It made a difference that the elder generation was not present. The three younger brothers relaxed. This was not Sophia with her bright, quick eyes and fearless tongue. This was a calmer and quieter lady, who would remain kind if they said anything wrong.
"I am David," David said superfluously.
"I had guessed that. Only you could have an interest in the wedding. Do you have a time in mind?" Anne asked.
"After breakfast? I do not want to wait for it all day."
Directly after breakfast suited her well too. She also did not want to have to wait for it all day. "How often do you officiate at weddings here?"
"This would be my first," David admitted. "On my own, that is. Nobody ever wants to be married here. The last wedding was under Uncle Philip, I believe."
"Are you nervous?"
"Slightly."
"Do not be. It is nothing but an administrative formality." She wondered what David would think of that, but he looked as if he quite agreed. Previously she had never held this opinion herself, but under the circumstances her wedding would indeed be nothing more than an administrative formality. They had joined in body and not entirely yet in mind, and frankly she could not see a completion of the latter happening directly after the vows. It was shocking, of course, but she was relieved that David did not appear to be too inclined to dwell on aspects of the union that she did not feel. It was a mere formality after the fact.
David looked equally relieved. "We shall be as quick as we can."
"Thank you."
"But you do like Henry?" he asked a little later.
This surprised her. "I do."
"We should not wish to see him trapped."
"Do you know anyone who is trapped?" She was tempted to think their only exposure to marriage was Admiral Croft's and he was definitely not trapped.
"Some old school friends," David mumbled. "I thought some were lucky to get a living so soon, but most were forced to marry some suitable woman who turned out to be awful. I always meant to interfere if I saw an impossible courtship under my nose, but there were none at all."
"Not all courtships are impossible then?" Anne was surprised to hear it and just as surprised to hear he had an opinion on them at all. Perhaps it was only being voiced because no one present would berate him for it.
"I suppose not. It would be a cruel trick to play on man, given our -- some people's -- task to bring children into the world. I know this is not for everyone, so along the same lines it must be very enjoyable to some. I will allow for that possibility."
He had an opinion and he expressed it. Anne was amazed. Perhaps if more of them did so she might find her stay here more interesting, although she remembered she would first have to learn all of Henry's opinions before she could think of his brothers'. It might be interesting to find out of what else the boys were capable, however.
Thankfully Henry entered a minute later, although he looked cross. She had never seen him look like that and she felt concerned. "What is it?"
"Older women are not demure and modest girls," he hissed in anger. "It may be difficult to silence them."
Anne laid her hand over his. She guessed they had been speaking about her, since she was the only older woman who came to mind. "Well, one of us ought to speak at social gatherings. Would you not rather it was me?"
"It was not my opinion!"
"I know that," she soothed. "But you could use it as an argument next time."
She was content to watch Henry's game of chess with John. She could not play, but watching was more interesting than doing nothing. Henry explained a few rules, but she took care not to ask too many questions for fear of annoying the gentlemen. She knew that fear was right when the old man spoke.
"Are you trying to teach a woman about chess, Henry?" He spoke as if that was utterly useless.
Henry let out a soft groan of exasperation. "Not entirely." He was explaining it, not teaching, although he would do so if Anne expressed an interest.
"It might be convenient if you have no men at hand," was the surprisingly favourable reaction. "I forgot whether James Frederick plays."
"James lives in another house, as you might recall. He is hardly available for games every evening. To me, at least. To people in his own house he might be." Sometimes his father did not realise that not everybody lived with such a large group.
Henry lost to John and he declined another game. "I would not go to bed before you and leave you alone with them," he said to Anne. "But I shall go directly after you. The journey..."
"I should not mind going now." Anne had been suppressing yawns for a while.
He picked a book from a table and stuck it under his arm. He offered his other arm to Anne and they left the room. The book puzzled her a little. "Are you going to read?" she asked.
"Perhaps. Perhaps they will think so. I do not know yet. I do not even know which book I took." He examined it. "It is readable."
"Does it depend on me?"
"Of course. Perhaps you do not think we are married yet and --"
"I know we are not married yet," she said calmly. "But I cannot now make a problem of that. I believe Jenny may sleep in my room because she cannot stay with maids. I shall discuss it with her and then come to inform you of my plans."
Henry sighed.
"Now, Henry. Do not sound like a spoilt child," Anne chided with a small smile. "It will not take long. Besides, you must allow me to be very tired."
Anne shocked Jenny by saying she would not sleep in her room, but Jenny realised all too well that if she said too much about that, she would not be allowed to have this room to herself. Therefore she remained silent. This opportunity might not come again.
