Beginning , Previous Section, Section IV

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on 2009-03-03

Frederick looked uncomprehending. "What sort of ideas? What do you mean?" He did not know he had expressed any ideas about women in general. He had certainly tried to express none about one particular woman.

"Well...you seem to think a woman should do as you say. If she makes up her own mind, you call her rebellious."

"She should make up her own mind." He did not like someone who could not do so, but he also was not sure he liked all too rebellious women. It was more complicated than that. What he did like was very clear to him, but apparently Edward liked life -- and women -- to be very simple. It was frustrating that he was unable to explain himself well.

"But she should agree with you while she does so." Edward raised his eyes questioningly.

"Where I am right, she should."

Edward had the nerve to laugh. "But you are always right!"

Frederick did not know why he should be mocked. "I am often right. What of it?"

"Such a blessing often blinds a man to the fact that sometimes he might be wrong. Why should Miss Elliot have played chess with you?"

"You will find fault with everything I say." He did not like things to be decided for him and apparently Anne did not either, up to a certain point. Sometimes she did, in matters of great importance, which detracted from the fact that sometimes she did not.

"I am trying to understand what went on. What did Miss Elliot do when she rebelliously refused to play chess with you? Did she even know the rules?"

"She is more au fait with the rules of chess than with the rules of politeness. She left the room."

"Brilliant move," said Edward with an appreciative nod. "Live chess. Placing her king out of reach. He and she cannot go far. Your queen went after her, I am sure, making use of your greater mobility."

Frederick stared. "Are you deranged?"

"Perhaps. But it would have meant stalemate if you had not gone after her. I somehow cannot see you settle for that."

"Edward, may I remind you that we are speaking of a young woman who abandoned a guest she was supposed to entertain? There is nothing to appreciate in her desertion. What happened to your manners?"

"What else could she do? Sit with you and be beaten in ten minutes, I suppose. I do not fault a young woman for taking matters into her own hands."

"But if your own wife were to lure men out of the room in such a manner..." Frederick did not understand his brother, who had always been very proper. Edward could not possibly think this sort of behaviour worthy of applause.

Edward was full of confidence. "She would only lure me. But what is this? Now you say she lured you and a moment ago you said she left the room -- to escape you, I presume. What were her intentions?"

"I have no idea."

"You followed. Where was she and what did you do? I hope you did not drag her back."

"We spoke. I forgot about what," he said so his brother would not ask. "Then she abandoned me again and she went up to her room."

"Let me guess. For her to abandon you again she must have been pretty annoyed with you and you with her. You followed. You would have liked to have the last word."

"I am not that transparent," Frederick protested. "I went only because she said I would not."

"Children, children," Edward said in a fatherly tone. "Last week two youngsters came to me with similar accusations. They were about ten. I had no idea that mediating between the two of them would prepare me for my brother, who is all of thirty-one."

"Do not act superior, Edward. It does not suit you."

"I wish Miss Elliot had said the same to you. And so you followed her to her room. What did she say? What did anyone else say for that matter?" Edward put off saying anything about it himself; he was too intrigued. He could imagine it too well to be worried.

"She did not mind, even though I warned her about her dangerous men."

"You must have been flattered that apparently she did not consider you dangerous." He tried to hold back his laughter as he imagined Frederick telling Miss Elliot -- in shock? -- to beware of dangerous men and Miss Elliot annoyingly informing him she did not think him dangerous.

"Extremely," Frederick said sarcastically. "Considering that she seems to have no idea of what danger entails, or she would not have been so indifferent. But she was unwittingly right. Nothing happened. We returned to the drawing room and we were served coffee. Nobody asked anything."

"You were not forced to marry because you compromised her?"

"I did not compromise her."

"That is a pity."

"Edward!" Frederick did not know how to react to such an incredible remark. "And she is the last woman I would marry."

"There need not be one after her," Edward said very seriously.

Frederick groaned. He would prefer to walk away, but he still did not like admitting defeat, which such a move would imply. It was best to stay and fight. "I am equally serious," he replied. "She rejected me once. I am not going to set myself up for that twice. Only a fool would."

"Thus in order to avoid being rejected or abandoned, you follow her all over the house? This shows great indifference to me."

"I did not follow her all over the house," Frederick protested. "Merely to her sitting room and back and she did not at all seem to mind."

"Her behaviour strikes me as equally indifferent."

"She seemed very indifferent to my presence indeed, not caring where I went."

"Frederick..." Edward said after a few moments. "There is nothing more I can say. Perhaps you should lay the situation before Amelia and see what she says. You will not think I understand women well enough to make sense of Miss Elliot, but perhaps you will trust another woman's opinion. I believe they are not very different."

Frederick wondered how Mrs Wentworth could help him. She had never rejected his brother, as far as he knew, although it was not something either of them would have told him. In principle he did not think it could have happened if they were now married. Mrs Wentworth had trusted in Edward's current situation.

That this was not a bad situation occurred to him a moment later. Eight years ago it might have been more difficult for his brother to find a wife and Edward had wisely not looked. Frederick could see his brother was better off now. Everything spoke of his having more money at his disposal. This begged the question of how much was actually required to support a wife.

He put the question to Mrs Wentworth, who had struck him as someone who might have a good grasp of the household finances. She had looked bright and shrewd enough for it.

"I do not think I am very expensive myself," said the young lady. "If a gentleman can support himself comfortably he can also support another person by giving up some of his luxuries. The tricky part, I think, is the fact that children might spring from having a wife."

"But there might be none."

"Or there might be one each year. Had I married at twenty, I might have had five by now."

"Why did you not? Did you refuse an offer?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Two."

"Edward's?"

She shook her head. "Oh, no. I almost had to ask him."

