Beginning, Section II

Part VIII

The room was utterly still. The silence weighed as heavily above them as a woolen blanket. Who would dare break the silence?

Mr. Elliot regarded Captain Wentworth with a cool, even gaze that gave little away. So Anne's hero had returned with her after all. To act as lion-hearted protector to the little mouse. But it appeared that Anne may not need such assistance. The determined look on her face spoke volumes.

He paused, watching her in amazement. Her eyes glowed, as did her face. He felt a flicker of warmth in his chest.

Elizabeth attempted to smooth things over. "You must forgive Anne's cant talk, Mr. Elliot. She has just come to us from Lyme and is fatigued. She has no idea what she is saying."

Sir Walter nodded, smiling. "Yes, yes, such a tiring thing travel is these days. Do come and join us. I shall have Elizabeth ring for some tea. So glad you stopped by."

But Mr. Elliot would not let the moment pass. He watched Anne carefully. She was looking actually quite pretty in her traveling costume of dark green. It complemented her hazel eyes to a nicety. And her hair was shining a glossy dark. His fingers ached to reach out and touch its softness.

"I am afraid that Captain Wentworth and I must take our leave now," Anne announced calmly, looking unconcerned with the new visitor. "Papa, Elizabeth, please excuse us. We shall return at another time."

Mr. Elliot nearly choked. She truly meant to be out of his presence. He knew she had not loved him but this? To so blatantly make her displeasure known? It was not like her in the least. She was usually so shy and retiring. "Anne, I do wish us to be friends," he remarked in a beguiling, crafty manner. "We are family. And I know how important family is to Sir Walter."

Frederick took Anne's arm over his and answered for her. "I think Anne has made her feelings quite clear. Good day, Mr. Elliot."

Before Elizabeth or Sir Walter could speak, the couple turned and left the room. Heading down the stairs, they took their wraps and were on the street in a matter or moments. "Should you like a hackney, Anne? This has been a trying morning," he told her in an admiring voice.

She shook her head. "No, no, I should like to feel the air on my face. Even if it is not the fresh salt air of Lyme. I shall walk back to the inn alone, Frederick. You were anxious to visit Mr. Lane's gunsmith. To look at that new rifle he has."

This was a surprise. "Anne, are you certain? I do not like the idea of leaving you alone. I can see Lane at any time."

She looked up at him, residual fire burning in those dark eyes. She looked almost reborn, he thought. As if the battle had only given her strength, not diminished it. His Anne...she was always surprising him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life unlocking that mystery.

"I shall be just fine, Frederick," she assured him. "Pray let me have these next moments to compose myself. A half an hour's time for reflection and peace will suffice. I shall meet you back at the inn when you are done."

Frederick gave a brief nod. "If that is what you wish, little one. But may I tell you that you took on your family and Mr. Elliot like a tiger cub? I would but wonder what you might have done had I not been present. I suspect there would have been little remaining to be done."

She could not resist a small chuckle, dispelling the tension that rested over them. "I was truly not so fearsome. But having you with me...it gave me the strength to face them all. You are my anchor, Frederick, if you will pardon the metaphor."

Moved, he shook his head and dropped a lingering kiss on her forehead. "I want you to always think of me that way, my little Amazon. For that is what I always will be. Now I shall go to Lane's and let you enjoy your constitutional. But do not tarry long. Your captain finds that he needs you about him desperately."

With a final warm smile, he left her and she watched as he disappeared into the milling crowd of people. Bath had its pleasures. There were any number of sights and diversions. But at this moment, only Frederick drew her eye.

Turning toward her destination, Anne drew her pelisse about her and began to walk. She remembered another time when she had gone on a long walk. Only it had been from Uppercross to Winthrop. And Frederick had been much occupied with another young lady.

Now the thought did not disturb her. Frederick has stood at her side before her family and supported her as no one had before. Silent, strong, and steady, he was indeed her anchor. How she hated that he must leave her in a few days.

They had nearly argued over the subject when it had first arisen. Anne had wanted them to marry quickly so she might join him on the ship. He had no qualms about having her on the ship with him. In fact, he preferred it. But he had wanted them to have a proper wedding so that his brother Edward and his family could come from Shropshire to attend. He also wanted her to have the kind of wedding a true woman of heart deserved.

"You deserve every kindness, everything you wish, Anne," he had said firmly. "We have waited nearly nine years for this. It will not do for us to be married in a shabby, hurried matter. Benwick and Louisa as well as the Hayters and Mrs. Smith must be there. I want you to have your friends about you. To celebrate our happiness with us."

At the time, she had acquiesced to him. She personally did not care if they were married in St. George's Hanover Square or at Gretna Green by one of their famous matrimonial smithies. Pomp and finery had never been to her liking. She simply could not dispel the forbidding sense that something was lurking, someone wanting to keep them apart.

As she passed by a small park on a square, Anne was attracted by a charming scene. The leaves had turned color and were falling from the trees. Now a little girl was romping in them as if she had not a care in the world. Her nurse was standing close by looking rather anxious. No doubt her charge's exhuberance had outlasted her strength.

Anne moved off the walk and moved to take a seat on a nearby bench to take in the view. She would just pause a moment and collect her thoughts. The child was being lectured now, the nurse's patience now gone.

Anne listened with silent sympathy for the child. How often had her own governess said such things to her? As a child, Anne had longed for a chance to see the world and enjoyed the natural wonders on the grounds of Kellynch. Her mother had encouraged it. But the governess, loyal to Sir Walter as always, had stiffly instructed her to behave like a lady. Only hoydenish girls romped in the forest, turning out very wild.

