Disclaimer : Jane Austen owns Persuasion, and all those who appear in it. But I retain the right of loving them.
He was, at that time, a remarkably fine young man, with a great deal of intelligence, spirit, and brilliancy; and Anne an extremely pretty girl, with gentleness, modesty, taste, and feeling. Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough, for he had nothing to do, and she had hardly anybody to love; but the encounter of such lavish recommendations could not fail. They were gradually acquainted, and when acquainted, rapidly and deeply in love. It would be difficult to say which had seen highest perfection in the other, or which had been the happiest: she, in receiving his declarations and proposals, or he in having them accepted.
A short period of exquisite felicity followed,..
It is an unsaid, but well-accepted edict that a young lady, accomplished in all the fine skills of art, conversation and manner that a finishing school deems indispensable for her survival in society, must be in want of nothing but a husband and family to occupy herself. To be mistress of hearth and home, responsible for the health, happiness and general well-being of one's family – would seem to be the most fruitful and self-gratifying use of one's time, unless one were inclined to scholarly pursuits, in which case, one's time would be most likely spent in ruing one's gender and attempting to evade the numerous restraints imposed by society on one's freedom.
Anne Elliot, by nature and inclination, most well suited to the former way of life, having made her come-out by the tender age of nineteen, was at that stage of life when a happy temper and an innocent, untouched heart, coupled with the most hurtful and uninterested neglect at home, would make her particularly susceptible to fall prey to the arrows of Cupid. It was fortunate then, that Fate was to lead her to trusting her heart to one who was sensible of its worth, and as desirous of returning her affections as owning them; for one so often hears of young women, and young men, too, who find, to their everlasting sorrow and eventual cynicism, that the passions of first love are as likely to be fickle as they are overpowering.
Having been well used to directing the affairs of her father's household for more than five years now, Elizabeth Elliot was cognizant of all the responsibilities due to the owners of Kellynch Hall, which included hosting at least one annual ball for the local families – to provide an yearly opportunity for them to come in and admire the grandeur of the seat of a baronet, a chance that was probably not as coveted by those persons as she and Sir Walter thought. Anne's official come-out having been made in London, the balls at home were not considered to be in her honour, Sir Walter's superiority over the masses not requiring his second daughter to be formally introduced to them, and Elizabeth's sisterly affection not exceeding that consciousness that she, as the eldest sister, deserved a more important status, being endowed with more personal beauty and (of more significance) being as yet, unattached. None of the young men hereabouts were worthy of Miss Elizabeth Elliot of Kellynch Hall, but one had to have them to make up the numbers; so, it came about that when an invitation for a small gathering was sent to Mr Edward Wentworth, the curate at Monkford, and it was found that he had a brother staying with him, the invitation was extended to that personage, as well.
The simple pleasures of country life notwithstanding, it is generally agreed that a ball, of any size, is of some pleasure to everybody. Anne, with her quiet amusements and interests, welcomed the natural gaiety that the presence of other young people would bring about, a state that she was not much used to - being quite cloistered at home for most of the year and much divorced from other persons of her own age. And gaiety there was – the young people of the select-few families invited did not lack the boisterous spirits common to youth. Anne, though gentle and retiring in her natural form, was drawn into the plans of the crowd, and in the general hubbub that followed, was hastily introduced to a number of people - one among them, Frederick Wentworth.
It has been said, and rightfully so, that no one can get truly acquainted during a ball. While this fact holds its share of truth, it would not be completely erroneous to say that a ball is more likely to aid in the formation of strong first impressions, than anywhere else. In general, how correct such a first impression may be is dependent on further acquaintance, and may prove unfounded in the long run; but in this case, the initial judgements formed by the principal actors was not very incorrect; Anne, without consciously realising it, thought Frederick a very personable and likeable young man; he had the impression of a gentle and quiet elegance eloquent only through limpid, dark eyes.
Youth is often eager, earnest and enthusiastic in all its doings, however capricious or indecisive it might be; and in the general confusion which this assemblage found itself in, with regard to conflicting ideas and uncooperative plans, Frederick and Anne were drawn into the roles of marshal and peacemaker, he - with the confidence and vitality that is unique to those that become leaders of men, she – with the calmness of manner and perspicacity that belongs to the best of our diplomats.
