Admiral Croft occasionally speaking to his wife and vice versa, the ladies and the gentlemen kept up very separate conversations.

When a servant came to announce dinner, the party set in motion. Anne kept her eyes on the slow-moving people before her. The two ladies were held back by the concern of the gentlemen, who had apparently been informed privately about the condition almost all ladies present were in.

Anne thought with a wry smile that if she had joined them in that state, she would very likely not be allowed to dine with them at all. Just when she was smiling, there was some movement at her elbow and Captain Wentworth was ready to do his duty. She did not think he said anything. That was good; it saved her the trouble of replying. Words would fail her.

She could do no more than give him a glance, but when she did so she found his eyes had been on her. He turned away. Why had he looked? What had he seen? No witty, curious or even innocent question came to mind. She could not make any impression on him.

Everybody else seemed to get along. Even Sir Walter was making conversation with Mrs Croft, whom he could not find at all pretty or elegant. His unexpected success with Lady Elliot had perhaps softened him. Anne rolled her eyes at it and yet again when she glanced aside she found that Frederick's eyes had been on her.

He had indeed been looking at her twice. She had private amusements and vexations that he did not wholly understand today, but she had once shared them with him. He therefore knew he would in all likeliness wholeheartedly agree with her, as much as he disliked that today.

He also did not like that he had to lead Anne in, but he had done that same service for ladies he absolutely loathed and in this case he was merely indifferent. It was therefore not a hardship. Anne Elliot was at least slender and youngish, and she did not claim his arm in a flirtatious manner. He shuddered when he remembered his last dinner party in Plymouth.

This drew his companion's notice and he could see she thought he shuddered because of her. He could not -- he was indifferent. He should be able to tell her why in that case, lest she receive the wrong impression.

"Admiral, do you know Captain Pruitt's wife?" he inquired.

"A first-rate ship of the line. Three gun decks at least, probably more."

While Frederick did not know exactly what his brother-in-law meant, he could make a few guesses and none of his guesses were complimentary. He was glad, however, that he had not been the first to be uncomplimentary. "I prefer frigates. One manoeuvres them more easily. I suddenly remembered Mrs Pruitt's running aground in a doorway and bruising my arm."

"I wonder how you came to think of that."

"It was after going down some stairs, although going down the stairs had little to do with her running aground." It had nothing to do with anything, he feared, unless he wanted to admit that the lady currently at his arm had a much more pleasing figure.

"What a dreadful recollection."

"Oh, indeed." But he could talk about it more agreeably with the admiral than about any recollections of Anne, of which the admiral did not even know.

"What is a first-rate ship?" Lady Elliot wondered and the admiral set about explaining it to her.

Frederick wondered how someone could not know what a first-rate ship was. He did not think Anne needed to be told. That was something he would have explained to her eight years ago if that had been necessary. There were things she had not known, but he had never thought of her as ignorant.

He wondered why he defended her. She had jilted him and she had had no faith in him. Now she would know she had been wrong, but it was too late. He would find someone who did not care about his poverty or wealth.

He saw to it that she was seated in the dining room, something he would have done for any other woman. Then he sat down, thankfully not directly across from her. The admiral had that honour.

Mrs Croft, seated beside her brother, had not caught all of the talk about Mrs Pruitt, but she was curious. "Bruised your arm?"

"I was not very elegant," he said in a low voice. "And she was so intent on not relinquishing her grip on me that I was drawn into the doorway against my will. It is unjust that a woman may force herself upon me, but I may not make any movements to get away from her."

"Poor you," she said feelingly. "But knowing the woman and her reputation, I find little to surprise me. Perhaps you should work on your elegance."

Frederick suppressed a snort and a reply. It was impolite as it was to speak in a low voice and he should not overdo it.

"I was quite glad Sophia could not go shopping today," the admiral told Anne. "Shopping is very tedious."

"But you need not go with her." She had not seen him the day before either.

"It is also very tedious not to go with her."

"That is quite a predicament," Anne smiled. "I see why you might have been glad for the rain."

"Not entirely, because we should have liked to visit another few places. Well, tomorrow will be better. We leave the day after at the latest. Frederick said he will be off to Shropshire tomorrow."

He caught his name and looked in their direction, meeting Anne's eyes. He wished he knew what they had been saying. She had not looked guilty, but only as if he had been mentioned in passing. It nevertheless intrigued him.

After dinner the ladies retired upstairs. There was some time to share the latest news on how they felt and Anne merely listened. Had they been other women, she would have gravitated towards the other end of the room, but now she felt she might learn something from them. Mrs Croft was quite guarded in her remarks and she probably did not know Anne had already been subjected to the unguarded Mary.