"But whom did you refuse?"

"Unsuitable and silly young men. You are not to worry about them. Some people really do not think things through properly before they open their mouths."

Frederick opened his mouth too, but not to speak.

"They suffered no harm," she assured him.

"Is that what all girls think?" he croaked. He could not and did not want to imagine Anne speaking of him as an unsuitable and silly young man about whom nobody was to worry.

Mrs Wentworth frowned. "You do not think well of me for having refused silly men."

"I am not sure they did not suffer from your refusal. Men have feelings."

She was a little taken aback. "Of course men have feelings. However, if some silly man proposes to me without having considered whether we could be happy together and I am sure we could not, am I to think of his feelings or of mine? Am I to make myself unhappy to prevent his being hurt?"

He did not like her confident tone. She believed she had been right and she would continue to believe it. "Why were they silly? Did they not have enough money?"

"They had money, but nothing else. Have you been refused?" she suddenly asked shrewdly.

"I am not telling you."

"On account of money?"

He looked away.

"But you have a lot of money now. Is she now married?" Mrs Wentworth's face turned sympathetic.

It was worse. She was not married. "I did not tell you anything."

"I disagree. You did. You were turned down because you did not have enough money and you would be hurt if she spoke about you the way I spoke about my silly suitors. If it was indeed money, she will not speak about you in such a way." Her tone was confident again, but softer now.

He had had some money and he was going to have much more. Everything he had always predicted had come true, even before Anne and he had told her so. Why she had thought his luck would suddenly turn after meeting her, he did not understand. Women were cautious, she had said, but in his opinion there was nothing cautious about distrust.

Perhaps she would not call him silly now. "Will she be regretting what she gave up?" he asked, although there could be no question about that. Obviously nothing better had come along.

"That is possible. Are you regretting it too?"

He did not like her inquisitive look. "I did not give anything up."

"You were given up," she corrected. "But in the end it all amounts to the same thing: you are not married and you might regret that."

"I had no time for it in the past years. I have hardly been ashore."

"But what would your wife have done all that time?" Clearly Mrs Wentworth was no advocate of leaving wives ashore all by themselves.

Frederick had never really thought of that, since he had no wife. "The same as everybody else's wives?"

"It does not sound much fun, being a sailor's wife, unless perhaps you care nothing for your husband and you do not mind that he is never home. I should not have liked it, with or without money. I hope you do not think me impertinent," she added. "For giving my opinion. Edward never minds."

She offered her apologies, because although they were now sister and brother, she did not yet know him well. Then she left him alone. He was glad for the opportunity to do some thinking. His new sister was not a silly woman. Either she was very perceptive or he was very simple.

Did he regret not being married? Sometimes he did. He could have gone back six years ago, but he had been too proud. He still did not know what Anne would have done in that case, but at least there had been a chance of her saying yes. At the time he had feared the chance of her saying no was much greater.

On the other hand, Mrs Wentworth was right. Some women would not have liked spending so many years alone and he was not sure he would have taken Anne along. Mrs Wentworth would think they would have been of no use to each other apart and he would tentatively agree that he would not have been any use to Anne.

The question of money was more complicated. Sophia and Mrs Wentworth would have managed on very little money, he was sure, but Anne descended from more demanding stock. Would it have been fair of him to ask that she live in poverty for his sake? He had not thought it would be anything close to poverty, but he had not thought it through very far. Anne had broken things off before he could. If he had gone to sea, he would have had to pay for a house for her ashore, which would have been a considerable expense. He would have housed her somewhere decent. Mrs Wentworth had said it did not cost very much more to have a wife, but she would not have reckoned with an extra house.

It did look as if Lady Elliot had had a point. She might still have persuaded her daughter to refuse him two years later because he was not good enough, but he was beginning to think that he really had not had enough money at the time to be at sea without worrying about his wife. And if she had had a point about his fortune, there might not have been any other objections.

While she might have had a point, he still did not like it and it solved nothing today. Or did it? Anne did not listen to her anymore today. Anne did not listen to anyone.

Chapter Nineteen

Posted on 2009-03-08

Anne was surprised to receive a letter from Mrs Croft. Although she liked Mrs Croft, it was more intuitively than from any deeper acquaintance, since the lady had talked most to her mother. The letter was a surprise. Mrs Croft was clearly not good at prevaricating and the reasons she mentioned for writing made no sense. Some attention had been given to making them sound logical, Anne could tell, but they did not match her opinion of the woman.

Mrs Croft had not needed until now to discover she did not quite understand some simple, yet unspecified, things concerning the estate. Anne was furthermore not the first person anyone would ask, although she conceded she was the one who could most easily devote time to helping another.

The real reason for asking her to come down to Kellynch must be something else and she could only think it had something to do with Frederick. But what? He was in Shropshire, unless he had stayed there only briefly.

She put the question to her mother, only to find that Lady Elliot had also received a letter. Her mother had been notified of Mrs Croft's intentions, but she had apparently not questioned them -- or something else had been in her letter entirely.

"You must go, Anne. You know as much about it as I do, but I cannot go."

"When Mary wrote you would not let me go," she pointed out. Yet this letter had sounded very much like Mary's, almost as if Mrs Croft had copied it on purpose.

"But that was Mary. Mrs Croft only wants to know something about Christmas that is easier explained in person."

"If you both say so," Anne said doubtfully. If anything needed to be explained at all, it could just as easily be done by letter, she would think. Inviting her, while useful, would be for other purposes.

"You will like a trip. Lady Russell will be home too by now."

"Then could she not ask Lady Russell?" As eager as she was to see her old home, she would like to know which plans people had in store for her. "I am sure Lady Russell knows quite as much as I do, being your dear friend."