Anne left the room in her dressing gown and with a nightcap over her braided hair, but despite the many layers of nightclothes in the winter she might as well have been completely naked in old Mr. Croft's eyes. He stared at her in shock and horror. She stared back, fearing a vehement confrontation was about to take place, but he said nothing. Perhaps he was too overcome, but she took advantage of his silence. With a brief nod she disappeared into Henry's room. There she leant against the wall until her breathing was steady.
Henry watched this in surprise. He had only taken off his shoes so far, nothing else. Seemingly he had become engrossed in the book he had brought upstairs.
"Your father saw me," she said, but not too loudly in case he was listening at the door. "That I went in here, too." She ought to turn back, but a part of her wanted to be provocative. The damage had been done, after all, and if the old man were not so rigid, people might listen to him better.
"And he let you go?"
"Yes. But --" She glanced at the door, on which she expected a knock any second. She thought he was simply too stunned to react, not suddenly tolerant.
It took a little longer than a second before a knock was heard. Henry opened the door, fully prepared to confront his father. But it was David, who was looking reluctant and sheepish. "What is it?" Henry asked rather brusquely.
"Er ... Father..." He glanced over his shoulder, but their father was not in sight. "He ordered me to speak to you."
"Let me guess. About Anne?"
"Er ... I suppose so." David shuffled his feet, very unhappy with the order. "I do not want to speak to you at all. I am not in the least interested in what you might do. If you voluntarily spend time together I can only see that as a good sign, whatever Father might think of it."
"Quite right," Henry nodded. He was surprised and relieved.
"So I shall go again." David turned near the door. "But is it easy?"
"Yes," said Anne.
"No," said Henry.
This confused David, but he was speedily dismissed from the room.
"No?" The reply had confused Anne too. She had never noticed any difficulties. If there was anything he did not know, he tried to find out. That did not qualify as difficulties.
"He must not be encouraged."
Anne raised her eyebrows. "Are you behaving like your father now?"
"Awful." Henry shuddered. He had not meant to sound like his father, but his brother's curiosity had not deserved a serious reply. "Shall I call him back to encourage him?"
"No. I do not think that is necessary. I am too tired for that. Good night, Henry. I shall probably be asleep by the time you have finished undressing." She kissed his cheek and was a little surprised he allowed that without wanting more.
She had stayed true to her words, because when Henry was ready for bed, Anne was fast asleep. He was nevertheless quite excited that she was there. She had braved his father, although she had not had to say anything. But she had chosen him over propriety, a difficult decision for her, he was sure, and the outcome pleased him. He did not even mind that she was tired. "I love you, Anne," he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Although he could see nothing amiss, Anne assured Henry she was feeling very ill indeed. He was concerned that she would not be able to leave the room all day. "But the wedding..."
"It will take place. Give me a few moments to let this pass."
He watched her contorted face and felt frightened. "Is this normal?"
"It is fast becoming normal when I get up. It will pass." She sat on the bed when she felt a little better. "Could you take me to my room? I am slightly dizzy and should be grateful for the assistance."
"What would you want to do there?" Henry looked a little disappointed that she wanted to leave him already.
"My clothes are there. I must put on something decent for breakfast."
He assisted her off the bed and she fell into his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously.
"I only want to..."
When she seemingly only wanted to embrace him, he relaxed. "Shall I look into the corridor to see if nobody is about?"
With Henry's help she was escorted into her own room, where Jenny was taking full advantage of the relatively luxurious bed. The maid gasped when she perceived Henry and she pulled the covers up to her chin. "Jenny, please get out of bed to assist me," Anne ordered. She was not in the mood for prudish nonsense.
"But --" Jenny looked at Henry.
"Jenny." Anne was certain she had passed on enough of her old nightgowns for the maid to be able to get out of bed.
Jenny reluctantly got up to lay out her mistress' clothes. "I thought your green gown would be suitable, madam, but now Mr. Croft is in green too."
"That is perfect. Nobody will see us in the shrubbery," he replied very seriously.
"Henry, if we are married we no longer have any business in the shrubbery," Anne informed him. She could not discern whether he was truly serious. "Besides, we shall have none here at all, because there is nobody to hide from. This is not Bath."
"My family will not like seeing us either."
"There is a difference between our not liking to be seen and people not liking to see us," she lectured, although she surprised herself with this sort of reasoning. "We do not care for the latter."
"Madam," Jenny interrupted. "May I undress you? May Mr. Croft stay or must he go?"
"I think he likes seeing it," Anne answered with a look at Henry. "Do you not?"
"Indeed. I came here with the sole purpose to watch." He settled himself in a chair and crossed his legs.
David looked nervous when they arrived in his church. Contrary to what Anne had expected, some of the family had turned out for the wedding. John and Rupert were trying to be inconspicuous and there were even an older man and older woman present. The old man was speaking to David and the old woman sat on one of the benches. Anne had no idea who they were.