Anne wondered if she should tell her. It would be unacceptable coming from a girl of seventeen, who would merely be curious, but she was twenty-seven. "Mrs Croft, it is very kind of you to be so considerate of me, but my sister never was and as such you can speak freely if you wish."

Mrs Croft looked a little surprised and then laughed. "And it is very kind of you to notice that I was struggling for acceptable words."

"Oh Anne," Lady Elliot merely said.

Anne had to defend herself. "You think I should pretend not to know anything, but I should hardly tell anyone. Only if it is relevant!"

"And you might even be grossly misinformed, which would not be corrected by vague comments," Mrs Croft nodded. "I should have done the same thing when I was younger, but alas. I was pretty much uninformed when I married."

"My sister does seem to have been misinformed -- or simply exaggerating."

"Then you must listen carefully, my dear Miss Elliot -- if your mother allows -- although I regret for your sake that I do not have very much to say. I may still be uninformed or perhaps there is very little to know."

When the gentlemen returned, Sir Walter suggested a game of cards, but he only made his suggestion to the older people. For Anne and Captain Wentworth he had a pile of boardgames. The pile disconcerted her, considering that she did not really like any of them -- or perhaps it was her father's manner.

"You sit here now," Sir Walter said encouragingly, setting the pile on a small table. "Plenty of light. There. Amuse yourselves."

Anne gave a helpless sigh. Frederick looked inscrutable. He should have known she would not like cards and he should therefore have tried to include himself in the game to avoid ending up with her. She had no idea what he was about.

He did not know that either. Sir Walter's gregarious behaviour had puzzled him. For a moment he had even entertained the notion that the man was setting him up with his daughter, but that was a machination beyond the baronet's capabilities, considering he had never once mentioned Anne after dinner. It seemed he truly thought he was doing them a service.

From Anne's face he gathered she had no enthusiasm for any of the games. He was not sure he did himself, although it would be a better way to pass the time than sitting in silence. However, if she was not going to make any efforts to win a game, it would be very boring. Yet he could not imagine she would be so disobedient as to do something else.

He was wrong.

She glanced at the older couples installing themselves at the card table. The gentlemen were indifferent to their plight and the ladies did purposely not look. She turned back to Frederick and spoke to his neckcloth. "I hope there is a game among these that you will be able to play by yourself. I would rather play the pianoforte."

Frederick was astonished. She would leave him here with nothing to do. She would again leave him. Whether he might want that or not was irrelevant. He simply wanted to have a say in it.

"I am sure you would like it better," she said when she saw his face.

What a martyr. She had no idea what he liked. He did not like these things to be decided for him. "Not at all, in fact." He had no problems feeling contrary when the situation required it of him.

"Oh." Anne was nonplussed. "I thought you --"

"People should not decide things for me." Least of all Anne Elliot. He would not have it. He had first wanted her to disobey her father, but now he wanted something else. "I want to play chess." It was on top of the pile and had there been another game on top, he would have wanted to play that.

Chess. She was not sure she remembered the rules and she looked at him in consternation.

"I like it." He opened the board and set up the pieces. "Which you should know if you claim to be acting in my best interests." He could only imagine she would give in and play. When did she ever not do what she was told?

Anne looked at the chess pieces for a while, wondering what to do. He was being rude and she had no idea what he wanted to prove. She was not going to be forced into playing chess, either by her father or by Frederick. "I am sorry. I will not play."

He was taken aback by the fact that he was not as much in control of a situation with her as he had previously always imagined. He was, after all, the one with the power to choose a marriage partner now. "You will not?"

"No." She pushed her chair back and stood up. "Excuse me." Then she walked to the back of the room and left through the door there. She was on the landing now and she had three choices: stay, go downstairs or go upstairs.

Sir Walter observed with some surprise that the young people stealthily left the room. He wondered if a father had to interfere, but he had no courage for such a task. Besides, he could well imagine that Captain Wentworth wanted a tour of the house. It was a nice house. Anne would be showing him the elegant luxuries of it. It was Anne. She was quite proper, as he was himself, and did not take after his more daring wife. He focused on his cards and missed his wife's silent exchange of puzzled looks with Mrs Croft.

Lady Elliot had seen something as well and contrary to Sir Walter she had seen that Anne was not at all at ease and that Captain Wentworth had seemed angry. He seemed very good at looking angry and she did not fault her daughter for trying to keep from alerting the other people. Anne had failed because people were keeping an eye on her, of course, which she could not know.

"Five minutes?" Lady Elliot asked of Mrs Croft. The pair could not have any longer business in other parts of the house. Perhaps the captain had dropped something in the dining room and Anne was getting it for him. If it was less innocent, five minutes would not be long enough for any harm to be done.