"Do you not want to go?" Lady Elliot would have thought Anne would seize any opportunity to see Kellynch.

"I want to go, but I want to understand why."

"You must not want to understand everything."

In Shropshire, Frederick had been walking, riding, observing and doing some thinking. His brother was happy, clearly enjoying his status as a married man. Edward and his wife did not exclude him from anything, but when he thought about it Sophia and her husband had never really done that either. It had been Kellynch Hall and the memories attached to it that had led him to seek out others. It was always easier to blame someone else than to find the reason within himself. Here in Shropshire he did not feel any need to stay out all day.

He still wanted a wife. Seeing Edward's happiness had made him even more certain of that. He was ready for it and his ideas about the kind of wife he would like had taken more shape. Previously the determination that she could be anyone except Anne Elliot had prevented him from examining his wishes more closely. He knew intuitively what he should like and he knew he would recognise it when he saw it, but he had trusted in that too much.

It had not been as easy as that. He had seen Anne again, but while eight years ago she had met his requirements exactly and most of those had not changed, he did not know her anymore. She knew him, apparently, which was vexing.

He examined her good and bad qualities as he remembered them from eight years ago, and then her good and bad qualities as he remembered them from Bath. It was interesting how her worst quality had changed and turned into something intriguing now. She no longer listened to others.

And from not having any trust in him, she now trusted him well enough to allow him into her sitting room. This was a conclusion he had to draw when he went over her behaviour again. Even when they were engaged Anne had never taken him to her sitting room. It had not been so conveniently nearby as in the house in Bath, which might be one explanation, but Frederick was inclined to think she had been taught not to do so.

If she had been taught that once, she must still know it and yet she now believed it did not matter when one trusted a person. He agreed, but he did not know why he was suddenly so deserving. It could only be that she had always thought him deserving.

This was a thought he had to reflect on at length. She might never have changed her opinion of him.

Frederick, after informing Edward of Sophia's condition, expected to be in turn informed of Mrs Wentworth's condition, but he was not. He was instead told there was still plenty of time and he wondered if Edward, due to his profession, had special powers to arrange children just when it pleased him.

"Of course," Edward said very seriously. "I am surprised you do not. I thought all sailors did. I have my information from the admiral."

"You are provoking me on purpose." Frederick gave him a suspicious look. There were more people besides Anne who were behaving very oddly. Edward was not the teasing, provocative sort. He never had been. "You are professionally obliged to have at least ten."

"I am financially obliged to exercise a little restraint."

"What did the admiral tell you?"

"I am sure he will tell you when you have a need to know."

"You could too."

"My profession forbids me, as you do not yet have any legitimate or moral reasons to put the knowledge into practice. Or have you got wedding plans?"

"I have plans, but I have no wife." He was honest enough to admit that. Anyone in his position would have plans. "I am still looking."

"To be honest, Frederick," Edward said after a pause. "You have not been looking very hard while you were here. I have friends, you know, who thought my being married would innocently and conveniently place them in the way of marriageable females. I have had no shortage of visitors and let me tell you that in comparison you have not been looking very hard. In fact, I should almost say you have not been looking at all."

"I suppose your friends blush and stammer when they perceive a skirt and as such it is more noticeable."

"A skirt? A young lady, you mean? Oh, they may, but they are more likely stiff and serious because they have no idea what to say. Still, there is a difference between their looking and your looking. Your mind might as well be made up."

"I have made up my mind to marry, indeed."

"That is good. I can recommend the state."

Frederick also made up his mind to pretend to be looking, to avoid questions. He did not see much to look at, however. Perhaps his mind was made up indeed. The girls here were nice girls, but he was not curious about them. Interestingly he was more curious about Anne Elliot.

Anne had travelled to Kellynch, unsure of what awaited her there. She could still not imagine that Mrs Croft was truly at a loss about something. The Crofts had seemed so capable. They would either know what to do or what to ask.

"I thought you could do with some time away," Mrs Croft said very candidly when she arrived. "Your mother is very sweet, but what with your father and her health taking up so much attention, there is hardly any left for you. This is something I could not write, you understand. Perhaps you would not even have come if I had."

Anne did not know what to say. She had not expected such a revelation the moment of her arrival, but she had expected to discover the true reasons bit by bit.

"After I thought about it some more, I was rather shocked that they allowed you to be taken out of the room by young men. Oh, I know he was harmless -- I mean, I expect he was -- but they could not know that."

She understood how Mrs Croft could not have written such a thing, but she did not know if she would have declined an invitation in that case. "I am old enough to take care of myself," she protested. "As for your brother..." She did not know what to say about him.

Mrs Croft noticed her discomfort. "Not right now. We shall undoubtedly speak of him later. He is still with Edward."

That relieved Anne. Although she would have liked to see him again, it did not have to be all day and in the same house to boot.

"Lady Russell has visited," Mrs Croft went on. "She is your godmother, I heard. Your sister has visited as well." There was more she seemed to want to say on that subject, but she did not.

Anne was led into the house and she was greeted very warmly by the admiral. She tentatively believed they liked her for herself and not because of some plan. She thought she might enjoy her stay with them. Mrs Croft had seen it well: Bath had been lonely for her.

A mother was not a friend and a preoccupied mother was of even less use. Her father had always been too preoccupied to provide much companionship. That Mrs Croft could come to such a conclusion mortified her.

Admiral and Mrs Croft were very fond of each other, but already a few minutes alone with them showed her that they were endearing rather than self-absorbed. She would like to know how they had met. She had already heard that Mrs Croft had always sailed with the admiral and she was interested in the life of any sailor's wife.