Henry seemed to read her mind. "That is Uncle Philip. And one of the other Mrs. Crofts."
She raised her eyebrows. "There are some, secretly?"
"We try to ignore their existence, but somehow their husbands always insist on bringing them along."
Once they were converted to matrimony, the gentlemen seemed very committed to their wives, Anne thought. It was a good sign. Henry would take her along to everything as well. Although she might not always wish to go, it was in principle a good sign.
The elderly woman stood up from the bench with the help of a cane. The elderly man could still walk without. "We are delighted to see you marry, Henry," he said and they both looked sincere in their delight.
Henry performed the introductions. He was perhaps a little shy and afraid of their opinion, but that was all. At first Anne wondered why the elderly couple had come, but then she learnt Uncle Philip was a retired clergyman who still lived in the parsonage. David had asked him for assistance.
With his help the ceremony went well and afterwards all the young people -- Anne felt bemused at those words -- were invited to the parsonage. "When did I become one of the young people?" she asked Henry.
"When you married a young man."
She had done so indeed and she was now no longer Lady Russell, but Mrs. Croft. At Kellynch she would not longer be unique. There would be two Mrs. Crofts there. She would be the elder, but it was of no consequence. At her time of life a woman could gladly suffer a change of name in return for company, she reasoned.
Henry had proved that he could be in her company without being overly affectionate. She had deduced he was not always serious when he was in good spirits, which was a good thing for that reason, although too much wit was an evil. She could tolerate his wit, for it was not directed at her. She thought of the gentlemen at Kellynch who were different in this regard. They would undoubtedly say something when she returned.
For the time being she should focus on the behaviour of the gentlemen here -- the three silent brothers and the poor old uncle, exiled to the parsonage because he had a wife, although his unmarried brothers were allowed to live in the family home. She wondered how they managed, being so old, but they had a trusted servant. The boys, David especially, had certainly been here before as well.
"As usual," Uncle Philip spoke. "We are never informed of family-changing events such as marriages and births, although we should approve most. How long had you known, Henry?"
Henry coloured. "Not long."
"It was the same with your brother, although he came here with a girl and said it was his wife and she had been to sea with him already, as his wife. Your father never saw fit to inform me of the marriage."
"I only recently informed my father of my intentions, for that reason."
Uncle Philip looked resigned. "Your father may be realising he did something wrong, if all of his sons are not informing him of these events until after they have taken place. It certainly surprised me that he travelled south to have a look at James' child. But as usual, if I had to depend on the big house to inform me, I should still not have known what Sophia brought into the world."
"Two girls," said Henry.
"Yes, but not a word from your father about it. We only know because they wrote us themselves."
"Perhaps he would be embarrassed to reveal he held them. You might have asked him how they looked and so forth."
"Mathilda might." He glanced at his wife. "But Alexander held them? That is odd indeed."
"Because they look exactly like us, perhaps."
"The poor girls," he smiled merrily. "But David, John, Rupert...do all these changes not inspire you?" The three gentlemen blushed and looked away. It made him laugh. "You must consider the difference between spending your old days alone or with a few grumpy old men and with a companion of your choice. I have done all three, so you may take me for something of an expert."
"Indeed," Anne said seriously. "Although I fear I shall be doing the same things in a different order -- first spending my old days alone, then with a companion and then with the grumpy old men. Is that not so, Henry?"
Henry was lost for words.
"But it will not bother me as much as it would have thirty years ago," Anne continued. "And your father knows that, or he would not have told you what he told you."
"What was that?" Uncle Philip was curious.
Henry did not look inclined to speak, so Anne did. "That older women cannot be silenced -- and used as I am to having my own establishment, I doubt I should like it very much if someone tried."
"I advise you to pay rent to your father, Henry," Uncle Philip said. There was some potential for trouble there. "While you live in the new house and everyone else stays in the old one."
"But I was looking forward --" Rupert piped up. He quickly fell silent again when everybody looked.
"We shall see." Henry did not want to make any decisions about it already.
Henry's father congratulated them on their marriage, but he said very little else. It was more than Anne had expected, however, and she said so when Henry and she had retired into the study with John, who was to draw up some papers for them.
He shrugged, because there was not much he could say. "I believe it is the danger of childbirth that worries him most, so your being clear of that might help. That reminds me -- John, no need to draw up settlements for that."
John was indifferent about the statement. "That saves me time, so you will sooner be at leisure to go and be married together."
Although John did not mean anything specific, Anne could see that Henry did. She gave him a warning look. "But you have not had your swim yet, Henry," she said sweetly. Belatedly she realised what they had done after yesterday's swim and she grimaced.
He smiled. "Today we can prepare ourselves and bring a towel, so we shall not need your scarf."
"Are you going in?" John raised his head from his papers to look at Anne.