This was a circumstance calculated to bring each to the greater notice of the other, for though looks are often sufficient to excite admiration, a further interest is mostly created by the appreciation of some trait of character that one finds commendable. Accordingly, when they met a week later, as part of a walking party that consisted of the Misses Farrow – two sisters who exemplified the breed of giddy, lively girlhood, a Mr Aesop, who was the younger brother of a widow living in the village of Kellynch – a man of sense but not much sensibility, and Mr Dunmot, a town man who considered himself a budding poet and had come down to the country for inspiration, they found themselves gradually drifting together.
'Does this mode of passing one's time hold much appeal to you, Miss Elliot?' said he, with an inflection of humour in his voice, after the initial pleasantries were over.
She glanced at him in some surprise. 'Why, certainly, Mr Wentworth. I am afraid that our quiet family circle does not put me in the way of company very often; so I must rejoice in what chances of variety and conversation I may get, by any addition to our society.'
'Oh, my intention was not to deride the pastime, but to compare its merits with those of more useful ones.' he said, with a smile that seemed self-deprecating. 'I must confess that a life of idle pleasure does not attract me as much as it does most others – I chafe at the situation which places me without employment for such a length of time.'
Recalling what she had heard of his state of affairs, Anne began, 'Unfortunately, I must confess to being quite ignorant about the navy. It is, perhaps, a disadvantage of having only the newspapers to rely upon for knowledge – our prominent authors do not describe life on the sea as adequately as is needed for us to form a clear picture.'
He chuckled. 'Indeed, I believe that the account of any sort of lifestyle is best described by those who are well used to it; my sister's husband, the Admiral Croft, has often declared that the representations of the naval life in common literature, though aesthetically pleasing, are so incorrect so as to seem comical. But what can one hope for, except, maybe, the works of a seafaring novelist? Till then, we will have to be resigned to be duped by such false ideas like the one I came across just yesterday – that not a single hot meal is to be had once a person steps on board a vessel!'
Anne was all astonishment. 'Is it possible for such facilities to be found on a ship, then? I am afraid I have been under the same delusion – I was used to think that it would not be possible to light a fire in such confined spaces – those, moreover, made of wood! – and that such necessities that we are forever taking for granted on land, must seem like luxuries on the sea.'
This drew some mild raillery from his side, 'Ah, did you suppose we existed on hard biscuits and rainwater for months at an end? You would assign us to a hard fate indeed, Miss Elliot!' but he was drawn into describing the conditions amidst which life on a ship progressed, by her earnest entreaties and expressions of curiosity and wonder.
While, in a general case, a lack of knowledge or refinement must disgust (or amuse) the well-read, sophisticated mind, it is believed that young men would rather prefer their ladies to be less informed, for the pleasure to be obtained by enlightening them, than not; and Frederick Wentworth, though superior in all other regards, was not without this weakness of his sex, and Anne's ignorance, instead of putting off his interest, rather served to increase it – by dint of the sincere interest she showed in all that he had to impart.
Anne, impressionable as she must be at such a tender age, was charmed by all his tales; and to set her apart from the multitude of others of her ilk, it must be said that she had good reason to be swept away: for Frederick, though witty and amusing, used humour to please, never to hurt; and his manner was so free from all that was condescending and boastful and derogatory of others, that it would have captured the heart of many others of a more mature and sensible age.
There were pursuits aplenty for the bored, even in the country, for it was the hunting season; and for this reason, they could not further their acquaintance for quite many weeks. However, Providence has various ways of manoeuvring one's actions to achieve its ends, and Anne and Frederick eventually chanced to meet at the house of one of the parishioners in the village. Anne had been visiting the elderly and infirm Miss Hebbes, who, having rather weak eyes, was indebted to her 'dear Miss Anne' for hearing the Psalms read aloud to her every week, when Edward Wentworth - being a responsible curate, and furthermore, a very kind-hearted man - paid her his weekly call, with his younger brother in tow.
Miss Hebbes, in her fondness for her gentle companion, was full of praise for her many kindnesses, and Anne, blushing and self-conscious, was only shown to greater advantage before the two gentlemen; Edward had a smiling word of commendation for her good nature, and the glow of admiration in Frederick's eyes seemed to proclaim that he considered her the best model of womanly sweetness.
