Beginning, Previous Section, Section IX
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Charlotte, Anne and Lizzy tore into the cold dishes they'd neglected during Anne's recital with gusto after Anne slammed the door in Bill Ellison's face. The topic moved from Anne's problems to Charlotte and Carl, who were still dealing with the residual fall-out from Georgiana's revelation about Bridget, then to Lizzy and her impending motherhood.
"I'm so nervous," Lizzy confided. "The baby hasn't even been born yet, and already Fitz is treating me like I'm the first woman who ever gave birth. He brings me my breakfast in bed, refuses to let me carry anything more than a purse, and cringes when we're on the ice together. I tell you, three more months of this and I'm going to have to leave him in order to save my..." Her voice trailed off and she blushed. "I'm sorry, Anne."
Anne was in the middle of a rare indulgence for her----a chocolate brownie with whipped cream----but she paused long enough to say, "It's okay. I know what it's like to feel like you're going crazy. Felt that way tonight, as a matter of fact."
But conversation was stalled for a good minute while Anne polished off her brownie. Finally, Charlotte cleared her throat and asked, "So, what are you going to do about Frederick?"
Anne was glad Charlotte had waited until she'd finished, otherwise she might've choked. "There's really nothing for me to do," she said. "I mean, what am I supposed to do? That chapter of my life is closed. Scarred shut, actually."
"Oh, I don't know," Lizzy mused. "I think that if a man notices that a woman is hurting and calls a couple of friends of hers to come to her side because he knows she won't do it herself, he's probably still in love with her."
Anne shook her head. "No, no. That can't be possible, because Frederick moved on with his life a long time ago. I'm the one who wound up frozen because I couldn't love anyone other than him. Besides, if he did want to...you know, get back together with me, wouldn't I be pathetic by taking him back? I mean, what does it say about me that I didn't have a fling in the meantime?"
"There's nothing wrong with that," Lizzy said. "You didn't really have time to have a fling, for starters. Besides, you don't seem like the fling type."
"Well, I'm not, but that's not the point. It looks like I was just waiting for him to come back to me." Anne sighed.
"So if he shows up at your doorstep tonight, roses and a box of candy in hand, proclaiming his everlasting love, you're going to shut the door in his face?" Charlotte asked. "You're going to say that you need to have a little romance other than him and that's it?"
"I...I don't know," Anne admitted. "He hasn't said he wants to get back together with me. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he doesn't. He's not going to come knocking at my door tonight or any other night because when he called you, he was flying to Boston to patch things up with Hannah. I'm sure that they're...reuniting as we speak."
"Well, I don't know about that," Charlotte told her. "He's been talking with Carl, and from what Carl's said, things might be ending between them."
Anne shook her head. "Not after what happened to her. He would feel too guilty if he left her after she had her accident. And quite honestly, I'm not sure I would feel good about the whole situation, either."
"Okay, Anne, let me ask you this," Lizzy said. "Suppose your roles were reversed. Say that you were Hannah Musgrove and she was you. Do you think she would let that stop her from winning back Frederick?"
"I can't answer that. I don't know her at all. None of us do, really."
"Come on. We sat in the same elevator together and we both saw how she acted. It was obvious that she was jealous of you. Women like Hannah wouldn't let a little emotion like guilt get in the way of what they want." Lizzy sighed. "Trust me---on this one, I know what I'm talking about. I had to endure a lot of garbage from Caroline Bingley because of Fitz."
"Do you still love him?" Charlotte asked quietly.
"Of course I do," Anne replied. "I always have and always will. But does that mean I should just...just..."
"I think if you love him, and he loves you, then nothing should keep you apart. That's something I'm the expert on," Charlotte told her. "The two of you have suffered enough. Isn't it time you guys had your chance to be happy for the rest of your lives?"
Frederick was still laughing as he boarded the plane to get back to the tour. He'd planned on staying a night or two, hoping to talk more to Hannah and make sure she was going to be all right once they'd finally gone their separate ways. Seeing her with Jamie----Jamie, of all people!----had rendered that thought unnecessary. Frederick had been fortunate to be able to exchange his ticket and find a seat on a plane leaving immediately.
Hannah and Jamie had protested that nothing was going on and that he had the wrong idea about them. Neither one of them had understood at first that he didn't mind the fact that he'd caught them holding hands and looking at each other like no one else in the world existed. It had taken many assurances on his side, and many apologies, before the whole situation was straightened out. Frederick now had a clear conscience about breaking up with Hannah because he knew she was going to be all right.