"Are you mad?" she asked distastefully.
"Why? We do it. My uncles do it. Sophia does it. I am convinced that if one does it, one lives to be seventy and more."
"Well, I am convinced that if I do it in this weather, I shall not live to be nine-and-forty." Anne paused a second. "I do not believe Sophia goes in in this weather."
"Probably not. She is not a man." The ladies were not hardened against the weather, he thought.
John finished quickly -- he seemed to enjoy his work well enough not to be bored -- and Henry and Anne were free to go down to the beach. He was amused at the number of towels and bathrobes she wanted him to bring. They compromised on one towel and one bathrobe. "But our way is simply to run a fair bit until all water drops have been shaken off."
"You are mad."
"And you are a dear wife to indulge me so."
She looked puzzled. "With a towel you do not want?" If she had not been concerned she would not have pressed her case and she did not think she had been indulging him in the least. It was the reverse.
"No, by warming me up afterwards."
"I was just thinking earlier that you did not always think of those things!" she exclaimed.
"Newly-married men must, I think," he reflected. "But tonight you may be as tired as you like."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anne had accompanied Henry to the beach. They had encountered two uncles who had looked surprised to see the two of them together. Perhaps they thought she was going to dive in as well. When she looked back she saw they had taken up a position on a cliff to watch. "Your uncles think I am going swimming. They have taken a private box upon that cliff for the performance," she remarked to Henry.
He glanced back. "That might be because you are holding a towel and a bathrobe and they know I never use those. They must be for you."
"Well, they will soon see." She stood watching as he undressed; sitting was out of the question. Dividing her attention between Henry and the two uncles on the cliff, she had not noticed a pony cart approaching until it was very close.
There was an old man walking beside it, throwing driftwood onto the cart. "Madam." He tipped his hat and said some more in his toothless dialect that she did not understand. It was a fairly long speech.
"Good day," Anne replied. She had somehow deduced he had said something about Henry. "I am his wife and I am not going in," she said at random, hoping she was a little close to what he had asked. "It is not a nice day."
He could understand her better than she him. "Wife? Mr. Henry has a wife?"
"How would you know it is Mr. Henry?" She was genuinely puzzled, for all that was visible of him was, alternately, his wet hair and his posterior as he dove into wave after wave. Although it could not be one of his uncles, from this distance he could easily be mistaken for one of his brothers.
The man pointed at the bundle of clothes draped over her arm. "His coat." He spoke of something that Mr. Henry apparently did very regularly wearing that coat, but she did not understand him.
It struck Anne that she was the future mistress of the estate, though in the absence of a mother-in-law perhaps she already was the mistress. As such she would have to acquaint herself with the tenants and villagers, although she had not seen many houses. He might be one of those people and they might all be incomprehensible to her. He, however, tipped his hat again and moved on. She was glad for that, because a conversation was next to impossible. She turned back to the shoreline where Henry emerged from the waves.
"Did you understand what he was saying?" Henry asked. His lips were blue again and he did not speak very clearly himself.
"Not much." Anne handed him the towel and she hung the bathrobe around his shoulders.
It was quite unmanly to receive this unnecessary care, but he bit back a comment. "I always have to guess what he is going on about. Thankfully he has but a few subjects."
"I cannot think he would greet me and then start on his usual subjects."
He dried off his legs and thought that Anne's idea of a bathrobe was not entirely bad. "One of them is strangers to the area and you are obviously a stranger."
"Now he knows I am your wife, but I could not discern his feelings on the subject." She handed him his trousers.
"Well, as long as you do not take things home from his beach, you may do as you please."
"Am I to leave you here then?"
He laughed. "I meant that you may not take things he would otherwise throw onto his cart. I am not one of those things. And you are not to leave me here. I have plans."
Anne had not left Henry on the beach. She had even gone along with all of his plans, which ensured that the two of them were warm and dressed by the time dinner was announced. Anne had thought they would return to Kellynch the day after, but this had to be put off another day so he could instruct Rupert. Rupert's exact profession was not clear to her, but apparently he could put his normal work aside well enough to take over some of Henry's duties.
Although she would prefer Kellynch, she could suffer another day here -- as long as they went out for some part of it, preferably not spied upon by two old men on a cliff. She felt some sympathy for Sophia, who had come into this family as a very young woman, though after she had been to sea. Either society must have been a shock. Anne was now no longer certain which of the two was worse, but it certainly took a few years to appear at ease in any society and even more years to feel indifferent.
She was not yet indifferent and she thought Henry was not either, because he wanted to teach her how to play chess, something she was sure he would not have done had his father not made any comments the day before. She was not extremely interested, but at least it was a way to pass the time until bedtime.