The pair were soon gone and Anne sighed with resignation. She ought to be heading for the White Hart. She wanted to hear the low, amused tones of Sophy Croft's voice. Tomorrow she would visit Mrs. Smith and they would talk of the events that had transpired. Perhaps Mrs. Smith and Nurse Rooke could tell her something more of Mr. Elliot's situation. She also wanted to tell her friend that Captain Wentworth had written to her late husband's solicitors in order to investigate Mrs. Smith's financial problems. Surely something could be done to help the friend that had been so loyal to Anne.

She rose from the bench with her resolve in place when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It must be Frederick, she thought, smiling as she turned round. But it was not.

It was Mr. Elliot!

"Come now, cousin, it is time for us to end this foolishness," he told her in a smooth, cold voice. "I have had enough of your games. We must talk about this at once."

She felt his hand on her arm, gripping it tight. Her dark eyes flew up to meet his. "I have no desire to talk to you, Mr. Elliot. Please be so kind as to unhand me. This is most unseemly."

"And lose the pleasure of your lovely company?" he queried with a dark laugh. "I cannot bear such a thought. No, indeed. You are coming with me into my carriage and there is an end to it. I know just the place for us to conduct our...interview."

He was moving now, pulling her along with him. Anne's eyes scanned the park desperately for the sight of someone, anyone. But the park was empty now and there was no one to come to her aid.

Mr. Elliot advised her in a low, calm tone, "Do not attempt to break free. You would not want to create a scene, would you? There is no one to hear your cries for help now. Likely they will think us a pair of quarreling lovers."

This was a nightmare, Anne thought in horror. This could not be happening. Surely someone would see. Dear God, what did he mean to do? Be calm, she told herself. You must not lose your head, Anne. Think! Think! Only rational thought would do in this crisis. She tried to kick out at him with her feet but he was too strong for her. She tried to scream but his hand came over her mouth. Grasping her about the shoulders, he stilled her attempt at flight.

"Your futile attempts are useless, cousin," he ground out, his temper flaring. For once his reserve had been broken. "Do as I say and your captain will not be harmed." Strong, ruthless hands lifted her into the carriage and tossed her inside. In a matter of seconds, Mr. Elliot was inside and the coachman cracked his whip, setting the team in motion.

As the coach headed out of Bath, a lone figure watched at a window in an elegant townhouse across from the Park. A look of utter surprise and alarm was etched on her face. Lady Russell had just witnessed one of her oldest friends being abducted. And by the one man she had thought the perfect choice for a husband for her.

Part IX

The late afternoon sun was casting tall shadows on the sidewalk as Captain Wentworth strolled back to Minden Lane. While at the gunsmith, he had bumped into a gentleman he had once met in Majorca during one of his voyages. It was such a rare occurrence to meet an old friend such as Mr. Hector that he had seized upon it. As a result, time had seemed to fly by.

He smiled secretly as he continued on, thinking of how he had instructed Anne not to tarry on her way to the inn. Now it was he who had been naughty by staying gone a good two hours. What would she think of him?

A warm feeling surged up in his chest. It was difficult to keep his thoughts from her. He could picture her now, at the White Hart, seated with Sophy at the table and talking about one of the Admiral's voyages. Sophy never tired of relating some new information and Anne never tired of hearing it. The friendship between his sister and Anne had been exactly as he had hoped. Anne, with her sweet nature and temperament, was a good match for Sophy's more mature wit and good humor. Seeing their two heads close together, laughing over some incident, gave him a sense of comfort he had rarely felt before.

He hoped that he and Anne would share a marriage as durable and rich as the Admiral and Sophy. In all his years of traveling the world, Frederick had not seen one to match it. They were indeed bone of each other's bone, flesh of each other's flesh. And yet they still maintained their own unique, lively personalities. It was little wonder they had married quickly after a very brief courtship.

Frederick nearly stopped still in the street as a thought struck him and barely noticed the frustrated sigh of the serving maid he had nearly knocked over. Why was he so insistent that they wait until he return from his voyage to marry? Thinking back, he realized he had told her he wanted her to have all the fine trapping a woman deserved on "her day." But Anne was not a woman who clamored for such things. He knew that. Why had he insisted?

Standing outside a milliner's shop, as if in a daze, Frederick's mind hit upon Captain Benwick's engagement to Phoebe Harville. Phoebe, who had died while James was at sea. Good Lord! What if that were to happen to Anne? What if she were to face danger in the shape of Mr. Elliot while he was absent? The idea had never occurred to him until now. He could very well come home to find her trapped into marrying the scoundrel!

His face was livid as his hands tensed into fists. How foolish could he have been? To leave Anne in England, with only her friends to care for her, while he struck out to sea for three months. When Mr. Elliot had looked at her today as if she were a five-course meal he wished to devour in one gulp. He had seen that look before. A man so set on getting what he wanted to break into a family he had spurned yet twice would stop at nothing to have his way. Mr. Elliot was a blackguard. How could he think of leaving her to his dark wiles? They must marry before he sailed. That was the only solution.

As if shaking himself, Frederick set off again and quickened his speed. The urgency to reach the inn was nigh unbearable. He barely saw the small park on Brentley square as he went on. But something, a neat, white object caught his eye and he glanced down to find something at his feet. Bending down, his hands took it up and he went utterly still.