Mrs Croft nodded doubtingly. Because she had her back turned to the rest of the room, she had not seen anything and she had not been alerted to her brother's absence until Lady Elliot had looked amazed. Then she had turned unobtrusively and noticed the others were gone. Lady Elliot had looked too worried for her to think there was anything inappropriate going on, so paradoxically she was inclined to leave them be.

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on 2009-02-19

Anne heard the muffled noises from the kitchen coming from downstairs. She already regretted her departure, because she had nothing to do in any other part of the house. She sat down on the stairs leading to the upper floor and contemplated her next move. Before she could decide on anything to do, Frederick turned out to have followed her. Anne made herself small against the banisters, hoping she would not be seen in the dim light.

"There you are," he said. His tone was dangerously controlled. "Do explain this to me."

"I do not know what you mean."

"Why did you leave?"

"Of course I should have played chess because you said so. Or another game because my father said so." Anne thought she was close to becoming sarcastic, but she found she enjoyed it. Everyone had a right to it once in a while.

"You could have made a polite apology."

"I apologise for not having made a polite apology."

He had every reason not to think her sincere, in spite of not being able to see her face well. "So you are going to sit here and I am supposed to...do what?"

She shrugged. "There was no need for you to follow me." He could easily have stayed at the chessboard and he would not have had any need to ask her what to do.

Only then did he give some thought to what the others might think. He frowned. There had indeed been no need for him to follow, except to answer to his impulse, but nobody else would find that an acceptable excuse. He assumed someone would question him at least. "Well, find something for us to do."

Anne stared. "Anything?" she asked incredulously. It was even possible that she did not want to do anything in which he was involved, but he spoke as if that could not be. He seemed to think she had lured him out of the room, which she had not.

"Anything. I refuse to go back and play chess with my other self."

Although Anne's inclination was for a solitary stay on the stairs, she knew he would not allow her. He would sit with her, talk to her and force her to come up with a suggestion he would then reject. He would say she did not know him at all. But she thought she might know him a little. She would simply have to outwit him. "I am going to my room. If anyone asks, say I have a headache. I might be down when it has passed."

"Your room. Oh, and thus you mean to be rid of me."

Anne got to her feet, her hand clutching the banisters. "Yes."

"What if I follow?" he challenged.

She frowned. "You will not."

"Do you think I am afraid of your parents?"

"No," she said slowly. He would probably defy her father, if he was given the opportunity. "I do not think you are, but you might be afraid of losing your sister's good opinion. I cannot think she would condone it."

"Of course she would. She knows me."

And she did not, Anne acknowledged silently, or so he thought. "You now want me to panic and stay here, because of course I should believe such a threat. And then you will mock me because you never intended to go upstairs at all."

"I am not such a coward."

No, he was not, but she could not believe he would really have followed her upstairs. It was surprising that nobody of the others had followed them. Were they all so engrossed in their card game? She wanted someone to come and interrupt their awkward conversation. It could not become any better.

"You do not seem to be very affected by the prospect of men in your room," he observed.

She could not stop herself. "How many had you planned to bring?"

"Just myself."

"And how is that supposed to affect me?" Anne sat down again.

Frederick knew he should return to the drawing room, but he was intrigued. He leant against the banisters and looked down on her. This was a really strange sort of Anne. She refused to be affected or impressed. "I thought any girl would scream."

"Scream?" She gave a little laugh. "I do not quite see the point of screaming. What could be the danger to my person?"

He had to approve of her answer, although it might spring as much from knowledge of him as from ignorance about dangerous men. "Have you never met any dangerous men?"

"I have not. What would a dangerous man do? What would he do there that he would not do here?" She looked around herself. They were as alone here as they were upstairs. Someone might come by, but a man intent on mischief would not be able to control himself.

"I do not think it proper to go into that."

"You cannot scare me with things you will not explain," Anne said with a haughty shrug. "I am not the type to scream at empty threats or even worse things."

"Your parents do not keep a close eye on you," Frederick observed. There was still nobody who had come to see what was happening to Anne. The Elliots, of course, cared only for status and what happened to Anne was not important unless it got out.

"I am too old to need such protection."

He wondered if it was different from eight years ago. Perhaps her parents would no longer care whom she married, as long as she was off their hands. By now she might have become a burden. "Do you mean they would willingly let you be compromised to have you off their hands?"

She gave him a stare. His thoughts were taking a very strange turn. "I pity your future daughters."

"I shall have one boy and no more."

He spoke with such confidence that Anne was interested. "Hundreds of people would like to know your secret, I am sure."

"My secret?" He looked confused.

"The secret of how to avoid daughters. My father is one such person."

"One simply does not adopt them."

"Oh, you intend to adopt?" She was amazed. The only people she could think of had adopted an orphaned nephew or niece, but if there were any such children in his family the Crofts would have got to them first. It made no sense for Frederick to adopt any.

"Perhaps. My sister is doing so and it might be an excellent plan."