It was still early when she retired. She needed more time than Henry and she left it to him to react to any remarks his father might have about room arrangements.
Although she was half asleep already, she was nevertheless curious when he appeared. "Did your father say anything?"
"He was surprised you went alone. I said we were too old to go together."
"We are. At night. It is not a lie. And it is nobody's business," were her last words of that day.
Henry was at leisure to reflect on his life the next morning. He could hardly believe he had ended up married so quickly and to such a woman. It was something nobody could have predicted. What had attracted him first? At first he had not even paid much attention to her appearance. He had become acquainted because she was well-mannered and kind, but gradually she had become very pretty. It was an agreeable combination to be kind and pretty.
After he had kissed her, however, he had felt something more, for he certainly did not want to kiss any kind and pretty woman. He would certainly not have woken up beside any kind and pretty woman, but this one had made it very easy. It had added to her attractions that she had not considered it very easy and that she had a certain amount of reserve. He supposed he liked reserve because he understood it.
Obviously investing some affection had paid off, although he had not thought of it as investing but as exploring something new. She had not said she loved him, but she always behaved as if she cared. She had had a choice in consenting to marry him. Nobody had known anything of their encounter and directly afterwards he had still been able to walk away. There might have been some guilt at his weakness and some regret at her rejection, but it had been possible to part. The longer they had remained in each other's company, the less possible this had become.
He rested his hand on her sleeping form and waited.
Anne did not feel as bad as she had felt the day before. She was able to respond to Henry's question immediately, although she could not instantly think. "How do I feel about being married?"
"Yes."
"How do you feel?" she returned the question a little nervously.
"Surprised. But on the whole, I think, quite good. We are reserved enough not to be bored with each other yet."
"Do you not think I am too reserved?" Anne wondered.
"Perhaps it is rather that you think you ought to be reserved, not that you are. Propriety and all that. Now that we are proper, you can be unreserved." Henry thought that was very logical.
"I am very unreserved. I sleep in your room." She thought of her first husband, with whom such a thing would have been unthinkable. It had never even crossed her mind and she did not suppose it had crossed his or, like Henry, he would have found a way.
"Yes and I am very glad for it." He paused. "What will you want me to do in your home? You have separate apartments for the master of the house."
"You may find the dressing room useful," Anne said after some deliberation. "And you could pretend to use the bed, but you do not have to."
Henry grinned. "You will need to draw up a new plan of your house and indicate anew which rooms are forbidden territory."
"You may go everywhere."
"Thank you. I shall travel here quite regularly. I have to. It means I shall not need to bring all of my things." He would only need to bring things he might need in the coming year. Everything that was useless could remain here.
"It means you will leave me alone." There was a chance that she might miss him, although she was sure she could suffer a short absence. After all, she had always managed to live without him.
"I should think that an excellent opportunity for you to visit your acquaintances or to invite them to dinner." Henry looked proud of this sensible solution.
Anne was less impressed with it. It was too sensible. "Oh, Henry! I might not be in the mood to take advantage of your absence by cold-bloodedly inviting everyone you may not like the minute you are out of the door."
"Well, I hope you will be, for I might not be in the mood to entertain your friends."
"You underestimate yourself. You might even like them."
"If my brother and his wife are your friends, I suppose I like them," he smiled. He knew he was a little childish, but her reactions were worth it.
"And Anne and Captain Wentworth."
"They are a trifle young, but amiable."
"I assure you that many of my friends are amiable, but there are also acquaintances I must keep. You must have that here as well." She raised her eyebrows. If they were the principal family here, there were people whose acquaintances they not only needed to make, but also keep.
"We keep that to the bare minimum," he said solemnly and he was not even teasing too much. It was nearly true.
"I see I have some work to do here, restoring all your connections." As she spoke, she approved of the idea. It would give her a purpose and it was not a task she minded.
Henry looked alarmed. "Really? Is that ill-conceived plan a consequence of feeling ill in the morning?"
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anne was pleased to see the familiar surroundings of Kellynch come into view. She was nonetheless apprehensive, for she would have to call on her neighbours and explain her letter. She had written they might use the house in Bath until the end of the month -- thankfully she had cancelled her lease beyond that -- because she was off to Minehead. That, she had thought, would be explanation enough at the time, but now of course they would want to hear more.
"Are you curious to see whether your nieces have grown?" asked Henry.
"My nieces?" Anne looked puzzled.
"My brother's daughters are your nieces." He smiled.
Having been completely preoccupied by her new male relatives, she had not given any thought to the little girls at all. She was astonished now. "I believe you are right."
"It just occurred to me." He thought she would like those relatives better than the others. It made him wonder about her own family, but since she had never mentioned them he had no reason to think any family members were still living.
