Frederick awoke again in his swinging cot. This time, he did not need to consult his watch to know it was close to one o'clock in the morning.

Being prepared for almost anything, he was not prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the double stroke of the ship's bell sounded and no shape appeared, he was very puzzled. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour went by, yet nothing came. As he sat up expectantly, he noticed a small stream of light through the door, coming from the great cabin. He stood up, put on his dressing gown, and began moving towards the door that connected the two rooms. A voice called him by his name and bade him to enter, so he did.

It was his cabin, no doubt about that, and in the middle of the room was a jolly Giant standing next to a great pile of turkeys, geese, game, poultry, mince pies, plum puddings, apples, oranges, and immense twelfth cakes.

"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."

The Ghost had dark brown curls on its head which were long and free; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanour, and its joyful air. It wore only a simple green robe bordered with white fur, and its feet were bare.

"Spirit," said Frederick, "conduct me where you will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learnt a lesson which is working now. Tonight, if you have aught to teach me, let me profit by it."

The Ghost smiled. "Touch my robe!"

Frederick did as he was told, and held it fast. Passing through the Laconia, they rose into the sky and higher than the occasional cloud. Frederick saw they were heading eastward. The coastline was not far, and he could discern the forms of cottages and farms scattered below. Soon they reached the Isle of Wight and slowed, passing over the ships anchored at Spithead before arriving at the door of a small house in Portsmouth.

Inside, eight young children sat around a dining table along with a woman who was visibly with child - she must be the children's mother. In the middle of the table was a cooked bird so small that Frederick could not believe it had come from a poulterer. Was it even a goose? A pheasant, perhaps? A bowl of plain boiled turnips was the only accompaniment. The children waited quietly, their spirits subdued as they eyed the food hungrily. Streaky glasses and chipped plates were set all around the table.

"Fanny, go get papa please," the mother said wearily. The eldest girl, about eight or nine years old and wearing a dress with sleeves stopping well before her wrists, dutifully obeyed and went to the adjoining room, where a man sat in almost complete darkness but for the solitary candle he held between himself and a newspaper.

The man made no movement at the sound of his daughter's footsteps. She stood there for a few moments regarding him with intelligent eyes that shimmered with sadness.

"Papa, it is time for dinner."

For a long moment, he did not acknowledge her. Then he grunted, set the newspaper down and grabbed a wooden cane that rested against his shabby chair. As he began walking, Frederick could see the man had injured his leg, but the unsteady gait and smell emanating from him spoke of too much liquor as well.

Once seated at the head of the table, he looked upon the food and frowned. "You call this a Christmas dinner, Fan?" His voice was menacing, almost a growl.

"We have a plum pudding too," his wife answered quietly.

"How could you not even manage to buy a larger bird? Why do I bother to give you money if you cannot spend it wisely?"

The wife lowered her eyes. "I needed to buy several yards of linen and muslin. William and Fanny outgrew their clothes over a year ago."

"Too many damn mouths to feed," he muttered.

Frederick studied the man's face carefully. "Why are we here, Spirit? I thought perhaps this man and I were once shipmates, but I am quite certain I do not know him."

"You do not know the Prices, but their story will be familiar. Mrs. Price is the daughter of a landed gentleman. She had a fortune of seven thousand pounds, and her older sister is married to a baronet."

"Indeed? I am surprised! With that fortune and good connections, why do she and her family live in such poor conditions?"

"Mr. Price was a lieutenant in the marines. He and his wife married for love despite his lack of money and connections. Her family disapproved of the match but she was determined to marry, leading to a total breach in relations. Then, two years after they married, Mr. Price severely wounded his leg in action."

"Losing the ability to earn a good income," Frederick concluded. "I see what you are doing, Spirit. Anne raised the possibility of my injury or death and said that her family might refuse to offer any support. You wish to show me this as proof that her fears were not unfounded. However, there are important differences. Anne's fortune is larger - another three thousand pounds would yield almost the same as Mr. Price's full annual pay, were he able to serve."

As the words came out, Frederick knew the omission in them. A marriage to Anne with limited resources was not what he had desired. Though he could never give her a life as splendid as the one she was born into, he had wanted to give her a comfortable one - a large cottage, a half dozen servants and a basic carriage, at a minimum.

He set aside that thought and continued, "Further, I am a post-captain, not a marine lieutenant."

"You are a post-captain now," the Spirit corrected him.

