Frederick was still wary of the gun in the man's hand — he was her brother-in-law, and he had just found them in a most scandalous embrace — but he could not account for the sudden recognition in Musgrove's eyes.

Anne nodded and said, "Captain Wentworth and I were well acquainted when he visited the county in the year six. Upon re-acquaintance, we've discovered that the thought of another eight years apart is unsupportable so we're to be married as soon as possible."

"Well then," Musgrove responded in a cheery voice tinged, perhaps, with a hint of regret, "I wish you joy. I think I'd rather be away from the house for Mary's raptures on the subject so I'm off shooting." He gave Anne an affectionate squeeze of the hand and turned to Frederick. "Wentworth, would you walk with me for a moment?"

Frederick nodded numbly and walked a ways with Anne's nearest male relative in the vicinity. When they'd passed just out of Anne's range of hearing, Charles's cheery voice dropped into a low, foreboding tone. "I cannot even begin to fathom what would cause a man fortunate enough to have won her heart to abandon a woman such as Anne Elliot, but see that you do not do so again. I can assure you that her attachment to you was far more solid than you deserve."

As Anne had recently assured him that she had not spoken of their attachment to anyone, Frederick was taken aback by this warning — for warning it certainly was. But Frederick reckoned he owed the man some assurance as her brother-in-law. "I promise you, Musgrove, a man does not recover from such a devotion of the heart to such a woman. He ought not; he does not. Had I believed it in my power to return and claim her hand sooner I would have."

"Good. I've yet to see for myself what sort of man you are, but we may yet hope you shall prove yourself worthy of her." With that, Musgrove shook his hand and gave him a merry smile before continuing on his way.

He walked back to Anne mulling over the odd conversation. "Was it so very bad as your scowl implies?" She asked, reaching out her hand to him.

"He seemed to know ... about our past."

"Well, I've not spoken directly of our past to anyone, but there are certain times when a lady finds it necessary to inform a gentleman that her heart has been irrevocably given to another."

Frederick stopped in his tracks and tightened his grip on her hand. "He proposed to you?"

"Yes. But as I've said. My heart was too full of you to seriously consider his proposal. Fortunately for him, Mary returned from school shortly thereafter and was far more amenable to his suit."

"How any man of sense could turn his sights from you to your sister is beyond me." Frederick said, shaking his head.

"Well, I've not much to say on the topic of Charles's sense, though he is an amiable fellow."


Admiral Croft was a man of action, far more inclined to be out of doors than in and restless when forced to stillness. He therefore found his present situation insupportable. The day had started out far more interesting than he'd anticipated, what with the drama of a romance acted out by the doctor and Frederick. After the boy had finally run after her, the admiral was at leisure for a time to sit and talk to his wife. He loved her more than many would consider an old salt capable of, and he was truly solicitous of her health and comfort. Particularly as he had been driving the gig and had somehow walked away with minimal injuries — the doctor speculated that it was actually the dung itself that had cushioned his fall and prevented further injury — and his dear wife was now in such a state. She'd damn near died from his negligence and he would sit by her bedside the rest of his days if that's what it took to repent.

His guilt over Sophy's injuries made it bristle all the more when that flighty sister of the doctor had graciously entered Sophy's room, forcing the admiral out of the only chair beside her bed. The delicate lady then proceeded to condole with Sophy by giving her a full account of her own current indispositions — which seemed to boil down to nerves and a feeling of neglect and jealousy that another with more pressing injuries had taken over her home.

After what felt like an eternity of her drivel, three more of these Musgrove ladies called to visit and condole with the invalid, a mother and two daughters. The mother exhibited much more real concern and sympathy for his wife's condition, but her care seemed to manifest itself in constant fussing with her pillows and coverlet and presenting far more cake than is good for anybody, particularly an invalid.

The daughters were young and lively and pretty and by these graces alone they would have endeared themselves to the admiral and his wife. They secured the affection of the Crofts, however, by peppering them with questions about the Navy as to the manner of living on board, daily regulations, food, hours, etc. While their questions revealed a general ignorance to the realities of sea, they were charmingly asked and answered with some pleasant ridicule.