They descended from the carriage and were greeted by those servants of Anne's who had not come along. She introduced Henry as her husband and the new master of the house, something that embarrassed him a little more visibly than it embarrassed her. He needed not fear, because there was not a trace of rebellion or disapproval in anybody. They had met him before, of course, and perhaps they thought it was high time for their mistress to have another husband to take care of her -- whatever the case truly was.
Henry and Anne agreed to walk over to the Hall after they had eaten. "Best settle it directly," Anne said bravely. She also did not yet precisely know what to do with Henry in her own home now that he was hers. He would know, but to do that out of boredom was not good.
Arriving at Kellynch Hall, they were told that Captain and Mrs. Wentworth had gone to Bath, but that Mrs. Croft -- the other one -- was upstairs in her sitting room. The admiral's whereabouts were not known. After their arrival had been announced to Mrs. Croft, they were show into the lady's sitting room. Apparently such close family needed not wait.
Mrs. Croft, whom they must now think of as Sophia, and the two young ladies were there. One of them was in her arms and the other was on a blanket on the floor. "This is surprising news," Sophia spoke. She had of course been informed that Mr. and Mrs. Croft were calling. "I must congratulate you. But forgive my not getting up. Catherine is drinking."
Henry took a step back. He would not have guessed if she had not told them. It was not at all obvious. Although she had invited them, he wondered if they could stay.
"Have a seat," Sophia said invitingly.
"But you are busy."
"Catherine is busy. I am not. Tell me how you settled it."
Anne gave Henry a self-conscious look, but he did not look inclined to speak. She would have to answer, yet she did not know where to start. "Must you know?" she said at last.
"I am not fond of forced or mercenary unions."
Since Sophia could not seriously believe it was either, Anne felt she needed not be very serious in her reply either. "I am sorry. It was both."
Sophia was temporarily taken aback. "You cannot be serious," she then said hesitantly. "Did Henry make you marry him because of his little adventure?"
Henry turned away. If his face could not be seen, they would not address him and he would not have to answer. He did not like to be reminded of his little adventure.
"I spoke in jest," Anne said gravely. "Although I knew him better afterwards, naturally."
"Naturally," Sophia agreed, her face equally grave. "And now, where will you live?"
"First here, then in the new house," Henry answered. He felt that the most dangerous point had passed, that of their courtship. He was better able to answer queries about their living arrangements, as long as they dealt with houses and not bedchambers.
"With all those men?" Sophia gave Anne a horrified look.
"Well..." Anne felt she must defend some of them. "The boys are not beyond improvement. David will be the next to fall."
"Remind me which one is David. I always get him and John mixed up -- and let us not even speak of their second names."
"I told them not to confuse her," said Henry.
Sophia looked thrilled. "That is a true sign of a love match. Though James never did that for me."
"David is the clergyman. He married us," said Anne. She was curious about those second names. What was wrong with them and what had the admiral not done that Henry had? Why was it a sign of love?
"He should at least have a professional interest in marriage," Sophia said with a nod. "But if it again takes fifteen years for the next brother to fall -- Lady Russell -- what are we to call you now?"
"Anne, I suppose."
"Anne? Now that is confusing. I already have a sister named Anne. We should give one of you a nickname and unfortunately for you James had already given you one."
"A nickname!" Anne spluttered. "Why?"
Here Sophia looked a little uncomfortable. "Do not ask. His mind is not always penetrable."
"And when it is," Henry cut in, "you do not want to follow him. Sailors." He wondered about the nickname and hoped he would remember to ask his brother about it in private.
"What!" Sophia flared up instantly. "What is wrong with sailors?"
He had known a comment about sailors would elicit a reaction, but he had not counted on Catherine letting go of the breast in shock. There was a loud wail. "I am sorry," he said as Sophia tried to comfort her little girl. "I did not want you to frighten Margaret."
"Margaret," Sophia said tersely. "Is on the floor and she is fearless. This is Catherine."
"Well, convey my apologies to Catherine," he said a little uneasily, although fumbling with clothing and babies was less distressing to him now that he was married.
"She does not care for apologies; she cares for food."
"But I at least remembered their names," he realised proudly. "Speaking of them, Uncle Philip was very pleased that you wrote to him directly. I am not sure travelling would be a good thing for them, but he and my aunt would probably enjoy seeing your daughters."
"For whom would travelling not be a good thing?"
"For the old people. They do not keep a carriage."
"I shall speak to James about it when returns from the market. But really, you come here to tell me you are married and you tell me nothing about it." Sophia clicked her tongue. "You would speak of everyone but yourselves. When and where did you meet up to further your acquaintance or did it all happen here on the sly and was James right?"
"James? What did James think?" Henry asked very quickly.
"Now you do want to follow his thoughts?"
"We saw each other again in Bath by accident," he revealed because she supposed he must. "And we had some more conversations. And we corresponded."
