Another update...finally. I keep wanting to update but the last year has been rough. Sending lots of love to readers affected by Covid. Hoping to get to work on another update soon, but I make no promises about it being quick.

Enjoy!

xoxo

Chapter Four

"Where are you headed? And looking so beautiful, too?" Charlotte questioned upon seeing Anne.

Anne had returned home from the library around six, promising to meet Louisa, Henrietta, and Charles at the Jazz Scene around nine. In the few hours before leaving, she had showered, dried her hair, and chosen a black dress to wear. She had Googled the club for more information and to help her decide what to wear, discovering it was a more upscale place rather than the dive bar she was expecting early twenty-somethings to frequent. Perhaps she had misjudged her new comrades.

After rifling through her closet she settled on an A-line black dress with a higher v-neck. She often reserved this dress for funerals when paired with a black cardigan, but the early autumn temperatures were unseasonably warm. She figured she could go without a sweater.

"Well, thanks," Anne said, not entirely sure about her wardrobe choice. But it was about time for her to leave and she didn't want to go to the trouble of changing. She figured Charlotte was being kind.

"Are you disregarding our dinner plans?" Charlotte asked, not really offended Anne was going out. She had lately encouraged Anne to do that just.

"Some friends invited me to go out with them. And I since I almost never go out-"

Charlotte smiled, interrupting Anne. "You figured you'd go have fun with people your own age?"

Anne shrugged, prompting Charlotte to think for a moment.

"I think your dress needs something," Charlotte suggested, leaving Anne near the front door as she ascended the stairs.

Anne looked at her hair in the mirror in the hall. It fell in loose curls around her face, a product of the hair dryer on her naturally wavy hair. She almost never wore it down anymore and hesitated as she looked at her reflection.

"I like your hair like that," Fred said, watching Anne from where he sat across the table.

It was their first "date," the Thursday before term ended officially for winter holidays. Anne's hands shook slightly and her heart fluttered at his compliment. Loose hair framed her face as she dropped his gaze, cheeks reddening as she felt Fred's eyes still watching her.

"Crazy?" she asked, finally looking at him again. She tucked a strand behind her ear out of habit and then knit her hands together on top of the table. Her discomfort was not because she was embarrassed to be with Fred or to be complimented by him, but pure nerves.

He was so cute.

"Beautiful," he answered. He reached over to take her hand and Anne broke into a smile which Fred returned.

"You're sweet," Anne said after a few moments of silence.

"I know," he teased, leaning closer over the table. He raised his hand to her lips and kissed it softly.

Anne pushed the memory away as Charlotte returned, a delicate gold necklace in her hand.

"This will be perfect," she told Anne, offering out the necklace. "Your mother gave it to me years ago."

"Oh, Charlotte, I couldn't wear this. What if something happens to it?" Anne said.

"Nothing will. And I think it's time this is yours." Charlotte said, stepping behind Anne to fasten it. Anne reached up to take the small diamond pendant in her fingers, feeling its rough but delicate texture.

"Char, I couldn't possibly keep it," Anne protested once more, but the older woman shook her head when Anne turned around.

"Your mother would want you to have it."

Anne didn't object further, but asked her friend if she should pull her hair back.

"Leave it down. It's lovely like that," Charlotte assured, tucking a strand of hair behind Anne's ear.

After taking a cab across town (at Charlotte's insistence), Anne found herself inside the Jazz Scene. She admired the high, ornate ceilings, wondering if the building had once been a theatre. If it had, the seats had all been removed, replaced by eclectic tables of varying sizes with velvet-covered chairs around them. A stage was still there, but without curtains to hide the players. A jazz quartet played currently, with a grand piano standing empty to the side.

"Anne!"

Louisa had spotted her first, shouting out Anne's name to get her attention. The trio sat at one of the larger tables with extra empty chairs including one available for Anne. She approached, cautious as she glanced at the three extra seats in addition to her own.