From this lively inquisition, one of the girls turned the subject to what must have been their object all along, "do you not have a brother, Mrs. Croft?"

"A dashing young Captain who will be joining us soon?" The other added, actually bouncing on the balls of her feet. The admiral stifled a laugh at their determination. They'd yet to clap eyes on Frederick, but they'd already painted him as a romantic figure.

"Why yes, I do," Sophy answered with a twinkle in her eye, her thoughts no doubt returning to the extraordinary revelations of the morning. "He arrived last night and is at present reacquainting himself with Miss. Anne."

"Reacquainting!" Muttered the flighty sister, "a great brute if you ask me. First Anne rushed past the morning room without so much as popping her head in to say good morning or inquire after my health, then several minutes later he comes barreling down the hall demanding to know her presence! I was struck quite dumb by his boorish behavior, but then my son would go and point out Anne's location."

"I do apologize for the abruptness of my question Mrs. Musgrove," Frederick said from the doorway and the admiral watched the two frivolous daughters preen toward him like flowers to the sun.

"Oh dear," the ever sensible doctor said as she entered on Frederick's arm, "I'm afraid this number of people may be overwhelming for Mrs. Croft. We should move to the drawing room and visit her in smaller groups."

"Not so fast!" Sophy said with a smile. "You cannot leave me in such suspense!"

The doctor had won a space in his heart from the first for her competence, her care, her decisive actions, but it wasn't until she stood glowing and lovely in sensibility and happiness in response to Sophy's demand that the admiral saw how truly pretty she was. "Yes doctor, what's the prognosis?" He added.

She blushed becomingly and replied in a breathy voice with her eyes turned to Frederick, "A long and happy life."

"Of course!" The flighty sister interjected, "there has been little fear for her survival since she awoke yesterday morning. She is not of a weak constitution, such as I have."

"Oh, Anne, Frederick, I am so delighted! But I think you must be more explicit for the rest of the company," Sophy replied.

Frederick ducked his head, unsure of the reception of their news, but then he looked at the doctor and the words began flowing. He again explained their exultant and tumultuous past, their separation, the feelings that overtook them both when they were reunited, and finally of their renewed engagement. The Miss Musgroves at first appeared a bit downhearted that the handsome Captain was no longer an object to them, but were soon swept up in the romance of the tale. Their mother loudly decried the evil of separations and her joy at their finding each other again. The flighty sister, however, still put out by her ill-usage of the morning, dared to venture that Sir Walter and Lady Russell may yet disapprove.


Anne bristled at Mary's comment all the more because it may be true. Sir Walter had not approved of Frederick in the past, and it's possible that his fortune of five-and-twenty thousand pounds and his sterling career prospects would still fail to please her father. She looked again at Frederick to find that he was anxiously looking down at her. He was afraid. He doubted her. And after she had once bent to such arguments, it was no wonder.

Turning resolutely to Mary, she responded. "I once was convinced to yield my happiness to the opinions of others, and for that I have suffered eight years of disappointment and distress. But now I am of age, and with the advantage of maturity of mind, consciousness of right, and one independent fortune between us, nothing can prevent us from following our love to its natural conclusion." Anne felt Frederick's hand tighten around hers in possessive gratitude and knew that all would be well. This time they would bear down every opposition together.

Anne stood graciously accepting congratulations and bearing the inquisitive questions from her family and friends for several minutes before she noticed Sophy cringe and lay her head back on her pillows. Recalled to her duty as a nurse, she renewed her command that the sick-room be vacated. After some tutting over Sophy's coloring, fretting over her comfort, and fluttering skirts, the Musgroves had quitted the room, leaving Anne and Sophy with the Admiral and Frederick.

"I'm afraid you gentlemen ought to go down for the moment as well."