"That is what I meant. I did not for a minute think you would have done the same as James, which was approaching me to say he would like me in his cabin --"
Anne gasped, for that was absolutely horrible. Had the admiral truly done that?
"-- to talk to me," Sophia said with a roll of her eyes. "He is a Croft. They do not want much else from a lady."
Anne willed her face to remain blank.
"But I cannot see you do like James, Henry."
He remained very calm. "No indeed. I am quite different."
Again Anne was struggling. He was quite different indeed.
"Well, not quite, I believe," said Sophia. "But you are older and you do not live in a cabin. Ah, Catherine is done."
"Do you now want Margaret?" Henry feared he would be asked to pick her up and he had no idea how. He thought Margaret looked happy where she was.
"As you see, Margaret is already satisfied. She always wants to go first. Have they not grown well?" she sounded proud.
He was proud too, but then of having seen that Margaret looked content. "Indeed. They look completely different."
"You can play with her now. She loves it if you play with her." Sophia got up and handed the other infant to Anne. "I shall only be a minute."
Anne could not refuse, but she felt a little panic when Sophia left the room. Suppose they cried! "She left us alone with them!"
Henry was studying Margaret with equal apprehension, but he was astonished when she suddenly smiled as if he was very nice. He was not aware of having done anything special. "She smiled!"
Anne looked at Catherine, but she was not smiling yet. She was a little jealous. "Why does yours smile at you and mine does not?" Catherine suddenly let out a loud belch and Anne gasped.
"She might smile at you now," Henry predicted.
It happened and it made Anne very suspicious and not a little awed, both by Henry and by the little girl. "How did you know?"
"I always feel better myself after I have --" He saw her expression change and thought it wisest not to finish the sentence. "But I never do so in company. It is interesting to see girls do it too. Ah, she smiled again. I think you and I are very amusing people."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Naturally Anne and Henry could not escape Admiral Croft, although they had not planned to stay with the express purpose to wait for him. "Married?" said he when he came home.
"Where did you hear that?" Henry inquired.
His brother gave a casual wave. "It was all over the market."
Anne looked shocked. She could not believe him, but she did not know how else he could know. Perhaps they looked married? She examined that idea. But no, they did not at all behave as Admiral and Mrs. Croft did.
He took pity on her. "The footman told me. One cannot expect him to keep such interesting news to himself. Next week, I daresay, it may be all over the market, but I have no business there next week. We got some sort of idea from your letter. Did you get married in Bath?"
"No, at home," said Henry. "Why do it in Bath if we could use David?"
"Indeed," James said thoughtfully. "And what did Father have to say about it?"
"Surprisingly he said very little, but I should not have minded had he said anything. I know his opinions make little sense." James would have known that for longer and he was not telling his brother anything new.
"Would you go against Father?" James was surprised.
"Yes, if he had bothered me, but he said nothing. Perhaps he has resigned himself to the fact that the family is being overtaken by females." Like Anne he thought that David might be the next to take an interest. He was not certain it would lead to marriage, but taking an interest would be good start.
"Well, well." James looked at Anne. "Perhaps Lady Russell was considered a more suitable party than Sophia."
Henry knew why that was, but he would not go into these matters in company. "Naturally. I think we must go home now, must we not?" He glanced at his wife.
She smiled because he had said home. "If you wish."
"He asked very little," Henry observed as they walked back to Kellynch Lodge. This had surprised him. Everywhere they had met with far less curiosity and disapproval than he had expected.
"Very likely he thought Sophia had already asked us everything, so I am sure he is now questioning her," Anne thought. "They keep no secrets from each other, not even ours."
"Do we have any?"
"We certainly do," she said quickly. "We cannot tell anybody when the topic of marriage first came up. That must forever be our secret. And anybody who is interested is indecently curious."
Henry settled in nicely. The thing he missed most was probably his daily dive into the sea. The Kellynch pond did not quite afford him the same pleasure, although it offered remarkable entertainment to any gardener and undergardener when they first laid eyes on the spectacle. They even came to inquire if he was all right, but he assured them his wife had not yet driven him into despair.
They had dined at the Hall and they had first called and then dined at Uppercross. James and Sophia had been to dine with them and they had brought the girls. Henry had been surprised to find that Anne's maids nearly fought over the honour of watching them. Although Anne and he had been made to entertain them, he was not yet so confident with them as to volunteer and it surprised him that all the maids were.
He was glad they had met most other people merely in passing, at church or on a walk. He was not yet ready to entertain complete strangers or to provide entertaining company at their table. He preferred the way they went about it now, with Anne telling him a little about them before or after they spoke to them.