Edward having to meet many others in the village, and Anne's visit being at an end, Frederick offered himself as her escort to Kellynch Hall, where she was headed, and the conversation, as it must between any two individuals who know the other to possess a sensible mind, fell to books.
Here there was no disparity in taste or ignorance of subject to repel fancy, for, though Anne did not have the advantage of his university education, she had, through private studies at home, amassed as much of knowledge as the best of authors could bestow, a proceeding that could only increase his regard for her.
'It is a sad condition of our time, indeed, that such advantages as come our way, being men, are not available to our fairer counterparts.' said he. 'If only the fellows I knew, who moaned over their Latin verbs and cursed the rules that required them to be learnt, could have seen your interest and aptitude for learning, in spite of all constraints! – I am sure they would have soon grown ashamed of their petty complaints. It is a shame that your gender is against you, else the world would surely have hailed Miss Anne Elliot as a scholar of great repute.'
'No, no – this is flattery, indeed!' she protested, though with eyes shining at the compliment. 'I do not study the old languages out of a desire to master them, but to better understand those works which are written in them – I find that any translation, however accurate, leaves something to be desired - so my knowledge is only limited to that gleaned from the dictionary. I will not allow that to be the standard of a proficient scholar.'
'Oh, of course, if you will persist in proving that, along with your uncommon skill and desire for learning, you excel at the art of being naturally modest as well, I will not contradict you.' he said half teasingly, eyes warm with appreciation, and she laughed, colouring up in way that made her pretty features bloom even more delightfully.
The foundations for affection were thus laid, though both cautiously gave it the label of friendship; Anne, being too less used to receiving tenderness, and so far, having been innocent of any attachment other than familial or platonic, failing to recognize the emotion for what it was; and Frederick, though ready to admire the worth and beauty of any young lady who came his way (like most other young men), not among those who fancy themselves in love with every one of them.
And yet, there was a fluttering of spirits, an anticipation of the other's presence, the longing to learn the innermost thoughts of each other's mind: which must have announced the beginnings of ardour to any impartial, discerning observer, privy to the unconscious workings of their minds.
It is fortunate that the structure of one's social engagements is so designed so as to provide means for the showcase of one's various talents, otherwise the most deserving and modest among the populace would have no opportunity for displaying their accomplishments. Such a demonstration is often organized, not so much for the self-gratification of those whose abilities are praiseworthy, as for the entertainment they provide to their audience, and in all her days, the latter was the perspective Anne was used to having, of her being called forth to exhibit her competence on the pianoforte in public, till a different response was brought before her at this period.
At a small dinner party in the house of the nearest prominent landowner, the other young ladies not being very proficient at playing the harp, or at exercising their vocal chords, Anne was hailed by the jovial Mrs Roderick to give them 'an air or two' to cheer their spirits.
Anne took her place at the grand instrument in the drawing room, and prepared to lose herself in the world that music always led her into. Playing for an audience must always impose some amount of self-consciousness; this, and the constant disturbances of the voices that broke out into conversation, the bids of the whist players who sat in one corner of the room, and the general inattention of the crowd quite spoiled Anne's enjoyment of her own performance. She did not seem to be alone in experiencing frustration at these intrusions, for she was presently joined by Frederick, who had been seated with Miss Alicia Farrow at the other end of the room, but on hearing her superior playing, had striven to listen to it amidst all the commotion, and had finally been induced to coming up to her under the pretext of helping her in turning the pages of the music book.
Though being made more aware of him by this occurrence, Anne executed the rest of the piece with her usual dexterity, and had her reward in his earnest petitions for another. The voices of the others, coming late - as they realised, amidst their various doings, that she had finished, were raised to second his request, and Anne played two more songs, but now, for him as well as for herself, for though he did nothing so ungentlemanly as disconcert her by staring, it was revealed clearly how absorbed he was by her performance, as he sat in a chair close to her, with eyes fixed on the ground in deep concentration throughout.