"Surely I may remain with my wife," replied the admiral, "I am sure you're absence in the drawing room will be of more note than my own. Besides, here is excellent reading material should she need her rest, An Abstract of Sea Chirurgery: Designed for the Use of Such Chirurgeons who Desire to Serve at Sea, Yet are Unacquainted with Sea Practice. One may be excused for thinking you longed to be at sea," The admiral said with a wink, Frederick beamed, and Anne felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

"Yes ... Well ..." she floundered for a moment "... Be that as it may, I should like a few moments to check on my patient, you may wait in the hall should you wish."

"Far be it from me to disobey the Doctor's orders," The admiral said with a wink as he and Frederick exited the room.

As she closed the door behind them, Anne took a moments pause to breathe. "Poor dear, I believe that was more notice than you've been accustomed to."

Anne turned and smiled contritely at her friend, "Perhaps. But I did shoo them away on your account, you need your rest."

"Yes, and I thank you. Your family is charming, but perhaps a bit much at the moment."

Anne nodded her agreement and moved to the bedside. She began slowly unwrapping the dressings of her leg wound to check for any redness, swelling, or heat that would be signs of infection. She was delighted to see none, and the stitching seemed to have stopped the bleeding. She next checked the wounds on Sophy's hands and face, and finding them improved and no longer bleeding, asked if Sophy would prefer to leave the bandages off for the moment, a proposition which her patient eagerly agreed to. She helped Sophy to the necessary again before retrieving the admiral.

She was pleasantly surprised to find Frederick lingering in the hallway with the admiral, waiting to escort her to the drawing room. "Sea surgery, my dear?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye once the admiral had rejoined his wife.

Anne again blushed. "I ordered it the day after you proposed. I thought if I was to join you on board I might as well make myself useful."

He looked down contemplatively, "I could never have brought you aboard the Asp, she was not fit to be employed, and I would not have risked your life."

Anne had fairly well worked this out from the account she'd read of the ship, but it pained her to hear confirmation anyway. "And yet you sailed on her."

"At that time ... I never thought ... Let's just say that at that point I felt I may just as well go to the bottom as not. She would either make my career or ..." he paused in painful recollection.

Her heart broke at the extent she'd hurt him. She cupped his face in her hands and sighed his name in contrition. He chaffed his hands up and down her back and added in a cheerier note, "luckily she was the making of my career, and we returned to dock just before she fell to pieces."

They stood there for some moments, soaking in each other's presence. At length he added, "Now that I'm thinking over the past, a question has suggested itself. You bought that book to prepare you for your role as a captain's wife and you kept it, read it even after I had left?"

"Given recent events, I'd say it was still useful even on land," Anne said playfully, then sobered and added, "I always held out a hope that you'd return. Although as the years passed that hope had dwindled down to naught but a fragile flicker."

"Tell me if, when I returned to England in the year eight, with a few thousand pounds, and was posted into the Laconia, if I had then written to you, would you have answered my letter? Would you, in short, have renewed the engagement then?"

"Would I!" was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough.

"Good God!" he cried, "you would! It is not that I did not think of it, or desire it, as what could alone crown all my other success; but I was proud, too proud to ask again. I did not understand you. I shut my eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice. This is a recollection which ought to make me forgive every one sooner than myself. Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared. It is a sort of pain, too, which is new to me. I have been used to the gratification of believing myself to earn every blessing that I enjoyed. I have valued myself on honourable toils and just rewards. Like other great men under reverses," he added, with a smile. "I must endeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve."


Sophy gradually made her recovery and Anne, dedicated to her patient, could not be convinced to leave off her care to another — even for the purpose of a trip to Bath to receive her father's consent. Frederick, anticipating little gratification in a visit in person, applied to Sir Walter via post. They might in fact, have borne down a great deal more than they met with, for there was little to distress them beyond the want of graciousness and warmth. Sir Walter made no objection, and Elizabeth did nothing worse than write a cold and unconcerned note of congratulations at the end of a letter requesting Anne's assistance in retrieving some trifles she required from Kellynch.