"Are more people coming?" she asked.

"Don't get spooked away by the seats," Henrietta instructed. "Louisa always likes to kick her feet up on a chair and lounge."

"You do it too," Louisa complained. She wore a surprisingly low-cut dress, at least to Anne's surmation. But, to each their own, she thought.

"I love your dress," Henrietta told Anne as the latter sat in a chair beside her.

"I like yours, too," Anne answered, not much for receiving compliments. "The color brings out your eyes."

"These old things?" Henrietta asked, batting her lashes. Anne smiled.

"Don't be so nice to her, Anne, it will go to her head," Charles spoke up, looking around. "I think this is our server."

The group ordered drinks which arrived shortly, the talk innocuous as they discussed the weather, classes, and asked Anne about her home life. Anne kept her own divulgences more general, although they seemed fascinated by her father's preoccupation with the family line.

"So, your father is a baronet?" Charles questioned with reverence. "We're in the presence of royalty."

Anne shook her head, embarrassed her family lineage had come up at all. But her father would have loved it. Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot's character; vanity of person and of situation.

"Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall," Louisa murmured. "Golly. Are you like, rich, then?"

"Not at all," Anne said, hoping to kill this discussion. Her father liked to pretend they were wealthy, but the Elliots of the past had squandered most of the family money. Currently, Sir Walter Elliot sold real estate, but was hoping to run for a seat in Parliament to gain more influence. Someday.

Anne hoped that day would never come.

During the question and answer session about her family, Anne had paid no mind to the other patrons entering the club. The music was so loud it almost covered up the conversation at her table, she was not able to distinguish other voices clearly. The lights were low and made it difficult to clearly see anyone who was not less than twenty feet away.

So she didn't see him come in. Nor did she see him sitting at a table not too far away, although he was behind her. Unless Anne had been actively looking about the room she would never have noticed if Louisa had not spoken.

"Look who it is."

Anne turned, following the others' gaze to see Frederick with a few friends, all men, a couple tables away.

"Are you stalking him and, therefore, making us accessories to a crime?" Charles asked, shaking his head as Louisa put on her best smile.

"I had no idea he'd be here," she said with a shrug, and Anne almost believed her.

But Anne herself should have known better. She knew he'd enjoy a place like this because she did, too. She probably would have come here on her own if she was more adventurous. But she'd been too worried about running into him somewhere.

How right she had been to be cautious.

Louisa was clearly trying to catch Frederick's eye, as she kept smiling and staring at him for the next five minutes. Anne tried not to look, pretending to be absorbed in her drink and eating pretzels from the bowl on their table, but she couldn't help glancing back at him.

Frederick was laughing at something one of his companions said. As he took a drink from the glass in front of him, his eyes met Anne's.

"Fred!" Louisa called out, drawing his glance away from Anne. In the moment his eyes passed from Anne to Louisa, a genial smile appeared on his face. Anne turned away, her heart pounding anxiously as her cheeks warmed. She was grateful it was dim enough to hide her blush this time.

"Fred, over here!" Louisa was relentless in her exclamations for his attention. Anne knew the girl did not know Anne had any connection to him, but it was torturous to hear her shouts.

And apparently her persistence would pay off.

"I didn't expect to see you lot here."

His voice was too close, just over Anne's shoulder and a few steps away. She tried to brace herself for another encounter.

"Well, we can be surprising," Louisa flirted shamelessly, batting her eyelashes a few times.

"Hi, Doctor Wentworth," Henrietta said, Louisa's friendliness rubbing off on her. "Sorry to interrupt your night."

"It's Fred, please," he stated, with a smile. "Good to see you all again." His gaze ran across the table, briefly shifting to Anne. He nodded, almost acknowledging her presence for once, but he quickly looked away.

Anne was crushed. His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.

"Why don't you sit with us?" Louisa offered…to Anne's mortification.

"I couldn't leave my group," Frederick said, jovial in his interactions with the others.