"Is your sister adopting? She only mentioned having one of her own." Anne was still amazed. She could not think Mrs Croft would do both and mention only one thing.

"One of her own? Oh, no. You must have misunderstood her. She means to adopt."

After some deliberation Anne could only settle for being clear and honest. "She is expecting a child. If you had looked closely you would have seen she has grown considerably and she is in fact in town to have new clothes measured because she has outgrown her old ones."

"And how do you know this?" he demanded. He disliked admitting to himself that it sounded far more plausible than the orphan story and the orphan story itself was entirely too plausible as a joke of the admiral's. He felt annoyed -- at everybody.

"My mother told me, but your sister does not mind my knowing. She spoke of it to me herself later. Just after dinner, in fact." She hoped she did not appear to be gloating. She was not. In fact, knowing when he did not made her uncomfortable.

"Why does she mind my knowing?"

"I cannot answer that. It is possible that you misunderstood her or that she was more comfortable telling other women."

"Women who have no idea of how children come about in the first place," he mocked.

"Are you referring to me or to my mother?"

"To you."

"I must disappoint you. I know exactly how they come about. One does not need to have carried one to know. My mother, having carried several, knows as well."

"And how would you know?" He was still demanding.

"You appear to have a very low opinion of my abilities, sir," Anne said politely. "Childbirth is a frequent occurrence in the country and one would have to be very unintelligent never to wonder about it, not to mention very deaf never to have heard anybody talk about it. Perhaps you think unmarried women should not be told, but there is something very discouraging about tales of blood and gore."

"Blood and gore?"

"Perhaps you subscribe to the notion that one day you will wake up and your wife will say, 'look! I found this neatly-dressed baby in a cot. We have been blessed at last,' and you will accept it without questioning."

"I do not subscribe to any notions."

"I am glad you do not subscribe to that one, because I made it very ridiculous on purpose."

"But you know all about it," he stated.

"I know the theory of it. The practice is different for everybody. My sister, Mrs Musgrove, would suffer more than anyone else, for example. But," Anne said, recollecting herself, "it may not be very proper to talk to you about such delicate subjects." It was quite easy to ramble on if he was hanging over the banisters, but she should not forget the awkwardness between them. He did occasionally look angry and stern.

"The less I know of it, the better."

"That depends."

"On what?"

She did not like the thought. "On your conduct in general. If you do not know which actions are harmful, you may unwittingly --"

"I know which actions are harmful," Frederick retorted. "But you do not seem to, if you are unfazed by letting men into your room."

"I am indeed unfazed by hypothetical men, as there was never any question of a real man going there. My seeming indifference is no indication of my conduct in general. I know exactly what a man should do -- or should not do, in this case -- and I considered myself very safe."

He frowned. It might be a compliment. Or it might not be. "The same applies to you. The less you know of it, the better."

"I have an interest in the matter. It is a confidential matter, but it might be wise to disclose it to you so you may understand me better."

Frederick took a step back and looked suspicious. "Are you expecting?"

She let out a gasp. "My mother is expecting and she is reckoning with the possibility that she may not survive."

He was aghast. "Your mother?"

"It is uplifting, is it not? Fashionable people always speak as if twenty-seven is long past the age of childbearing, but my mother's example shows me I have a good twenty years ahead of me." She forced a smile. "But I am nevertheless very concerned about my mother. I should not like her to die because she was so unwise as to --"

"As to what?" he interrupted.

"That is confidential."

"And you call it unwise."

It was the first time during their conversation that Anne felt the need to blush. That was in part because of the subject, but a large part was due to Frederick's face taking on a quizzical expression. He was very handsome when he looked like that.

"Why unwise?" he pressed. He had other words for it.

She was still blushing. "Oh, I really cannot say, but do you not think that anything that might result in death is an unwise action?"

"That is not a question to ask of a sailor. I might have been reckless, but never unwise. In my opinion, naturally. I might have been called unwise had I been unsuccessful. It is typical for women to call actions unwise before there have been any results." He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on 2009-02-22

Anne felt she needed to defend herself or her mother, to whomever he was referring. "We cannot be reckless. We have no choice but to be cautious. You can go out and make a fortune. We cannot."

"Your only power is in violating every precept of civility and -- and more," Frederick said sarcastically. He could barely control his voice. This conversation should be ended. It would do him no good to continue, but it was as if he was tied to the banisters. Being a woman gave her the right to distrust him, betray him and be rude to him? He vehemently disagreed and he was not yet ready to abandon this subject.

She let in a deep breath. "Yes, that is all I can do. I am now going to my room."

"You cannot dismiss me like that."

"You refuse to understand me. Of course I can." She got up and ran upstairs.

Frederick ran after her. She had been correct before, as much as it had annoyed him -- he would not have followed her earlier, but he refused to be left behind another time before he had made his point clear and she had offered some apology.