By November, Sophy's leg was finally considered stable enough to consider removing back to Kellynch. The morning after the grand ordeal of moving the invalid, Frederick received news that his friend, Captain Harville, had settled his family and their friend Captain Benwick not twenty miles away at Lyme. As Anne was newly freed of her nursing responsibilities and Frederick was eager to see his friends again — one having suffered a lingering wound to the leg in the war and the other a lingering wound to the soul when his fiancee died of a fever — a trip to Lyme was swiftly planned. For propriety, they began by inviting Mary and Charles, then Louisa and Henrietta latched on to the idea and propelled it forward.

The trip was brief and pleasant. In spite of the chill of November, they were able to walk along the cob and breathe the sea air. Frederick found infinite satisfaction in introducing Anne to his brother officers as his future wife, and though surprised, they were happy to claim her as a dear old acquaintance.

Louisa, who had spent the last weeks embellishing Anne and Frederick's love story into one of the greatest romances of all time, found a reluctant recipient of all of her newfound admiration of the Navy in Captain Benwick. Since the death of his dear Fanny, he had isolated himself in his own mind — nourished in its agony by liberal doses of melancholy poetry. He was startled out of this state by the persistent and lively attentions of a young and beautiful girl. He continued to mourn his loss, but as he watched Frederick's happy interactions with his fiancee, and Harville's domestic serenity with his wife, his thoughts slowly shifted from what could have been to what could be. He was not yet ready to cast off his black, but for the first time he could imagine doing so in the future.


Lady Russell returned to the neighborhood in full expectation of the horrors predicted in the summer. She prepared herself for the vulgar manners and shocking injustice of an admiral and his wife having usurped her dearly departed friend's family in their ancestral home. She was prepared to loathe them in sympathy for Anne's offended feelings.

What she found was a radiant Anne who had somehow recovered the bloom of her youth. She sat in stunned disapproval as Anne informed her of the accident and her timely — though rather unladylike — intervention. She was mortified to find that not only had Captain Wentworth returned, but his feelings were unchanged over the span of eight years and they were positively engaged. Openly, publicly engaged, with the full acknowledgment of her father.

She sat through this history in horrified silence and desperately attempted to sort the matter in her own head before speaking. She had her reservations, she always had, but what was to be done with everything so public? If Anne were to call off now it would ruin whatever prospects she had left for a suitable match. Her prospects had already been dim for years as she'd languished on the shelf. Her father and sister were too self-interested to do anything to promote Anne's interests, and Anne had stubbornly shunned any attempts at matchmaking.

Seeing Anne's expression grow increasingly anxious as the minutes ticked past in silence, Lady Russell determined to make her case. "He left you. Eight years with no contact, and now he's back and you believe in his constancy?"

Anne's chin took on a stubborn tilt more at home on Elizabeth's countenance than her docile Anne's. "Yes. He left me eight years ago because you convinced me to release him from our engagement. He did not contact me because I broke his heart."

"Men will say anything to get their way," she parried back.

"Apparently so will ladies," Anne countered with a disappointed look — again in an uncharacteristically bold fashion.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Only that if you truly had my best interests at heart you would listen to what I say and trust my judgment. You cautioned me to be prudent all those years ago and I was. Now Frederick has his fortune, he's proven successful in his career. The war is over. Our love has survived on both sides through pain and heartache and separation. This is not a childish whim. In the entire span of our acquaintance you've observed Frederick and I in company for a total of fifteen minutes. If that was all the time it took you to condemn our relationship, your judgment must be based on prejudice rather than observation."

Lady Russell was taken aback by Anne's vehemence. "I ..." she found she was unable to defend herself against this critical judgment. True, Captain Wentworth's status and fortune had informed her decisions against him, but she was being prudent, not prejudiced.

"I have been thinking over the past, and trying impartially to judge of the right and wrong, I mean with regard to myself; and I must believe that I was right, much as I suffered from it, that I was perfectly right in being guided by you. You stood in the place of a parent." Lady Russell reached out to grab Anne's hand, but was stopped by her icy tone as she continued. "Do not mistake me, however. I am not saying that you did not err in your advice. It was, perhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the event decides; and for myself, I certainly never should, in any circumstance of tolerable similarity, give such advice. But I mean, that I was right in submitting to you, and that if I had done otherwise, I should have suffered more in continuing the engagement than I did even in giving it up, because I should have suffered in my conscience. I have now, as far as such a sentiment is allowable in human nature, nothing to reproach myself with; and if I mistake not, a strong sense of duty is no bad part of a woman's portion."