There were many anecdotes and she listened avidly. It was soon time for bed. She had been given her old room, which had surprised her, but she did not ask about it until Mrs Croft accompanied her to her room. "How did you know this was my room?"

"Frederick told me."

"But how did he know?"

"He did not say it was yours; he said he did not want this one. Later I understood why."

"Oh." Anne blushed. She hoped it was not because he hated her. "But I still do not see how he could know. I left nothing behind."

Mrs Croft shrugged. "I do not know. Good night, Anne. Sleep well."

"Sleep well," Anne echoed. She stepped into her old room and looked for signs that it had once been inhabited by her. It had been different from Lizzy's, but she did not know what remained when it was stripped of its personal touches.

Then she wondered why Frederick had not wanted it. He could not have known his sister would invite her later and he could not have felt he needed to leave the room for her. Very likely he had simply not wanted to be reminded of her, even if she could see no traces of her herself. She too would think it rather awkward to sleep in the same bed.

She slept well and in the morning she was happy to be able to pull open the curtain and look upon the familiar landscape. There were deer and rabbits on the foggy lawn and she rejoiced in the sight. How different this was from Bath! It was so peaceful and quiet and the sight stretched so far.

A maid came in for her fire and to bring some tea and suddenly Anne realised it was cold in the room. She had been too happy to be here to notice. She had her tea while she dressed and then she went outside. The Crofts were friendly people who would understand. It was early, but she expected they were up early too and thus she was determined not to stay out for long.

"Did you enjoy your walk?" the admiral asked when Anne reported to the breakfast room. "I hope you are not tired. We had planned to go after breakfast."

She looked alarmed, even more alarmed than she had looked when she found they were already there. "With me? I am sorry."

"Yes, we always go and we had not planned to leave you behind. Unless you insist."

"Oh, no. I should love to come and I am not at all tired," Anne assured him. She had only stayed out for ten minutes. "But it is so different here from Bath that I really had to go out and take the fresh air. I should have opened my window."

He laughed. "That is not the same. No, no. Do not worry. I should be worried about you if a healthy girl could not take two walks, especially if the first one was so short. We always like to have a look at our sheep in the morning. I do wonder why, but I have never asked myself."

"It is because we are very strange, my dear," said his wife. "Frederick said so and you know he is always right."

"Why does he think it strange?" Anne wondered.

"He does not. The walk is not, the sheep are not. But he once saw something he would rather not have seen and now he fears we shall always behave in that manner." Mrs Croft looked innocent.

Anne did not want to ask what he had seen and she blushed. Perhaps they had been behaving like her parents. If so, she understood Frederick perfectly.

"But you are not to worry. We were being silly, not improper. Perhaps by his standards they are the same, but by the admiral's they are very different."

"My dear Sophy," said he. "What a way to change Miss Anne's impression of admirals as serious and heroic men. I am sure she would blame any silliness on their wives."

"I must blame the onlooker," Anne said diplomatically.

Chapter Twenty

Posted on 2009-03-13

Anne was enjoying her stay at Kellynch. The Crofts were neither improper nor silly and she had not once caught them doing anything that embarrassed her. They had called on Lady Russell, who had been glad to see her. Lady Elliot had informed her friend of her pregnancy, but Lady Russell had not known with whom she could talk about this puzzling occurrence, even though she knew Mrs Croft knew. However, she had always seen Mrs Croft in company of the admiral and it could not be discussed in front of him. This was not a topic for men.

Now Mrs Croft had come with Anne only and Lady Russell seized her chance. "I am very worried about your mother, Anne. This is not something for women our age."

"I had better say as little about the subject as I am supposed to know," Anne answered. Lady Russell was very proper and Anne did not know how little an unmarried girl was supposed to know. "But I share your worries."

"How is it really? I depend on her letters and she makes light of it."

"Yes, she makes light of it. She does not have any problems at all. Yet. She does say my father should not get his hopes up about a son." She did not list all the possibilities her mother had covered, which ranged from a live boy and a live mother in the best of cases, to a dead child and a dead mother in the worst.

Lady Russell wished the outcome would make them all happy and she said so, but Anne did not trust in that well enough to voice her agreement. If life were as easy as that, it would have been easy twenty years ago. Several boys could have been brought into the world. There was nothing to be learnt from this long delay, no character to be strengthened. Anne could not see it, at any rate. Perhaps her mother was less frustrated by her father now, but if there was no son that might only be temporary.

One was punished for the rest of one's life for making too rash a choice, be it a choice for or a choice against marrying. Anne sighed.

"You are still worried about your mother," Mrs Croft observed when they walked back.

"I am."

"There is nothing you can do and it has been going well so far."

"She should not have been so stupid," Anne said petulantly. "She should not have allowed my father such liberties only to get him to economise. Why is he not open to reason? What sort of life is it to have to do such unpleasant things for something that could be obtained by other means? Please tell me the admiral is open to reason and not to manipulation. I shall lose all faith in mankind otherwise and I will never marry."

Mrs Croft looked serious. "First of all, one can never completely go without some manipulation in either direction, but reasoning works with him."

"I do not want anything else. It makes me very sad that my mother does not have it." There were tears in her eyes.

"Perhaps you have too bleak a view of your father and mother?" Mrs Croft suggested.

Anne was sometimes obstinate. "I think not. I have lived with them all my life."

"Your mother may be happier with her situation than you might think. She is not you." This was spoken kindly. "You may prefer a more self-sufficient man and if that is the case you must marry one."

"But what if she does too and she did not marry one?"

"The only thing you could do is not marry a man who needs excessive guidance. I do not think you could find one who needs no manipulating, nor do I think you could find one who would not manipulate you once in a while, but that is a fair exchange."