"Oh, there are plenty of seats," Henrietta told him. Charles shot her a look of irritation, but she ignored it. As did Louisa, who looked thrilled to have Henrietta's support. Charles probably assumed Louisa had some competition and didn't want to see his friends be at odds, even though in their limited interactions she knew Charles thought highly of Frederick. Henrietta, for her part, looked like she had all but forgotten her fiancé.

Frederick hesitated for a moment, but Louisa's warm smiles and the added encouragement from Henrietta swayed him. He retreated for a few moments back to his friends, speaking with them out of earshot. Anne kept her eyes trained on the stage as the music continued, doing her best to ignore the giddy conversation between Louisa and Henrietta about him. She tried to focus on the song being played but she didn't recognize it, and could hardly pick out the individual notes being played as her ears buzzed.

And then she heard shuffling as three pairs of feet approached their table. Her shoulders tensed when he spoke, but she silently thought this was a good thing that he had joined. The more she was around him, the more she could desensitize herself to his presence.

"These are my friends, Stephen Harville and James Benwick, we work at the hospital together," Frederick explained.

"Doctors, too?" Louisa asked, coy.

"Yes," Frederick answered. "James is in A&E with me, Harville is in ICU. Harville here was my mentor in medical school and helped me get the job here."

Anne glanced at the companions, putting on her bravest face as they nodded their hellos. Stephen Harville was the oldest among the men, with silver hair around the temples, but friendly in appearance. James Benwick was clearly a few years younger than his friends and shorter in stature. He smiled briefly at Frederick at the introduction, but looked almost unhappy to be there.

"Lads, these are some students in Sophie's English program."

Frederick went around and introduced the others, beginning with Louisa. By default, Anne was last.

"And this is Anne Elliot," he said, almost careless in tone.

Stephen Harville's eyes locked on to Anne's.

"Anne Elliot?" he questioned her, to which she nodded slowly. Harville's gaze went to Frederick, a knowing look passing to his friend as the group sat down. She wondered what he meant by it.

Perhaps Frederick had told his med school mentor how a girl named Anne Elliot had mercilessly broken his heart.

Anne felt her stomach constrict as another round was ordered and the merriment of the group increased. She realized that had she stayed with Frederick and they had married, these men would be among her friends. Harville wore a ring, so Anne assumed he was married. It was confirmed as he spoke of his wife, Georgia, referring to how she was missing out on all this pleasant company as she was out to dinner with her own friends that night. This Georgia might have been a close confidant to Anne. Like a sister. Now, she could hardly expect any tolerance from them.

Anne had turned away from the group, wallowing silently as she feigned listening to the band again. Seated between Anne and Harville, James Benwick's own spirits seemed as low, as he kept his eyes on his glass. When Anne had first seen him, his face had been more relaxed. In this group of new people he was clearly uncomfortable. But Anne thought it could be something else troubling him.

"Where did you study, Doctor Benwick?" Anne ventured after some time, drawing her eyes from the band. A song had ended, with one of the band members stepping over to a microphone to announce they were taking a break. Canned music began to play.

The rest of the group paid no mind to her question, as they were engaged by a story Charles told about a traffic ticket.

"Cardiff," James stated, rather flat. He took a deep draft from his cup.

"Wales is lovely," Anne said. "I went with my mother when I was a little girl."

James shrugged with disinterest. Anne, feeling a little lost, decided to prod again. Since no one was speaking directly to either of them, it wasn't rude to attempt a conversation. While she had never excelled at small talk, she thought the gloomy James Benwick deserved an effort.

But he spoke first.

"You're studying English?" he questioned, not quite meeting Anne's eyes, as though it was difficult for him to start a conversation.

"Yes, with Professor Croft," she answered. "My focus is literary fantasy."

James looked at her now, eyebrows raised as he nodded. "Like Tolkien and Lewis?"

"And Mary Shelley, George MacDonald," Anne explained.