"I am glad that you do my advice that justice at least," Lady Russell said quietly.

"I do your former advice that justice. However, I am no longer a child. I am an adult with a keen intellect and experience in the world. I have met other men. I have endured your season in Bath. I have rejected one suitable offer. But no other man has touched my soul the way that Frederick has. I am seven and twenty. I am not likely to receive any other offers, but if I should, I would be no more persuaded to marry against my heart than I was in the past. So I ask you now to reconsider what is in my best interests."

Lady Russsell knew she was in a corner. She could either hold her peace and hope for Anne's happiness or persist and loose her friendship with Anne foreved. She sighed and conceded. "You best tell me more about your Frederick then."


Anne and Frederick had early decided not to rush their wedding, despite their eagerness. What might not eight years do? Events of every description, changes, alienations, removals–all, all must be comprised in it! It included nearly a third part of her own life. And so they decide on mutual agreement to postpone the wedding until they'd had time to reacquaint themselves. Shortly after this meeting with Lady Russell, they decided that two months was a sufficient wait as neither had ambitions for a grand wedding. So they'd sent out a missive to Sir Walter and Elizabeth concerning possible dates.

They found upon the reply, however, that the degradation of returning to Kellynch while the hall was yet leased and Sir. Walter in disgrace was too much for the baronet to bear. Uppercross, likewise was unacceptable as it was too near their estranged ancestral home. Sir Walter proposed a removal of all to Bath as the wedding could be done in society style without the condemnation of a small town.

Frederick, recalling Anne's vehement dislike of Bath and of society, found this idea abhorrent. They had both had their fill of Sir Walter's dictates and refused to bend once again to his will. Rather than sending the immediate acceptance to his plan that Sir Walter had undoubtedly expected, Frederick immediately sent off a letter to his brother Edward in Shropshire requesting the banns to be read there and they set an early date for their wedding in his brother's parish. They therefore averted the social disaster of flouting Sir Walter's insolvency while maintaining their own independence.

If the local society of the parish found it odd that Sir Walter and his eldest daughter were absent from his middle daughter's wedding, they were too polite to mention it in company. The ceremony was small. Sophy and the admiral came — the latter's leg had mostly healed and she was able to travel quite well with the occasional use of a cane for support — as had Mary and Charles, accompanied by the Miss Musgroves. Captain Harville found a trip of that length too difficult a strain on his leg and pocketbook, but Captain Benwick made the journey. Lady Russell claimed the honor of transporting the bride thither in her own carriage while the bridegroom rode beside.

In the absence of her father and elder sister, Anne found the simple wedding perfectly suited to her tastes. Charles escorted her down the aisle, Mary, Louisa, and Henrietta all insisted on standing as bridesmaids, leaving the bride's side of the church woefully imbalanced with only poor Charles alone in the aisle. Captain Benwick stood up for Frederick, noting how lovely Miss Louisa Musgrove looked in her wedding finery. The Rev. Edward Wentworth and his wife hosted a modest wedding breakfast at the parsonage following the ceremony.

Oddly enough, given Anne and Frederick's pointed refusal to be married in Bath, the majority of their guests chose to stop in Bath on their journey home. Lady Russell traveled there for her annual visit to Bath, the Crofts took a sojourn there to aid the admiral's gout, and Anne insisted that at this juncture of her recovery frequent walks would do Mrs. Croft good as well. The Musgroves decided to stop there for a week on their return journey, and Captain Benwick changed his itinerary at the last minute when he heard of Miss Louisa's plans.

Captain and Mrs. Wentworth wished for nothing more than solitude to enjoy each other and make up for eight years of distance. They therefore let a cottage just outside of Cheltenham in the Cotswolds for a week for their honeymoon. With the exception of the coachman and tiger — who had accommodations in the stable — and a local woman who came daily to prepare meals and serve as a maid, they were free to revel in exquisite seclusion.