It was a starched handkerchief, embroidered with a monogram. It was one of his own that he had given Anne that morning upon their departure from Bath. The fading scent of her delicate perfume drifted up from it almost painfully. Why was it here on the sidewalk? Surely she had not...

In moments, he was running as fast as he could run to the White Hart. A number of surprised faces passed him in a blur for he did not care. He had to know that Anne was safe with Sophy. Dear God, if anything had happened to her...please, dear God, not that...not his Anne.

Throwing open the door to the sitting room he had hired for them, Frederick took in the scene with a sinking heart. Lady Russell was standing on the threshold with a look of great alarm on her face. And Sophy was pale as a sheet.

"Frederick, at last you have come," Sophy breathed in relief, taking his hands in hers. "Lady Russell tells me our dear Anne has been abducted by Mr. Elliot! She witnessed it from her very window not an hour ago!"

The blood rushed to Frederick's head as if he were on the deck of one of his ships amidst a storm. An involuntary cry broke from his lips. "No! It isn't true! She is here, safe with you! I sent her here but two hours ago." This was not happening. They could not be separated yet again!

Lady Russell, all of her usual composure and ease vanished, told him, "She is gone, Captain. I saw it myself and believe me, I could scarce believe what I saw. He practically tossed her into his coach, dragging her from the park! I knew you would want to know it at once. Anne had sent a note to me telling me you had arrived. Thank heavens I knew where to go."

Despite their past relations, Captain Wentworth felt a great debt to this woman. "Thank you for coming, Lady Russell. I know our dealings have not always been friendly but you and I share a common interest in that we love Anne beyond all thought. Did you see which way he was headed? Out of town?"

She nodded briefly, glad to be of any assistance. "Yes, heading out on the Old Town Road going north. I do know he was staying at Lord Buckley's home but surely he would not take her there. But Sir Miniver told me just last night that they own another manor house outside of town, some five miles from here. Buckley Hall, I believe. Perhaps he took her there."

Sophy looked up at her brother in urgent alarm and saw his thoughts plainly. "Frederick, I have already enquired about hiring a team from the livery. The innkeeper is seeing to it now. I knew you would want to be off as soon as you knew. What may I do to help?"

Frederick wanted to kiss his sister for her calm head and quick thinking. "You are an angel, Sophy, to arrange it for me. No, no, you must stay here with Lady Russell in case he brings her back. I shall find out where Buckley Hall is and go there directly. It is time that Mr. Elliot and I settled our differences."

He moved to go but Lady Russell's elegant hand on his arm halted his departure. "Captain, I have wronged you," she told him in a low, moved voice. "You love Anne a great deal and it is my fault that you did not marry before. Forgive me for my insolence. I am horrified at my ignorance in pushing her to accept Mr. Elliot months ago."

Frederick shook his head. "Do not fret, Lady Russell. You acted as you thought best at the time, despite the fact that you were in the wrong. You can help me best by staying with my sister. And praying for my Anne's safe return. I will bring her home, never fear."

She nodded and he was gone, the echo of his boots ringing in the corridor purposefully. Never again would she be so blind. The quality of the character of this man shone through all of her doubts.

Frederick rounded the corner of the inn to see two stableboys tending to a curricle with an excellent team of matched bays pawing at the ground to go. How a posting inn had possession of such a fine team was beyond his thought but he would not argue it now. The innkeeper waved his farewell from the door, calling, "Good luck to you, Captain. Godspeed!"

Throwing himself up into the curricle seat, Frederick whipped up the team and set off down the street, his heart pounding in his ears. Dear God, he prayed, let her be all right. May I not be too late...

Part X

"I do apologize for the rather shabby conditions here, dear Anne, but as the servants have all decamped with Mrs. Buckley for Paris, only my batman can handle the niceties of building a fire and the like," Mr. Elliot's languid, unhurried voice met Anne's ears.

Anne said nothing. She was cold, still in something akin to shock. She knew that Mr. Elliot had abducted her and that he had taken her to Buckley Hall. And it appeared that she, her abductor, and his valet were the only people present. Lady Buckley, Lord Buckley's mother, was in France. And Lord Buckley was still in London squandering his newfound wealth.

The sunlight had long since faded and Mr. Elliot had lit candles in the large, imposing library where they sat. The Holland covers had been tossed back on two armchairs for them to sit on near the large hearth.

"And I am sorry for the unpleasantness of our departure," he continued, sipping a glass of cognac as Carter heaped more wood on the fire. "But you have become a feisty handful, dear Anne. I must tell you that your actions of resistance took me quite by surprise. I have never seen that side of you before. It is almost...appealing to see some fire in you. Some lively spirits."

Once again, Anne remained silent. She could hardly believe that what was happening was real. To be taken from a public park in broad day! Such things were insupportable. Would Captain Wentworth have the slightest idea where she was? Would Sophy find him? The thoughts spun in her head like a child's top until it made her dizzy.

"You are silent," he commented, as Carter stood back and awaited his orders with a grim countenance. "I imagine today has been a bit of a shock. I am not often disposed to taking such unusual measures. But in your case, by the steely determination I saw in those dark eyes at your father's home today, I knew this was the only method."

He turned to Carter. "Please bring in that light supper, Carter. I know our provisions are few and the place is desolate. Do what you can."

Anne watched the servant depart. How could someone calmly do his master's bidding when he knew it to be wrong, reprehensible? She supposed Mr. Elliot's promise of gold had silenced any misgivings the servant might have possessed. Money and position was all Mr. Elliot truly cared for.