Anne was still struggling. "But if one must do unpleasant things!" She was glad Mrs Croft wanted to discuss this with her. Nobody else would.

"I never do things that are very unpleasant to me," Mrs Croft said cheerfully. "You must ask yourself which husbands could derive enjoyment from making their wives do something they abhor. You may not in fact know any. Your father, while he might not notice if your mother considered something unpleasant, does not need such drastic measures, I think. He seems to be rather easily guided. Your mother does not have to go to unpleasant lengths."

"I hope so. Do you really never do unpleasant things?"

"I sometimes have to talk to people I do not care for, but that is not what you mean, is it?"

Anne was silent.

"Put the matter out of your mind till you marry. No, that is stupid," Mrs Croft corrected herself. "The problem is that you cannot know what being married is like until you are married. Spending much time together beforehand is good, such as when you took Frederick out of the room."

"I did not!" Anne blushed because of everything: because of what Mrs Croft might think and because of the idea that she had been practising for a marriage to Frederick. He would disagree. "He followed."

"Without being manipulated?"

"I cannot say. He and I disagree about that, I think. I do not know. It was not at all clear."

"There! You are not above a little gentle steering yourself. Was he too easily steered to your tastes?"

"Well..." Anne thought about it. "I could predict what he would do, because he does not like admitting defeat. That was clear. He would see being left behind as my defeating him, so he followed."

"But you do not think him weak? What are his faults? He must have some."

"Do you not know them?"

Mrs Croft laughed. "I know them. That is why you are here."

"I knew you had some other purpose, but I could not think what it was. I thought it might be related to him. But how? You cannot have asked me here to discuss his faults."

After a few more days Frederick had come to the conclusion that he must first discover why he was thinking about Anne before he moved on. It struck him that he would never be happy if he did not rid himself of thoughts of her. That he was still in love with her was a small danger, but even that had to be examined.

He could not tell Edward he was going to Bath. Suppose he failed -- Edward would know about it. He did not even know what he wanted to do in Bath, only that he should probably see Anne again and take it from there.

He should go to Kellynch first and then find some excuse, but he could not immediately go back to Kellynch or Edward would think he had not been a good host. He did enjoy his time in Shropshire. His brother was good company and his sister-in-law was an agreeable young woman, but he as he watched them be happy together he could not help feeling restless.

When he left he promised to visit again soon; he did not really have much else to do, as far as they knew.

Arriving at Kellynch, he supposed it might be dinner time. A servant told him it was indeed so and he checked his hair in one of the mirrors in the hall. Among family it would not matter that he looked slightly unkempt and he entered the dining room with a rumbling stomach.

But with no idea that he would come face to face with Anne Elliot.

She sat there, eating, and he stared. It cost him some trouble to reply to Sophia when she said something. "I thought I might as well eat, since nobody was going to mind my appearance."

"Do sit down. We do indeed not mind."

"Miss Elliot," he said with a bow, remembering his manners. She seemed as surprised as he was.

She could not have come for him, because she had not known when he would be back. Nobody had known that. He wondered what other reason could have brought her here. "Is your sister ill again?" he inquired.

"She would not be here in that case," his own sister reminded him. "How was Edward?"

"He could not be better, but do not make me take over the conversation. I should prefer not to have so much attention drawn to my person, since I have not changed for dinner." He watched as the servants busied themselves to give him plates and cutlery.

"You would like to hear how well you look in spite of just coming off the road," Mrs Croft nodded. "But you probably already knew you were in the fortunate circumstance of always looking tolerable."

He grinned, in spite of the fact that Anne's presence still disturbed him. Her sister was not ill and she seemed to be Sophia's guest. Why? Lady Elliot was Sophia's friend, so what had they arranged amongst themselves? It was strange, because they could not have known when he was coming back, unless they had intended for Anne to remain here for weeks or months.

"I do apologise, Miss Elliot," he said across the table. "I am sure it is not acceptable in your family."

"I do not mind," she said graciously, but what else could she say?

"What did you think of Edward's wife?" Mrs Croft inquired.

"I thought they were perfectly suited, although she has changed him. I found him to be less serious."

"Yes, that happens sometimes. You did not stay with him long. Was he not serious enough?"

"I did not want to intrude on their marital bliss."

"So you come to intrude on ours," the admiral winked.

"I did not know you felt that my presence was an intrusion," Frederick said a little stiffly. So much for a silly excuse. They would not believe it, which he could have known.

"Oh, after fifteen years everyone is free to intrude. I do not think we consider family an intrusion." The admiral raised his eyebrows at his wife.

"There are many people I should not consider an intrusion," Mrs Croft replied. "But Frederick would be one of the last."

Anne was only now recovering from seeing him come into the dining room and she had not given any thought at all to who might be an intrusion. She had certainly not feared that the Crofts considered her as one. What Frederick could be thinking of her presence was foremost in her mind.

Mrs Croft had been right. He looked tolerable even if he had just travelled. Anne did not at all mind how he looked. It was more important to her how he behaved. He had not looked unwilling to converse with her politely, although he had not yet said very much yet.

The rest of the conversation was mostly about Edward, his wife and his house, and Anne listened with interest. It sounded as if Mr Wentworth had done well. His brother was certainly able to stress points she also considered important. There was very little talk about material possessions, which was sometimes different when people spoke about others.

After dinner Frederick disappeared for a change of clothes.

"I did not know he was arriving today," Mrs Croft said to Anne as they made their way to another room. The admiral trailed after them. "But I am glad he did."

"Did you miss him?"

"A little. I hope you do not mind his being here."

"I knew there was a chance and I stayed after you told me about your false pretences. I hope he does not mind that I am here. He might not like interfering family members." Anne was a little worried about the excuse Mrs Croft was going to give Frederick for her presence. It would be unconvincing.