"You do not like defeat, sir," Anne observed. She had not run from him, but rather from the others. She still expected them to come out at some point, just as she had expected him to follow this time. "But you are therefore easily manipulated."

"I beg your pardon?" He was not at all easily manipulated. It was pitch dark upstairs and he caught a bit of fabric to hold on to, so she would not disappear and leave him to search these unfamiliar surroundings. He was in charge, as was proved by his holding on to her.

"You are too easily lured."

"Lured?" he spluttered.

She opened a door and fumbled with something inside. Suddenly there was light, though not very much of it. "Had I had less honourable intentions, it would have been very easy."

"But your intentions are honourable?"

"I have none at all, in fact. Neither honourable nor dishonourable. I merely wished to get away from such a public place as the landing. Coffee will be served in a few minutes. Two servants will bring it. Four people will notice we are gone."

"They will still notice we are gone, because we are, you see."

"Yes, but they will not see where we went and there will be no servants telling them we are having a heated argument on the stairs."

"I admit that having a heated argument in your private rooms is much better," Frederick said sarcastically. "What sort of trouble is that going to land me in?" he suddenly wondered. He would rather not be forced to marry someone simply because they were having a conversation.

"None, if you behave." She lit a few more candles. He was not leaving immediately, which was good, but of course this was her sitting room only. It was an innocent place.

Frederick decided that for the time being he was safe and that for the time being he was more interested in talking than in leaving. There were things that needed to be cleared up. "I do not understand your father."

"I do not understand him either."

"He pretends he never met me before."

"He may have forgotten," Anne said doubtfully. "He is quite good at not remembering people who he thinks have no use for him, but I never know if that is genuine or not."

"He does not behave as if I have no use for him."

"He likes people who are rich and people who are handsome. So much the better if they are both," she said with a shrug. "I do not understand such reasoning, but that seems to be how it is with him. Add to which that he has recently been in excellent spirits because he might yet get his heir."

"Ah, his heir. I forgot." He wondered if that could blind a man to everything else. "But why did you call it unwise? Does the fact that it might be the heir not make it wise? If you are not marrying, a brother will be more inclined to be kind to you than a distant family member." Brothers were always of more use than cousins. His own sister had known it, although she had married before their father had died.

Anne sat down and considered it. "That might be true. I doubt my cousin could be prevailed upon to give me more than the allowance that has been settled on me. It is enough -- my mother saw to that -- but a brother might be kinder. That depends on how spoilt he would be. I am afraid for that. Still, I maintain that it was unwise."

"What was unwise?"

"I do not know if I should tell you. You might think I should not speak of it." She was certain she ought not.

"Why other subjects and not this?"

He had a point there, she conceded, and she had already mentioned too much. Besides, to be talking to Frederick, in spite of his reactions, was very pleasant. She would talk about anything nonsensical or improper. "My mother's aim was to get my father to keep his fire out and to that end she ordered him to sleep in her room."

"Why was he not in her room before?" Frederick was surprised.

"I am not sure he should have been."

"But that is why people marry, so they can be in each other's rooms and preferably have only one."

"Is it?" She wondered about him. Had he wanted to marry her because of that? It was a little disconcerting.

Her question must have been in her face, because he nodded. "Part of it. I could not marry and have my wife sleep in another room. That is not something a man ought to say, but you began. You must keep it to yourself."

"But what if she does not like that?"

"Why should she not? She married me. I do not understand why your father put up with such an arrangement, but baronets and the like may have other reasons to get married than I should have." He would like his wife. A baronet would think a wife a good party, but nothing more. There would be nothing between them in private.

"Why should she not like it?" poor Anne repeated. "Perhaps because by all accounts it is awful."

He was surprised again. "Whose accounts? Your mother's?"

"No, not my mother's, but she puts up with far too much without complaining and as such she may not be a reliable source. My sister said so and other people have implied as much." She wondered if Mary was a more reliable source than her mother. Now that she thought about it, perhaps not.

"I see," Frederick said thoughtfully. "But you have no personal experience with it."

Anne blushed. "Of course not. Do you?"

"No, but therefore I am deferring judgement and not going by what others say. I prefer to make up my own mind."

She was relieved. "And you would prefer for me to make up my own mind as well."

"Yes."

She wondered why, since he was not marrying her, but she did not say so.

"But if that is the information on which you base yourself, I understand why you call it unwise," he said. "Although if I were to base myself on anyone's information or marital happiness, I should have more trust in my sister than in yours."

"This is not really a heated argument," Anne observed. She was glad for it. She had at times felt warm enough to blush, but a heated argument it was not. It was nothing like their parting eight years ago.

