Decided to give modern Persuasion a go, still thinking about how to go about Without Hope

Hope you like it.

Special thanks go to Miriam1 for reading and rereading. Thank you very much.

New Beginnings

Anne Elliot was tired; it had been a long day, but then all days were long, these days. She'd lost the case, and Mrs. Philips had lost her children. All because of one Frederick 'Hotshot Lawyer' Wentworth; the man hadn't even bothered to show up in court.

Wentworth, Wentworth and Croft, attorneys at law, called themselves a pro bono firm; well, Anne knew better. They pretended to do good in order to get tax breaks and look good. This time, they had gone too far, and Anne wasn't going to let them get away with it. 'I'm writing him a letter and sending it to everyone.' It will probably not mean a thing to Mr. Hotshot Lawyer but she would feel better.

'I ought to find another job,' she told herself, 'somewhere with better pay and better outcomes. Social work is definitely not for the faint hearted, and working with abandoned children was worse. Maybe Mary and Elizabeth are right, I need a life of my own and stop watching other people live theirs.'

Elizabeth and Mary were Anne's sisters, and although she knew they wanted what they thought was best for her, money and more money, they didn't understand her at all. As for her father, he was only interested in having a good time, and as long as the trust their grandfather had put in place could still keep them rolling in the good life to which they accustomed, nothing mattered to him.

The only person in her family who Anne could talk to was her aunt, Stevie Russell. Aunt Stevie wasn't really their aunt, but she had been their mother's best friend as well as being their neighbor and was more often than not in their house.

Anne walked back dejected to her flat, and kicked off her shoes. 'Finally I can rest.' After taking the children back to the home she had been too worn out to go back to the office and had gone to library and picked up some novels to cheer her up. 'I will leave Hotshot a message, 'she said to herself, 'and tomorrow I will go and see him.'

Anne's phone rang; it was Elizabeth urging to go home to the palatial mansion in which they'd grown up, where Elizabeth still lived with their father. Mary was married with two children and also lived near their home. Anne thought of brushing off her sister, but knew that if she didn't go there now, then tomorrow would be an even longer day than today.

She walked into the sitting room and found her father, Elizabeth, Mary and aunt Stevie standing.

"It can't be that bad," she joked.

"Well, it's certainly worse than you think," her father said.

"What?" Anne was getting worried; 'well,' she thought to herself, 'it can't be a death in the family, so I can bear it.'

"As you well know," William Elliot began, "I was left in charge of your grandfather's trust, as the executor," he paused and looked at all of them, then he swallowed, "anyway I took it upon myself to make some investments like I've always done, take some money out to make more money, thing is I lost the money."

Anne had been thinking something along those lines since her father had began speaking but still she was shocked. Elizabeth swooned and fell into the chair while Mary looked at her father in shock and Aunt Stevie smiled at him encouragingly.

"What exactly does that mean?" Anne asked her father.

"I talked to the lawyers and the bankers already," he replied, as though he'd done something clever, "we've lost nearly everything."

"Dad, what does that mean?" Anne asked her father again.

"As you know," he explained, "the money that was meant for Mary became hers irrevocably once she got married. As for the money apportioned to you, Elizabeth, and myself from father's will... Well, the apportioned money was placed into separate accounts that were designated for each of us. But as I set up the accounts, my name is on all three of them

"Unfortunately, I have been dipping into your funds for the last few years; this house does require a lot of work as well as our recreational activities." Of course, he meant the twice-a-year holidays that he and Elizabeth had, as well as redecorating the house whenever Elizabeth felt like, as well as the parties they held every few months

Anne looked at her father, waiting for him to spell it out. "I managed to hold onto the house, although its upkeep will be difficult. The trust funds for Mary's children can't be touched, as per the will. All we have left is our yearly allowances of two thousand pounds."

He sat down and took Elizabeth's hand in his.

Mary walked over to join them "Daddy what are you going to do?"

"Well, since you have a husband," Elizabeth told her sourly, "your children can be assured of getting an education. As for us," she hugged her father. "I don't know how we'll manage."

"You girls need to get paid employment," Aunt Stevie said. Anne understood this to mean that Ann should get paid employment. Elizabeth was bright enough to get a job, but their father only thought of his eldest as a debutante socialite. Anne, on the other hand, got her hands dirty on a regular basis, much to her father's chagrin. Anne's volunteer work at the social centre had always been a sore point in the family.

Her father had told her countless times, 'Imagine me telling my friends that my daughter works,' with disdain dripping from his every word, 'moreover in that place ' He said it like she worked amongst the unworthy unwashed masses, as he thought of her clients.

Anne had been adamant: it was her life, and she would live it as she saw fit, as long as she could afford it. Having a trust fund made it easy for her to do volunteer work, but now that her father and sister squandered away her inheritance, she wasn't so sure it would be possible to continue as she had been going.

What am I going to? She asked herself, I guess it's time to get that teaching job I've always wanted get.

The others seemed to have made a decision while she was thinking and she turned to them.

"Anne, you should sell your flat" Aunt Stevie told her "to help with the household expenses here. Move back here, it's the only logical solution. In that stead I already put it on the market." Anne looked at her aunt in shock, "you already what? When? When were you going to tell me?"

"Your father and I already made this decision," she was informed, "your things will be returned tomorrow, and then you can set about finding a job."

Anne had borrowed some of her money to buy a flat. Her father had been angry with her decision, pointing out that the house was big enough for all of them but Anne had wanted to assert her independence and to get away from Elizabeth and her father. Unfortunately, as with all things money related, the flat wasn't in her name but her father's and he had the title to it as well. "Secure in the vault," he informed her when she had asked him for it. 'I bet they just couldn't wait to take even that from me,' she thought angrily.

Elizabeth had a degree in marketing but since she had never worked a day in her life it was a foregone conclusion that she wouldn't be starting now, as for Mary, she was a housewife.

Anne looked at her relations and excused herself. Today is officially the worst day of my life, worst day ever.

Frederick Wentworth was tired; he'd had to travel out of country to meet a client, all because he was the unmarried one. His partners, Edward and Richard, had voted that he make the journey to Wales. Thankfully, the meeting had been a success and they had made over a million pounds from the deal. In addition, he'd been able to take an extra day off and spend it with his friend Harry Harville and his family in Birmingham, before returning to London later that evening.

All he wanted was his bed

He had a message on his answering machine.

Frederick Wentworth, this is Beth and Lily's social worker, we've never met but honestly I don't see how you can call yourself a decent man. You were supposed to appear in court today to ensure a woman who has been working to regain control of her life gets her children back. You didn't show up, I know this is not your usual clientele but you made a promise. Guess we know that your word is worth -

The machine cut off the rest of the message.

Frederick sat up, he had forgotten, he had forgotten the Philips case. He had promised Lucy Philips that they would get the children today and he had forgotten.

He had forgotten.

'I have to get my head into the game,' he thought, 'it's been eight years. Eight years.'

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