More than all right, he thought with a smile as the plane took off. She's got the best man I know. Much better than me.
He'd told her that, too. Hannah had blushed and said she wasn't so sure about that when Jamie had been around, but after he'd given them a few minutes of privacy, she admitted that she'd tried to list his faults and had thrown the list away because they didn't matter to her.
"It's silly, thinking I'm in love with someone after knowing them such a short time."
"Short time? Hannah, you've known Jamie for three years. I suspect that if circumstances had been different, the two of you would've thrown me over long ago."
Hannah shook her head. "No. Jamie never would've done that, and I don't think I would've, either. It's only because I knew it was over between us that I even thought about him."
Frederick sighed. "I am a world-class jerk. Pond scum. Lower than pond scum, and I'm sorry for everything that happened."
"It wasn't entirely your fault, you know. I did some pretty stupid things, too. So let's just say that we were both to blame, and hopefully we've both learned something from the experience." Hannah kissed his cheek, and just like that, it had been over.
Frederick didn't know if the two of them would be completely comfortable with each other, and to be sure, things were going to be awkward with Jamie for a good long while, but fortunately, Frederick had three months to go on this tour and Jamie would have plenty of time to work things out with Hannah.
Now all he had to do was work things out with Anne, which he knew might be the most difficult thing of all. He had to convince her that although he'd had a three-year-long relationship, one he'd just broken off, he was still in love with her. Then he had to convince her that the three-year relationship would've ended on its' own and that it wasn't her fault.
He refused to get out his little notepad again. That had been a miserable failure. But as the plane got closer and closer to where Anne was, Frederick almost wished he had spent his time thinking of something to say. If he were going to meet the Anne of eight years ago, he would've known what to say and he would've known how she would react. But they'd both changed so much that he couldn't be sure that she even wanted him back. For all he knew, she had already put things behind her.
Except for that kiss. He had a feeling she was thinking about it as much as he had been, wondering if the old magic was still there. Frederick knew already. He just had to convince her of it.
The minute he was on the ground and had collected his bag, Frederick ran for the nearest cab, nearly knocking over a harried businessman in order to get the first one he saw. Once inside the cab, he rattled off the address of the hotel so fast that the cabbie asked him to repeat it. Frederick managed to get it out.
The ride seemed interminable, and the cabbie was a talker who wanted to know everything about him. Frederick invented a history, saying that he was meeting a girlfriend he saw once a year because she worked for a UN ambassador and he was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Whether the cabbie believed him or not, Frederick was relieved when the ride was finally over. Frederick gave the man a one hundred dollar bill, told him to keep the change, and leaped out of the cab.
The doorman was a different one than had been on the door when he'd left, so Frederick didn't have to explain his sudden return. Frederick rushed inside and got as far as the elevator before realizing that he didn't know which room Anne was in. With a groan, he ran over to the front desk, where a bored-looking man in his late forties was reading a magazine and didn't bother looking up before asking, "Yeah?"
"I need to have a message delivered to Anne Elliot," Frederick said, out of breath. "She's in room 221, yes?"
The man barely glanced to his right, read through a list, and said, "Sorry, man, can't tell you. No Anne Elliot staying here."
"What do you mean, there's no Anne Elliot staying here? Of course there is! I'm on the same tour she's on!"
The strident note in his voice was what made the man look up. "I'm sure you are. Now I suggest that you leave."
Frederick fumbled through his pockets, frantic to find his room key. In desperation, he flipped through his wallet and found the key card. Slapping it on the counter, he said, "I'm going nowhere, except to my room."
Convinced that Frederick was a customer, the man waved him away with a muttered, "Whatever."
Frederick knew that he would get nowhere unless he did something drastic, which is when he got his idea. He went into the bathroom and dialed the hotel's number on his cell phone. When the operator answered, Frederick requested to be put through to Charlotte Denny's room. To his surprise, he was.
"Whoever this is, it had better be an emergency or you're dead," a voice mumbled into the phone.
"It is, I assure you. Carl?"
"Yeah...who is this? Bobby?"
"No, it's Frederick. You know, Frederick Wentworth?"
"Freddie? Why the hell are you calling at...six in the morning?"
"Is Charlotte with you?" Frederick asked.