"You wish to return to it?" He would like to, to satisfy his pride, but it was difficult. Somehow they kept gravitating very pleasantly towards intimate and dangerous subjects. He would almost forget he was angry with her.

"I do not really like them. Not at all."

"Surely, if we are found, we must give some reason for being here. All this place has going for itself is its privacy. It is cold and dark." They could not have come for the room. Only the company remained and anyone would know that. They would not know why he had sought out Anne's company, but they would make assumptions and those would be wrong.

"I do not think we shall be pressed for a reason at all, but if you are afraid, we can simply return to the drawing room and resume our places."

"Because it is as easy as that," he nodded. "They are all self-absorbed and unobservant people."

"Either that or utterly discreet. They will not ask what they did not see. We might both have suffered from indigestion or stomach trouble."

She might be right that nobody would probe in such a case, but it was highly unlikely for that to be the case. He saw her shiver. "It is cold here. Let us go downstairs and play chess."

"You must have your way." She was a little amused. He was very stubborn.

"Yes, I insist on having my way. This diversion did not work. I do not forget."

"I know," she sighed. If he was prone to forgetting they would not be here. "Fine. I suppose compromising would be kind."

Frederick stood up. "You might even find you like games."

"I mostly abhor the tedious conversation that surrounds games."

"Which has nothing to do with the game itself. And it is not exactly flattering to hear you objected to playing chess with me because my conversation would have been tedious."

"I did not expect any conversation at all, in fact," Anne mumbled. "Which would have been worse."

He would agree with that, but he could not explain why it had gone differently.

The coffee had been brought into the drawing room and the Elliots and the Crofts had interrupted their card game to eat a biscuit and find good places for their cups. Two cups remained, although Lady Elliot tried not to draw any attention to the fact. She was still worried. Anne and Captain Wentworth had been absent for a long while and she had no idea what they could be doing.

Sir Walter did not seem to notice a thing, it was not Admiral Croft's business to mention it and only Mrs Croft gave her questioning looks, to which she replied with a helpless shrug.

But then Sir Walter did a surprising thing. "My dear Lady Elliot, I wonder if you could go and find Anne. Her absence troubles me slightly. You understand Anne best," he added in case she protested.

"Well, Walter, if there is any trouble, you are the one who must solve it. You must not go looking for such trouble. If there is any real trouble, Anne will tell you. If she does not, you must believe there was nothing." She did not want him to do what he thought he ought to do. That could only go wrong. He might jump to unjustified conclusions.

He looked doubtful. "That makes sense. You say we should remain ignorant of what will not affect us."

"It might be best. Anne will let us know if we need to interfere. Pay no attention to it, Walter."

"If you say so." He looked a little relieved, for he really did not have the courage to interfere in anything uncomfortable.

It was not long until Lady Elliot saw Anne return and sit down at the small table. She was followed by Captain Wentworth, who was studiously not looking in their direction. At least Anne had glanced towards them and her mother had seen nothing amiss.

During the next break in the card game she brought them their cups.

"Thank you, Mama," said Anne, who seemed engrossed in her game.

"Are you comfortable? Would you like some biscuits as well? Captain?"

"Yes, please," he answered, but he seemed no less engrossed than his opponent.

It was too soon to tell who was winning, but Lady Elliot would not think it was Anne, who never played chess. She left a few biscuits with them and returned to her seat. It was puzzling.

"I told you so," Anne said under her breath when her mother was gone. "No questions, no problems." She had been a little worried, but it had gone exactly as she had predicted. People should not doubt her judgement. Even this evening she was proved right more often than not. Perhaps he would no longer doubt her.

This evening had taught her that she did not want him to doubt her. Although his behaviour was at times frustrating, her feelings were unchanged. She derived some hope from the fact that he had not been able to persist in his anger. At some point he had become fairly normal, if one discounted the abnormal topics about which they had spoken.

She had enjoyed their time outside the room and she felt he must have been at least a little intrigued. He had stayed. He had humoured her, as she had humoured him.

"Yes, you were right."

Chapter Seventeen

Posted on 2009-02-27

Her game had gone well. She lost, but that was to be expected. The card players did not seem to tire, but Anne had no enthusiasm for another match. She arranged everything neatly but incorrectly around the edges of the board.

"I am off to Edward's tomorrow," Frederick volunteered after he had watched her for a few moments. He wondered if two of the chess pieces would venture to the middle of what now looked like a ballroom floor.

"Please give him my regards. How is he?" She was happy for this innocent subject, but less happy that she was not going to see more of him. He would not return to Bath. If he returned from his brother's at all, he would go back to Kellynch. This little episode was going to remain a little episode.

"He is married. I am going to meet his wife for the first time."

"That is good news. I wish him and his wife every happiness." She would like to ask more, such as when he had married and whom, but she refrained. She would not be able to say anything that did not have any deeper meaning for them.

