"It was very kind of the Admiral and your sister to accompany us this evening," said Anne as she finished her soup.

Frederick smiled and said, "Never let it be said that Sophy is not a romantic. When I asked if they would act as our chaperones, it was she who finessed them to another table and, I suspect, keeps the attention from us. Though it is not so difficult since they seem to have found old friends with which to entertain themselves." They looked to a table on the far side of the dining room and saw the Crofts had exchanged their smallish table for the two of them to a much larger one at which they were entertaining themselves with another couple and two gentlemen in uniform. The mood of the table was obviously gay and there was much laughter as the food and the wine was liberally applied. As Frederick had made the arrangement sweeter by offering to pay for their meal.

He thought to himself, Thank Heavens I will not need chaperones much longer, I could be flat in no time at this pace. Upon further reflection, he determined that having this much privacy with Anne was well worth the cost.

"So, would you rather be over with the Crofts and their party, enjoying all the merriment?"

Moving his gaze from them to her, he said, "Hardly! A small, quiet table in the corner, alone with you, or that uproarious group over there? There is no question, here with you."

The keep himself had been caring for their table and he had come to remove the soup and to plate the fish course. He was a smiling man who had taken a liking to the Captain the day before when he had served him and Croft a light dinner. He could also tell by the way she looked about and kept a close watch on her reticule that the young lady was not a frequenter of public establishments such as his and was hoping that she would not be disappointed by the fare. Laying the fish before them, he took his leave and moved to the table of the Admiral.

"So, what do you think of the Headwaters?" Frederick asked as he smoothed his napkin in his lap.

As she did the same, Anne answered, "It is very nice, I like it very much."

He laughed a bit, "It is not very nice. In the daylight you would see that everything is well-worn and not very fashionable. Candlelight can be very flattering to people or to the surroundings. It is not an establishment that your father would approve, that is certain." With faint smiles, they nodded to one another in acknowledgment of this. Wine and glasses had been brought and he poured her a glass. "But, it is quiet and clean and the food is good; it is nothing like a Molland's or one of the other establishments the first set frequents . . . I do not believe that we will be seeing the Viscountess Dalrymple popping in for a bite and a quaff," he said as he filled his own glass. As he prepared to begin, he looked over the chaffing dish and plate. As had been promised, hake fillets in a buttery sauce which the owner assured him was very popular with his regular customers. It smelled wonderful and so their quiet, somewhat private meal continued.

As she finished her first bite of the fish, Anne laughed at the notion of the Viscountess even knowing that this part of town existed much less partaking of a meal here. "I am certain that we will bear the deprivation quite well. The fish is very good. A particular favorite of yours or a local spécialité?"

"I think it is a special of the house. While I have learned to appreciate good food, I am not too particular. Over the years, Harville, Benwick and I have most likely eaten every spare part of the goat, sheep and pig that foreign cooks are wont to prepare. I have discovered that when cooked long enough, with the liberal addition of spices, most anything can be made edible," he smiled.

"Is that so?" she wished keenly to ask about those parts he mentioned, but determined that it would not be the politest of conversation for the table. Deciding to pursue another line, she asked, "Do you still like rabbit?" She hoped to impress him with all she could remember from their first time together.

"So, you recall my predilection? Yes, I still like rabbit; still roasted, and now I have taken a liking to mangoe chutney on the side. Sophia was kind enough to have it a bit over a week ago; it seems that good rabbit is getting hard to come by. I may have to find something else I like best." Being done with his fish, he pushed his plate aside and poured another glass of wine. As he took a drink, he said, "Perhaps you could recommend something to take its place."

Anne smiled. "I cannot think of anything to take the place of your beloved rabbit, but perhaps I could make you some of those sweet arrack biscuits you were so fond of?" In a spate of love and desiring to please him in their first engagement, she had put her hand to baking a favorite sweet of his and the results had been disastrous. Sitting on the plate, they had looked very fine, but when eaten, they were extremely hard and the blackened bottoms gave the bitterest of flavor. As she said this, she looked to see if he would remember the offering, the burnt offering as it were.

He began to laugh. "Oh my. I recall how earnest you were when you brought them to me. All I could do was put them in my mouth, chew and smile. The thought was lovely, but the execution was rather desperate." Looking into her eyes, he could still see the nineteen-year-old girl who had given him such a simple gift that had been made with her own loving hands. She had told him of stealing into the kitchen and cajoling the cook to help her; her father highly disapproved of his daughters knowing more than how to order a particular dish. Had he known that she herself had engaged in the cooking of them, he would have been furious. The daughter of a Baronet had a position to maintain and that did not include common household tasks. "Perhaps when we have a home of our own, you could try them again." A look came over Anne which he could not read. "Have I said something wrong? Anne, what is it?"

She blinked back the smarting in her eyes. Feeling tears coming, she reached for her bag and a handkerchief. Laughing as she dabbed her eyes, she said, "No, you have said nothing wrong. You will think me ridiculous, but I have given much thought about how you and I will have a home together. A home of my own . . . a home of our own. It is odd to think we shall have a place where there are no tastes to please excepting ours. I have never had such a place." She became quiet in contemplation.

Taking another drink, Frederick thought about what she had said. She has never had a place to indulge her own tastes. Even I have had that. As the captain of the Asp and the Laconia he had his own cabin, and while neither was spacious by any means, they had been his to do with as he had wished. Not that I did anything in the way of adornment, just the fact that I could . . . The longer he was sailing, the more he came to know the limitations he lived under, but he was realising that even his limited life aboard ship was wider and deeper than the one Anne had been living. "When we find a place of our own, you are free to do as you wish. All I care for is a large desk and a place for some books I have collected over the years. Some have not had the light of day for several years for being in one of my sea chests." Giving her a smile, he said, "There is even a book of Cowper. Do you remember how you used to try and read him to me? I must confess, the man is still a puzzle."

"Well, when we are settled, perhaps we can bring out Mr. Cowper and try to unravel the mystery. So, do you think me foolish to become weepy over such a thing as a home for us?" asked Anne.

With a tenderness in his voice, "No, I do not think you foolish, for I have not thought much of it, except in the general terms where we might live. While I do not think that Sophia and the Admiral would mind keeping us for a bit, I imagine it would be pleasanter to have a home to ourselves." Under the table he took her hand. They had never spoken of a home and where to make it; conversations such as these were broadening their notions; not only did they love one another and were to marry, but the planning of a life together was becoming a most enjoyable undertaking.

"Have you determined where we should set up keeping?" she wished to know what he might think about this as she had no notions of her own.

The table was being cleared and the next course was being laid. A Strasbourg pie was plated and served to them. As he buttered a piece of bread, he said, "I am not enamoured of any particular place. Having not lived ashore for so long, I am rather uncommitted. I think that your judgement might be best on the matter." He took a drink and gave her an open look.

"Well, do you prefer the city to the country or the other way round?" She hoped for the country, but he would be used to town since most ports were on large cities.

"Perhaps I am not as uncommitted as I thought. I much prefer the country, it is more amenable to me, or maybe it is the other way round," he replied. Taking another serving of the pie, "This is very good, I like it heavy with mushrooms. What of you? The city or country?" He thought he knew what she would say.

"I like the country, but a small town might do; have you ever thought to live in Lyme?" Anne's knowledge of places to live was so limited that after Kellynch and Uppercross–Bath not even being considered–the only place left was Lyme.

"Lyme?" he said with surprise. "Mm . . . you mentioned at the concert that you would like to see it again, I had no idea that you might wish to live there. What would its chief attractions be for you?" He took a bite of the pie and awaited her answer.

"Of all the places I know, in the neighborhood of Kellynch, I would only wish to live at the Hall, and that is impossible. There are too many family considerations in Uppercross." She looked at him with an arched look and they laughed, both knowing that Mary was the only family consideration that she meant. "I have no desire to stay here in Bath, and so Lyme is the only place left. Besides that, I think it would not offend you to live by the sea?" Taking a bite herself, she now awaited his answer.

"No, I would have no objections living in Lyme or most any place by the sea." He took a drink of wine and decided to tell her something which had been fixed in the back of his mind and refused to be silent until he shared it with her. "Anne, I have to tell you, if you have ever thought that I was done with the sea because I have been put ashore, that would be wrong to think. As ungracious as this is to say, the sea is rather like an . . . inamorata to me." He looked down to the plate and pushed about a piece of crust. Looking back up to her, he smiled and said, "Why do foreign words make things sound less contemptible? Anywise, I cannot rid myself of her. I will, God willing, go back; if not in service to the Crown, I will take a merchantman. Though, when I am able to come home to you, I shall endeavor to leave her behind. But you must understand, she will always call me back." He knew that the words and allusion he had used was possibly indelicate, but she must understand how strong his tie to the sea was. In fact, over the years, when he had turned away from any notions of a second attachment, he had in many ways taken the sea to himself as one would a wife. He had been faithful to her and pledged himself, body and soul, to her. It had only been in the past few years that he had begun to feel the incompleteness of the relationship, but it was still strong and would hold him for life.