"Anne, why is it you have shunned me so?" he asked quietly, watching her intently, the light of the fire dancing over his face. "Your family has possessed the good grace to invite me into their arms again. Why not you?"

"Because I know who and what you truly are," she finally found her voice. "Your treachery is well known to me, sir. Your treatment of my dear friend Mrs. Smith and her husband. And the letters you wrote concerning your feelings about my family. Be assured, Mr. Elliot, you shall never again return into my favor."

Mr. Elliot, scoundrel that he was, had the grace to blanche in the firelight. He knew of her friendship with the now impoverished widow, but not to what extent. "Mr. Smith never did have a mind for business, for finance, and his wife was made to suffer for it," he remarked with no expression. "Those who are in need are wont to lash out at those who appear to have achieved success and ease. Doubtless she had lead you astray."

Anne's eyes flamed as brightly as the fire. "No doubt it is you who have lead many people astray, Mr. Elliot, including my own family," she replied gravely. "I have seen the letters with my own eyes, sir. There is complete proof of your error. Do not be so brash as to lie to my face."

For a moment, Mr. Elliot was silent, his mind racing. She knew the truth and she spoke it. Nothing he could say would alter that now. Unlike her family, Anne knew the truth when she saw it. Her lofty principles would not allow her to be guided otherwise.

"Anne, you only wish to think ill of me," he finally said. "When I care for you a great deal. A union between us would be of great happiness to everyone. Especially to your father and Lady Russell. It would make you mistress of Kellynch as both of them would surely wish."

Anne's face went white. "Ill? When you have taken me from my fiancee and family with little regard for my feelings or comfort? Mr. Elliot, how can you have the temerity to say such things? Have you no heart?"

Mr. Elliot groaned inwardly. She was going to be sanctimonious and difficult. Well, he knew how to fix that. Carter was bringing them something now. And in Anne's wine was just the proper amount of opium to make his plans very easy to execute. She would not know what had come over her. Then he would do exactly as he wished.

Carter brought in the food, as promised, looking somewhat ill at ease. He had been used to performing odd tasks for his master before. But nothing like this. True, Carter had spent some hard time at Newgate for petty crime. Lifting a lady's reticule or a gentleman's pocketwatch. But drugging a young lady? That had never arisen before. Still, Mr. Elliot gave good wages and made little fuss. He had dumped in the drug liberally to make certain it did the trick.

"Now, Anne, you must have a little something to keep up your spirits," he advised her. "Tis' not all lost, you know. Drink up and have some of the cold chicken. Carter, set up the table so we may eat."

Carter did so and Anne eyed him carefully. Could this man be counted on to help her? He looked as if he were not entirely happy with his current tasks. Perhaps he could be persuaded. She had little choice.

But Carter soon left the room and Mr. Elliot lifted his glass. There was something in his manner that chilled her heart to the core. "Drink up now, Anne, and be of good cheer. I shall not harm you. If marrying me truly revolts you so much, then I surely cannot force you to do so. I am not so much a monster as to do that."

Anne, thirsty from her ordeal, drank of it. She had no way of knowing how heavily laced with opium it was. She needed some fortification badly. How was she to escape from this man? Nobody would ever find her out in this desolate place. It was miles from Bath.

Good, he thought. Anne had drunk some of the wine. She would be drifting off shortly. Then he would trundle her back into his coach and head for Gretna. Once married, there was nothing she could do. And neither could Sir Walter and his highly annoying daughter. They would never believe it if Anne had claimed he had abducted her. And if they did? Surely they would forgive his impetuous nature as they always did.

Meanwhile, Captain Wentworth was driving his team hell for leather down the Old Town Road. Buckley Hall was some two miles distant but he meant to make it there in record time.

His thoughts were going in five thousands different directions. What did that villain intend to do to his little one? Had he taken her directly to Gretna? What if they were on the road to Scotland now? She was so small, he thought desperately, wiping his brow. Hardly able to defend herself. Despite her warrior-like stance this morning, Anne was a petite, feminine woman with little strength to fight off a man like Elliot. It made him nearly cry out in agony to think of her in such danger.

If only he had agreed to marry her quickly as she had first wished. Damn his stupidity, he thought bitterly. He did not want to lose her again. It would be like looking upon the prospect of death. It was unthinkable!

His pistol was on the seat beside him. Frederick had every intention of using it if he needed to. Finally, he saw Buckley Hall looming ahead. It looked dark and forbidding, as if uninhabited. Frederick's heart sank in his chest. But perhaps that was Elliot's hope, that no one would guess he was there. He spurred the four bays on, nearly overcome with impatience to be there.

Gravel went flying as he drove up the wide front sweep and Frederick leapt down from the curricle. Flinging open the front door, he found a servant quaking in the hall. The small dagger in Carter's hand dropped to the floor.

"Where is your master?!" Frederick demanded under his breath. "I will brook no nonsense for I know he had kidnapped her and brought her here."

Before the near paralyzed man could reply, Frederick heard a commotion coming from above him. As if a great struggle were taking place. In mere seconds, his feet were flying for the curved staircase that lead to the second floor.

Throwing open the Library's heavy double doors, Frederick plunged into the shadowy, disordered room. It was evident a battle royal had been taking place from a glance at the overturned tables. On the hearth rug was Mr. Elliot, poised for battle as Anne was swinging a poker at him. Her aim was true, connecting with his temple and sending him crashing onto the floor.