The compliment of an undivided attention can only be appreciated by those who have only been used to negligence and the lukewarm praises of an uneducated audience; and Anne felt the power of such praise greatly, which was multiplied by his actual verbal appreciation at the end of the programme.
'I suppose I must be putting my wits to work to find the most flattering words to describe your flair for music, but – I am rendered quite dumb, Miss Elliot. Music - good music, has a power that words can never express adequately, and never fails to arouse the greatest admiration in my heart, for all those who are so accomplished at portraying it – a portrayal that, more so, is done with such faultless taste and feeling! I congratulate you!' All this was said with such a heartfelt tone, such fervency and frankness of manner, such a glow of appreciation in those bright eyes, that Anne surrendered the small, remaining portion of her heart that hadn't succumbed to infatuation yet, into his keeping.
From this point, Anne, growing swiftly more deeply in love, was to learn the various side effects that the emotion often brings: the thrills of hope, the palpitations of the heart, the shivers of nervous excitement. Eyes would turn towards the door in expectation of seeing him walk in, excuses would be made for going into the village with the prospect of meeting him, every word, look and expression of his would be dissected a hundred times, till a satisfactory meaning were attached to them all. And Anne was blessed in this pursuit of affection, for there were meetings aplenty: the shrubberies around the park were walked and every known subject discussed to their hearts' content; the music room at Kellynch filled with the strains of songs that, in earlier days, Anne was used to playing for herself – now for their mutual pleasure; eyes that met hers across the room at public gatherings with a softening in their expression that seemed reserved specially for her.
This growing feeling of joy had but one check; he was silent about his feelings. The custom of a woman's waiting for a man's declaration to be secure of future happiness had probably been a sore affliction to many a young lady, like it was with Anne, now – but this period of doubt was but a short one.
They had not been able to meet for more than a week, due to continual rains, after being used to weeks of inseparableness and growing intimacy, and Anne, feeling the pangs of dejection caused by separation, had been seated in the parlour with a book, when Frederick was announced. Her sister and father being occupied elsewhere in the house, she was quite alone, and along with the joy of seeing him, was also glad of this state of affairs – for the chance it provided of their being able to converse exclusively with one another, and it was soon proved that their being unaccompanied was to give her cause for a greater elation than any she had known earlier.
Frederick was not completely composed in spirits, for a man must always be in some trepidation at having to lay his heart open and free to rejection for the first time, and after speaking of the weather and enquiring about the health of their respective relations for a while, he approached the chair where she was seated, and burst out, 'I cannot go on like this any longer. You cannot expect me to talk on such trivialities – such inconsequential matters - when my heart longs so to hold forth on much dearer subjects. Have you not guessed – but no, I believe you to be so free of all that is conniving, that I must believe you to be innocent of my feelings, as well. Will you laugh at me, if I confess that you have bewitched me – heart, mind and soul? No, you will not laugh, for any hint of cruelty is alien to your nature, even though I sound like a lovelorn fool – but it is true, every word of it. My heart is yours – dear, sweet, generous Miss Elliot – Anne, if I may be so bold for a moment to forget propriety, and speak that name by which my mind knows you - and I wish you would put me out of this wretched suspense, and let me know if I could ever even have the hope of winning your affection.'
Are there any words to describe the thoughts, the feelings that might have run through Anne's mind as she heard these words? There could only be shining eyes, shy and acquiescing, lifted to his in acceptance and return of his declarations - and I leave it to your imagination, dear reader, to formulate the words to describe the exquisite felicity that those two found, in the realisation of the hopes and expectations of first love.
A/N : I watched the 2007 movie adaptation of Persuasion while writing this, and Rupert Penry-Jones is now fixed as my ideal for Frederick Wentworth - his handsomeness, if not his portrayal, vouching for him, and Sally Hawkins, who in appearance, does not match my idea of Anne Elliot at all, fixed as my reference for how Anne must have conducted herself, by her superb acting.
I think I love Persuasion the best, out of all of Jane Austen's books.(I say this for every book of hers, after I finish reading it.) I had to write this, because I just couldn't bear to let go of both of them, at the end of the book. Did my version seem convincing to you? Do review and say!
If you enjoyed this story, you may also like my sequel to Mansfield Park : Foundation For Wedded Love(you can find the link on my profile!)