"Those are very strong words, Frederick," said Anne as she looked into his eyes.

"I have very strong feelings," he said, as he looked back to her.

There had never been any question in her mind that Frederick would ever leave the sea. Though she had been young at their first engagement, she had clearly seen the passion and zeal he had, not only for the sea, but also the profession he had given himself over to. Anne began to a laugh softly. She had known his feelings to be strong, and she thought it ironic that she herself had compared it to the love of a man and a woman. Seeing his puzzled look, she told him about her impressions when they had first arrived in Lyme. "I watched you. You did not know it, but I watched you the entire time we walked from the carriage to the beach. What I saw brought to mind an epic poem in which lovers are violently separated and kept apart for ages; then, when they are reunited, they stand mesmerised by the sight of one another. There is no one left in the world except the two of them. I saw that in you." She paused, rather embarrassed that she had used such precise words. Just as precise as his. "So you see, I am well aware of your, attachment."

He gazed at her a moment and desired to tell her something more. "If you saw all that in me when we were at Lyme, then I wonder you did not recognise it when we first saw one another at Molland's. And I think that, my dear, is much closer to the truth of your epic poem than me and the sea." Taking her hand again and holding it under the table, he looked into her eyes and felt nearly that same way. The sounds of glass and silver, the people seated at other tables and their laughter ebbed. All he saw was the sweet and tender face that he looked forward to seeing for the rest of his days.

Relinquishing her hand, both fell to eating, to give such a close topic time to rest. Again, they were discussing things that they had never spoken of before. They were beginning to know one another better with each conversation. They were silent through what remained of the course. The keep came personally to clear for the saddle of lamb.

"I hope everything is to your likin', sir. I also hope you don't mind me giving you a little better table than you asked for yesterday. This here's quieter." As he said this, he gave a knowing look to the direction of the Crofts' table. The man worked quickly and carved the saddle expertly and served the meat and the sides smartly. He had obviously been about the public house trade a good long time.

Frederick returned his look and said, "Thank you for the change, it is much quieter here. And thank you for the attention to the menu. Everything has been very good."

"Thank you, sir." He bowed and was off to another table.

"So, you had this all planned yesterday?" said Anne as she began to cut into her lamb.

"Yes, Croft and I came in here after I had a fitting for my new coat. I forgot to tell you, I am having a new uniform coat made for the wedding. The lace on my other is a bit tarnished and the broadcloth too faded for the likes of Sir Walter, so rather than merely replace the one, I determined it was time for new," he said. Since he had met with Lady Russell, he had pondered how to bring the subject of wedding clothes to their conversation; perhaps this was the opening he wished.

Anne had been turning something to do with the wedding in her mind. Her father had been clear that money was not to be had for extravagance, though Lady Russell was to furnish much of the wedding festivities. He had given her a ridiculously small amount of money to furnish herself with a dress and a trousseau and rather than stint in the making of a gown, she determined to have one already in her possession made over. Two in particular, with few adjustments would serve the purpose well and thus allowing her to renew other aspects of her wardrobe somewhat; she would be embarrassed to go to a husband in her present threadbare condition. Her thought had been to ask Frederick his preference in colour so that she might have the one closest done over. "Speaking of having something newly made up . . . well, in this case, made over; I have a special occasion coming and am going to have one of two dresses made over. One is a deep blue, moiré silk; a rather extravagant purchase some time ago with quite a lot of wear left, the other is a beautiful claret coloured grosgrain. Which do you think I should make over?" she enquired.

Thinking as he chewed, Well, here is the beginning of this, he finished and smiling to her, said, "I always prefer blue, myself. But perhaps the occasion should dictate the colour that you chuse. What is the event, an evening in Lady Dalrymple's salon? Or a dreaded card party with the Wallises?" His tone had been light and teazing, but the look on Anne's face had grown strangely solemn, she had thought he would say a colour, not ask questions about the occasion she was to wear the dress. She had no idea what to say. "Anne, are you all right? You look bothered. What is wrong?" he asked.

She decided that she had best confess to him what the occasion was. "I am making the dress over for our wedding. I wished you to chuse the colour you would like the best . . . for the wedding." Dropped her eyes to her plate, she pretended to take a bite. It surprised her how mortifying it was to admit she must make over a dress for her own wedding; she obviously had more of the Elliot pride than she cared to admit.

"Oh," was all that Frederick had to say. He could see her reluctance in telling him this and was not certain how he should respond. The look on her face was painful to see. He was not certain the feelings behind it, but he knew her to be aggrieved. The evening was quickly losing its gaiety and he wished to be done with this as quickly as possible.

His inflection surprised her, she had not expected that he would be vain in this matter. "By your dismayed tone, I take it that you would not like my made over dress to stand up next to your newly-tailored uniform coat?" The words hung in the air; she knew them to be cruel and most untrue. Her eyes widened in realisation of what she had said. How could she say such a thing? Feeling her face warm, she looked down to her plate and began to apologize, "I . . . am sorry, Frederick. I have no notion as to why I would say such an abominable thing to you. I . . . " She looked up and saw him wiping his mouth on his napkin. He looked away from her for a moment. Seeing his expression, she knew she had hurt him deeply and that he must be quite angry with her.

Frederick gazed at a sconce alight on the wall opposite to them. He was indeed angry, but not with her. Sir Walter was the object of his ill-will. Glancing towards Anne, he could see that she was already flaying herself for what she had said. He knew he had to make her understand what she had heard. She must know his mind in this. He topped off the glasses of the burgundy that had been brought with the lamb. Taking a drink, he began. "First of all, my dear, I must disabuse you of the notion that I am a snob." He looked to her with a cocked brow and a faint smile. She was relieved to see that he seemed neither angry nor very hurt. "You should know that in my youth, when I was of enough bulk, much of what I had was made over from my brother, Edward; I am not unfamiliar with the practice and have no objection to it. In fact, I have been known to take a needle and thread myself and possess several pairs of duck work trousers I sewed myself–years ago." Leaning towards her he said in a low voice, "Perhaps if you ask nicely, after we are married, I will display my prowess in stocking darning." Taking another drink, he watched her over the rim of the glass.

Anne smiled thinking of this man, a captain of the Navy, sewing trousers and darning his own stockings. It was obvious that he had little regard for what she wore, his pride was not involved. But he was concerned somehow, she wondered how that might be.

"I wish to tell you about the sort of law I live my life by. May I?" Looking to her for a response, she nodded silently and he went on, "When a captain has a great victory in battle or captures a rich prize, the entire crew has a share of it. They have a part, for they stayed to their stations and did their duties well. They have a piece of the victory; if it is a rich prize, they all share in that, down to the fourth rate boys of eight to twelve; their share is small to be sure, but it is a share. If a captain loses his ship to the enemy, it is his disgrace alone. No matter how anyone else performed their duties, no matter the courage or the cowardice shown. The captain bears the shame alone." As they were seated side by side, he took her hand and brought it to the table top. Holding it tightly, he looked steadily into her eyes and went on, "I dare say that for years now, you have been throwing overboard everything that you wished for or even needed, just to keep the ship Elliot afloat, have you not?" He awaited an answer. She had looked away from him as he had said this; it was too painful to know that her efforts were so obvious to him. "Anne, have you not put yourself aside all these years?" He would not allow her to evade him. Turning to him, she nodded. There was no need to speak. Tightening his hold on her hand, he reached up and quickly brushed her cheek. "My dear, what you heard in my voice has nothing to do with what you wear to our wedding. If what you truly want is a made-over dress, it makes little difference to me; I would still, quite thankfully stand before a man of God and exchange holy vows with you. It is not what you would wear, it is why you must wear it. Your father is at fault in all of this and he will bear the responsibility, but in the meantime, I do not wish that our wedding become the greatest act of economisation that you have undertaken. If I were some poor scrub barely able to exist, it might not be unexpected that you should stint. But that is not the case. It angers me that you are forced pinch every farthing until the moment you become my wife."

