Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Part VII

Charles Musgrove strolled alongside Frederick and Captain Harville as they took one final walk along the Cobb that afternoon. The Musgroves were to head home for Uppercross that afternoon and Anne was to tarry on to Bath.

"Frederick, I do hope you'll be coming back to Uppercross shortly," Charles confided in a low voice. "The shooting season will soon be at an end and you are a prime partner."

Frederick nodded, pleased to have the invitation renewed. "It's always a pleasure to go shooting with a man who knows how the sport is best done, Charles," he remarked. "And the grounds around Winthrop are some of the best I've ever seen. You can be assured I will be back. Only a few days more here and I shall return."

Leaning on his cane, Captain Harville overheard this and gave a conspiratorial laugh. "I imagine, Frederick, that Charles is also giving you a hint on behalf of his lovely sister. I have little doubt Uppercross has some attractions that Lyme cannot match."

Charles and Captain Harville exchanged knowing glances and Frederick felt an uncomfortable uneasiness. What was that for? Did they think him promised to Louisa? Was it that obvious? Had he overplayed his hand?

Now that he thought on the matter, Frederick realized that he had perhaps not behaved as rationally as he ought. Louisa had been his object, indeed, over these last weeks. He had not denied it. But now he knew that path to be truly turned. There was no possible way he could marry Louisa.

The faint murmur of voices down below on the beach caught his attention. Anne was walking with Benwick as she was wont to do these days. The young, heart-broken man had taken a keen interest in her. She had managed to pull him somewhat out of his abject misery over Phoebe. Her compassionate heart and comforting words had been like soothing oil, Frederick thought. Were they fellow sufferers in love lost, he thought. Had that drawn them together? The answer eluded him.

Frederick simply knew that Benwick was in great danger of falling in love with Anne. And that he could not bear under the present unsettled state of his emotions.

Yesterday they had caught sight of the man on the beach yet again. He was Anne's cousin, Mr. Elliot, it appeared. Obviously from the way Anne and Mary had been conversing there had been a rift between him and Sir Walter for years. While Frederick had little regard for Sir Walter, he almost hoped the rift would remain unhealed. The man had admired her, that was clear. Hopefully, it was the last anyone would see of him.

Anne was laughing at something Benwick had said just then, the sound of it soothing and gentle to his ear. That laugh. Frederick fought to pay attention to what Harville was saying to him. He used to wake from dreams, bathed in sweat, hearing that sound fade into the black silence of night. Only to hear the rocking of the waves against the hull of the ship. And now he was hearing it as she listened to another man's attempt to amuse her .

Rubbing his eyes, Frederick inwardly fought to maintain his calm. His thoughts had been in an uproar ever since he had wandered into Anne's room at Kellynch. That afternoon had been the cause of it all. Now that he knew she had not forgotten him, his mind and heart were at war as to how to think, how to feel. It was a battle that he had never thought to have been fighting.

They were approaching the steps down to the lower Cobb as the wind was too high to continue walking, something Louisa always took peculiar delight in. She had taken up the habit of asking him to catch her as she jumped down the hard steps. At first, it had been a pleasant enough diversion. Having a beautiful young girl casting herself into his arms was something few men would consider distasteful. And he could now see by the gleam in her eye that she meant to repeat the practice.

"Oh Louisa, I do wish you would not do that," Mary remarked in a tired, unpleasant tone. "It frightens me to no end. Captain Wentworth, do reason with her. I cannot."

For once, Frederick saw the truth in Mary's words. She was correct in her fears. The steps were high and the stone below might prove slippery. The risk truly was greater than he would like. "Louisa, it is too high. This shall be the last time, my girl," he told her firmly. "Let this be an end to it."

Laughing, her fearless countenance blithely expressing her disregard for Mary's caution, she readied herself as Frederick stretched out his arms. With fair warning, she was easy enough to catch and he set her down promptly. Such games grew wearisome, he thought. Louisa was a grown woman and ought to think more wisely of her habits. In the quiet meadows of Winthrop such things were safe enough. But here the whole world could watch and murmur of her rather childish antics.

He moved away then, looking to see where Anne and Benwick had got to. Jumping off steps was not in Anne's more gentle nature, he thought with respect. She had to be prodded into any sort of mischief, he remembered. And even then it was rare. During their very brief courtship, Frederick had found her lack of stature charming and somewhat beguiling. When they would walk out together around Kellynch, he had enjoyed lifting her up to sit upon a fence so their faces might be level.

Such a simple action had provoked blushes and smiles enough to make it very worth his trouble. The proximity also gave him ample opportunity to kiss her soft, rosy lips. Louisa had yet to understand that most men did not like the woman they favored to act too freely in the presence of others. They wanted such behavior to remain private, to be quietly revealed only to them away from prying eyes.

"I am determined! Captain, catch me if you can!" Louisa's voice met his ears stridently, triumphantly.

In horror, turning rapidly on his heel, Frederick made haste to attend to her. Looking up, he saw the willful determination in her face as she jumped. Oh no, he thought desperately. She had been too quick, had leapt too soon. His arms reached out to catch her but it was too late. She folded up on the stone Cobb at his feet with a terrible noise, her body going utterly limp.

For a moment, there was not a sound but the squawk of gulls overhead. The moment had been so sudden, the impact of it so horrific that hardly anyone dare move or speak. No, it could not be so.

Frederick, clasping her to him, leaned up against the stone wall with horror. Everyone was too stunned to move. "Will no one help me?" he involuntarily cried out urgently. His large, dark eyes flew to Anne's and met an immediate compassionate response.

Anne flew to Louisa's side, grasping her hand and rubbing it vigorously. "Louisa! Louisa!" Her urgent voice seemed to break the spell and Frederick began to do the same. "Rub her temples," she instructed sharply to him as Charles joined them. "She breathes! Thank the Lord!"

Frederick's wide, shocked eyes met Anne's over Louisa's inert form. "What do we do?" he asked helplessly, his mind going blank. She was the only voice of reason amid this sudden shock. "Tell me, Anne!"