"Have you read The Well at the World's End?" he questioned.

Anne confessed she had not heard of it and James looked excited for the first time that night.

"Oh, you must. It's by this bloke, William Morris, published at the end of the 1800s. It sounds like you'd enjoy it," he said, but he looked miserable again and Anne then found out why. "My girlfriend used to love that book."

Anne gave an involuntary puzzled look in response to the words "used to."

He shook his head, dropping her eyes. "She - she died two years ago. Suddenly. She had acute myeloid leukemia. She was twenty-three."

"I'm so sorry," Anne said empathetically, patting his arm. She knew what it was like to lose a loved-one to cancer, for it had taken her mother.

His eyes were misty suddenly, and he sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Excuse me, please," James said, getting to his feet. He walked away, leaving their party for the privacy of the loo.

Anne felt terrible his pain had unintentionally been brought to the surface and shared with a stranger. Now she knew why he looked as though he would fall apart. How deeply she felt James Benwick's pain must have been evident on her face, for Henrietta brought the group's attention to her as James hurried away.

"Everything alright, Anne?" Henrietta asked, frowning.

Anne felt five pairs of eyes on her, although one set of brown eyes looked down after a brief moment.

"I'm afraid I've upset James," she said, her voice unsteady as she looked down at the table. A curtain of hair fell forward, and Anne tucked the strand behind her ear nervously. She liked it better when the group was distracted.

"He'll be alright," Harville said. His eyes were the only ones that had followed his friend when he left the table. "And it wasn't your fault. Fanny was the love of his life."

Anne offered a tentative, appreciative smile to the man, and while the rest of the group's attention drifted elsewhere Stephen Harville kept his eyes on her.

"I don't believe there has been any man more attached to a woman than Benwick was to my sister," he said, looking grave himself.

"Your sister?" Anne questioned, her eyes turning to Frederick unconsciously. He was looking into his drink, as though pretending he was not listening to their conversation. But he clearly wasn't listening to Louisa who was now talking about her favorite reality television show.

"Yes, they met in Cardiff as James was finishing up his degree," Harville explained, and Anne detected a West Welsh accent. "That's how I first met him, as Fanny's beau. But she got sick fast. As a medical student, James knew the survival rate for that type of leukemia is fairly low. After she died, he barely passed his boards. I asked him to move in with Georgia and myself here, to get him out of Cardiff as quickly as possible and give him something else to think of."

Anne nodded, understanding James's pain all the more clearly. She too had wanted to leave school after everything had ended with Frederick, but her father wouldn't allow it. Elliots had been educated at King's College London since it was established in 1829 - so Sir Walter claimed. He had only bent for Mary, who decided not to go to university after getting dismal marks on her GCSE and floundering at the end of her sixth form. She had been more interested in meeting boys than studying. Sir Walter had not insisted she continue on to university, a rare example of financial prudence on his part.

When Frederick had left King's for Edinburg, Anne had been required to stay put and get her degree. Another ill effect of over-persuasion.

"That was kind," Anne told Harville, who raised his hands humbly.

"No, James is family," he replied fondly. "Fanny was studying English in Cardiff. Had been writing her own fantasy stories ever since she could pick up a pen. She wanted to be a published author."

"She sounds incredibly tenacious," she offered.

"She was," Harville agreed. "James has made it his mission, in his off hours, to get through every book Fanny ever read."

Anne could relate to wanting to be connected to a loved one lost, and told Harville of her own obsession with playing the piano after her mother died.

"It makes one feel like a piece of them is still with you," Harville agreed with a smile, patting her hand in friendship. "If I had James' patience with reading I would do the same."

In spite of their lengthy conversation, Anne wished his kind demeanor was enough to ease the pit in her stomach. She had very little right to the generosity of Frederick's closest friends. She attempted a grateful smile anyway.