He had gone to the heart of the matter; it was her father's doing that had put them in such straits and that he would bear the ultimate responsibility. She had forgotten, or more to the point, had never known what it was to have someone champion her. His fine words showed that he understood the situation completely, but there was still nothing to be done, until she indeed was his wife.

The apprehension of the past moments faded quickly away. "I am relieved to know that you do not object to my dress being made over, so which shall it be? Blue silk or red grosgrain?" she asked brightly.

I suppose my only choice is to do as Lord Nelson, 'Never mind manoeuvres: always go straight at 'em'. "My dear, perhaps you would allow me to . . . bear the . . . take upon myself the cost of a new dress, and whatever else you might need . . . or rather want. I know this is not the usual way, but I fancy we are not the usual couple." He hoped he had not fouled things too badly.

"You are a dear, but that would definitely not be usual and would not be in the least proper. I cannot allow you to take care of such a personal thing as this." Laying her other hand upon his, Anne's eyes shone as she gave her refusal; it was enough that he had offered and that he understood her reasons.

"Why not? In two weeks time, you will be my moral responsibility. What matter is there in a fortnight?" He masculine mind was now taking up the logic of the situation and this was becoming a challenge.

"In two weeks time, we will be married, and it will rightly be your responsibility, but, as yet we are not wed and so it is not your place," she said emphatically. "The obligation of it if we were not . . ." she broke off the thought. It exposed too much of her inner fears.

" . . . 'if we were not to marry.' That is what you were about to say, is it not?" He had released her hands and was now playing about with some grains of rice and spices from the lamb, pushing them around into little piles. "Do you think it may not come off? Are you afraid that I shall bolt again?"

Anne began with a slightly irritated tone. "No. And you know that you did not bolt last time, once I refused you, I as good as sent you away. Let us be honest, I have fully as much owing to me in our disappointment as you. I am not afraid of you, I am just being honest; things do not always work the way we hope, and I do not wish to oblige myself for something as fleeting as clothing."

"Well, I wish to point out that you are already quite obliged to me, you have promised to marry me and to change course now would be quite unkind," he said matter-of-factly. He continued with a more serious tone, "I must be honest with you. This has been a ruse. The Lady Russell . . ."

"What does Lady Russell have to do with this?" Anne's tone became animated and her expression one of surprise.

Raising his hand in a gesture of patience, he continued, "As I was saying, Lady Russell enlisted my aid, I wish I could say that she impressed my service, but that would not be quite true. She told me of her offer to provide for you and your refusal. It was your personal needs she was most concerned with, but she had spoken too quickly about the reception and all, then you refused her offer and she came to me, hoping that I could make you accept my help. I have determined it is unwise for me to try and manoeuvre you so I will just plead the case outright. Will you allow Lady Russell and I to take care of the wedding costs and you indulge yourself? I am able to make it no plainer." He watched her reaction to the entreaty as he took a drink of his wine.

Anne too took her glass of wine, but more for something to do as she thought about what he had asked. The offer was tempting to the extreme. One of the most difficult things she had ever done was refusing Lady Russell's generous offer of a dress and trousseau, but she had. Perhaps it was that pride of the family rather than any noble sentiment of her character. Words of her mother suddenly came to her. "People can say many beautiful words Anne, but what they do is the measure of their sincerity." Neither Frederick nor Lady Russell had used beautiful words, but they were willing to do for her a great and needed kindness to show their sincerity. It struck her how these two people had put aside great differences to come together because of her. How could such love be turned aside?

"I take it that you are sorting out your arguments against accepting this offer?" The Captain could see that her look was intense and thoughtful; he took it to mean that she was carefully ordering her thoughts and was preparing to defend her point. He had no other arguments to wage. Lady Russell would just have to satisfy herself with an elaborate reception and know that she had chosen ill when it came to him as a conspirator, for it was obvious his skills in diplomacy left much to be desired. "Anne?"

She roused from her thoughts when he spoke her name. "What did you say?"

Listening as he repeated himself, with a rather saucy look, she said, "No, in fact you are quite wrong, Frederick. I have every intention of accepting your kind offer." Picking up her fork and taking the remaining bite of her lamb, she smiled at him.

"I must say, I am astonished." Leaning back in his chair, he watched her for a moment. He had expected to admit defeat and try to salvage the evening rather than argue longer. This was a complete surprise to him. It was nearly more than he knew what to do with. "What made you change your mind? it seemed quite set." At this time, the keep came and cleared away . He began spooning into dishes the Floating Island that Frederick had ordered to end with.

It was served quickly and Anne continued, "I decided that if you and Lady Russell would go to the trouble of putting aside your feelings and plotting and planning against me in this manner, I have no choice but to accept. I would in nowise wish to discourage your efforts." The colour had returned to her cheeks and she smiled as she observed him contemplate her words.

This is Anne, he thought. The young woman who looked so dignified and beautiful, who all the while had some rather pert opinions and clever things to say if only one paid attention. "I am gratified that you have accepted. Lady Russell and I shall come to an agreement on things when all the dust is settled. But as for your remark about plotting and planning, I would prefer to call it careful strategising," he said with an amused look.

"Call it what you will, the two of you are a force to be reckoned with and I cannot resist." Seeing that he was pleased by her acceptance, she chose to give him a playful warning. Taking on as serious a look as she could muster, she said, "Now, you must promise me one thing."

Her turn in face and voice caused him to be on guard. "What might that be? To promise the unknown is foolish." He was a bit suspicious of a trick, but the evening had proven a little emotional and was prepared for most anything.

"That is quite true. Anywise, you must promise me, that when you begin to reconcile your accounts and you find how much it costs to keep me, you will not complain." Her eyes were bright and her lips held tightly together to keep from laughing at him, for his look was one of relief.

Frederick smiled as he shook his head; she had beguiled him with her sweet and innocent face. "I promise not to complain, if you promise not to gull me with that angelic face of yours, it is most unsettling. Do you promise?" He held out his hand to seal the bargain.

Taking his hand, she replied, "I promise, in all things solemn, to be honest and forthright."

Without releasing her hand back, he brought it to his lips and raising his eyes to meet hers, he sighed, "I suppose that will have to do. That is the price I must pay for a clever woman." Both were laughing when the keep stepped up to the table and after winking in approval to Frederick, began to clear away the remains of the sweet course. Laying out small plates of fruit and nuts, Frederick expected the claret he had ordered. The keep with a great flourish, instead opened a bottle of champagne and placed a generous plate of arrack biscuits upon the table.

"I did not order this," said the Captain with dismay, as he had not thought of such an indulgence to end their evening.

"No sir, they are with the Admiral's compliments," he said indicating the table across the room. Anne and Frederick looked in the direction of the Croft's table and were greeted with raised glasses from the entire party. Raising their glasses in return, they all took a sip. "And the gentleman has already reckoned the bill." Bowing, he left them to their conversation.

Looking back to the Croft's table, Frederick began to think how he might go about thanking them for their time and now their generosity. He would find a way.

Anne put her glass aside and took a walnut from the dish. Studying it for a moment, she said, "This has certainly been different from dining with Father and Elizabeth. I think I enjoy it much more."

Taking the nut, Frederick cracked it open and offered it back to her. "I am sure it has been different. Do you think that you will be able to endure the change? I fear that I am not terribly formal and enjoy surroundings which are a bit less fine than your father." Taking one of the biscuits from the laver, he held it up and turned it for her to see, "Now my dear, this is an arrack biscuit . . . no black."

"I think that the change will be bearable," she took the biscuit from him and continued, "And I promise, after we are married, I shall work diligently in learning how to bake these lovely little sweets for you. After tonight, I think there are many things I will set myself to learning about you." Taking a bite of the biscuit and a sip of the champagne, Anne thought how, perhaps her bread and water existence was coming to a close.

Charles and Mary Musgrove

Knowing that to ignore her was to his peril, he prepared for the inevitable. "What is wrong, dear?"

"Your mother, Charles," she replied with a snap.

Her statement was very vague and covered quite a vast area. The relationship between Mary Musgrove and her mother-in-law was on one hand satisfactory and the other quite trying. Mrs. Musgrove was grateful that her daughter-in-law had produced two healthy male heirs for her eldest son, but it was vexing to her how they were being raised. Mary came from the most consequential family of the district and aspired to the role of matriarch of Uppercross, but had no ability to manage even the smallest cottage household, much less a great house with all its attending needs. Mrs. Charles was loved by the Musgrove family, but she was the most trying member of the clan.