"A surgeon! Go and fetch one," she commanded at once, then reconsidered as he ran to obey her. "No, Benwick! Benwick will know the way!" The young captain stumbled then began to run toward town, showing more speed and quickness of mind than he had in all the time Frederick had known him.

Anne continued to work on her patient diligently, her orders spoken with quick, authoritative tones. "We must get her to Harvilles," she told Frederick with strength. "Benwick is sure to take the surgeon there. Come now, we must move her. Gently now..."

He paused, his eyes locking with hers yet again. Silently Frederick's dark, haunted eyes begged of her to help him, to see him through this crisis. Forgive me for being so foolish, he asked wordlessly. I need you, Anne. You are my only hope. There is no one but you.

And in the work of but a few seconds, the brilliant strength of her own hazel eyes responded. Across time and regret and pain, Anne would not fail him in assisting him to get Louisa safely home. She would not throw his actions in his face. She would seek to ease his obvious distress.

He and Charles managed to get Louisa to the Harville home. It had not been an easy task. Henrietta and Mary were both crying and sobbing as if Louisa had already expired. Anne had done her best to keep them quiet, one arm draped round Henrietta's quaking shoulders. Frederick had not envied her the task. She seemed the only one to have a clear head about her.

True to his actions, Benwick was at the house shortly after they arrived with a surgeon accompanying him. As he looked over his patient, the others remained gravely silent. The shock seemed to permeate the low-ceilinged room. Frederick leaned over the table, his head in his hands. It was his fault that Louisa lay so quietly. He ought to have been paying attention to her antics. She was so very high spirited. It had only taken the work of a few seconds and now Louisa could die. Curse his lack of will! He had indulged her dangerous game because he knew it pleased her.

How often had he silently chided Anne for not showing more spirit, more courage? How often had he wished her to be more defiant as Louisa was? The memory of his actions smacked him in the face with their unworthiness. Louisa had been presumptuous, had shown an incredible lack of intelligence in her actions. Frederick knew the accident had been his fault. Solely his!

"A message should be sent to Uppercross," Anne was saying softly. "And Henrietta ought to be taken home to her mother. This is no place for her."

Frederick knew that was true. The girl could not remain in the room with her sister for longer than five minutes before she went into hysterics. Mary was nearly no better and did little to calm her sister-in-law.

"Charles, either you or I must go," Frederick ground out helplessly. "Anne is right."

Charles, staring into the fire, responded in a lifeless tone, "I cannot leave my sister. Mama would never forgive me. I beg of you, Frederick, take Henrietta home for me."

The surgeon then advised they move Louisa into Mrs. Harville's room. Her limbs had escaped injury. That was the chief news he had for them. But she had not awakened from the fall and that concerned him greatly. Anne and Mrs. Harville attended her after the surgeon departed.

Frederick sat at Harville's desk, his head in his hands. In the past, he had not been wont to pray. But having been at sea, Frederick had been drawn to the Bible and its secrets. His faith had often had to rest in his Creator instead of himself. The sea knew no man's authority. Now he prayed that God would watch over Louisa, that she would know good health again soon.

"This is my fault," he thought in shock. "What will her father say? How can I have been so utterly foolish, to have allowed it?" Louisa's unfettered will had caused his own to weaken. She had not yielded to any advice and now she was paying the price for her reckless behavior.

She was such a sweet girl, he thought with pain. So untouched by the world. So willing to dare anything to experience life. She was not a selfish girl, she had not done it for spite. If only he could turn back the hands of time. He would never have allowed her to jump. No, he would have stopped the nonsense from the beginning. But what was to be done now? Too late. Too late!

"Someone must stay and nurse her," he said aloud, voicing his thoughts. "To assist Mrs. Harville. It must be Anne. No one so capable, so sensible as Anne..."

His low voice trailed off as the very woman he spoke of re-entered the chamber. She had heard him, he could see that from the flush on her soft cheek. Anne approached him then, something she had not done in all the time he had seen her since his return.

Frederick looked up at her with entreating eyes. Would she still help him? "You will stay," he murmured, his fingers itching to reach out and twine them with hers. "Stay and nurse her?" Anne was the only one of the ladies aside from Mrs. Harville with any sense of calm or wisdom. She would tend her friend with kindness and gentle care.

"Of course," Anne replied softly, positively. "I should be glad to do anything to help. I was only thinking...if I were to have a bed made up on the floor beside her, I should be able to shift quite well."

It seemed the plan was in place. Unfortunately, Mary saw fit to change everything by pleading that Anne meant nothing to Louisa. That she was Louisa's true family. The entire scene was absurd to Frederick. Here sat the woman who claimed she could not bear to nurse her own son just weeks ago. Now she was volunteering to nurse her sister-in-law. It was jealousy, Frederick angrily thought. The foolish woman cannot bear to have the attention taken from her for even a moment.

Frederick soon left to make the preparations to take Anne and Henrietta back to Uppercross. Poor Henrietta needed to be home with her mother, that was a truth he could easily acknowledge. She had been through a terrible experience, as they all had.

As Frederick took up the reins of the chaise, he looked to Anne, who was tending to a drowsy Henrietta. For the first time in eight and half years he and Anne would be almost alone for a good stretch of time. And for the first time in nearly that period, Frederick found he could not speak hardly a word. His shame was too great.

Part VIII

Frederick had made the journey from Lyme to Winthrop before. But never had he made it with so heavy a heart or dry a mouth. At the same time, the internal argument taking place in his mind was loud enough to silence any outward speech.

The sun was setting, casting an otherworldly glow to the scenes they passed. Shades of purple, pink, and mauve splayed across the sky, causing the landscape to soften. It did little to comfort him.

The horses were making good progress as they continued on. Uppercross was but a few miles off. They had managed to make good time. Thank the Lord that Musgrove's team had been fresh and ready to make the journey. It had been a blessing indeed. The sooner they got Henrietta safely to her mother, the better everything would be.

Glancing at the sleeping girl, her face still streaked with tears, Frederick felt the twin guilt of knowing what he had caused to bring the Musgrove girls such agony. It was his fault she was in such pain. He had brought this upon them. No one else was to blame.