"Very well, but I was a commander then. The greater share of prize money is not insignificant. And most importantly, I have always been lucky and know I shall be so still. As proof, three years have already passed and I have captured many prizes with only minor injuries."

"You expected Miss Elliot to rest her future on good luck? No one can say when misfortune will strike. Mr. Price did not marry his wife with the expectation of becoming injured."

"If one is skilled and careful, then the risk of injury or death can be greatly minimised."

"Yet the risk is still there. Your friend, Captain Marley, could not escape a hurricane."

Frederick was annoyed by the conversation. Why was he even arguing with a Ghost?

"I have seen enough," he said impatiently. "Where are we going next?"

The Ghost took him westward, once more past the Isle of Wight as they hovered near the coastline. Frederick wondered if they might return to the Laconia or nearby Plymouth, but soon after the Isle of Portland, they headed inland. As they drew near the ground, Frederick recognised the area as one where he had spent many happy days and one devastating hour, so long ago. They approached the enormous, imposing house - Kellynch Hall. The faint sounds of lively music floated outside into the night air, and the windows blazed bright from lit fireplaces and candles within. Anne had mentioned that her father hosted a grand ball every Christmas, and it appeared to be in full swing tonight.

As they moved up the steps, a sense of dread filled Frederick, for he both knew and did not know what would come next. He was confident of who he would see on the other side of those front doors. But how would he find her this time? Hopefully not in her bedchamber again. That was an experience he did not wish to repeat.

Would she be married or engaged by now? Frederick never had any doubt that Anne would be loved and sought out by other gentlemen. Three years had passed since their betrothal; surely she had had many suitors since then. Perhaps she even met someone when Lady Russell took her to Bath. An unpleasant emotion suddenly seized him, one he neither wished to identify nor acknowledge. He was spared further time with his thoughts as the Spirit took him inside the house.

They came upon a group of musicians playing, hundreds of beeswax candles burning, and guests dressed in their best clothes performing a country dance in the large drawing room of Kellynch Hall.

Frederick's eyes immediately found Anne. She looked beautiful in her pale green gown as she danced with a young gentleman. The emotion running through Frederick's veins exploded into every fiber of his being. Jealousy.

The gentleman was well-dressed and had a pleasant countenance, but what Frederick noticed most of all was the adoring look in his eyes as he gazed at Anne. He was clearly besotted. Frederick looked to Anne's left hand, but he could not easily see it with the dense crowd of people and Anne continually turning and moving about. He stayed by the wall and slowly walked closer until he was almost next to her - and saw no ring. They may not be married, but they might still have an understanding. Frederick studied Anne's face. Her smile did not reach her eyes, and those eyes had none of the tenderness that she had once bestowed upon him.

The dance ended and the gentleman led Anne to two empty chairs in a corner of the room. Frederick followed them.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Anne."

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Charles."

Frederick wondered how Anne was acquainted with this Mr. Charles. He watched as Charles reached into a pocket, fingers trembling slightly as he pulled out a small box.

"To celebrate the festive season, I have a gift for you. A small token of my… well, here. Open it." Charles shyly pressed the box into Anne's hands.

Her long fingers carefully unwrapped the brown paper and opened the box. Frederick peered over and saw a pretty brooch made of gold filigree and pearls formed into the shape of a heart.

"It belonged to my grandmother," Charles explained.

"Oh, Mr. Charles, it is exquisite - too exquisite. I am very flattered that you thought of me, but I cannot possibly accept it. Such a piece should go to one of your sisters: Miss Musgrove or Miss Louisa."

"They will inherit several other pieces already, and my fondest wish is that this brooch will stay in the family too." Charles looked at Anne cautiously. She understood his meaning perfectly and blushed.

"He is going to propose!" Frederick exclaimed. And worse, he would be forced to watch it happen while remaining completely powerless to stop it. This was a hundred times worse than being in Anne's bedchamber.

"He is young and foolish, I suppose," the Ghost said, and Frederick recognised his own thoughts in those words.

Charles continued, "I know I cannot offer you all that you deserve, Miss Anne. My family has no title and I am not learned and well-read like you are. What I can promise you is my love, devotion and a good life. As you know, I am heir to my father's estate which brings in four thousand a year. For now, we could live on the grounds. I would convert one of the farmhouses into a cottage. You may choose whatever windows and decorations you wish, and you would live only three miles from your family and Lady Russell."

Anne looked down for a moment, studying her gloved hands, and then looked back up. "That sounds very lovely, Mr. Charles. Any woman would be lucky to receive such an offer, and could not be connected with better people than your family."