Charles continued to eat with dispatch. As he polished off a slice of bread, he knew that he must pursue Mary's concerns, but was not willing to allow his dinner to go cold for the argument that would undoubtedly ensue; any time that his mother was the subject, an argument ensued.

Pulling the leg from the body of the hare and taking a bite, Charles waded in, "What is the problem between you and Mama now?"

Uncrossing her arms, laying her bonnet and shawl aside, then seating herself more properly in the chair, Mary took a sip of water from Charles's glass and began to carefully explain, "I received a letter from Father and he is anxious to know whether or not we shall be in Bath to see Anne and Captain Wentworth married. You know that I am wild to go, even though we have just returned from there but a few weeks. Some time ago I had spoken to your mother about keeping little Walter and Charles so that we might attend; she had not been definite, owing to the wedding preparations and all. So today, I walked all the way to the Great House to enquire as to when, next week, I was to send Jemima with the boys." At this time, the girl brought Mrs. Musgrove her dinner and the opportunity of another drink of water was taken. "Thank you, Juliana," she said as she smiled to the girl. Leaning to Charles, she whispered, "Do you not think that is a rather pretentious name for a housemaid? I wonder that your mother engaged her if she has such airs." Charles thought the name was charming and that Mary should be grateful that his mother gave them the loan of her since their last three girls had quit them, each doing so shortly after being hired. Straightening and speaking normally, Mary continued, "Where was I? . . . Oh! yes, when I asked your mother about the boys, she acted as though she had never heard of the scheme! Then she had the nerve to say that she would rather Jemima stayed here at the Cottage as she is a bad influence on her girls! Imagine that, a bad influence she said as boldly as anything!"

Charles kept to himself that Jemima was a gadder and he held no ill-will toward his mother for not wishing her in the house. But he was not of a mind to wade into a nest of hornets and went on eating his apple tart, awaiting an end to the litany. "After a time, I was able to persuade her to take them and that I would see Jemima occupied here. I had also intended on asking leave of your father for use of the carriage, but he was gone to town and not expected back 'til this evening. So you must go and ask tomorrow."

As Charles scraped the last of the tart onto his fork with a slice of bread, he pondered how to present Mary with the notion that his father's carriage was not a hired hack, available at a moments notice. No, it would be his curricle or a chaise from Crewkerne, else they would have to remain home. Mary cared nothing for either alternative and was not shy in enumerating the disadvantages of each. The fact remained, Charles would not apply to his father for use of the carriage. Mary saw that she was not able to sway him and so gave up the point. She turned her mind to the dress she was planning to wear and wondered out loud what Anne and her sister Elizabeth would be wearing; that surely the Captain would wear his uniform and whether or not he would wear his ceremonial sword or perhaps the gold-hilted one presented to him by the Liverpool Tradesmen League.

The Captain had not spoken of the sword himself, Captain Harville had told them of it when she and Charles had remained in Lyme, after Louisa's accident. The sword had been awarded after the Laconia captured a smuggler known for selling his ill-gotten wares on the Liverpool docks and by that wrecking the business of the more legitimate. When it had been found out that the Laconia's captain was born and bred in the town, it was only natural that he should be rewarded handsomely. The entire display had been an embarrassment to Captain Wentworth and what he never told was that it had not been cunning, courage or great naval skill which had brought about the capture, but the fact that the smuggler had allowed his men too much in the way of reward and they were too fall-down drunk to evade capture. For the past years, he had left the sword in its scabbard, wrapped in a good wool blanket and took it out occasionally to polish off the tarnish. He had vague notions of hanging it in his stable, if he ever had a stable.

As she prated on, it was becoming clear to Charles that Mary had a notion of her alone seeing how perfectly matched Captain Wentworth and Anne were from the very first and had it not been for her assistance they would have never come to such a state of bliss. He had pointed out that they had been acquainted quite some time before, she had countered with the belief that it could not have been more than nodding acquaintances, surely. "Had it not been for my keeping Anne here and the Captain's coming the morning after that first dinner party, to pay his kind regards to me, I dare say, they most likely would not be marrying now."

Charles snorted in disbelief. There were times he thought that Mary would impute the rising of the sun to herself if she felt she could get by with it. He huffed, "By that thinking, my hounds should take a share of the praise too, since it was hunting he came to do! Besides that, it was in this very room, in the presence of your sister Anne, that you crowed the Captain's firm liking of my sister Henrietta! Now you say that you brought them together from the start. I think you remember too little and take much too much upon yourself, my dear." Taking a drink of small beer, he looked at Mary with an expression daring her to deny what he had said.

"Oh! Charles. Use your head! How could I possibly say anything in your presence, it would have been a mortification to my sister having her most private ideas bandied about. As I recall, it was you who had he and your sister Louisa scurrying down the aisle; Henrietta has been bespoken for quite a long time and so there was no idea of her ever being interested in him." Concerning herself with her dinner, she pointedly ignored her husband.

He knew there was no cause in the world that he should continue the conversation. Once his wife held a particular idea it was nigh on impossible to bring reason to the fore. Mary's mind was set now and there would be no changing it around. As she ate, he drank his last bit of beer and reflected. He wished the greatest of joy for Anne and the Captain. Anne had always held a tender place in his heart. She was his sister now, but at one time he had hoped for more. Now, he wished her settled and happy. Over the past few months, Captain Wentworth had become as good a friend as a man could have and he wished him only the best. They would go to Bath, in his curricle, and see them joined. Watching Mary for a moment as she finished her meal, he thought what a curious woman she was, but how she made few demands on him and was rather pliable when one just paid attention to her. Perhaps that fellow in Misterton still had that cloisonné brooch with the red roses. It would match the dress she had made for the wedding. The brooch would make her happy. And Mary happy could be very pleasant. Standing and finishing his beer, he wadded his napkin and placed it on the empty plate. Kissing Mary on the head, he leaned down next to her and told her, "I think I will go to town for something, I shall be back in time for supper." He paused and then, for no particular reason, kissed her cheek.

Turning to face her husband, she wondered at his sudden, unexpected affection. There were times he was the most vexing of men and he certainly had no memory for recent events, but he could be quite charming and he was good to her children, too permissive at times, but loving. While he was not the most ambitious of men, there was really no need, considering the whole of Uppercross would come to him one day. He made few demands of her and when she took pains to be pleasant, he was very nice to be around. Perhaps all the talk of the wedding had brought on this show of tender care. She smiled and even felt a bit of colour come to her cheeks. He stood and she turned away. Suddenly remembering something, she caught him by the hand, "Charles, can you do something for me?"

"What might that be, Mary?"

"Since we are to take the curricle, could you see that it is washed?"

He moved closer to her and brought her hand to his lips. Making a show of bestowing a kiss, he said brightly, "Certainly, my dear. Clean and polished." Their eyes met and they smiled. With a wink, Charles released her hand and was gone to Misterton.

Miss Elizabeth Elliot

"This is the finest, hand-painted silk. It is a bit thinner than most that I handle, but the quality is the finest, and I think you must agree that the artwork is stunning." Madame Beauvalet showed the fabric to Anne, indicating that she should feel of it. As she took the silk with the tips of her fingers, she could barely feel it for its lightness. The figures were of white chrysanthemums with a tinge of blush at the petal edges and muted green bamboo stalks with tiny birds in their midst. Turning to Lady Russell, it was held out for the lady's approval. Lady Russell did feel of it and approved the workmanship, but as she was a woman given to robust common sense, she could not think of a use for such lovely, but delicate fabric, and the patterns while beautiful, made it impractical for anything to be worn underneath. Madame being a wonderful seamstress and terribly talented when it came to promoting her own profit, began to make suggestions for the material's use.

" . . . but I personally feel that its best use would be as a night dress, but one cut as a chemise, with a matching wrapper. Since it is so embellished, very little trim would be necessary." The seamstress looked to Anne, who was intrigued, and then to Lady Russell, who was shocked.

"It is entirely too thin. Perhaps for a paramour, not a respectable young woman."

This argument had been heard before, in that very room. "Madam, while I do admit that it is not what one would want in the ragings of a freezing winter night, it might be just the thing for an evening when practicality is not uppermost." She smiled at Anne with a knowing look and then to Lady Russell, who herself had just a hint of a smile. It was decided that the wrapper would be of the painted fabric and the gown itself would be a creamy white matching the background. A pattern had been chosen and silk thread that matched the blush of the flowers was chosen for a small embroidered medallion with tiny pearls on the yoke. "You will be beautiful in this, Miss Elliot." This had been what Madame Beauvalet had said.