"Well, of course she is. Why?"
"Ask her what room Anne's in. It's vitally important that I talk to her."
"What, now? It's six in the morning."
"I know that, but...please." Frederick held his breath, hoping that Carl would put his wife on the phone.
After a long minute, Carl said, "She's in room 610." There was a definite click before Frederick could thank him.
Without bothering to turn off the phone, Frederick left the bathroom and onto the first elevator that opened. He hit the button for the sixth floor and waited impatiently for the elevator to take him up. The only thing he prayed for was that it wouldn't get stuck, because if he had to wait a few more hours to talk to Anne, he'd go insane. But luck was with him and the elevator opened on the sixth floor. After taking a wrong turn, Frederick finally found himself standing in front of her door.
He knocked softly at the door, but realized that it was too quiet and she was probably sleeping too soundly to hear him. Frederick was about to knock again, but before he could, the door opened and Anne was there.
Frederick stared at her for a long minute, drinking in everything about her. Her hair, those amazing eyes, her lips...
"I...I..." Frederick couldn't find any words at all.
Fortunately, he was saved by the woman he loved, who grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into her room, into her arms, and into her life----to stay.
"This was a lovely idea of yours, m'dear," George Knightley said, putting his arms around his wife's stomach. It was a longer reach than usual, as Emma was expecting their third child within the next month. Emma clasped his hands and leaned back into his embrace as they watched the scene before them.
"It was," she agreed as she watched Fitz Darcy and Rich Fitzwilliam throw a Frisbee back and forth, just out of the reach of Rich's wife, Amy. Fitz's aim left something to be desired, but it was all right. When his throw went astray, a chubby, dark-haired little boy rushed to be the one to get it. Unfortunately, when he had possession of the Frisbee, he wanted to imitate his father by throwing it. It was equally unfortunate that Scott's aim was no better than that of his father, which sent everyone scurrying for cover when he threw it.
"Lizzy! If that monstrous brat of yours hits me with that...thing one more time, I'm going to stuff it in his mouth!" a strident voice shouted. Emma laughed when Caroline Hampton picked up the Frisbee with her thumb and forefinger and gingerly gave it to Fitz.
"It won't kill you to touch it, Caroline dear," James called. He was sitting with their son, who looked almost exactly like his cousin Scott. Christopher was eager to be off playing with the other kids, whom he could lord over because he was among the oldest, and so James let him go with a smile. Three minutes later, Christopher was back with complaints about how 'that girl' wouldn't give him the toy boat so he could sail it.
"That girl?" James murmured. Christopher pointed at the girl in question. Somehow, it didn't surprise James that it was his cousin Bridget, who was calmly ignoring the fuss she had created by her refusal to give Christopher what he wanted. Not bothering to wait for his father to intervene, Christopher ran back to Bridget and yanked the toy out of her reach. Bridget, not missing a step, pounced on his back and went about getting it back.
Within seconds, the parents had pulled the children apart and the toy boat given to Matthew Knightley, who was the rightful owner anyway. Georgiana tried to scold her daughter about sharing her toys, but it was obvious that she was more amused than anything. Bridget, seeing that she wasn't to get her toy back, went to play with some of the other girls running around. Her half-sister Cat was hovering around her mother and their new brother, Nate. Although Bridget didn't see how Cat and Nate were her brother and sister since they had different mommies and daddies, she accepted this truth without question. The time for questions would come later.
Bridget found her mother, along with Cat's mother and her Aunt Lizzy, sitting underneath a large tree. The new baby was in his mother's arms, well-protected from the sun. Charlotte was talking about how Carl had passed out when the doctor had announced that he had a son, something Carl was denying furiously, although the red which crept up his neck indicated that she was telling the truth. After a few seconds, Cat was convinced that sitting with the mommies wasn't nearly as interesting as tormenting Scotty and Christopher, and the two girls were off to cause more mischief.
Georgiana shook her head. "She's getting so spoiled. It's bad enough that Bret does it, but does Carl have to follow in his footsteps?"
"Carl sees it as Bret following in his footsteps. Carl has more practice at spoiling," Charlotte said.
"Yeah, but no one spoils quite like the parent of an only child." Georgiana sighed and glanced at her still-flat stomach. "I dread the idea of what Bridget's going to do when she finds out she's going to have a brother or sister soon."