Behind her new conversation partner, Frederick had remained quite silent until Louisa called his attention to her. A few times, when Anne was speaking, she thought she felt his gaze upon her, but each time her eyes flitted to him there was no acknowledgement she was even there. And now Louisa had his notice once more, and he was clearly enjoying her eager admiration.

Anne turned her head, seeing James had settled himself at the bar.

"I think I'll go apologize to James anyway," she said, hoping her effort would not be rebuffed.

"Tell him we miss him over here," Harville replied.

She agreed before standing to make her way across the room. Although Louisa had kept talking, Frederick's gaze followed Anne without her knowledge.

"Sorry, I'm out of sorts tonight," James apologized when Anne reached where he sat.

"You don't need to ask for my forgiveness," Anne told him.

"I'm the one who brought up the book," he said, turning his head to look at her.

"Stephen tells me you're working your way through a lengthy bibliography," she said, ignoring his last comment. She sat on the empty stool beside him. "Read anything interesting lately?"

For the first time James broke into a genuine smile.

"Harville thinks I read too much in my spare time. So does Georgia," he muttered. "Only Fred supports it. I think he likes the recaps I give him during the downtime at the hospital."

"Whatcha reading?"

Fred lounged on the floor of Anne's dorm room, his head resting on a pillow as he looked up at her. She sat in a chair by the window, doing her best to take advantage of the rarely-sighted January sun before it set.

"Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," Anne said, eyes not moving from the page, highlighter in hand.

"I thought you were doing homework," the playful grumble in Fred's voice caused Anne to look up and smile.

"This is homework. I got to choose the book I wanted to write my essay on for Twentieth Century Lit. I can't help it that my homework is more fun," she replied, shaking her head at his lazy posture. He shut his eyes as though trying to nap. "You know, for a graduate student, you're pretty unmotivated."

She pointed to his book on neurology that had been abandoned on the floor behind him along with his open laptop.

He pulled the pillow out from beneath his head, laughing as he tossed it over his head.

"Only because I'd rather stare at my gorgeous girlfriend," Fred answered. Anne blushed at this flattering remark and being called his "girlfriend."

They'd been dating for nearly a month, with Anne's attachment to him increasing with each day. She never got tired of seeing Fred grinning at her from across the quad as they met after classes every afternoon.

"How's that going to work out for you when you don't pass your last four coures?" she quipped.

He laughed, countering by flinging the pillow at her. She batted it away with the book.

"Sometimes even grad students need breaks," he replied. He sat up to retrieve the pillow, but moved closer to rest it on Anne's lap. She smiled as he laid his head on the pillow.

"Why don't you read to me?" He batted his eyelashes for good measure.

She closed the book, leaving one finger as a bookmark for her page. With her free hand, she ran her fingers through Fred's hair and he closed his eyes, content. After a few moments, she pulled her hand back to return to reading, but he grasped her fingers, opening his eyes.

"Anne, I love you."

His face was all seriousness, something that rarely occurred so Anne knew it was true. Her heart thrashed in her chest.

"You don't have to say it back or anything, I just-" he rambled, showing a rare apprehension.

"Quiet," she instructed. "I love you, too."

Breaking out into a grin once more, Fred pushed himself onto his knees and brushed his fingers against her cheek before kissing her slowly.

Anne pushed the memory away, trying to focus on whatever book James was explaining the plot to. But she was lost and could not recover immediately to take part in the conversation.

James had turned so he was facing away from the bar, something Anne had not noticed during her reverie. Pretending to be engrossed in what he said, Anne followed suit and turned toward the larger room. So distracted had she been that she hadn't noticed the band was playing again, this time with one of the men singing a ballad.

As her eyes skimmed over the room she saw that some couples were now dancing to the slow song.

Her heart stopped as she saw Louisa hanging on Frederick, swaying in time with the tune. Louisa said something, causing him to smile. Anne felt her eyes burn with tears as James continued on, not noticing her struggle.

She knew she was not yet immune to this pain yet.