As Anne stood, alone in her room, she was not so certain. The gown was thin and there was not much cover given by the wrapper. It had no belt or buttons to hold it closed, only one set of tapes far too low to afford any help. What had she been thinking? "I was not thinking at all, I allowed myself to be swayed by the beauty of the material and did not think about how . . . silly I would look." Normally, there would have been no swaying of opinion; plain cotton would have been her nightdress, but with no limit placed on her, nor any even allowed, she had been ensnared by the lovely silk. The heady experience of ordering two chemises only to have the order countermanded by Lady Russell ordering four and chusing only cotton trims and being overridden by swiss lace had quite turned her head. Which brought her back to the nightgown. "He will think me . . . so . . . I cannot return it and I have nothing else fit." She stood looking again at the reflection. "Perhaps with my hair down." Taking out the pins, she shook it down and combed her fingers through to order it a bit. "That is better." The reflection showed a smallish woman, well proportioned, pretty but not any more than that. What she saw was pleasant, but not anything that in her mind did justice to the exotic fabric. Giving one last look, Anne thought, I can be thankful that he has promised not to complain when he sees how much money I have wasted. As she turned from the mirror, the sweep of the fabric caught her eye, it nearly floated. She turned again to see the effect. Taking the wrapper and sweeping it as one would the train of a gown, she turned several more times, then stopped to watch the fabric again float down to her sides. Catching a glimpse of her own face, she stopped. Taking another look in the mirror, the face she saw was different. This visage had colour and the remainder of her smile from capering about. Touching the pearls in the medallion, she thought, "This is the girl that Frederick must see. I must allow him to meet her." Turning, she went to change.

Anne had been prodigious in her care about keeping the nature of the wedding arrangements from her sister. It would make no sense to invite a reproach. But the next morning, her care had been outmanoeuvred by Elizabeth. She was to have a fitting of her wedding dress and other gowns that were to make up her trousseau. This was to be the last fitting of all the dresses. Madame Beauvalet had assured her that once this was accomplished, she would have her dresses in three days. When asked by Lady Russell how that could be done, Madame had cried, "My dear Lady Russell, I employ little ladies all across the city who will bend their knees tonight, blessing this marriage for it gives them their daily bread. I pay not only for speed, but beauty as well. The dresses will be accomplished and to your satisfaction, my promise is on it." The other two fittings had been accomplished earlier than her sister cared to be out, but upon preparing to leave the house, she had found Elizabeth dressed and expecting to accompany her to the seamstress. There was nothing to be done except go and face the criticism she knew would follow. As sisters, their frames were quite similar, their taste though ran in quite opposite directions. While Elizabeth was well aware of the latest in haute ton, Anne was studiously unaware.

The fitting had gone well, which was a surprise to Anne. There had been no comments about any of the styles, colours or materials. Elizabeth had sat quietly and been polite when the seamstress had insisted upon showing her several of the dresses. Anne had left the shop in an unusual state of confidence. For once, it seemed, she had not pushed up against the Elliot sensibilities. She was able to hold to this confidence until she and Elizabeth were in the sitting room of Camden Place. Tea had been ordered and soon after the footman exited, the comments began.

"Anne, was there no pattern newer than three seasons to chuse? While the one you chose may flatter the indifferent figure, it is dreadfully outré, do you not think that the Captain would wish you a bit more . . . fashionable, considering his station?" Elizabeth had been as casual in her delivery of this biting interrogative as she might have been had she inquired after the weather.

Perhaps it was the unexpectedness of the query, perhaps it was the tone of it. Perhaps it was nerves, or perhaps it was the coming to the end of a very long rope that could no longer be knotted. Whatever the reason, Anne's customary complaisance was foregone. Looking at her sister, she said, "I shall not argue the merits of my figure, nor will I endeavor to defend the stylishness of my dress, but Frederick has made it clear that I am to have the dress of MY chusing and considering he is paying for it . . . " she stopped herself midsentence. The words were out and there would be no way to amend them.

Elizabeth had been casually paging the latest copy of La Belle Assemblée, but upon hearing this revelation, she closed it and gazed at her sister. Her look was one of expectation; she knew her sister well enough to expect the explanation momentarily. Anne began to fidget in her seat. She knew nothing to say which would be helpful. Finally, she began, "Very well. Captain Wentworth is paying for my dress and my trousseau. At the time, Father made it clear that the wedding itself is a hardship, and that there would be nothing for extras, and so the Captain and Lady Russell decided to take care of these things." She paused as the tea was being brought in. After the footman poured and handed the cups, he motioned for the man in waiting to come with him and they exited, closing the doors behind them. Anne continued, "They wanted me to have what I wished and that he would pay the cost. I would not normally allow such a thing, but he was so thoughtful about everything . . . . And I needed some new things, I could not face a new husband in such a state of ... "

Elizabeth began to snicker. "Anne, you can be such a simpleton at times. Do you not see that the Captain is only using this? He is gathering as much as he can to embarrass Father. Our reduced state gives him quite an advantage over us and he is intent upon making himself look well at our expense." She rose, looking down upon her sister. "When the time is right, he will use this tidy morsel to hold over Father's head . . . you mark my words."

"Frederick would do no such thing! He is doing this because he loves me. . . ." Anne did not believe a word of Elizabeth's vicious prattle, but it was a trial just listening.

Elizabeth stood facing her sister, her back was to the doors; had she stayed to her seat, she would have noticed the doors open to admit the man in question. Since she had not stayed to her seat and did not notice the doors, she continued upon her spiteful course, "I dare say that your captain does hold you in high regard, sister. But, he is sensible enough to know that the connexion to our family will serve him well, very well." Taking a closer look at Anne, she was puzzled by the look upon her sister's face. A voice from behind gave her understanding.

"Ahem . . . While good connexions do, at times, serve us well, I think it profitable to remember that they are not the sole purpose in marrying, Miss Elliot." Turning quickly to face him, she saw that Frederick stood somewhat casually, but with all the necessary authority that his profession had trained him to bear.

Elizabeth was not a woman easily mazed by a faux pas, even one of her own doing. She did determine though, in this particular instance, it would be best to withdraw. Gathering her reticule and gloves, she said, "Captain, how good to see you. You were not expected this morning. I am afraid you have misread me. I was, of course, speaking quite generally and very much figuratively, not specifically. Certainly you wish to see Anne alone, I shall get along to my morning chores. Again Captain, good morning." She quickly curtsied and moved to leave the room.

He had stepped aside so as not to hinder her leaving. But, as she was about to pass, he said, "Miss Elliot. I must say that you are quite mistaken about my feelings for your sister; while I do hold her in very high regard," he looked at her intently, "I also love her quite . . .passionately."

Elizabeth's countenance reddened. "I am certain you do," she said tightly, and with a pointed nod, she left.

Glancing behind as Elizabeth quit the room, he turned back to Anne, and saw her look of dudgeon. He entered the sitting room and closed the doors behind him. While it was not his place to be there, alone with her, that was exactly what he had come to do, though he had not counted on a bit of high drama in the bargain. Seeing the tea things on the table, he took what looked to be her cup and held it out to her, "Here, take a sup and then tell me what just went on here."

Watching him as he took the chair Elizabeth had vacated, she took a sip of the tea and began to tell him about the morning. When she came to telling Elizabeth about the dress and his paying for everything, she began to apologise profusely for allowing the secret out. He cut her off as she spoke. Leaning forward, he took her hand, "Please, stop right there, my girl. You have nothing to be sorry for; if there is an impropriety, it is mine. This is a private arrangement between you and I which is no one's affair, but ours. And as for 'holding this over your father's head,' if that were the only way that I was able win my point with him, the point would not be worth winning." He was more outraged that Anne would be treated thus, than his honour would be questioned; he knew that this was not likely to be the last time an Elliot would hold him in contempt.

"It just angered me so, to hear her say such absurd things. I have allowed myself to become too tired and anxious about everything. I am afraid that I am not keeping myself very well controlled."

"Let us forget your sister and all that she has said this morning." He feigned looking around the room. "I find that we are in a rather intriguing circumstance just now, one that has not presented itself before," he said, innocently.

Anne was too preoccupied with the mornings unrest to take his meaning with her usual cheerfulness. "And what might this circumstance be, Frederick?" Taking back her hand and laying aside the cup, she had moved to the window and was gazing upon the street, endeavoring to forget Elizabeth's spiteful words. Her reply to him had been a bit sharp and she knew it, but she had little patience for games just then. Her manner was one of forbearance. Seeing that she was distraught, he changed his tone from that of teasing to the more appropriate tone the situation deserved.