Anne's quiet presence on the other side of Henrietta was a constant reminder of his supreme foolishness. She did not have to say a word. He knew what she must be thinking at that moment. How he wished he could open his heart to her, to spill its contents into her gentle hands. Would she understand it? He was not sure he had made sense of it himself.

Frederick's dark eyes stared straight ahead as he again urged the team on. Anne's calm strength amid the crisis had been his true saving grace. She had kept them all from falling into hysterics. It was she who had had the presence of mind to send Benwick for a surgeon, get Louisa to the Harville house, and settle up what should take place. The years of assisting in the running of Kellynch had stood her well, he realized. She knew how to keep calm in a crisis.

"I ought to have known she was so capable, so wise," he chided himself. "It is little wonder the Kellynch staff adores her so. She is all that is good and modest."

What a wonderful sailor's wife she would have been, he thought ruefully. Anne did not fall to pieces in a crisis. She knew her strengths and her weaknesses. To have her at his side amid a storm would be to have a strong ally in his corner. How could he have not seen this when they had met again?

"I have not done you justice, little one," he thought sadly. "Forgive me..."

She was so good with Mary's two boys, he thought. And the Harville children. Her patience was a deep well that rarely seemed to run out. True, her family and friends tended to take advantage of her good nature and willingness to help. But it was out of love that she did it. Not because she allowed herself to be trampled on, as he had once thought. Her heart was exactly as it should be. Devoted to others.

The steady rhythm of the horses' hooves had become a permanent cadence to the journey. It beat down into his soul and hammered home to him how utterly blind he had been. The words could not be held back any longer.

"Anne," he burst out suddenly, uncharacteristically. "I regret..." His voice trailed away as he looked at her. She was meeting his gaze head on with equal strength. He found understanding there, a wish to comfort. But Frederick also saw that she was well aware of the result of his actions on the Cobb.

"Yes," she breathed almost heatedly. "Yes..."

Frederick turned back to the horses, feeling the weight of that one word. She could not say it any more clearly. He whipped up the horses with vigor. "Damned foolish," he cursed himself aloud. "Damned foolish!"

Part IX

The chestnut gelding beneath Frederick snorted and gave a shake. He was quite impatient to have his exercise so with a touch of the crop, Castille was set in motion.

The Shropshire countryside surrounded Frederick on every side as he breathed deeply. He was glad to be out in the open air with only the birds and other small creatures about him. It gave him the peace he needed to think. In the past weeks, he had been doing a great deal of that.

Edward and Anthea had been his counselors, his shoulders to lean on. Having come to them from Lyme after being assured Louisa would recover, Frederick had appeared pale, drawn, and weary. Just being with his brother again renewed his strength. Edward had always been a strong source of comradeship, even in their youth. He seemed to know what to say, when to say it, and when to be silent.

Frederick found such a gift to be keenly wanted in these days. For he was realizing for the first time in years who he truly was from a new perspective. And he did not like what he was finding. Coming to see the treasure he had lost in not pursuing Anne sooner was torment indeed.

Louisa, meanwhile, was slowly mending at the Harville's crowded home. The Musgroves had decamped and taken lodgings nearby to help stem the tide. She was awake now, improving, but it took time. The injury had left its mark. Fortunately, she seemed to be on the road to good health. With her family around her and the excellent nursing of Mrs. Harville, Louisa was in very capable hands. Even Mary had proven to be more useful than the others had imagined. Frederick supposed that for once, Charles had taken a firmer stand with his wife in regards to his sister's care. He was devoted to both of his sisters and would brook little nonsense.

Harville had taken him aside not long after the accident to talk to him seriously. "Frederick, I must caution you about Louisa. I do believe that many of her family think that she is as good as your wife! You must set your mind as to your course. I should think it a wise idea to be elsewhere while she recovers so as to consider it."

Frederick had drawn back in shock. "I have been remiss in my actions, Harville. I had no intention of marrying Louisa, despite what everyone may think. However, I should not wish to bring pain to her or upset her family. If Louisa wishes it, I am duty-bound to marry her."

This realization was his constant source of remorse since he had left Lyme. Louisa had every reason to believe that they were to be married. He had favored her exclusively since her sister had chosen to marry Henry Hayter. His visits to Uppercross had been many and his attentions indeed had been particular to her. Anyone looking at the situation would easily conclude that they were to only announce their plans.

"I am a complete fool," he told himself for the hundredth time as he rode over a rise covered with clover. "And I have only myself to blame for my predicament."

The sound of hooves in the background caught his attention and Frederick pulled the reins in on Castille. The horse, excellently trained, instantly obeyed and came to a halt. Turning about, Frederick saw that it was Edward coming to him on his own bay, Hamlet.

"Edward, I see you've chosen to abandon the good ladies of the sewing circle to attend me," Frederick greeted his brother with teasing warmth. "Are they not gravely disappointed?"

As he approached, Edward arched a sardonic eyebrow. "I believe they would see the matter differently. They are wont to have a good gossip with Anthea today, rather than listen to me discussing the Sermon on the Mount. Believe me when I tell you there were smiles all 'round when I proposed that I depart and have Anthea take my seat."

Frederick laughed aloud as both men started their horses at a walk toward the town. "Just the same, I'm glad you joined me. I've been sitting in my thoughts for too long alone."

Edward nodded, looking ahead. "Glad to hear you say that, Frederick. You've been with us these weeks, and I've not truly had a good opportunity to talk with you more. Forgive me for that."

"You have a wife and a parish, Edward," Frederick reminded him patiently. "Those are important responsibilities. And believe me, I have been quite content and grateful simply to be here."

"You are my only brother, Frederick," Edward gently reminded him. "And it pains me to see you wrestling with this so. Louisa Musgrove caused her own accident. I hope you are not still heaping guilt upon your head like hot coals."

Frederick paused, taking a moment to compose his answer. "I'll admit that I was feeling quite ashamed of myself when I was at Lyme. For many reasons. But Louisa is well on the road to recovery, despite the time involved. Her family bears me no ill will. They are well aware of how impetuous she might be."

The brothers continued on, making slow progress. The land in Shropshire suited Frederick well as he breathed in the soft, country air.