"I shall pass on your wishes."

Frederick thought about Anne's wishes when he was on his way home with his sister and brother. Her wish had seemed genuine and not simply politeness. After their preceding conversation there had been no need to appear polite, unless she had wanted to make amends. But neither of them had felt that necessary.

She had been a most interesting Anne Elliot, quite different from what he had envisaged. This changed his resolve completely, of course, but he did not yet know how. He had been resolved to be angry with her, proud, cold and aloof. Instead, he had been drawn into conversations about very private things and into her private sitting room.

He frowned.

"What did you think, Frederick?" asked his sister.

"What did I think?"

"What did you think about the Elliots?"

"About Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, I assume, for you cannot be thinking I have or should have revised my opinion of Lady Elliot."

"She means Miss Elliot," the admiral clarified. "But perhaps you will be interested to hear Lady Elliot saved you from a duel with Sir Walter?"

"On which grounds?" Frederick asked, although he could guess. Nobody had said anything in company, but he had not expected his sister to stay silent. She had not, but the admiral had less tact and the direct attack came from him. He should have known.

"Your conversation with Miss Elliot away from our prying eyes, of course."

"And he wanted to challenge me because of that?"

"I cannot imagine the man taking up a weapon of any sort. He wondered if he should act upon your absence, I assume verbally, but Lady Elliot dissuaded him. Said Miss Elliot was very capable of informing them of any trouble."

"I am sure Lady Elliot was right." And very trusting, naturally. It surprised him that she would have allowed Anne to be alone with him. Was it trust or indifference? Or perhaps politeness towards her guests? She might not have wanted to upset her friend Mrs Croft by distrusting the brother before she knew it was justified.

"Do you often leave the room with pretty girls, Frederick?" asked the admiral.

He would not be provoked and because he had expected some comment or other he could react calmly. "I have not done so in eight years. Are you interested in what I did?"

"Well, if it is not too scandalous. Can we still take you to other parties?"

"Yes, you can. It was something only Miss Elliot would do." And she would do it only with him. He was nearly certain of that. It was an interesting observation, but he did not know how to interpret it.

"The question is, why would she? I have never heard of young ladies, save Sophia, who would do so for completely innocent reasons, and Miss Elliot is by all accounts a proper, sensible and exemplary young woman." He had not heard many such accounts, because he tended to lose interest when they began, but Frederick would not know.

"I do not want to know what Sophia does or used to do," said Frederick. "Please spare me the details. You need not be worried about me. There were no attacks on my person."

"And on Miss Elliot's person?"

"Oh, as if he is going to tell you that!" Mrs Croft said with a laugh. "I am not worried. Are you off to Edward tomorrow?"

"Yes, why should I change that plan?"

"Indeed. Miss Elliot did not make any impression then?"

"Sophia, I am taking my impression with me." He had not formed a definite opinion on this evening. This was not the right moment to do so. Tomorrow it would all be different.

"Of course." She smiled knowingly.

"But Miss Elliot did tell me something interesting," he suddenly remembered. "Something you neglected to tell me -- about your child." It was still as astonishing as it had been then.

"Something you neglected to see," she shot back. "But you are right. I had not yet made an announcement. I am not sure when one should. It may cause unnecessary worrying and all that and I confess I do not want to be treated as an invalid too soon."

"Should I?" He had no idea and he supposed he would consider her the best judge of her own health. "I must congratulate you. I shall not withhold my best wishes because you did not tell me."

"Thank you. How did she come to tell you?"

"I..." He did not want to tell her about the conversation about adopting orphans. It made him look stupid and that was something he always wanted to avoid. "I do not remember precisely, but you are not to worry. She spoke more of her mother."

He wondered why he was defending Anne. He could not speak ill of her. Had there been excuses for her weak behaviour? Women could only be cautious, or something like that. He conceded that it was more difficult for them to make a fortune, but that did not excuse a lack of trust. She had not trusted him when he had said he would be successful. This had nothing to do with caution, in his opinion.

Anne had gone to bed without thinking very much. She was surprised when her mother appeared some time after she had blown out her candle.

"Why did you leave the room?" asked Lady Elliot. "It surprised me."

"I wanted to get away."

"With or without Captain Wentworth?"

"Without, but..." She shrugged. "He followed. We spoke. I preferred that to some game like backgammon. It was not important, nor was it dangerous."

"But the past..."

The past was gone and she did not think it would ever come back. While Frederick had been tolerably civil, especially towards the end, he had not behaved as if he loved her still and he was clearly too proud to ask the same woman twice. "I do not want to talk about the past. May I go to sleep?"

"Certainly. I merely wanted to see if you were all right."

"I am, Mama, thank you."