He moved to her at the window. Taking a deep breath, he gently took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Pulling her slowly to himself, he kept watch for any resistance. There was none. He took her in his arms, and she slid her arms around his waist as she had all those years ago. They stood quietly for a time. He closed his eyes as he caught the scent of her hair. "The circumstance is our being, alone, and I am determined that our privacy shall not be wasted." Over the past three weeks, they had walked together, and talked much of the past, the present and their future together. He had held her hand at odd moments, he had even slipped his arm about her waist when passing her through a shop door, but he had yet to kiss her. The reason was very simple, they had never been alone. They had been either on public streets or in her home, though unlike now, in the company of her sister and father, or in the company of his family. No good opportunity had presented itself. Until this morning. He felt a bit guilty about the few guineas slipped to the footman, but what good was having money if one could not purchase something greatly desired?

She stood holding him, with her cheek against the softness of his neckcloth. All Elizabeth's pettish behavior faded quickly away in such a warm and loving place. "Did you mean what you said about loving me,passionately?" she asked in a hushed tone. It was difficult to imagine anyone loving her passionately. While it might be an overstatement on his part, on a morning such as this, it would be good to hear.

"Mm-mm. Most passionately, my girl." He rested his cheek amidst her hair.

"And might I ask, what would 'wasting' this circumstance be?" she asked distractedly. The quick rhythm of his heart was soothing to hear.

Rousing himself from the peace of the moment, he said, "To waste this 'circumstance' would be neglecting to do this . . .," and lifting her chin, he kissed her. These were the same supple and responsive lips that he remembered from years before. In the few kisses they had shared, there had been a passion, one which had called for restraint; in this, there was an intensity of feeling and a passion of sorts; not a physical hunger, but a need to reassure one another. She wished him to know of her joy in his return, and his desire was that she put faith in his care and protection. The kiss was gentle and soft; physical passion would have its place later, for now, this was what they each needed. Lightly grazing her lips with his, he ended the kiss. "There, the circumstances have been used well, I believe." He looked into her eyes and saw no distraction.

"I believe you are right Captain. Very well used." Anne laid her head back on his chest and listened to his heart again. The beating was noticeably faster than it had been. She found a great deal of pleasure in the knowing she had brought that about.

As they stood quietly to themselves, the doors suddenly opened and Sir Walter entered, saying loudly, "Why are these doors closed, Collins? You know very well that they must remain open for the full effect to be had when mounting the stairs. It is imposs. . . Oh! Captain Wentworth, I did not realise that you had come to call." The couple separated quickly, but the Baronet seemed not to notice; he was still preoccupied with the doors. "Anne," he said sharply, "Why was I not sent for when the Captain was announced? Well, at least you had tea brought." He awaited an answer and Anne was too flustered by his sudden entrance to give one.

"That would be my fault, sir. I was a bit anxious to give Anne some good news and I neglected to have you called. I hope you can overlook the. . . inattention of a man with superior tidings." Frederick was learning how to work on Sir Walter more quickly than he cared to admit.

"Oh, yes. Well, I can understand that there are times when welcome news can quite push propriety aside. What might your good news be?" Sir Walter was delaying judgement upon the goodness of the news until he heard it.

"Sir, I am pleased to relate to you that a friend of mine, of the Navy, has surprised me with the news that he is giving a dinner in honour of Anne and I. All our families are to be invited. It will be in one week, so I am hoping that you are free and able to attend." The look on Frederick's face told Anne that he was about to engage in some fun.

Frederick was indeed ready to engage in some fun. He knew one of the first questions would be who was this friend and where did he reside. A carefully crafted reply was in the ready.

"May I ask, Captain, who might this friend of yours be and where will this dinner be held?" Sir Walter asked, again delaying his judgement until satisfaction was had.

Sir Walter, you are such a predictable old cove. "This friend is Patrick McGillvary. His family is very old in Bath society. And he lives near Belsom Park. The dinner will be held there as far as I know. There will be formal invitations coming in the next post or two." Frederick awaited the Sir Walter's next round.

The Baronet noticed that Captain Wentworth neglected to mention his friend's rank. Must be one of those low ranking, low born, sailor acquaintances he mentioned when we spoke about the wedding. There are many families that have been in Bath nearly forever, it does not signify that they are worth knowing. He was also not comfortable with the location. There were some fine homes near Belsom Park, but just how near? Too far away and there were addresses which would not be quite acceptable in Sir Walter's mind. As he pondered these things, he realised that Captain Wentworth was an important alliance and any friend of his must not be snubbed, no matter what the circumstance. They must attend this 'fete,' with no allowance for whom or where.

"We would be honoured to attend this friend's dinner for you and my daughter. When the invitation arrives, I shall consult my calendar immediately. Anne, you will have to see the Captain out yourself, I have an appointment that cannot wait. Captain, it is always a pleasure to have you in our home." Sir Walter shook his hand with that maddening delicacy that put Frederick in mind of a shy young girl.

"Sir Walter." Frederick bowed as he left the room. My nature is more perverse than I like to think, I am actually beginning to enjoy these meetings. Indeed he was; in his years at sea he had learnt a thing or two about diplomacy and out-and-out conniving to further a good end. Manoeuvring Sir Walter was very necessary and rather simple, but it was also proving to be amusing.

Through the entire exchange, Anne had merely observed. Her father was embarrassingly transparent, but Frederick was becoming a master when it came to dealing with him. "You were very cunning, Captain. I noticed all those vague terms you used. There is more to this than you are telling. Pray, be so good as to enlighten me."

He did not care that the doors were now open, let people look if they were to dare. He took her in his arms and said, "You know me too well, my girl. There is indeed more. My friend is Admiral Patrick McGillvary; his family his one of the oldest and wealthiest in Bath. Also, he does not live near Belsom Park, his is the manor house in Belsom Park." He stroked her cheek and continued, "I dare say, about now your father has a picture of a one-legged tar, a hornpipe and some grog as the evening's entertainment," he smiled widely at Anne. He also hoped that his twitting her father was not going to cause them a problem. After this, he would endeavor to keep things a bit less artful.

Any visions of one-legged tars and grog that Sir Walter may have entertained were quite done away with when, with the next day's post, the invitation to the McGillvary dinner arrived. The finest paper, engraving and gilt edging were enough to convince the Baronet that whatever rank the Captain's friend might be, he was most definitely worth knowing. When he opened the invitation and found the address to not be near Belsom Park, but the Park itself, the impression was complete. Perhaps the Captain was a much more important alliance than he had reckoned.

One week later, Patrick McGillvary walked about the room; he wished this to be a perfect evening for his friend. Frederick Wentworth had been not only a good friend over the years, he had once saved the Admiral's sorry hide from a rather ignominious death. When both were midshipmen, they had been part of the boarding party taking a ship off St. Domingo. Patrick had slipped in a pool of offal on the deck of the Medina, a Spanish privateer manned by Turks. The hard fall had knocked him senseless and he was in a fair way of being hacked to pieces by a mad Turkish tar. When an explosion had rocked the ship, it had sent many of the enemy fleeing into the water, preferring to drown rather than risk being burned to death. As the Spanish captain had struck his colours, the small fire resulting from crates of signal flares exploding was extinguished; while the prisoners were being put in the hold, Frederick had seen him lying on the deck and determined that he lived. In all the confusion of a boarding and the clearing away after, it was not unknown for a live man to be thrown overboard with the dead. He was quite alive, though still insensate. Wentworth had seen to his being carried back to the Borthwick and into the surgeon's hands. The surgeon had been livid when he found no gross wounds and merely a lump on the back of his skull. Chasing him from the surgery, Patrick had found Frederick and demanded to know what lunacy had compelled him to toss McGillvary below deck. When told the circumstances of his rescue by several who had witnessed it, he politely thanked Frederick and went to his hammock. Patrick was still somewhat embarrassed by the entire misadventure. Other than thanks, they had not spoken of it much since. That was why tonight must to be perfect for Frederick and Miss Anne. It was the least he could do.

McGillvary had chosen the music room to begin the gathering. The prospect from the large windows was a hilltop view of Bath. Not a large hill, but enough to say such. As he looked out the window, the lights of the city were beginning to glow in the deepening evening. "Yes, this will do. A view that may impress even Frederick's lordly father-in-law. Yes, yes, this will do very well." Casting an eye about the rest of the room, he found it to his satisfaction.