"Anne!" Frederick exclaimed.

The poker fell from her small, white fingers, its soft thud barely audible. But it was the glow of her eyes as she turned to him, the strange, almost desperate look that caused a flicker of panic to flare in his heart. It was a silent, desperate cry for help. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Frederick...." she whispered.

Even as he was racing to reach her, she was fading. Slowly, like a child's doll dropping to the ground, Anne fell back into Frederick's arms with a sigh. Utterly spent, the drug having kicked in, she did not sir or speak. Her long lashes were dark against the paleness of her cheek as her head dropped against his shoulder.

Kneeling there on the rug, his beloved Anne barely a weight in his arms, Frederick leaned his forehead against her. "Dear God," he begged. "Do not let her leave me now. She is my only peace."

But even as he uttered the prayer, Anne lay still as death in his embrace.

Part XI

Sophy Croft took the steaming cup of tea that Lady Russell handed her gratefully. "Thank you, Lady Russell. I cannot tell you how grateful we are that you have opened your home to us so kindly."

Lady Russell's hand shook a little as she returned the silver tea pot to its place on the service. "It is I who am grateful to you, Mrs. Croft. And to your brother as well. Could I have taken up the chase in such a decisive way as he did? No, no, only Captain Wentworth could have managed it so well. I am only grateful that he has brought her back to us."

Sophy nodded, taking a sip of tea, her eyes going to the ceiling. Her thoughts were not entirely in the room. Both ladies' hearts and minds were partially upstairs in a quiet bedroom where Anne lay sleeping.

Frederick had brought her to Lady Russell's house in desperation, knowing the inn would not provide the amenities his lady needed. Fortunately, Lady Russell had sent word preparing her staff for such an event. A note had been sent round to the inn and in moments Lady Russell and Mrs. Croft were safely settled in the elegant townhouse. Frederick had also discovered it was Lady Russell's own curricle he had driven to save Anne.

Sophy's heart had gone out to her brother. He looked like a little boy, lost with nowhere to turn for comfort or warmth. The lines were deeply etched on his handsome face, the concern written plainly across it. "Sophy, she is so still," he had told her quietly. "If only you had seen her fighting off that vile creature, with more determination and courage than I could have ever imagined. I do not know what I shall do if she does not--"

"Frederick, you must not talk that way," she had told him, her arm going round his rigid shoulders. "Anne is a determined young woman. You have witnessed it yourself. Do you not think she knows how much you need her?"

Dr. Mills had been rather grave in his pronouncement. Evidently the servant had overdosed Anne's wine and she was suffering the ill effects. It had pushed her into an extreme state of unconsciousness. The doctor was frank in admitting that she might never return from the nether world she had entered.

"She is young and strong," he had told Frederick. "But I have seen less opium do more harm to stronger men. All we can do is watch over her and hope for the best."

Since those words had been spoken, Frederick had not left his beloved Anne's side. She had not stirred or spoken since the previous evening when he had brought her to Lady Russell's.

Sophy had seen to it that a note was taken to Sir Walter and Elizabeth, who had both come. They had sat in utter silence while Lady Russell related the story of how she had witnessed Mr. Elliot abduct Anne, and how Captain Wentworth had rescued her. Mr. Elliot had since been handed over to the Chief Constable for transport. He would never go near the Elliots again.

"We are done with him then," Sir Walter had said briefly. "I only hope Anne does not suffer overmuch." But Elizabeth had said nothing. Not a word.

The last few days had been wearing on Lady Russell. She had seen how foolish she had been to ever believe that Mr. Elliot was the best man for Anne. And now her dear friend was paying the consequences of that connection, possibly with her own life.

All of her life she had wanted only to guide Anne's uncertain steps from girlhood into maturity. She had thought herself wise in her advice. But how sadly wrong she had been in this case. The entire situation had caused her to look at her life again and she had been sorely distressed by what she had realized.

Upstairs, sitting in a leather armchair beside Anne's bed, Frederick looked up from his naval journal to once more look at his beloved's face. A dark tendril of hair had fallen across her cheek, making her seem utterly vulnerable. His finger stroked the fine softness of that cheek, aching at the ashen color.

Carrying her up the stairs to the room had taken years off of his life. She had not moved, had not even sighed during the agonizing return to Bath. He had somehow managed to hold her against him as he drove the team. Every stride of the horses seemed to pound into his brain how desperate he was to get her to a doctor

Until he had found the half-drunk glass of wine, Frederick had not understood why Anne would not rouse from her faint. The swine had drugged her! He had meant to take her away and force her into a sham marriage.

Frederick knew he looked a fright now, wearing only his worn riding breeches, boots, and a lawn shirt open at the throat. But nothing seemed to matter. Not with Anne in such danger.

Frederick had faced a number of daunting situations in his life as a sailor. Storms, battles, unseaworthy vessels, unsavory characters...he had seen them all. But in those times, he had never felt so utterly alone or truly afraid.

Remorse smote Frederick deeply. He was supposed to be her protector and he had failed her. Had practically tossed her into the clutches of a man he knew was wicked and deceitful. But like everyone else, Frederick had been fooled into a sense of false complacency. He had not heeded the danger that Anne had sensed days before.