"I invited a friend."

That was true. Anne and she had got along. Anne had found that Mrs Croft was not as old as she had at first thought. A sister of Frederick's could never be, but the fact that Mrs Croft had spent more time with her mother had given her the wrong impression. That might only have been because of their babies. She was still in her thirties and Anne considered herself to be approaching those thirties very rapidly.

"But you must call me Sophia," Mrs Croft continued. "It might not convince him otherwise. Our family does not stand upon ceremony."

"Yes, Sophia," Anne said dutifully. She glanced at the admiral, who was doing something on the other side of the room.

"He does not stand upon ceremony either," Sophia assured her.

He did not mind calling his wife Sophy in company, so Anne did not doubt it. It was different, however, from being addressed very informally by a young woman. She did not know his name and she was not going to ask for it now. Even Sophia had not used it. He had been the admiral, a dear or a dear admiral. The latter two were things Anne could never use.

"Do you stand upon ceremony, my dear?" Sophia called out.

He gave her a confused look. "Where? When?"

"You would not mind Anne calling me Sophia, would you?"

"It sounds a lot better than Bertha."

"Oh dear. You would not have married me had my name been Bertha?" The idea amused her.

"Absolutely not," he said with a shudder. "Imagine speaking to friends. I married a very pretty girl. Her name is Bertha?"

"I hope he thinks his own name above reproach," Sophia said to Anne.

Anne was amused as well, but the admiral was not very fair on Berthas, perhaps. They could not help their name. It was all their parents' fault. "I hope you were not thinking of naming a daughter thus. I do not think he would like it."

"He certainly would not," the admiral replied. "If Frederick should ever name a daughter of his Bertha..."

Apparently he had better than the two ladies, for Frederick appeared that moment. He had dressed quickly. "What of it?"

Chapter Twenty-One

Posted on 2009-03-15

"If you should ever name a daughter of yours Bertha, I was saying," said the admiral.

"You will not allow her to marry your son?"

"Speaking of whom..." Sophia beckoned her husband. She sat down on a sofa and she leant back, her abdomen suddenly looking huge. The admiral sat beside her and started to place his hands on her waist.

"I hate it when you do that," Frederick muttered as he turned away. He wondered if they were doing it on purpose, for he could only turn towards Anne. She did not look too unsettled by the display and he wondered if he was overly fastidious. He had never thought of himself as such, for there were worse things he had seen. It must be a combination of it being his sister and it being sickeningly sweet. "I hate it when they do that," he informed Anne.

She had not seen them do it before, although clearly the admiral was no stranger to the activity. He knew where to place his hands and he knew it was allowed. She could only surmise that the activity had a purpose now. If the child had been able to behave itself before, there was no reason to assume it was suddenly clamouring for attention in company. "It is sweet. I suppose."

He glared at her and took up a position on a sofa that had its back to the others. "It is provocative. They know I do not like seeing such displays."

"They will not understand if you tell them. My father recently embraced my mother quite scandalously and when I spoke up he told me I should leave the room if I did not like it. No embarrassment whatsoever." This still puzzled her. Sir Walter Elliot, who was so mindful of his image and propriety in other respects, had been neither understanding nor embarrassed.

"Your father? Is he not too old for that?"

"I should think so, but apparently he disagreed." Anne shrugged. She sat down beside him. Although she did not mind this display in the least, she would give them some time alone. They were simply happy about their child. "Perhaps you will do the very same thing when Bertha is in the making." The name was spoken with the slightest tremor in her voice.

"Not in company." Frederick wondered about it. He might do it indeed. Perhaps that was why it annoyed him. He might do it, but the opportunity was not going to come soon. "May I ask why the name Bertha came up?"

Anne hesitated. If she told him Sophia had told the admiral that Anne would be using her name, Frederick would know she had not been using it before and he should think they were friends. "The admiral..." She shrugged as if the admiral was incomprehensible. "Why does your sister never use his name if they do not stand upon ceremony? Even my mother addresses my father as Walter, although he may call her Lady Elliot unless he is not paying attention."

"I never pay attention. I cannot call him by his name myself. I am only a captain."

"Oh."

He glanced over his shoulder, but they were still at it. "One would think they would tire of it after fifteen years."

"I am sure they would have tired of it had this been their tenth child," Anne said mildly. "I hope not to tire of my husband so quickly, should I ever marry."

She had tired very quickly of her betrothed, he wanted to say, but he did not.

"My mother seems to have been tired of my father for about twenty years," she continued. "Such a period would be unbearable to me. I do like seeing people who do not tire of each other. It gives me hope."

"Hope?" He had never viewed it like that. "You would like to sit on the sofa after fifteen years and cuddle in front of a younger brother and a guest?"

Anne glanced over her shoulder as well. "If you call that a cuddle, you should stay away from my parents on a Sunday. I am quite inured -- or educated, if you like -- by now. We have too many mirrors in our drawing room, you know. I suppose they thought it safe, because they know I am too much of a good girl to put the knowledge into practice."

"You are too much of a bad girl, telling me all about it," Frederick pointed out.

"You are too good to take advantage. I should not tell a man of whom I knew very little," Anne said confidently. "But indeed, I am aware of saying more than I ought. I thought, however, that we were comparing experiences of embarrassment and not leading each other astray?"

"I am tired of being good," he said with an edge to his voice.

Anne was aware of knees touching, hands touching, lips touching with unnerving slowness and determination and by the time she could think clearly minutes or even hours must have passed, with them in plain view of Admiral and Mrs Croft. She pulled Frederick flat onto the sofa with her, as it was the easiest way out of sight, but without any intention to let go.