Her mother did not ask more, not even in the following days. Anne had ample time to consider the matter on her own, but she could not find a satisfying explanation for Frederick's behaviour. He had clearly been struggling with his own feelings, but that was still a long way from not harbouring any resentment anymore. Time could have restored his feelings, but they did not have that time. He was in Shropshire and would not think of her.

The Crofts returned to Kellynch. She had seen them briefly only once after their evening party and they had both been very kind to her, but they had not mentioned their brother.

He might be in Shropshire, but someone did think of her there. Edward Wentworth had some questions, naturally. His sister had written a little about the previous occupants of Kellynch Hall, but there was little room to digress in a letter and he had not wanted to appear too curious.

He had not often thought about the Elliots after he had moved away from Somersetshire, except when he was wondering when Frederick was getting married. But such thoughts had not come to him often. The peace had only come recently and he had not been able to imagine Frederick marrying in the middle of a war.

The Crofts' renting Kellynch Hall had naturally reminded him of Miss Anne Elliot and he had been interested in hearing what had become of her. He had liked Anne Elliot and he was sorry about the engagement. He had understood her, just as he had understood that his brother had not returned for her two years later. It was a very sad business, but he knew better than to think he had any influence with Frederick. At the time he had certainly had none.

It might be different now, as Frederick had grown older and wiser. He assumed that, at least, and was resolved to ask a few questions. Sophia had written that one daughter was unmarried and living in Bath with her parents, and she had described that one daughter as a nice girl. From what he remembered of the Elliot girls he believed there was only one who was nice. The eldest had been haughty and cold, and the youngest had been rather silly. Neither of them would fool Sophia.

This meant that it was Anne who was unmarried and he had liked that. That Frederick had written that he was off to Bath with Sophia and then straight on to Shropshire was something Edward had liked too. Knowing when to expect his brother was always a good thing, but he would not deny he liked the possibility of Frederick seeing Anne Elliot just as well.

When Frederick appeared exactly on the day he had written he would, Edward felt some doubts. Surely if Frederick had met Anne Elliot and renewed the acquaintance he would not have had any qualms about delaying his departure for another while?

But this was something he did not immediately want to ask and he did not want to spoil the atmosphere. There were other matters to go over first. He had a wife to show and he was proud of her. This took precedence for a while.

Then, when that had been dealt with and Mrs Wentworth and her brother-in-law were acquainted, Edward could introduce the topic. "How was Bath? Had you been there before?"

"It was rainy. I had not been there before and I saw only a little on the first day. On the second day we had to stay in. That was a pity, because we had seen several people we knew, but we had no idea where they were staying." He spoke of naval officers, of course.

"The Elliots?" Edward asked innocently.

Frederick's face darkened. "We had to dine with them, because Sophia arranged it, but we did not see them in the street."

"You dined with them? How are they? Are they still the same?"

He wondered if they were. It was easier not to explain the differences. "They are."

"And Miss Elliot?"

"Not the same," he said curtly. "How do you know about her?"

"Sophia. She is changed, then?"

"No, but she is not the same." He could not explain where the difference lay. He had thought about it since leaving Bath, but he did not want to share those thoughts with his brother. It was not simple enough to explain in a few words. He might have to reiterate the entire conversation and he did not know how Edward looked upon following young women into their sitting rooms. Edward would never do such a thing, he suspected.

"I hope it was not too difficult to see her again."

Frederick wondered why he had been assuming his brother was a sort of enemy. That last comment spoke only of compassion and understanding, and he was resolved to give Edward the benefit of the doubt. "It was not as bad as I had thought. She was different. A little rebellious."

"Rebellious? I was speaking of Miss Anne Elliot." Edward did not know if he had been understood. Miss Anne Elliot was not a girl he remembered as being remotely rebellious. He would imagine her as wiser and more sensible now, not less so.

"Yes. She did as she liked, it seemed, and did not like being told what to do, neither by her father, nor by me."

"Why..." Edward began and he looked puzzled. "Why would you tell her what to do?"

"It seems I am not generous enough to forgive." He was, however, old enough to see some of his faults.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I got quite annoyed with her telling me what I should like best. I insisted on something else on purpose."

"In company?" Edward was baffled.

"You do not know all of it. Sir Walter, it seems, has got his wife pregnant and his head is full of it. He set us down at a table with a stack of games and then nobody paid us any more attention. We were free to do as we liked. We might as well have been alone."

Edward was even more baffled by that. "Sir Walter. Is there a new Lady Elliot?"

"Oh, no. The same one."

"But she cannot..."

Frederick shrugged. "I would rather not wonder about old people in that manner. But at any rate they left us to fend for ourselves, so I told her to play chess with me. Because she did not want to."

"And you call her rebellious because she politely said no?" Edward might remember her incorrectly, but he did not think she could have done anything else. "Precisely what sort of ideas do you have about women?"