He thought back to the days of their first courtship, nearly nine years before. Their first meeting. The assemblies they had attended. The tenderness of youth and beauty. How lovely Anne, the girl, had been. She had held him captive in her hand and not even known it. He remembered how he had written her small notes and fashioned them into paper boats. She had treasured each one and saved them as if they were diamonds. Those qualities, that utter selflessness, had drawn him to her like no other woman had before.

Seeing her after nine years had been a sore trial. At first, she had seemed so altered, so worn and weary. But the bloom had returned to her soft, white cheek and so had her spirit. She had never been a very lively, exhuberant person but her intelligence and kind heart had revived. And Anne, the woman, had slowly but surely conquered his heart yet again. Holding it even more captive than she had before.

Now, as she lay in the large, curtained bed, almost too big for her, he wondered if yet again his Anne was to be swept from him. For with every slow breath she took, Anne seemed to be drifting from him. And it wore upon his soul like a wave upon a cliffside.

Now, in the dimly lit room, Frederick rose from the chair and sat on the mattress so that he was beside her. One small, limp hand rested on the coverlet and he took it up in his, noting how utterly helpless it seemed in his larger, work-roughened limb. Holding it against his cheek, his dark eyes grew damp.

"Anne," he murmured, watching her lovingly. "Your captain needs you. Surely you cannot let him sail alone into a stormy sea with no kind heart to guide him? I shall surely be lost without my worthy navigator. Totally adrift and helpless."

His voice grew husky, rough. "Anne...my darling...my little one...don't drift away...you are all I have. I love you...you are my anchor, my peace. We traveled through so many trials, fought the stares and criticism of all those who wished us ill. And survived. Please...come back to me. I cannot...do without you."

He heard the sound of the bedroom door and looked back to see his sister entering. "Frederick," she whispered. "You are worn straight through. Why do you not go change and get some rest? I shall look after our dear Anne while you do so."

His dark eyes rested on Anne for a long, painful moment. He hated leaving her for even a brief moment. She might slip away while he was gone. But Sophy was right. He had hardly moved an inch from the room since yesterday. And he looked a sad sight indeed.

He kissed Anne's hand softly, laying it gently back on the coverlet. "Look after her, Sophy," he asked pleadingly. "Keep her safe for me. Come for me if she stirs or moves even a hair's breadth."

"Yes, yes, I promise," she assured him, escorting him through the room to the connecting dressing room. "Do you think Anne wants to see you looking ragged and unshaven? No, no it will not do. I shall see you in a few hour's time. And hopefully you will look and feel rested."

Sophy took her brother's post, taking up some knitting she had brought with her from the inn. Outside it had begun to rain and the sound of it against the window pane was gentle. Somehow Anne would survive, she thought confidently. The couple had endured too many hardships to be separated now.

Never had she seen such devotion in a man, save for the Admiral. Seeing Frederick in pain like this tore her to pieces. To see the brother she adored suffer the agonies of hell was nigh torture. If only there was something, anything, she could do...

Putting aside her knitting with a frustrated sigh, Sophy Croft closed her eyes and began to do something she had not done since her husband had been away on the North Sea years ago.

She began to pray.

Part XII

Posted on June 24, 1997

The constant sound of rain had become Frederick's sole companion as he awaited Dr. Mills outside of Anne's room. Yet another day had passed with no improvement, no sign of change for the better.

He found it difficult to sit silently and watch her, knowing that she lay there so quietly and yet she seemed a hundred miles distant. So near...yet out of reach.

His thoughts drifted to another sickroom, another watchful time. Louisa's fall from the Cobb steps at Lyme had sent them all into a state of instant panic. Only Anne's cool thinking and capable actions had kept them from doing the poor girl harm. Amid any crisis, Anne could be counted on to keep her head about her.

Perhaps that was yet another quality about her that drew him near, he thought, drawing hard on his pipe as he sat down on the chair outside the door. Louisa, as many other young ladies he had met, possessed charm and sweetness of nature. As his sister had often teased him, any woman who asked him about his naval career and appeared intrigued could win his interest.

But Anne was different. It would never do to have a flighty female on board his ship, one who could not handle changing circumstances with some degree of flexibility. Anne was so accommodating, so eager to do what was best, that he knew she would adapt well to her new role as a captain's wife.

If she survived to become one. Closing his eyes momentarily, Frederick let out his breath slowly. The Laconia's voyage had been temporarily delayed due to his prolonged stay in Bath. He had suggested they send another commander but Admiral Benton had insisted they wait. The voyage was not an urgent one and could take a delay. Frederick knew that if Anne recovered, he would marry her and take her with him aboard the Laconia. He was not letting her alone again.

The door opened and Dr. Mills came out, a puzzled frown on his elderly face. He had been a physician for nearly forty years and this case tugged at his heart like no other. "Captain Wentworth," he addressed the man he had come to respect over the past few days. "Miss Elliot is still comatose, I am afraid."

Frederick nearly threw his pipe across the corridor but managed to quell his frustration. "I do not understand, Dr. Mills," he remarked quietly, almost brokenly. "She has been asleep night three days now. Surely something...anything...."

Dr. Mills clapped his hand on Frederick's weary shoulder. "Captain, she drank enough opium to kill a farm horse. That she is with us at all is to be considered something short of a miracle. As an apothecary, there are many things I can do to assist in healing. But in some areas, even my skills are quite deficient."

Frederick steeled himself and straightened. "What can we do to help, sir? What will bring her back to me?"

Dr. Mills looked thoughtful, almost embarrassed. "You will think me somewhat daft, Captain. But I know you to be a good man who will not think ill of me for making suggestions that may be rather unconventional."