"Then what is troubling you still?" Edward finally asked. "You take yourself off to brood alone, to keep it quiet. I should like to know...if I might be of help. You have been on my mind ever since Sophy announced their departure to Kellynch."

Frederick gave a half smile, rueful and self-depreciating. "Then you are well aware of my agony, Edward. Or at least some of it. You cannot be ignorant to the fact that Anne Elliot had often come into my path again. That, my dear brother, is what plagues me these last weeks."

Edward's eyebrows rose a fraction but he did not immediately answer. Frederick had not mentioned Anne until now. Edward had quietly surmised that Anne was an underlying cause for his brother's silence. But he was relieved to hear his brother speaking without anger about her. That was a promising sign.

"Ah, so it is Anne," he finally remarked quietly. "I must admit, I had been curious as to how you had met with her."

"At first, Edward, it seemed as if she were a stranger to me," Frederick began, his thoughts taking flight. "So changed, so subdued and crushed. You know what her family is like, was like. They attempt to use her as a veritable doormat. And that made me very angry. That she should allow herself to be so ill-used. I was resentful. Angry. I will not deny it. And I would not speak to her."

Edward did not reply. He knew that at this point it was wisest to let Frederick speak his mind. It was clear that he had long wished to unburden himself of these reflections.

"We rarely spoke when we encountered each other," he continued as they neared a small stream. "It was my doing entirely. I wanted her to see that she meant nothing to me. That I had continued on with my life and intended to marry. That I had forgotten her entirely. Thus, you can see why everyone believed I was to marry Louisa."

Nodding, Edward looked down to guide his horse over the pebbled water. But both horses were thirsty and stopped to drink. "But had you truly, Frederick? I know how much you loved Anne, adored her. Your devotion to her was quite real. Had you so truly stricken her from your heart?"

Giving a short, gruff noise of frustration, Edward shook his head. "No, I had not. I suppose you saw it before I did. But it took some time for me to realize that. Being related by marriage to the Musgroves and staying with her sister meant I saw Anne quite often. And when we traveled to Lyme, she accompanied them. It began to dawn on me that my anger at Anne had been misdirected. Sadly so..."

Edward glanced at his brother. "How so?"

"I had not done her justice, Edward," Frederick quietly answered. "All this time, while I was at sea, I had been smarting from her ending our engagement. I did not see that it was my pride that was hurt, destroying my utter assurance that anything I sought I could obtain. Not once did I consider...what she might have endured. What might have happened during my absence. I could only lament about how ill-used I was.

"She was my lifeline when Louisa fell from the steps," he quietly recalled. "She knew exactly what to do, what actions to take. Never had I been more grateful for a calm voice and a steady hand as hers. We would have been all a hopeless lot without her. I saw clearly then how superior to Louisa she was."

The raw note of pain echoed in his voice, echoing in Edward's ears. This is not exactly what he had hoped for regarding Frederick. But it was exactly what his brother needed most. "Frederick, you do see now that she did not have an easy time of it while you were gone. Her father is well nigh unbearable. His debts were so great they had to leave Kellynch. And the only reason they did not depart sooner was due to Anne's attempts at economy. She alone is the reason they are not totally impoverished. I have that on the best authority."

"Do you think I do not know this?" Frederick asked as they started the horse forward again. "With Sophy and the Admiral there, it was inevitable that such a thing come to light. I stayed with them when I left Lyme for a day on business. Her presence...filled the place, Edward. And I heard the servants discussing her, expressing their sadness over her departure. She had to run the place alone, with no mother to guide her. The mother she loved so dearly. How could I have so easily forgotten?"

Frederick, glancing at his brother, spoke bluntly. "I have been blind, Edward. Utterly blind. And selfish. Anne may have listened to Lady Russell and allowed her advice to rule her actions. Perhaps that was wrong. But we have both suffered for it. Of that I have no doubt at all now."

Edward digested this bit of news as they wended their way down yet another hill. "Your plans, Frederick. What do you intend to do now?"

Laughing harshly, Frederick shrugged his wide shoulders. "I have little choice. I have been chasing after Louisa like fox after a rabbit. The world thinks we are as good as married. I have no choice. If she inquires of it, there will be little for me to do but offer for her."

Edward, alarmed, stopped Hamlet still. "You cannot mean that. To marry a woman you clearly do not care for. Are you mad?"

"I am honor-bound, Edward," his brother reminded him as he, too, stopped. "I have paid my addresses to this young lady. It would be a disgrace to her and her family if I were not to ask for her hand upon her recovery from her injuries."

Edward, seeing the circumstances, looked grave indeed. He had not thought of this. "Frederick, I caution you on your actions. Honor is a trait I hold highly in a man. Keeping one's word is a teaching of God. I live by it. But to marry a woman, to bind her to you, without love or affection, is a terrible thing to contemplate. Please do not act rashly. Wait until things have settled."

Frederick looked down at the town below them with unseeing eyes. For a moment he was quiet, his thoughts getting the better of him. It was a moment quite apart from any other, he realized. He had thrown away his chance at happiness with Anne when it might have been his. If only he had pursued her when they had first met again. He would not be nearly engaged to Louisa. He would be courting the woman he now knew was the only woman in the world he could love and marry.

Frederick now knew the truth. He wanted to unlock those mysteries, to come to know the woman she had become after eight and a half years of separation. But it was all for naught.

"Edward, I am in agony," he finally murmured. "I have been so foolish. Right in front of me, staring me in the face, was the truth. Anne is the only woman I will ever love. Ever wish to marry. She is everything good, honest, and honorable in a woman. But it is too late. Too late!"

Edward regarded his brother with a mixture of pity and love. He had never seen his brother so defeated, so utterly hopeless. The darkness lurking in his eyes was intense. Frederick had finally learned what it was like to know defeat, to know his ambitions and hopes were thwarted. And it had humbled him. He would be a different man in future.

"You must not despair," Edward quietly reminded him. "You have not married Louisa. And Anne is still unmarried. She did not marry Charles Musgrove, who I do know was anxious to make her his wife. You must remember that."

