Chapter 1: Generating Drama

Anne hurried through the bustling train station. Her wheelie suitcase dragged un-ceremoniously behind her. The speaker was constantly announcing trains, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to understand a word it was saying.

She looked down at the neatly folded print-out she held- platform 7.

2platfrom 7, platform 7, platform 7….." she muttered as she hurried past the Starbucks and Paperchase. Looking up she saw the large luminous sign: Platform 7.

With a sigh Anne hurried through the barriers flashing her pre- paid ticket and stopped by the map. It was late, and the platform was practically deserted. A phone began to ring somewhere in the vicinity, Anne glanced around waiting for someone to pick up. It began to get louder and louder, with a start she realised it was her. Shifting her large hand- bag from one shoulder to the other, and balancing it on her knee she began to riffle through her many papers, and junk until her finger finally grasped the small ringing object. Flicking it open she pressed it to her ear.

"Where are you" screamed the nasal voice of her sister Mary. "I am so IIIIIIILLLLL! You have got to get here immediately- I am sure I am going to die of this."

"Mary" Anne started keeping her voice calm and soothing. "Where is Charles? I am sure he can- " She was cut off as Mary continued her voice gradually increasing in pitch until all that was detectable were a couple of words. Anne had dealt with these phone calls so often that, although Mary would be un-intelligible to anyone else, Anne knew exactly what her sister meant.

"CHARLES! Of course he isn't here. He is never here to help me when I need him. All he does is……. Children…..and…….the Musgroves……..haven't…. been….see…I….still….alive! Anne…you….I ….need…….me…….sick!"

"MARY!" Anne shouted desperately trying to stop her diatribe. The lady closest to her gave an angry glare as Anne desperately tried to get through to her sister.

"Please Mary, I am sure the Musgroves will visit you later, and I will be there shortly if you just." Anne didn't know what to do; it was the end of a very long and trying week, and she didn't have any reserves of patience left in order to deal with Mary's temper tantrums. Luckily for Anne the train began to pull into the station.

"Listen, Mary, I am sorry, but I have to go- the train is here- you can talk to me when I arrive." She hastily shut the phone and grabbing her suitcase and dashed into the nearest carriage.

Anne sat quietly on her bed. She stared down at a small pile of letters in her hands tied together by a ribbon. She ran her fingers across her name written across the front in his writing.

She started at the timid nock at the door. Swiftly she tucked the letters under her pillow, before calling out.

"Come in"

Mrs Russell pushed open the door and cautiously crossed the threshold. Anne sat perfectly still on her bed.

"Anne honey, what's going on- this isn't like you." When she got no reply she continued, "Do you know the Crofts?"

Anne was often surprised at how perceptive her friend could be. She turned to face her and nodded slightly.

"Well…" Mrs Russell prompted, spreading her hands in an open gesture.

"Well" Anne said trying to speak around the lump that had formed in her throat. "Mrs Croft was not always called Croft."

"Well obviously" Mrs Russell broke in, but halted as Anne began to nod fervently.

"Her maiden name is Wentworth." This was enough for Anne, but at the blank look on Mrs Russell's face she continued- "Frederick Wentworth's sister."

A look of complete understanding crossed Mrs Russell's face, then one of annoyance, followed swiftly by that of sympathy. It amazed how easy Mrs Russell was to read if you knew her well enough. She sincerely hoped she was not that easy to read herself.

"My dear you were far too young to get married. You were barely 19- and he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, and he was quite a lot older than you. It was perfectly prudent of you to reject him."

Anne winced inwardly at the word reject. It seemed so harsh, but that is exactly what she had done. She had been young yes, but she regretted her decision. She had chosen her family over the only love she had ever known, and now going on 28 she desperately wanted something, anything, to help her get over it. She didn't blame Mrs Russell, she never would or had, she truly believed she was right in advising Anne against it, she did not know the pain Anne had suffered since.

"I know, but I can't help thinking that…" Anne stammered

"Has he written to you? Has he once contacted you?" Mrs Russell asked, knowing perfectly well that he hadn't. "If he really loved you he would have come back for you. Some day soon Anne you will find someone who truly deserves and loves you."

Anne felt numb, there was no use arguing, she nodded silently, and smiled at her friend. The sad thing was, Anne knew she had already found him, and let him go.

The bus journey to the small village of Upper cross was slow and tedious, but Anne was of an intelligent mind, and found the solitude and quiet pleasant. She was able to think over everything that had happened over the last few days. Her father, sister and Mrs Clay had left promptly two days after the tenants had been found. Anne had remained, packing up the house entirely, and making sure Mr Sheppard had everything he needed to make the transfer of hands easy. Anne had decided early on to be away from the house before the Crofts arrived, if Frederick Wentworth were with them she would possibly develop a coronary despite her age and low blood pressure.

So, late that afternoon after sorting everything with work, she returned to Kellynch for the last time in a while, picked up her things and by 5 o'clock she was on the tube. At five minutes past five the Crofts arrived safely at Kellynch Hall, sad to have missed the owner, but pleased by their new abode.

Anne was pulled sharply out of her reverie by the sudden jolt of the bus, and the driver shouting down the row that it was the last stop. Brushing the remains of sleep from her eyes, Anne grabbed her suitcase a struggled off the bus.

It was with a heavy heart, and low spirits that Anne made her way up the drive to the small cottage her sister now called home. The lights were all still on, and Anne was pretty sure that however tired she was she would be forced to visit all the Musgroves that evening. Not that this was a chore for Anne, she loved the Musgrove possibly more than her own family, which surprised no one more than it did Anne.

Anne knocked on the large front door, only to be dragged forcibly into the hall by her sister, who promptly slammed the door.

"Where have you been?" She demanded. "I have needed you all afternoon, and you only arrive now?!"

Anne didn't know what to say.

"Well, what were you doing? You think it is okay to keep me waiting just because you are some big publishing hot-shot with your brief cases and skirt suits?" Mary narrowed her eyes, and looked Anne up and down- "Something's changed, what have you had done?" Before Anne could answer any of these questions Mary continued, grabbing Anne's hand,

"Oh, Anne, I have been so ill, and none of the Musgroves have been to see me. I am sure none of my husband's family would care if I died!" She finished with a final flourish throwing herself face- first onto the sofa.

Anne dropped her luggage, and glanced around the room. It was a lovely cottage, all bare wood beams on the ceilings, big fire places and children. Anne had always envied her sister's felicity, even though her sister tried hard to generate drama, she had a lovely, happy home.

"Are we expected at the Big House tonight?" Anne asked.

"Oh yes, they don't care that I am ill. Charles is already up there- I was just waiting for you." Mary said, jumping up and grabbing her coat.