As he left the room to dress, he plinked the keys of the harpsichord and ran his fingers over the strings of the harp. The musicians would be arriving in an hour. Perhaps if his daughter had been home, he might have prevailed upon her to play a bit for the guests. He was rather proud of her talent, though he had to be careful with his praise, she tended to receive esteem as a right rather than a gift. Giving the keys a final tap, he mused that perhaps his being home could soften that.

All the guests had arrived and were having small talk in the music room. The view had indeed impressed. Even Sir Walter had been lavish in his praises of the McGillvary home. Patrick had quipped to Frederick that he would have to ever be finding newer and richer friends to keep in the good graces of his father-in-law, as he was certain that even the McGillvary fortune would eventually cease to move the Baronet.

When he had seen to all the guests and their needs, Patrick sidled up to his friend. "So, tell me about that amazing creature, Frederick. She is a vision," the Admiral said as he watched a dark-haired woman in the sapphire blue gown.

"Who are you talking about? There are only family and a few friends. I see no visions," Frederick said as he finished a cup of punch. He was trying to ascertain whether or not his friend had put in enough rum to slow a wildebeest as he had threatened. It seemed to be unamended. With Patrick though, it was best to investigate for ones self. He deemed it safe enough for a second cup.

"That beautiful woman over there, by the harpsichord. I know I have seen her before." he said, barely containing his interest.

Frederick looked to the harpsichord. There were two women standing nearby. One was Lady Russell; while it amused him greatly to think of his friend in a state of distraction because of her, there was much doubt that such was the case. The other woman was Miss Elizabeth Elliot. This was the only woman of which Patrick could be speaking. "I am certain that you and Miss Elliot would not get on well, old man." It could be difficult convincing his friend that Miss Elliot was not a woman with whom he would wish to entangle himself.

"You said that she is Anne's sister? Surely your intended's charming ways are echoed in her?" he said, never taking his eyes from Elizabeth.

At this, Frederick was in a fair way to embarrass them all by very nearly spewing his punch all over the host. He managed to swallow the drink, but then was caught up in a coughing fit. Patrick, still intrigued with Miss Elliot, casually handed him a handkerchief and said, without looking, "Are you all right?"

Frederick, over the coughing fit, looked about to see if he had caused a stir. He saw Anne moving to come to him and motioned for her to stay where she was. He had no intentions of his friend's madness becoming generally known. Straightening himself and bringing some order to his thoughts, Frederick said, "Patrick, as a friend, I must tell you that Miss Elliot is the female version of her father. When it comes to their ways, Anne and she will never be mistaken."

Patrick seemed not to hear, but then turned, "I know where I saw her! It was at that concert you stalked out of. I had been in the room for a few moments before being dragged out by a business acquaintance. It was long enough to catch sight of her though." He looked back to Miss Elliot for a second. "So, she could use with a bit of amending, eh? It is a proverb that the love of a good woman can turn even the most dissolute hound into a domesticated house pet; do you not think the same thing could be said for the love of a good man?" He looked back to Frederick with a questioning gaze.

"I think it perfectly possible. But the enigma is, where would you and I find such a miraculous man for Miss Elliot?" He looked back at Patrick with the same questioning gaze.

Turning from his friend, Patrick muttered something about impending marriage taking all the romance from his soul and began to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Frederick called. He fleetingly wondered if he had offended Patrick, but that being nearly impossible, he ceased to worry.

"I am going to the dining room," was all the reply he gave.

Patrick rejoined Frederick in a few moments. "So, is the dining room ship shape? Are you wont to do surprise inspections at dinner parties?" The look he received was patient.

"I was not inspecting anything. I was ascertaining where Miss Elliot was seated. And to my chagrin, I found that she was facing away from the windows. I am quite certain that she would enjoy the view of the gardens as I have had the lights lit for the evening and . . . well . . ." his voice trailed away.

"And, by any chance, would she now be seated by you . . . facing the windows of course?"

McGillvary, with an innocent look, acted as though he were thinking, "By golly, you know, I think things did shake out that way, now that I put my mind to it."

Frederick looked at his friend with resignation. Patrick was not a man who was warned off easily. Here was the proof. "All I can say, my friend, is that I want to know nothing of this. Not a word, not a look, not anything."

"Do you really dislike her that much?"

"In a word–yes. It is a mutual agreement we have. She dislikes me for overreaching myself, and I dislike her pretentious nature. This is one of the few things we agree upon."

Admiral and Sophy Croft

"Good evenin' to you Ma'am." She curtsied and quietly pulled the door closed as she left.

As Sophie Croft took down her hair, she placed the pins in a square Limoges dish decorated with violets that had lain on her dressing table throughout her nearly sixteen years of marriage. No matter where her dressing table had been, no matter what had served as a dressing table, the dish had always been there. It was one of the last things she had to remind her of her mother and it was therefore precious.

This particular evening, a most unsettled feeling had come over her. Before she had taken her hair down, she had held the dish and looked at it, examined it as if it could provide an answer or comfort or some undefinable that she needed. Other than a few places where the hand-painted violets had begun to wear and the chip in one corner, (this having come when it had been carelessly packed for her first sail with her husband, then Captain Croft), the dish was perfect and had been to more parts of the world than most people would ever have opportunity to see. After the dish was filled with its pins, and there were many as Sophia Croft had hair in abundance, she sat brushing it out as her husband came into the room. He had been seeing the house 'secured', as he called it. Had things been done in true naval fashion, which would have suited him exactly; a watch would have been set, complete with the bell to be struck at the half hour, an hourglass to be turned and a master of the watch to call out the 'all's well.'

"Well, we are Bristol-fashion for the night, my dear. Frederick just returned from seeing Miss Anne home." The Admiral began to remove his watch and tie pin and the gold studs from his cuffs. To hold these, he had a sandalwood box which served much the same purpose as his wife's dish. While the dish was much older, the box had been carved by a boy in Bombay who had served in their house. They had been stationed on the Bombay port for several years. Most of their time had been spent afloat, but they had kept a house for those times when his duties had been on the base itself. The boy had been especially pleasant and enterprising. They had spoken of perhaps bringing him with them when the orders had come for England. But his widowed mother, unlike other native women with such a situation presented them, would not allow him to leave her, either by volunteer or sale. So, he had stayed in Bombay, and upon their departure, presented the Admiral with the box; imploring him to score it often and as he smelled its freshness, to think of the boy. The Admiral never spoke of his young friend, but there were many small scratches on the box's underside.

"Could you ship these my dear?" he asked handing them to his wife. She placed them in the box for him, much as she had done each night for months. Unlike most living in the comfort which they had placed themselves, the Crofts shared a bedroom and much to the shock of the staff, rarely used the dressing-room. They were quite used to the after-cabin aboard a ship-of-the-line. While the higher rates were more spacious than the lower, there was no comparing to a manor house or fine Bath townhouse. When they had first removed to Kellynch Hall, they had installed themselves in the master's and mistress's rooms, respectively. The Admiral had not liked the mirrors of the owner and had removed them; she had not cared for being so much alone.

Having sailed with her husband these many years, she had grown accustomed to being within a few yards of him, no matter where either one of them was. While Mrs. Croft had been very careful not to intervene when her husband had been engaged in duty, she had endeavored to make herself useful to him at other times. In the early days, she had looked after the younger boys aboard, sometimes being the only teacher they had ever had. As time had elevated his rank, she had acted as his hostess when he had entertained other captains at sea and the usual parade of admirals when in port. A wife at sea was in a provocative situation and Sophie Croft had worked hard to prove herself more than a fixture for the pleasure of her husband.

"I must say that I have never seen your brother so . . . "

"Happy?"

"No, something more than happy . . . satisfied is more like it. There'd always been an air about him before, one that made you think that at any moment he would be jumpin' up and runnin' off to do something. Now, he seems glad to just sit and be, not always lookin' for something to put his hand to." The Admiral hung his shirt in the wardrobe and began to unfasten his trousers. "Miss Anne is a sweet and gentle woman who I dare say will do him a world of good."

Pulling his nightshirt over his head, he took his robe from its hanger and tying the belt and nudging on his slippers against the wardrobe, he gathered his shed clothes and placed them in the dressing-room; the next day was Thursday, the traditional make and mend day aboard ship. Neither saw any reason to change things, and so Thursday was always wash day at the Crofts. After finishing his preparations for bed, Admiral Croft continued his thought. "I just hope love don't blunt his sense of career. That boy is in a fair way to hoist his pennant soon, if the talk of war keeps up and a hard winter does away with some of those oldsters that have been hangin' on forever." While the Admiral had no desire to see the death notices of men, which for the most part, were of his own age, he knew the only way that a bright young captain like his brother-in-law could move up the list was for those at the top to die or retire. And unfortunately, admirals abhor retirement.