What others might think of their marriage was unclear. Of course everyone had been polite and Henry found himself wondering less as he grew more used to his new station. Although he had assumed he would have very little to do as Anne's husband, the sheer fact that her money was now his gave him enough to do besides his drawings.
He had started on the garden, for no other reason than that he enjoyed drawing and he was not in Anne's way as often as she might have feared. He did not know if she had, but she seemed pleased with his ability to pass the time on his own. They met frequently enough for all sorts of other activities.
Although Mrs. Wentworth had always been a particularly tactful and understanding young lady, she could now not contain her curiosity. Although she declared herself very happy to see her godmother married, too often she expressed the wish that Anne loved her husband. Anne contemplated giving her an answer one of these days so the concerned queries would stop. Ignoring them had no effect, it appeared.
She had been surprised by finding that Captain Wentworth was in fact the kindest of them all by being the least curious. He frequently called his wife to order -- though gently -- when she was again wishing others the same marital bliss she was experiencing herself. It had made Anne hope for his wife's sake that he would never be called to sea again.
She had not heard anything about her young friend's condition for a while. The younger Anne continued to blossom and nothing seemed to ail her. The elder Anne began to think that perhaps Captain Wentworth's confidence in himself had been a little too strong. Everything but his wife had come easily to him and now that he had her, he expected a return to his former good luck. She could well imagine him thinking thus.
Then one morning, when she was alone because Henry had travelled home for a few days, Mrs. Wentworth came to her with a broad smile. "Are you alone?" her neighbour inquired, glancing about nervously.
"Yes, Henry has gone to see if nothing has happened to his father's estate." She could sound calm, but in fact she did not like it at all. Being alone now was very different from having been alone before.
"Then he cannot disturb us." Mrs. Wentworth looked relieved.
"I assure you, Anne, he would not enjoy disturbing us at all," Anne said. Henry had always politely retreated. "Has he not always left us to talk in peace?"
"Yes, but he has come in on occasion and overheard some of our conversation and this one --" She sighed. "Well. I think Frederick was right."
He would think he was right about many things. "About what?"
Mrs. Wentworth took a deep breath. "About our child."
Anne moved forward in her chair. "Are you expecting one?"
She beamed. "We think so. Is that not wonderful? I consulted Sophia and she thinks so too."
"That is indeed wonderful." Anne calculated back to when the wedding had been. It was still not long ago. "But..."
"I know. You told me it may go wrong in the beginning, but I had to tell you. Will you be happy for me nevertheless?"
"I am very happy for you," Anne assured her. She got up to embrace her goddaughter and suddenly she felt very old. If her goddaughter was having a child, what did that make her? "Does that make me a sort of grandmother?"
"The only one, since there are no others."
"I shall be happy to fulfil that role. Even if it makes me feel terribly old, just when I was thinking I was still young." Perhaps young was not the appropriate word, although it was very much connected to feeling desirable. Only the young were desirable, were they not?
"Did Mr. Croft do that to you?"
"Anne, keep your mind on your child," Anne said sternly. She feared she would again be asked something about love. If Henry did not care to ask her, why should somebody else? "You are not to wonder about Mr. Croft."
"The poor man, really. He becomes a sort of grandfather by virtue of being married to you and he is not very old, is he?"
And was she not a poor woman for the same reason? "Do you think I am old?"
Mrs. Wentworth blushed. "No, but I thought he was younger. I did not mean to imply..."
"He is five years younger. At our time of life such a difference does not signify."
"I suppose not. You will be a young grandmother too."
"Anne, if I did not know you never lie, I should distrust you." But it pleased her that she would be considered a young grandmother. She certainly looked younger and better than Mrs. Musgrove and any other grandmothers in the vicinity.
"Oh Henry," she lamented when he returned. She was still a little unsettled by the news. "We are to be grandparents!"
He was taken aback by this communication, certainly because it took the place of the affectionate greeting he had anticipated for most of the journey. "Kiss me first and talk to me later," he requested.
Anne was nonplussed by this order. "Well, that is dreadfully -- oh!"
"Did you not miss me?" he asked after his first desire for a kiss had been satisfied. More would soon follow, but he could take a little break. It was better to partake of the goodness in small increments.
"I did. But I wanted to tell you something. What was it? You made me forget it," she said reproachfully. "Ah! Grandparents. We are to be grandparents."
"We have no children," he reminded her. As far as he knew those were rather necessary first and they should even be grown up as well.
"My goddaughter. This makes us old."
"Nonsense. You are not old. Shall I show you that you are not old?"
"I do not know how you would do such a thing," she said in a doubtful tone.
"Do you not? Let me give you a hint. It makes you giggle like a --"
Shocked she placed a hand over his mouth. She understood his meaning now and her giggling was still something she abhorred. He, however, always liked it. "Suppose someone overheard!"
© 2007 Copyright held by the author.