Suddenly Edward remembered one of the reasons he had come out to see his brother. "Oh goodness, I had but forgotten," Edward spoke suddenly. "I have a letter from Lyme for you, brought by the morning post. What a simpleton I've become. Too much tea and gossip, I suppose."

He gave the letter to his brother, who seemed to care little for the epistle he was handed. Opening it, his eyes scanned the pages and suddenly something seemed to grip him like a human hand.

"Who would have guessed," he muttered in stunned surprise, his face losing its gloomy aspect. "Never would I have guessed it!"

Edward feared his brother might have heard some horrible news. "The young lady is not worse, is she, Frederick?"

Tearing his eyes away from the page, Frederick laughed with a joy unbidden and a light had entered his eyes unlike any other over the last weeks. "She is well enough to become engaged to my former lieutenant! She had consented to marry James Benwick! Can you believe it?! Forgive me if I unseat myself, but it is too wild a notion to believe!"

Edward was indeed stunned. It seemed hardly possible that the studious, grave James Benwick would have attached himself to a girl of Louisa's energetic nature. "This is news indeed! You are loosed, are you not? This alters things considerably. What do you intend to do now?"

Tucking the letter in his pocket, Frederick wheeled Castille around and announced, "I am off to Bath, Edward. There may still be a chance for me to salvage my life. To win my little one back. Keep me in your prayers, brother. God has kindly granted me a second chance I would have never imagined possible."

Edward watched in surprised joy as his brother set his horse to a gallop back across the field. This was indeed a day of surprises. He would wait a little while and then return home to give Anthea the good news. They had a new direction for their prayers now.

Part X

"Frederick, I'm so pleased you chose to come to Bath!" Sophy told her brother happily. "I was becoming quite distracted by the thought of you languishing down in Shropshire so many weeks."

Sitting on the very comfortable sofa beside her was her husband, the Admiral. He enjoyed spending time in the cozy library with his wife. And now that Frederick had joined them, all was complete. "Do not hound him so, Sophy. Consider the ordeal he had just been through. I should wonder that he made it to Bath at all."

Sitting across from them in a leather armchair, Frederick regarded his brother-in-law with affection. The Admiral, crusty as he might be at times, was a blessing in his life. Sophy could not have married a better man. "No, allow her fair time, Admiral. I have not seen her these last six weeks and I deserve some raking over the coals. She would not be my sister if she did not tell me exactly what she thought of me."

Their combined laughter greeted the servant that entered with the tea tray. The tray was set on a sturdy table and Sophy immediately went to start pouring. "The weather has been a sad business, but we manage," Sophy told her brother. "We continually bump into someone that we know on the street, in the park, in the rooms, you know. The Admiral must have friends in all the corners of the world."

"Aye, that's the result of being a sailor," her husband chimed in. "Any man in a naval uniform is a friend, so it would seem. I was just remarking on the matter to Miss Anne the other day when I chanced to meet with her."

Frederick nearly dropped the small porcelain cup his sister had just handed him. Anne. Already news of her! This was fortunate for him. "You saw Miss Elliot, Admiral?" he asked, striving to keep his voice as normal as possible.

Before he could reply, Sophy explained, "We see her often, Frederick. She is wont to keep active, as we are. I have to tell you, she looks much improved. I think the air at Lyme quite transformed her. Although I should have always liked her regardless. She kept the Admiral amused while I was looking at some material I had found for a gown."

The Admiral took his cup and nodded. "Aye, a right trooper she is to bear me off. And I told her all about Captain Benwick and Louisa. You may call me a gossip, dear Sophy, but I took a keen pleasure in watching her delicate chin drop in surprise. It had the same effect on me!"

Frederick's thoughts were fast and furious. Was Anne happy that he was not to marry Louisa? How he wished he had been a witness to her surprise!

Sophy chuckled, giving her husband a wise look. "That she should choose James Benwick over Frederick! The very notion still makes my head spin. Ah, well, I hope your feelings are still reflective of those in your letter. You do not regret the engagement, do you, Frederick?"

If only she knew how much, Frederick thought wryly. "Not at all, Sophy. I hope the match is indeed a happy one, despite the fact that I still marvel at it. Benwick was very attached to Phoebe Harville and she had only been gone a short time. For him to attach himself to Louisa so soon. I should but wonder at his character in light of his recent actions."

"No doubt they fell in love over poetry," the Admiral surmised sagely. "Or so I told Miss Anne, who agreed with me heartily. I must say I like that young lady. Very much so. We first saw her in the Assembly rooms and she greeted us so warmly. She's not like her rather imperious father a'tall."

Frederick remarked truthfully, "No, she is not. She is totally free of the airs and pride that her father and sister exhibit. It still amazes me that she has remained untarnished by it after so much time."

Sophy looked at her brother sharply, surprised. "I say, Frederick, I did not have the notion that you knew her so intimately. But I suppose you came to do so at Lyme. Mrs. Musgrove, whom we saw yesterday, told me what a great help Anne was to them after Louisa's accident. A very calming presence."

The Admiral, grinning, commented, "I cannot but wonder that she remains unwed, Sophy. Such a gentle spirit and mild countenance. Perhaps Frederick here can scare up one of us fellow officers to pay court to her. She would make an excellent sailor's wife with a steady temperament such as hers."

Frederick did not reply but he felt the strength of the Admiral's remark. Anne had been in town a month now. Had she attracted many admirers? He knew how very fetching she had come to look and had no doubt that she did. When would he see her? Should he call at Sir Walter's? No, no, that would not do. Not after his history with the family. Perhaps she was at the Musgroves, who had just come up to town. She was their favorite person, he knew. Yes, that was where he would begin after he went to call on a few of his friends.

"Frederick, you have nearly spilt your tea, do pay attention," Sophy chided gently. "I do not know where your mind is."

Soon after Frederick collected his new umbrella and gloves and headed into town. Major Devon and his wife, Amelia, had invited him to dinner and he wanted to stop in at Molland's to purchase a gift for his hostess. He knew how she enjoyed chocolates and decided to step inside as it had started raining.