Eyes dark and searching, Frederick insisted, "No, please, tell me at once. I am desperate for any hint of what I might do."

"Your sister is praying for her," Dr. Mills spoke gently. "And that is help that goes beyond my small assistance. And she has given Miss Elliot your handkerchief to hold onto. Oddly enough, it is clasped in her hand and I doubt the strongest man could remove it. That tells me Miss Elliot is fighting to return to us, Captain. Your voice urging her may help her...somehow to do so."

At his words, Frederick's heart nearly broke into pieces. That simple, embroidered piece of muslin had become her lifeline to him. Something so insignificant, but yet so vital. It had been the one clue that had sent him racing back to the inn to find her. "Yes, Dr. Mills, I will do as you say," he finally told the doctor. "Now do go below and partake of the refreshment Lady Russell has for you. She will insist upon it, so do not disappoint her."

Nodding, Dr. Mills pulled on his coat again and told him, "It is not my custom to disappoint a lady, and never one so accommodating or gracious as the Lady Russell."

Frederick went into Anne's room again, closing the door behind him. His eyes always fell immediately on her tiny form, a small shape amid the bedclothes. It was so great a contrast from his last image of her, standing on that hearthrug wielding a poker.

The fire in the hearth was blazing nicely and its flickering light softened the room. Frederick returned to his watchpoint, sitting on the edge of her bed. Yes, Dr. Mills was right. She was holding onto his handkerchief as if it were a life preserver, her small fingers locked round it. Did he mean that much to her, he thought in amazement.

He took up her other hand and held it, gently tracing each finger, noticing yet again how soft and fragile those hands were. Even now he could remember sitting in Mrs. Musgrove's sitting room and writing the letter to the framemaker's for Captain Harville. And listening to his friend talk to Anne only a few footsteps away. Hearing the woman he had never stopped loving profess that it was woman who loved when all hope was gone. Those words, so softly spoken, had been the final key to unlocking their long awaited happiness.

"Anne," he breathed quietly. "It is your captain, come to fence with you yet again. It is a lonely night indeed without your intelligent banter to amuse me. And cold...without you to put my arm around before the fire."

"Do you know how proud of you I am?" he asked, noticing how the firelight flickered across her delicate features. "You saved yourself from that scoundrel, Anne. I came only to clean up the mess. You were so strong, so courageous. My little Amazon in action yet again. There is nothing, I begin to think, that you could not accomplish."

Throughout the night, he talked to her in a low, gentle voice. Reminding her of their early days together, of their reunion. He told her stories of his life at sea. For hours, he kept talking, reminding her again and again how much he needed her. How much he loved her. Of what their life together would be like.

So exhausted was he that as dawn crept through the cold streets, Frederick lay wearily on top of the bedclothes beside her and slept, one arm draped over her small form as if to keep her spirit from leaving.

Drifting in a deep sleep, Frederick felt something tug on the edges of his consciousness. Something was tickling his hair, brushing against it. It must be Sophy, he though tiredly. Rousing me to get up and wash up. He remembered her way of pulling him out of bed as a boy, pulling no punches to rouse him. Her touch was gentle now, like a butterfly hovering over a blossom. Gentle, so light...

"Sophy?" he breathed in confusion.

"Fred..erick..." an almost inaudible voice whispered, as if from another world.

Levering himself up, Frederick nearly toppled over the side of the bed. "Anne! Anne!" he gasped out, eyes wide with surprise.

Sleeping Beauty had awoken at last. As the early morning sun poured through the windows, it caught the hazel glow of her dark eyes, now open. They were fixed on his, shining, glowing with a love that nearly rivaled the rays of dawn. Never before had she looked as beautiful to him as she did now.

In a state of utter shock, Frederick asked, "Are you all right, angel? How do you feel?"

Her arms rose to clasp about his neck to draw him closer. "As if...I had been kicked....by a horse...but my captain can cure it...I am certain," she murmured with a weary smile.

Frederick, relieved, swept her up into his arms and rasped out, "Oh Anne, my little one, you have come back to me. Do not ever leave me again! Do you hear?"

Her small, soft body was stirring against his and he heard her voice, like a soft breeze, in his ear. "Your voice...oh Frederick....I heard it...calling me to return...I had...no choice."

He drew back to look at her yet again, still unsure that this was real. But those dark eyes, so beloved, were full of happy tears now. Tears much like his own and they spilled over onto his face. "Anne," he breathed. Slowly, reverently, he dropped a lingering kiss on each eye, each cheek. Finally, his questing mouth settled on hers and he kissed her like a drowning man seeking air. For she was his life, his very life. "I love you, my darling," he breathed as he drew back.

Her hand rose to touch his face, to trace its shape as if it were a pure pleasure for her to do so. "Frederick," she asked, a shadow crossing her face. "Is...is Mr. Elliot...?"

"He will never come near you again," he swore, gathering her up in his arms so that she rested against him. "That I swear. Anne, you cannot know the agonies I faced finding you gone. It is my fault and I promise I will make it up to you."

"You must not...blame yourself," she told him, her voice hoarse from her long ordeal. "We are...together now...are we not? Is that not what matters most?"

With her cradled against him, her dark head nestled on his shoulder, Frederick's eyes burned like coals. If he were to look back on his life again, it was this moment that he would remember for eternity. "Yes, my little Amazon, we are, indeed," he murmured as he kissed her forehead. "My peace...has returned. And I shall never let it slip from my grasp again."