"Whoa," observed he intelligently when he regained full consciousness. She was looking at him in a mixture of bliss and desperation. He propped himself up on one elbow to take his bearings. She had made use of at least two hands and one leg to keep him in place. It had been more than enough. There must be more strength in a girl than he had ever imagined. Or more weakness in a man.

"Did they see?"

It occurred to him that he had not so much been tired of being good, but rather all too ready for this sort of thing. From the way she was still clutching him he gathered she was not feeling too different. If she was afraid or shocked she would have pushed him off. "Whoa," he observed again.

Being a good girl, Anne should of course search actively for a way to save herself, but one thing that was very clear to her was that two heads suddenly popping up from behind the back of a sofa were not very innocent. She leant towards staying put or for dropping Frederick onto the floor. Then again, Admiral and Mrs Croft might have seen everything and any move would be useless. She blushed.

"I needed that," he whispered.

"Yes."

"You did too."

"Perhaps."

He knelt on the floor and crawled towards the edge of the sofa. Peering around it, he saw nothing in the place where Sophia and the admiral used to be. Nothing. He frowned. They were not elsewhere in the room either, as far as he could tell. There was a little gasp from Anne when he stood up, but it was safe. The others were gone.

The question was: when had they left? And just how long had this little episode lasted?

He stuck a hand out to Anne and helped her to her feet. "They are gone," he explained superfluously.

"But where? When?" She looked concerned.

"We must forever wonder, unless we reveal all."

"Which we should not."

He glanced at the clock. "Perhaps they went to bed. They could have. I led someone astray," he realised.

"It is better to have done that to me than to an innocent young girl who had much to lose." Anne felt quite calm about it. It had not been wrong. And she would really much rather have him do this to her than to someone else.

"Have you nothing to lose?"

"I have not lost anything."

He peered out of the room. "No sign of them. Do you think they could have gone to bed?"

"They have been going early." Anne had looked at the time and it was perhaps a quarter of an hour earlier than they had gone yesterday. It was possible. She could imagine Mrs Croft going earlier today to leave them alone, in which case she and the admiral might have left before there was anything to be seen. Anne wished she could remember how much time had passed.

"But if that is so, they will not be back." He closed the door and turned.

"What do you mean?"

"Do we go to bed or do we stay here?"

She was tempted to say they were staying, but she did not dare. "Do you leave the choice up to me?"

Frederick thought about it for a split second. "No." He drew her close and embraced her, without kissing her this time. "Do you think we could sleep in the portrait gallery?"

"The portrait gallery?"

"There is a very comfortable and wide sofa there."

"There is," Anne recalled. "But why sleep there?"

"Very properly," he hastened to say.

"I should think so. All my ancestors are looking on, you know. But why do you want to sleep there?"

"Not all night. Till midnight perhaps," he said even more hurriedly. "I need that. Nobody has hugged me for years."

Anne was torn between protecting her future and possibly ruining it. She did not know how well he knew himself and how much of his pride was left. He might withdraw if she insisted on being married. If she said nothing he would eventually realise what was best and he would think it his own idea. He would not like to be forced.

She could at any point force him -- too much had happened -- but it might be wiser to let it take its natural course without pushing him away. If Admiral and Mrs Croft had seen anything at all they would support her claims. This gave her the confidence to deal with Frederick's unusual request.

"I will hug you," she answered. It was pleasant. "I will come to the portrait gallery with you, but..."

"I know. We need a blanket."

That was not what she had been about to say, but a blanket was not a bad idea.

"They are gone," Admiral Croft observed incredulously. Their business in another room had taken rather long, for he had had to strip Sophia of several layers of clothing to be able to see her skin move and then he had had to dress her up again. "Surely we did not take that long? How long did we take?"

Mrs Croft had been rather worried that someone might see her gown was looking as if it had been removed and she had been busier straightening it than looking around herself. Her husband was a dear, but he did not see the difference between an unclothed wife, a badly-clothed wife and a well-clothed wife at all. They were all equally dear to him, he would say. She liked him for it, but other people might not be as easy.

"Do you think they could have gone to bed?" the admiral wondered. He glanced at the clock. "Do you think we could go too? What a waste of time to dress you up in that case."

"Hush!"

"There is nobody here," he pointed out. He examined the cushions on the sofa. "They do not speak of a civil departure."

"Who?"

"These cushions. Look. All squished and on the floor. And all lights and the fire still on."

"Indeed. Lady Elliot will have taught her daughter not to leave a room like that. She was particular about fires, I heard. But what do we do? It is bedtime."

"We go to bed." He extinguished the lights in the drawing room and put out the fire. "They are not likely to come back if they are both out now."

It was dark in the portrait gallery. Save for the candle that Anne had brought there was no light. Frederick had gone off to fetch a blanket and Anne curled up on the sofa. It was a comfortable one. Sir Walter liked to nap here. His own portrait and that of his father's were right above the sofa, with other ancestors beside them. The current Lady Elliot's portrait was also allowed to be in the middle of the gallery, but other women were relegated to the sides, since they were not as handsome.

"My parents are looking down on us," she informed Frederick to warn him off anything scandalous he might have planned when he returned.

"In every way." He blew out the candles. "There. Now they cannot see us anymore."

"Frederick..." she protested.

He arranged the blanket over them and pulled her close. "Oh, forget about those portraits."

"What had you planned to do here until midnight?" Now that she was here, Anne admitted to being nervous.

"Nothing," he said, as if she should have known. "If we cannot talk until midnight, we have no business doing anything together."