Hope blazed in Charles' eyes. "Then you accept? You will marry me?"

"No, do not marry him, Anne!" Frederick cried out. He knew she could not hear him but did not care. If there was some way, any way he could alter the events in front of him, he would not hesitate to try it.

"I find your reaction quite interesting," the Ghost observed.

"Why is that?" Frederick asked brusquely, intently waiting for Anne's answer.

"Is not her power with you gone forever?" the Spirit asked, turning Frederick's words on him again.

Frederick wondered how the Spirit could know his private thoughts. He had no time to answer as Anne continued,

"I am very honoured by your offer, but I cannot accept."

Charles' countenance fell. "I… I see. Perhaps I was too hasty; I have not paid attentions to you for very long. Might you agree to a long courtship instead? I am patient. I will wait."

"I am sorry, but it is impossible. You are a good friend, and I hope we shall always be friends, but we shall never be more than that."

Charles persisted for a few more minutes, making it clear that he thought Anne a most superior creature, and if there was some small chance he might one day win her favour, he would like to try. However, Anne remained very firm yet gentle in her refusal, and at last he pocketed the brooch and moved away.

After Charles left, Frederick almost collapsed in relief. A sudden realisation struck him.

Her power with me is not gone at all. I am still in love with her.

He heard the rustle of soft fabric behind him and turned to see Lady Russell approaching. He stiffened immediately.

"You refused him," she said to Anne, her voice even. Frederick saw the disapproval in her eyes.

Anne calmly met her godmother's gaze. "I did."

"It would be an excellent match. Mr. Musgrove's landed property and general importance are second in this country only to your father's. A union between both families is what everyone in both villages expects."

Frederick's heart stopped as he realised what was happening. Lady Russell wanted Anne to marry Charles Musgrove! Of course she would approve of the union. It would be almost impossible for Frederick to earn enough prize money to equal Charles' four thousand a year. Now Lady Russell would persuade Anne to accept Charles, just as she persuaded Anne to reject him three years ago. Frederick cursed. There was nothing he could do except watch helplessly.

"In a matter as important as this, I will not be guided by the expectations of anyone except myself." Anne's voice had an unusual edge to it. "I see him talking to Mary now, probably asking her hand for the next set. A marriage between them would join our families just the same."

"Mary! She should be so lucky," Lady Russell said, tapping her fan against her arm in frustration. She took a calming breath. "Will you at least tell me why you refused him?"

Anne turned to watch the couples dancing. "You know why, and thus you know I will not change my mind."

A shadow of guilt crossed Lady Russell's countenance so quickly that it would have been missed had Frederick not been watching her. She looked the other way and said no more.

Frederick and the Ghost were now in an open field.

"Spirit, why did Anne refuse Charles Musgrove?"

Had she done it for him? Did she still love him even after three years had passed?

"I cannot say."

The vague words did not escape him. "You cannot tell me or you do not know? You repeated my earlier thoughts to me; surely you know what she is thinking as well."

The Ghost shrugged indifferently and once again, Frederick was annoyed. He was about to say something unkind when he was suddenly struck by what he saw. He had not noticed it before, but the Ghost had grown older since it first arrived, and now its hair was grey.

"Are spirits' lives so short?" he asked.

"My life upon this globe is very brief," replied the Ghost. "It ends tonight."

"Tonight!"

"Tonight at midnight. Hark! The time is drawing near."

Somewhere, chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that moment.

"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Frederick, looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your skirts. Is it a foot or a claw?"

"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the Spirit's sorrowful reply. "Look here."

From the foldings of its robe, it brought forward two children. They were a boy and girl. Their faces, instead of fresh faced and cheerful, were unsightly and torn to shreds. Behind their eyes, where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared out menacing.

Frederick started back, appalled.

"Spirit! Are they yours?"

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. "And they cling to me. This girl is Anger and this boy is Pride. She is capricious and inflicts great harm in the blink of an eye, while his damage is more insidious. You may not even realise he has struck until it is too late. Beware them both, and all of their degree, for on their brows I see that written which is Regret, unless the writing be erased."

A bell struck twelve.

Frederick looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of Captain Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, towards him.

~~END OF CHAPTER~~

Author's note: By Christmas 1809, Fanny Price would be at Mansfield Park. However, I had enough scenes for the Past chapter and wanted the Present year to be the year of Charles Musgrove's proposal to Anne, so please forgive the discrepancy. Thank you for your reviews!