The shop was nigh full to bursting with people as he entered. No doubt all the fashionable guests of Bath were trying to outsit the rain indoors. He would not be in Bath at all if not for Sophy and for Anne. The place was full of people who only wanted to rise another rung on the social ladder. The constant game of dropping names was a tiresome business he avoided.

"Good day, Captain Wentworth," a soft, gentle voice near him spoke. Anne, he thought immediately, it could only be Anne. So soon!

Looking to the right, his eyes found her. A rush of joy and delight filled his heart. Yes, it was his Anne. She was wearing a becoming afternoon gown with a matching bonnet, her small face upturned to look at him. Sophy had been right. She looked blooming and pretty, a picture of good health and happiness. Could it have been six weeks since he had seen her? It seemed a lifetime.

For a moment, speech escaped him as he faced her. She was looking up at him with enquiring dark eyes, expectant. For once, Frederick felt absolutely tongue-tied in her presence. What should he say? There were so many things he wished to tell her, to explain. Dear Anne, if only we were alone, he thought desperately.

"Miss Elliot!" he finally said, a smile sweeping away the blank surprise on his face. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet with you again."

A pleasing flush softened her features yet more and she smiled up at him. To have that gentle, glowing smile turned on him was powerful indeed, he thought. Did she know how lovely she was to him, how unchanged? "You are...come to Bath, Captain?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he murmured unconsciously, his eyes unable to leave her face. Then a sound from nearby caught his attention. Her sister and companion were sitting nearby. Cold-faced and unsmiling as usual, he thought. Poor Anne. No wonder she was so happy to see him. Being in that paragon's presence would strike anyone full of an icy chill. I would protect you from her always, he thought.

"Do you like it so far?" Anne asked him quietly. She had obviously seen her sister's cold reaction to his presence and was trying to assure him that her feelings were not her sister's. It warmed his heart that she wanted to apologize for Elizabeth's ill breeding.

"I have seen little of it so far," he heard himself remarking baldly. "Your family...they are in health?"

She smiled warmly and nodded. "Yes, Captain, they are in good health. Thank you for inquiring after them."

Once again, Frederick felt it difficult to speak. She was beguiling him with her smile and her gentle questions. She grew more beautiful and winsome every time he saw her, he thought numbly. Surely the rest of Bath could see what was so obvious to himself. "And you...you are in health...I trust?"

This question seemed to amuse her and she chuckled as she answered, "Yes, Captain, I am quite well."

The little minx was laughing at his apparent unease, Frederick thought with affection. And so she should. In the last months, he had regarded her with so little interest. They had hardly exchanged a handful of words. Now he was utterly captivated by her. His usual polished manners lay in tatters under her calming influence. How he wished they might speak privately.

Just then a footmen entered the shop and announced, "Lady Dalyrmple's carriage for the Miss Elliots!" Elizabeth rose almost regally from her seat and made her way to the front of the store with her companion. But Anne stayed exactly as she was, looking to him expectantly.

"You are not going with them?" he asked curiously. Surely she would ride in the carriage with her sister.

"Oh no, there is not room," she explained, flushing a little. Was she remembering another gig that had seemed too cramped for her, he thought with warmth. "I shall walk instead. Truly, I should prefer it."

You would say that, Frederick thought fondly. Always thinking of someone other than yourself. I would walk with you for miles in the rain, just to keep you safe and warm. The thought of her walking unescorted in this dreary weather angered him. Was she always to be swept aside in her family's quest for importance, he thought. At least he could do something for her in this respect. "Although I have only just come to Bath," he told her in a low, warm voice. "I am armed for its inclement conditions. Please, take my umbrella. I cannot allow you to leave here without some protection from the elements."

Her small, gloved hand reached out as he offered it to her. Her fingers nearly brushed his as she took it and their eyes met. Let me walk you home, Anne, he silently pleaded. Do you know how greatly I wish to talk to you? How much I long to tell you how much I need you in my life? Forgive me for not valuing you, for not knowing what a treasure you truly are!

His very fingers itched to reach down the fraction of an inch and twine her small fingers with his. To warm them and enfold them, to pull her into his arms, to have her dark head against his chest. He loved her. More now than he ever had in the past. The strength of it filled his being until it nearly shouted from his soul. This woman held his heart totally in her hands. Could she not see that?

Her own eyes seemed to fill her small face as they stood there, somehow suspended in time from the rest of the room. She seemed as tongue tied now as he had been. Could she see, he wondered.

"Little one, tell me I am not too late," he thought desperately.

Then a voice intruded and the spell was broken. "Ah, I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Anne. But it could not be helped."

Turning slowly, Frederick caught sight of a face he knew all too well. It was the man they had passed on the beach at Lyme, Anne's ardent admirer, Mr. Elliot. Only now he was regarding her with the warm affection of a man who was regarded as a close friend.

"The rain has eased so I think I is safe for us to depart," Mr. Elliot continued with a smile, offering his arm to Anne. "Let us be off, shall we?"

Frederick felt a wave of jealousy pour over him. It was clear yet again how much this man admired Anne. Now he was speaking to her as if they were more than mere cousins. No, that lingering gaze was all too clear. He meant to marry Anne. That much was apparent to anyone watching.

Anne turned to Frederick, a lingering look in those dark eyes. Something was there that he had not seen in them since his return. It spoke to him, called out to him to be answered. But it vanished as she handed his umbrella back to him. "Thank you, Captain," she murmured so low he barely heard it. "But I must go now."

Frederick's eyes fell from her as she turned to go, the sound of Mr. Elliot's banter in his ears. He watched as they left the store and headed down the street, their arms linked. Helpless, Frederick felt his resentment to this man taking on new depths. How dare he think that Anne was his property! She did not belong to him. No, she did not!

But as Frederick stood in the window, hardly seeing the people passing by, he realized that the man had every right to court Anne. She was lovely, indeed. Intelligent. Kind. Gentle. And his cousin. Yes, it was all too clear how the attachment could have easily taken place. And no doubt Lady Russell would approve of the match. Mr. Elliot had money and connections. It was no wonder he was hoping to win her. The odds were heavily in his favor.

What were Anne's feelings, he thought blindly. Did she care for this man? Did his obvious town polish and style attract her? Did she enjoy his company? After being snubbed by Frederick for weeks, had she decided that she must move on with her life and forget him?