The idea that he was even considering doing something together, as unspecified as it was, gave Anne a little thrill. "That is true, but we need not be --"

"-- under a blanket together?" he finished. "Perhaps not, but it is a lot more pleasant than sitting on opposite sides of a table. But I thought you were not afraid of dangerous men?"

"I know the purpose of dangerous men. While I have never encountered any, I have heard about them. I have never heard of a man who merely wanted to be on a sofa with anyone." Not knowing his exact purpose did unsettle her a little.

"You have been staying in one's house for days."

Anne giggled. "You are right. I forgot. But he restricts himself to your sister."

"I restrict myself to you. I always have, even when I did not want to."

She was still. Was this the beginning of a realisation or confession? She did not want to spoil it by interrupting him. She certainly did not want him to take his hand off her hair.

"I did not want to have dinner with your family in Bath," Frederick continued. "I did not want to do any of those things you made me do. I kept thinking about them, however, when I was at Edward's."

"I hardly knew what I was doing," Anne said ashamedly. She hoped he had not thought ill of her. "Taking you up to my room."

"You trusted me. I did not deserve that. You trusted me as if I had never been away."

"My feelings do not change simply because someone goes away." She was glad it was dark, although if he felt her face he would feel it was very hot. But he did not feel her face; he kissed it.

"I am sorry." He could not be as good. He had had too many feelings at once, but never only love. Even at present he was unsure of what he was really feeling. "If they did see us, do you think they would make us marry?"

"I doubt they would force us to do anything that would make either of us unhappy, but if one party wanted to and the other did not, they would probably politely request the unwilling party to leave Kellynch."

Frederick thought that was a sensible prediction. He considered it. "But I cannot want a woman who does not want me." It had been a principle of his for so many years. It was difficult to give up.

"I cannot want a man who does not want me, but I cannot ask him."

"You must."

Anne felt a little panic. "What if he says no?"

"And what if a woman says no when a man asks? Why should we be the only ones to feel uncertain? Women have all the power."

It was difficult to say. "Do you want me?"

"If you promise not to jilt me in two days."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Posted on 2009-03-19

Admiral and Mrs Croft had not at all been surprised. Anne suspected that Mrs Croft had even actively been steering towards this outcome, although she was still not sure whether they had seen anything. They were, however, very kind and very welcoming and it was for more than one reason that she was glad she would be moving back to Kellynch.

Frederick was not going to live in Bath, he had said. That was one point on which he was still very stubborn. While he did not mind the Elliots as much as before, he infinitely preferred to company of his sister.

Anne was in a quandary. She would have liked to be near her mother, but she allowed herself to be persuaded that nothing was going to happen for weeks. Lady Russell moved to Bath after Christmas and her mother was not completely alone -- Anne did not count Sir Walter when it came to useful people, even if she did not consciously discount him.

Frederick had had to travel to Bath, of course, to inform the Elliots of his intentions. Sir Walter was amazed, Lady Elliot less so, but neither had any objections. Anne would not have been swayed by any, but she was glad for the encouragement nonetheless.

Elizabeth Elliot had been informed by letter and she had sent back cold congratulations, whereas Mary had been hurt by not having been told anything was going on. But she quickly recovered, because having the captain as a connection was to her advantage.

It took too long until the wedding; it always did. Fortunately, despite his constant and rather vexing reminiscences about quick weddings, Admiral Croft turned a blind eye to anything that might not yet be proper. If they could live with it, so could he, was his reasoning and consequently they adopted this way of thinking as well. There was a lot that Frederick could live with, Anne discovered, but she would not have minded even more.

When all that was settled they could look forward to the next large event, the birth of the Crofts' child. The gentlemen began to be nervous about it, seeing Sophia inflate to almost incredible proportions. They did not understand how she could still walk.

Frederick especially was concerned, about Sophia as well as about Anne, who might go through this in the future. After a few children she would never get back to normal. Frederick shuddered when he thought of Anne looking like Mrs Musgrove in a few years, especially if she was as prolific as her younger sister when it came to having children -- young Mrs Musgrove was carrying her third.

Just when the gentlemen were sure that Sophia would fall over or fall apart, she gave birth. Her size was explained the moment the second child was born and soon after the birth she had shrunk again to more normal proportions.

Anne attended the birth because Sophia had not wanted any silly people with her. The helpful advice she had been receiving had driven her mad and she was determined not to send for any of these women when the moment arrived. The admiral was quite useful and Anne worried about her mother. Her father would faint at the very least, if he went in at all, and her mother would have nobody with her.

Two weeks after, there was an express from Bath informing them that Anne had a brother. Sir Walter had finally got his wish. He had even exerted himself so much as to write the message himself. Although Lady Elliot had promised to send for Anne as soon as she felt anything, trusting it would take a day at least, it appeared that Sir Walter had in his distress forgotten to send off that message. When three hours later he had a son, he thought he had better send off something else.

Anne was relieved. There were no particulars, such as who had assisted her mother, or how horrid it had been. If one was to believe Sir Walter it had been quick and easy, and probably clean. She suspected he had not witnessed it at all. Secretly she was glad she had only had to attend one birth, even if it had been a double, but she felt a little guilty about abandoning her mother nevertheless.

Frederick and she went to Bath as soon as they could. William and Elizabeth did not arrive long after them. Everybody except Sir Walter had been fearing their reaction and they were as incredulous and angry as Anne had expected. They had come to see for themselves if this was not 'another of Sir Walter's jokes'. When faced with the truth, a real little boy she even demanded to see undressed, Elizabeth shrieked and raved. She would not be Lady Elliot now.

Anne felt sorry for her, but she did not think her parents deserved this reaction. There were never any certainties if one did not already have the rank. William could have died before her father and her parents had not had a child on purpose.

Everybody was having one. She wondered when it was her turn.