"Yes, I know what you mean about Frederick. There is a change in him." Changing the subject, she continued, "I learnt something from Miss Anne this evening that I think explains quite a lot about my brother's behaviour over the past few months, years even." Having finished with brushing her hair, the Admiral had come over and began to braid it for her. Having worn his hair in a queue for years before the shorter style had come in, the task was more quickly accomplished by him.

Tying the ribbon, he bent and kissed the top of her head, "You look like the Queen of May. So what might this bit of information that you have gotten be?" Mounding the pillows on his side of the bed, the Admiral prepared to relax and finish a book which had supposedly been written by an officer who had served with Nelson at Trafalgar. Croft was enjoying the book immensely as he had fought in the Trafalgar action and it was obvious, by this narrative, that the unknown author, had not.

"It seems that Frederick and Miss Anne did not just meet last fall. They have known one another for years. They, in fact, were engaged to be married in the year six, when he lived with Edward at Monkford." At saying this, she rose and extinguishing the candles, came to the bed. As she arranged her pillows and blankets, her husband thought about this bit of intelligence and the meaning it held having to do with his brother.

"Well, it certainly explains why he was so ghost-like while he stayed at Ka'lynch." Croft had always wondered why, with a manor house so grand and at Frederick's disposal, even with the weather turning cold, he had always preferred to be out of doors or in the company of the Musgroves at Uppercross. For the few weeks he had been with them, the boy had only slept there and barely eaten a meal other than breakfast with them. "It must have been awkward, stayin' in the house she grew up in. I take it that the parting was not pleasant?" He laid the book aside, knowing that this topic was going to be more interesting than Trafalgar.

Tying the tapes on her nightcap, Sophy answered, "Yes. She said it was 'bitter.' Miss Anne was very kind, but my guess is that the bitterness was on Frederick's part, and if I know my brother, he did not hesitate to make his opinion known. I am rather torn as to what I should think. As I recall him in the year six, he was not terribly responsible, excepting in his duties aboard ship. In other things, he was terribly indifferent. I am not sure that a marriage would have been very happy for that reason, but then, perhaps she would have done him a great deal of good."

While Admiral Croft was a man who made cold and calculated decisions, decisions which cost some men their lives, he had a tender heart when it came to his wife and her concerns. As Frederick's wedding drew closer, he had noticed a slight lowness come to her. It was not anything that those not intimate with her would notice. Her brother was rightly applying himself to Miss Anne and their wedding, too much to notice things were a bit amiss. Only the Admiral had seen these things and over the days he had put his mind to reasoning the cause. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he urged her closer to him. "Come, lean in and make me understand all this."

Finding her natural place when snug against him, she began, "Miss Anne said that their engagement was not approved by Sir Walter and she said there was a 'family acquaintance' who eventually persuaded her to give my brother up because of his success not being secured and a host of other things. While the girl was quite polite not to mention any names, I cannot think that the 'acquaintance' could be any but Lady Russell." At this she raised up on one elbow and gave her husband a look of indignation. "Do you suppose that she still harbours those feelings, all these years later?"

Coaxing her back to him, he measured his words carefully. "What Lady Russell may or may not think about your brother would appear to be unimportant to the one person who matters most in this–Miss Anne. Besides all that, Frederick is in rather better circumstances than he was all those years ago. He's a better man any way you measure him. I think you must remember that Lady Russell has been the closest thing Miss Anne has had to a mother, and I am sure that her urgings were not meant for Frederick's evil, only Miss Anne's good. Don't stir these waters, my love. You and Lady Russell get on well enough, and taking offense now, over something this old would be rather foolish, wouldn't you say?"

"I suppose you are right. Though it is difficult not to take offense at the notion of him not being good enough. Sir Walter I can understand, one makes allowances for his . . . temperament" Both had a short chuckle over this. When this had passed, Sophia became thoughtful again. "It must have hurt him dreadfully, to be put off that way." Staring away, she idly fingered a ruffle of the Admiral's nightshirt.

"Yes, I am sure it did. No man likes to hear his confidence doubted. But he has survived and is going to finally marry the girl. We should rejoice in that! I think I know what is bringing you low."

His wife looked up into his face and with a questioning tone asked, "How did you know that I was low? I thought I had put on a remarkably good show."

Kissing her, he said, "You seem to forget, you and I have been shipmates an awfully long time and since there are no secrets aboard a man-of-war, I was bound to notice." He kissed her again, longer this time. Resting her cheek on his chest, he began to absently stroke her hand and continued, "I think I know now what has done this. Shall I tell you?"

"Certainly. I have not an idea what it might be and perhaps you can shed light on it."

"Well, I think that you have played Frederick's mum for so long, that this wedding is doing to you no different than it would your own dear mother, were she alive to see it. In many ways, you and Lady Russell are sailing the same ship, sweetheart. You neither are mothers by birth, but, nonetheless, your children are leaving you." He held her tighter for a moment, the asked, "Well, might I have found the answer?"

"I believe you may have, my dear. If that is the case, then it is reasonable that Miss Anne telling of their engagement and why it was abandoned should provoke such a response of indignation. It is odd to think that Frederick and I have not shared a roof, but for those few weeks last autumn, for over fifteen years, and I still think of him as my responsibility." Having this notion to think on brought many things into order for Mrs. Croft. Why she had not relished the idea of a dinner with Admiral McGillvary, though he was an old acquaintance from the East Indies. Why she had taken so long in having a new dress made for the wedding. It might even answer why Frederick's holding Miss Anne's hand this evening as they had all conversed had nettled her. She began to have sympathy for her own dear mother-in-law and understand those sharp looks the older woman had given her from time to time. Stifling a yawn, she said, "Imagine, feeling such a way and he is not even my own son."

"You have a generous heart and a nature that cares greatly about your family. I would imagine that Edward is feeling a few pangs now himself. Between the two of you, you raised a fine young man. Well, we are beginning to lose our light," said the Admiral as one of the candles winked out. "We can continue in the dark." Each blew out the branches of candles on their side of the bed. Settling in together again, they were quiet for a time, no real thoughts, just the comfort and warmth of one another.

She came back to Frederick again when she said idly, "This explains why none of those rumours about him and certain ladies proved true." While the public in England loved to think of the Royal Navy as a fierce and unstoppable fighting machine; those who were a part of it also knew it shared quite a lot in common with any gathering of bored matrons at a dull party; much to tell, compare and speculate upon. Whether it was able seamen packed around the scuttle-butt on the deck of a frigate or officers round the port after dinner, sailors were partial to gossip. While the mails were haphazard at best; letters containing truth could take up to a year or more depending on the station to which they were being sent; rumours and lies were always on the first tide and the currents seemed to favor them exceedingly. The Crofts had more than once been the recipients of word-of-mouth concerning great interest on the Captain's part for a young woman or even an imminent betrothal, only to have his next letter arrive weeks or months later detailing nothing more than a fine play seen while ashore, an odd dish he and his mates partaken or a peculiar happening among his crew. No hints of romance. "It is sad to think of him so alone for all that time."

"Loneliness for a man his age is not the worst of things, Sophy. His time was well spent. He brings himself to her quite well set, and hope for more. He applied himself in a way a married man might not have. No, it is not the worst thing to be lonely when young like that. They have a fine start for their children; that cannot be overlooked." Neither said it, but the thought of children and what they might have provided them, passed quickly by. They both knew that there were things in life which could be lamented too often.

They were quiet for a long time. The familiar sounds of the house at night took their turns at being heard. The regulator clocks sounding together in concert, all being set precisely to Greenwich time as any good ship's chronometer. The faint noises of Mr. Carlisle finishing with his duties. Stray cats caterwauling in the back. Sounds of an ordinary night.

"Well, my dear. I think it is time that we went to sleep, if you will allow me my arm back . . . there we go." Kissing her again, the Admiral said, "Good night, girl. Sleep well."

"I will, dear."

Both turned to their sides and things grew silent again.

"I really detest this bed, dear."

"I know you do. But it's practically built into the room, and there is no way to be rid of it."

"I wish for our bed from the Courage."

"I know. Perhaps if Bonaparte stirs up enough dust, I'll be given a commission and we can drag it out of storage."

"What a thing to have to hope for."

"Aye, what a thing indeed."

|<-- Page back|

| Continue -->|

| Chapters 1--3 | Chapters 4--7 | Chapters 8--10 |
E-mail | Home |
Copyright © held by author