He reviewed her actions. She had spoken to him first. That was not Anne's usual style, not in line with her usually quiet nature. She had smiled at him and appeared pleased to see him again. She had even blushed! Perhaps it was not all a hopeless case, he thought. Maybe there is something here yet to be salvaged. I cannot give up just yet.

"Miss Anne Elliot is a lovely girl," a woman nearby remarked. "And there is Mr. Elliot with her, the cousin and heir to the estate. I hear he half lives with the family. He's there every day."

Her friend nodded, as if knowing all the facts of the case. "One can guess what will happen there. They say he is the most charming man. Miss Crewe told me he attended a dinner party she was at and he was quite the nicest gentleman she had ever met."

"I wish Miss Anne happy," the woman spoke fondly. "And I think she will find it with Mr. Elliot."

Frederick could listen no more and soon exited the shop without the box of sweets he had been seeking. His mind was in torment and he needed some relief. Thank heaven Harville was staying at the White Hart. Perhaps his old friend could provide him with some advice.

If only he knew what Anne were thinking....

Part XI

Captain Harville, perusing a fine spyglass, spoke without looking up. His voice was so low only Frederick could hear it in the small shop.

"Suppose you come clean with me, Frederick. You did not wrest me from the Musgroves to go shopping, now, did you?"

If he were not in such a state of inner turmoil, Frederick would have laughed out loud at his old friend's sixth sense. Instead, he merely bowed his head briefly and replied in an equally quiet tone, "You should have remained in India, Harville, and pursued a career as a fakir. Have I ever been able to conceal anything from you? Do name the occasion and I shall still doubt you."

Harville lowered the spyglass onto its velvet bed and grinned sardonically. "Perhaps you are right. Being one of your oldest friends, it is not so difficult. However, even with my visionary gifts I could not have pictured the both of us doing the fancy in Bath."

They left the shop and decided to retire to a tavern that they both favored. The gray, dismal sky above them made it a wise decision. And because Harville could not walk far due to his wounded leg, a glass or two of beer would suit him nicely just now. Ensconced in a quiet corner near the fire, Frederick hardly knew where to start. But Harville did not intend to be silent for long.

"Are you brooding over Benwick's engagement to Louisa?" he asked carefully, not wanting to seem out of line. Benwick had nearly been his own brother-in-law. "You have hardly spoken of it."

"I wish them every happiness," Frederick assured him heartily. "I pursued Louisa stupidly, and did not truly know what I was about. I can only say I have had a lucky escape. I did not love her as surely Benwick seems to do."

Frederick paused, measuring his words. The engagement had its own source of mystery to it for Harville. Benwick has seemed utterly devastated by Phoebe's death. Yet only months later, he had asked Louisa to marry him. His sister's memory seemed utterly gone.

"It is I who wonder about you, Harville," Frederick remarked, taking a sip of beer. "Phoebe was a wonderful, loving woman. Benwick was fortunate to have her love. Does it wound you to know that he has...seemingly forgotten that now?"

Smiling faintly, Harville told him, "I admit it took me quite aback when I first heard of it. I had seen them together often enough, their heads bowed over some book of his. I have to report she looked decidedly attentive. But I saw no harm. Had he not done the same with Miss Anne? And yet they never approached the altar."

Frederick remembered Anne's intimacy with the Captain all too well. Was she wounded by the engagement? Did she have affection for Captain Benwick? It was something he had not considered until now. Mr. Elliot was Frederick's keenest rival.

"Twas' Miss Anne who got the poor lad living again," Harville was saying as he nursed his half-full glass. "He was in a sorry state, as you know. So I was not utterly desolate when his engagement to Louisa came about. Still, being here as the fuss of the preparations takes place...it is unsettling at times. I have yet to send his picture to the framemaker's to be reset for his beloved."

They enjoyed a companionable silence. The subject they were discussing was a weighty one and must not be rushed. The two men had experienced every sort of hardship and trial together aboard the Laconia. Each knew when it was appropriate to speak and when to keep silent. That was the blessing of friendship and shared experiences.

"Frederick, I must ask you," Harville began uncertainly. "Is it Miss Anne's presence that has brought you to Bath? For I can think of no other. Have your feelings concerning her altered?"

Frederick drained his glass and set it on the table a little too firmly. He had not often spoken of his past romance with Anne to Harville. But during a nearly fatal storm, when there had only been time and darkness to keep them company, Frederick had told him of the only woman he had ever loved. Harville, in fact, was the only person aside from Edward who had any inkling of what the past weeks had been like for him.

"She is," he finally answered, a low, heaviness to his voice. "I cannot rest...until I know everything. She is still the loveliest, wisest, most adorable woman I have had the opportunity to know, Harville. She is the only object in my heart and mind these days. In my eyes, she has no equal."

Harville simply nodded in acknowledgment, looking away. He had suspected as much since Frederick had left Lyme upon learning Louisa would survive. While the events on the Cobb had been swift and dramatic, Harville had seen how quickly Anne had organized everything and calmly handled it. The timid creature had vanished to leave behind a capable, courageous young woman. It was little wonder Frederick had come to see how truly special Anne was in light of such events.

"I have heard talk of her cousin, Frederick," Harville finally spoke, lighting his pipe as he did so. "Everyone says they are as good as engaged. He's at Camden Place nearly every day. And on excellent terms with Anne's father. Is that what is blue-deviling you so now?"

Frederick nodded briefly, his dark eyes stormy. "I saw them only this morning at Molland's. She was alone at first, came to talk to me. So unlike her, Harville, to do so! And yet she did. Her face...Lord, how can I forget how sweet and glowing it was? I was like a raw schoolboy in his salad days, hardly able to utter even the simplest pleasantries. She must have thought me demented."

He paused, the memory of it still vivid to him. "She has always been a small woman, Harville. Seemingly made of porcelain, so delicate is she. And yet she renders me a babbling idiot by merely smiling a me."