"She does fine with Cat," Lizzy pointed out.
"Yeah, but she doesn't see Cat every day. And I'm not Cat's mother. Having a baby around the house all the time is a whole different matter from having a brother and sister you see intermittently through the year."
"Aah, Bridget will do fine. She's handled the fact that Cat is her sister without missing a beat." Lizzy gave her sister-in-law a reassuring pat on the hand. She looked around, her eyes first searching out Scott, who was still running after the Frisbee, then Fitz, who was trying to prevent his son from getting it. Her eyes then scanned the rest of the crowd, seeing old friends and their children, some people she didn't know, and then...
"Anne!" she shouted, waving frantically when she saw the couple who had just arrived. Anne smiled, waved briefly, and then turned her attention to something inside the car. A minute later, she reappeared holding a car seat. On the other side of the car, Frederick was calling for a little help, which the eleven-year-old Julia Knightley was eager to provide. As Frederick took hold of the second car seat, Julia had the third. Anne and Frederick Wentworth had officially arrived, identical triplet daughters in tow.
"How do they keep the three of them sorted out?" Georgiana asked casually. "I would forever be terrified of mixing them up and ending up with...what did they name them again?"
"The oldest is Patricia, for her mother, then Stacey, for his. The third one is...Megan?" Lizzy frowned. "I think that's it. Man, I don't want to think about having three babies in the house at the same time. Scotty was more than enough for me to handle at one time."
"Hello, ladies," Frederick said cheerfully. "The nanny was supposed to meet us here, but she got a flat tire and so we're waiting."
"Ah, that's how they do it," Charlotte teased. "A nanny."
"Bloody right, we have a nanny," Anne muttered. "I insisted the minute we found out we were having triplets."
"I don't know why we have one," Frederick pointed out. "You rarely let the girls out of your sight, anyway. Every minute of the day, she's got one or another of them in her arms."
"And whichever ones I don't have, he does," Anne teased, kissing him. "Julia, sweetie, lead us to the promised nursery."
"Which one do I have?" Julia asked, peering down into the car seat.
Frederick glanced at the initial painted on the car seat. "You have Megan," he said, causing Lizzy to gloat that she was right about the names.
"Cool! How can you tell?"
Frederick answered her as the girl led them into the house and to the nursery. Once Julia had finished her job and returned to the party, Anne and Frederick settled their children in and decided to wait until the nanny had arrived before joining everyone else.
"Do you ever wonder what might've happened if Jamie hadn't stayed behind with Hannah after her accident?" Anne murmured, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his chest.
"No."
"Surely you must sometimes. I mean, things might've turned out far differently if you'd been there waiting for her when she woke up. We might not have..."
"Heavenly, there are a few things I've learned in this life. One is that you can't look back and wonder what might've been." He tipped her chin up to look in her eyes. "We spent too much time doing that, and it only made us miserable. I prefer to keep my thoughts in the present, and on our life together. The past is the past, and whatever happened, it brought us together in the end."
"I suppose you're right," Anne admitted. She smiled and pulled away from him to look at her three miracles. She gazed down at them, with their identical tufts of black hair and eyes that showed promise of turning violet. Frederick was right, and she knew it.
But sometimes, it was nice to look back at the past if only to make the present sweeter. And with that in mind, she started singing softly to lull her girls to sleep. Before she was three words into the song, Frederick put his arms around her again and sang along.
"Give me a kiss to build a dream on, and my imagination with thrive upon that kiss...sweetheart, I ask no more than this...a kiss to build a dream on..."
Author's note: I'm suffering from dot withdrawal, so someone PLEASE give me a dot!! This one is officially finished-and believe it or not, almost exactly one year to the day I started it!!
Thanks to everyone who has read and told me how much they like these characters over the three stories I've written about them. Your comments and suggestions have always been greatly appreciated, especially during that stretch when I felt I wasn't doing such a good job writing this story. And to everyone who has been reading but has been too shy to respond, thanks for reading. I do appreciate your interest and I hope you enjoyed it.
As always, special thanks must go to my wonderful archivist, Ann, who makes the web site possible and always forgives my editing lapses, and to Jane Austen, who made writing the story possible. (I have this fear, though, that when I get to heaven Jane Austen's going to be waiting for me, club in hand, to whack me in the knee for all the liberties I've taken with her work.)
Thank you once again for taking the time to read my story!
~~Annie