Epilogue

Captain Frederick Wentworth's eyes missed nothing as he scanned the forward deck. All was quiet and in good order. The midnight watch had just begun and the Laconia was in good hands. Now he could relax.

Lieutenant Danvers greeted him as he leaned against the railing. It was Danvers' first posting on the Laconia. "A pleasant night indeed, Captain?"

"Fine as we've seen in the past fortnight, Danvers," he remarked warmly. "It has been a good voyage from the start. If we can avoid the French."

The young man, barely 20, nodded. "Your new wife has brought us good luck, Captain. Pardon me for saying so, but I hope to have the pleasure of sailing with you in the future."

A secret smile crept across his captain's face. "Aye, she does calm the waters, does she not? No pardon necessary. You will do well. Go and join Coville now. Good evening to you, Danvers."

It had only been two months since his quiet, unsophisticated wedding to Anne at the Church of the Mast at Lyme. But she had so become a part of his life now that it seemed she had always been there.

The Harvilles, the Musgroves, Lady Russell, the Crofts, the Benwicks, the Hayters, and Mrs. Smith had been present for the ceremony. Sir Walter and Elizabeth had pleaded a prior engagement with Lady Dalrymple. Frederick had worried that Anne might be crushed by her family's apparent indifference but she had not. Mary, Charles, and her nephews had come and they were, she had said, family enough for her.

"Mary is the only one who has any regard for me," she had said with affection, "despite her sense of always being so ill. Charles has kept her from becoming too much like Elizabeth, thankfully."

They had set sail the day after the wedding and Anne had taken to sailing as the proverbial fish to water. Even in the roughest sea, she did not feel ill or take to having megrims. She almost seemed to glory in the challenge of it. And she also knew when to keep to herself and not be in the way of the men.

Bonaparte's actions in France had promoted the establishment of the sea fencibles, the patrolling of the seas for any French naval vessels. But the Laconia had seen little action and Frederick enjoyed the time he had free to acquaint his wife with the daily workings of the ship.

Very quietly, he opened the door to their cabin. His rooms had improved drastically from the last time he had been on the Laconia. Anne's decorative touch had turned them from a stark place to sleep and work into a haven from the outside world. Curtains, a new coverlet on the bed, some pictures, dried flowers in a jug...her simple influence was already changing his life in ways he had not imagined.

He stood for a moment on the threshold, watching her in the light of one, single candle she had left burning. It reminded him of the other time he had watched her sleeping, only then she had nearly died of opium poisoning. It had nearly destroyed him to see her so ill. Since waking, she had suffered no ill effects.

But now she was simply dozing, her dark hair tumbled about her shoulders, resting against downy pillows, looking like a tiny angel dropped to earth. And now she was his wife. Would he ever grow accustomed to the sight of her there each night, waiting for him?

The weight of his gaze must have awakened her for she blinked then, rising up from the covers like a sleepy child. "Frederick," she murmured, delighted and smiling. "Is your inspection now past? How is Lieutenant Coville handling his first watch?"

"Nervous as a new mother with a sick baby," he told her softly, shrugging out of his coat and hat. "But doing well now that Danvers is joining him for courage. Anne, you ought not to have waited up for me again. You need your rest."

She could see by the look on his face that he was not in the least sorry for it. He tugged off his boots and sat down on the bed. Twining her arms about his neck, she kissed him briefly, warmly on the mouth. "And not hear about the repairs below deck? I want a full account, captain."

He pulled her up and onto his lap, a practice he often followed in the evenings. Anne's curiosity for the ship's workings amazed him still. It was something he had hoped for but not expected. In the past, he had often longed for someone to share the day's events with, to talk freely. And now Anne was that perfect companion.

Yet tonight he found it difficult to concentrate on talking of patching leaks in the stern and holding a meeting with his officers. She looked beguiling in her pale pink nightgown, her hair resting fresh and sweet against his shoulder. Her ankle peeked out at him from beneath the hem, shapely and soft. Was it possible he had lived a full life before without her in it?

"Frederick, I have been thinking," she spoke quietly when he had done with his account of the repairs. "Some of the younger men do not know how to read. It is something that disturbs me greatly."

Frederick, half attending to her words, nuzzled his face against her neck. After a day of supervising some raw recruits, Frederick treasured these moments alone with her. "Yes, darling? Go on..."

Anne was finding herself drawn into his slow burning ardor and struggled to keep her thoughts. His breath against her skin was nearly her undoing. "Would it inhibit the ship's progress...if I were to teach some of them...to read? I should not want to cause problems. Tell me what you think."

Somehow her words managed to penetrate and he drew back from his slow journey down her shoulder. "That is a wonderful idea, little one. It would help them advance their careers as to learning maps and the like. I would make the time available for them. Yes...only my Anne would have thought of such a cunning plan. We shall talk of it tomorrow."

Her sweet smile bewitched him as it always did. In the candlelight, her soft cheek glowed as if she were again only 18. At that moment, watching her, he felt almost a reverence toward her. Dear God, he prayed silently, thank you for returning her to me safely.

"Tomorrow?" she queried softly, her fingers slowly rising to caress the dark hair that teased the back of his neck. Frederick felt his mind beginning to go black with want of her and he drew her up against his chest tightly.

"No more words, my siren," he whispered as he leaned over to blow out the single, flickering candle. "We are entering stormy seas tonight...and I need my wits about me to sail them."

The End