Chuckling at the picture his friend painted, Harville drew on his pipe and blew a smoke ring above his head. It floated up to the ceiling to mingle with the smoke coming from other tables round them. "I can warrant she did not think you a total candidate for an asylum, Frederick. Miss Anne is a wise judge of character, it seems, although I cannot claim to know her as you do. Did she remain?"

"We spoke, but I can hardly recount it," Frederick admitted, leaning back in his chair. "I was mesmerized by her, Frederick. Those dark eyes that I once cursed for haunting my dreams when we were at sea. They were staring up at me, full of the same gentle warmth that had been there when we first...loved. As if time had never separated us. There are limits...to a man's ability to remain composed."

Ah, so that was how it was, Harville surmised silently. Anne had flummoxed his friend, indeed. "So you are no longer angry at her, wishing her far from you? This is a decided turn in your stance, Frederick."

"It was foolish of me to hold onto my resentment for so long," Frederick groaned, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "But I was blind indeed. There she was, thrown in my company nearly every day at Uppercross and then at Lyme. But I nourished my sense of pride, my conviction that she had been weak, persuaded against me. I wasted my opportunity to renew our friendship, to discover what had happened while I was gone. Stupid fool!"

Harville did not speak immediately. He had often wondered at Frederick's sustained anger at his former fiancee. Upon meeting Anne himself, Harville had only felt a sense of pity for her amid his pleasure that she had managed to reanimate Benwick again. She seemed a quiet, intelligent, caring woman. Well suited for his friend. Why did Frederick refuse to allow it, he had asked himself. But now the truth was revealed and Frederick's blinders had been withdrawn. He saw now what all of Bath saw at once.

"What am I to do, Harville?" he asked his friend at last, eyes watching the smoke rings his friend was creating. "I hardly know what she must think of me now. After the way I have treated her, she must surely think me a true fool. And her dashed cousin is constantly at her side now. Surely she will listen to her family, her friends, and agree to marry him."

Harville put down his pipe for a moment as the barmaid took his now empty glass away. He regarded Frederick with the decided honesty that Frederick so admired in him. "You are a sailor, Frederick. You and I are both aware that the truth is not always as it seems. One moment the sky can appear cloudless. The sea is calm as that of the water of a bathtub. Everything indicates smooth sailing. And yet in a matter of moments, you may be plunged into the heart of a deadly typhoon. Have we not seen it happen before?"

Frederick did not speak so Harville felt he might continue. "You refer to your charts, to the stars, to those articles which are fixed. You consult your wisdom, your knowledge of past events, to guide you. So you must in this case. Anne did not marry while you were at sea, an action she had ample opportunity to make. That must be accounted to be worth something. And she did not repulse you at Molland's. In fact, she spoke to you quite freely. Perhaps her cousin does pursue her, that does not mean she will accept him."

Frederick turned his words over in his mind carefully. He always listened to Harville's advice with great attention. It was always just. But his own doubts clouded the issue. Anne had been persuaded by Lady Russell in the past to abide by duty, not her own feelings. She had surrendered to someone else's judgment regarding his prospects. She had not followed her own feelings. Would it happen again? Would she marry in order to ensure her family's happiness? To please them?

"She is wont to please others rather than herself, Harville," he said at last. "It is a past indication of her character. It would not be a surprise to see her accept his petition with favor. He is a man of fashion, of wealth, of manners."

"I am certain her family would have been pleased enough had she married Charles Musgrove," Harville countered strongly. "Yet she turned down his proposal. What is to stop her from saying "no" to another man? You must look to the high road, Frederick, and not allow grim thoughts to rob you. Take the next days to witness her in public, to see her interacting with the Musgroves. They adore her and for good reason. Take heart in knowing that she is not apt to make a sudden decision. Use this time wisely to talk with her, to gain an understanding of the woman she has now become."

Harville paused, gladly accepting the glass of ale brought to him. "I am not book clever as Benwick is, Frederick. I know my shortcomings. But having been a married man for some time, I have learned a lesson or two on women's feelings. Their feelings...they are fragile at times. Have I not witnessed the depth and scope of my own Margaret's emotions? And been puzzled many a day."

He paused, deadly serious now. "But I know how Phoebe loved Benwick. She never faltered in her love for him although they were apart for months. True, women's constancy is an issue I have long debated. As have our greatest authors and poets. So I am in good company there. But in Phoebe it was very real. Could it not be so for Anne?"

Suddenly the image of Anne's room came to Frederick's mind. Its quiet solitude and the aroma of freesia. The sight of their sketch hanging in a treasured spot on the wall. His own books tidily wrapped and expressly requested to be sent to her. Did she have them in her possession now? Did her fingers linger over the edges of a simple, faded boat made out of paper?

The intensity of the memory of it caused him to nearly close his eyes.

Perhaps Harville was right after all. Perhaps Anne had grown stronger and passionate in her views and would nor marry Mr. Elliot simply to please others.

What did she feel toward the dashing young heir? Did she enjoy walking about on his arm through Bath? Did he make her laugh? Did they discuss current events and topics of the day? It was the one mystery that Frederick had not the slightest indication of one way or another.

The reappearance of the barmaid with a full glass for him interrupted his reverie abruptly. Sighing, he regarded his old friend with a mixture of gratitude and admiration in his gaze. "I do not think I was too far off target with my earlier estimation of your clairvoyant powers, Harville. What do I not owe you for your friendship? I am yours to command."

Harville, setting down his pipe, accepted the compliment with mocking grace. "You shall do me a kindness in keeping me from being dragged to the milliner's shops that line these fair streets, Frederick. That is a kindness that I should consider highly advantageous."

Pausing, his tone and demeanor took on a more serious, hopeful aspect. "I can only wish that if my offices to you are of any help, they will assure you the final winning of the woman you love. I know I should not do without Margaret's love. I should wish such a devotion, such a safe harbor, for yourself, Frederick."

Toasting his friend silently with his glass, Frederick only nodded. It would take time to unravel this mystery. But he knew if he were to rekindle his romance with Anne after nearly nine years, it would take courage and every bit of strength he had to win her.

"Wait for me, little one," he thought urgently, remembering the painful sight of her walking away with Mr. Elliot. "Give me yet another chance."

Continued in Section III