Disclaimer: Not mine, don't own, etc.

Summary: See previous chapters

Chapter Five

Phoebe took the Post Coach from London to Somerset. She travelled in stages, taking the scenic route, both because the shorter lengths turned out to be more affordable, in the long run, and to afford herself the chance to see some of the sights, if it turned out that she did have to return to India unmarried. Phoebe hadn't travelled halfway around the world to mope in her room, after all.

(If she did return home alone, she would make up some story about Anthony having died in a tragic accident to explain the lack of a wedding ring. No-one in India would have cause to know or inquire otherwise, and even at the height of her anger, Phoebe could not wish Anthony harm.)

The countryside, when it wasn't pouring rain, was enjoyable to watch out the window, so different from the stifling heat of Pondicherry. Haslemere, Phoebe's first overnight stop, was a largely unremarkable Market Town, though the surrounding landscapes held an interesting variety. The seaside town of Brighton was very pretty, and there was a good market in bustling Portsmouth, and Phoebe spent the next two nights falling asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

Salisbury Cathedral and Stonehenge were also interesting, and Phoebe couldn't help comparing the ancient stones to the palaces and cities her mother's people had built in the Indus Valley during the same time period. One came up lacking against the other.

Phoebe left Salisbury early the next morning, and arrived in Lyme after sunset. There was little time for more than breakfast and a brief walk along the Cobb the next morning before the Post departed for Somerset, but Phoebe thought that she wouldn't mind returning there, one day.

At Kellynch village, Phoebe was lucky enough to encounter Sarah, who was running an errand, and succeeded in persuading a merchant who had looked askance at Phoebe's darker complexion to convey them - and more to the point, Phoebe's trunks - back to Kellynch Hall.

Servants were a goldmine of gossip and information, and Sarah was more than happy to provide a detailed account of the local who's who, particularly those Phoebe was likely to encounter as a guest of the Crofts. The Musgroves of Uppercross, second only to Kellynch in importance. The Heyters, a mixed bag in terms of education, but they owned the biggest farm in the country, and the eldest son had been ordained, with ambitions toward the living when the current occupant retired…

Kellynch Hall, and many of the tenant cottages they passed on the way there, showed early signs of disrepair, but it held the same presence many old houses did; as if something of the family that lived and died within those walls had lingered, sinking itself into the very stones.

When they arrived, Phoebe hesitated once the Butler informed her that Admiral and Mrs Croft were out in the gig. She looked at Sarah apologetically, "Properly, I should greet the Master and Mistress who offered their hospitality before I enter their home. I hate to ask it of you…"

Sarah smiled, "There's a guest room already prepared for you, Miss Weirbrook. I'll get some footmen to help me take your trunks up while you walk and see if you run into them."

After the emotional chaos of the past few days, such unthinking kindness almost made Phoebe blink back tears. "Thank you, Sarah."

The Butler made a disapproving noise, and Sarah frowned at him. "The Baronet might have approved of you looking down on guests, but the Crofts do not!"

As the footmen were already carting her trunks upstairs, Phoebe did not think an audience to the brewing debate would improve matters, and set off at a brisk walk.

Downstairs Politics were always complicated. As a maid, Sarah unquestionably ranked far below the Butler, but as Mrs Croft's Abigail, her personal maid, Sarah had the ear of the current Mistress, outside the usual hierarchy. Equally, while most leases would need to seek permission from the estate owner before any hiring or firing, as the servants were employed by the owner, an estate in financial trouble might forego that clause, if the family leasing were willing to assume responsibility for the staff's wages. If that were the case, a report from Sarah could see the Butler seeking a new position in very short order.

Pondering this carried Phoebe through the gardens and down the path toward the neighbouring estate, Uppercross. She was considering the merits of climbing a tree for a better viewpoint when a clatter of hooves made her step to the side of the road, as the Admiral and Mrs Croft rounded the corner in a gig. The Admiral immediately pulled the vehicle to a halt. "Miss Weirbrook! We did not expect you so soon!"

Despite the words, there was no hint of unwelcome, and indeed every indication of delight at her presence, and Phoebe found herself smiling properly for the first time in days. "The journey did not take as long as I expected. I hope I am not an imposition?"
Mrs Croft waved a hand. "Not at all, though I fear that my beloved Admiral is not so steady a hand with the reigns as he has with the helm. But he has not overturned us yet, so we shall continue until he does."
The Admiral laughed cheerfully. "My Sophia wrangled a promise out of me: once I overturn the gig, I shall have to permit her to drive us everywhere. Therefore, I am determined not to do so."

Their cheerful banter reminded Phoebe of the bantering between Anthony and herself, or Anthony and his fellow Officers, back in Pondicherry. She brutally forced the memories aside, and climbed up into the gig behind them. Admiral Croft set off again, allowing his wife to carry the bulk of the conversation. "My brother returned from a short journey, and went to visit our new neighbours, the Musgroves, this morning. We dined with them recently, and the heir invited Fredrick to go shooting with him, though I have no doubt the young man's sisters will try to entice him into joining them for a walk."

Hopefully the younger Mr Musgrove had better luck with managing his family than Earl Berrington did. For a moment, memory threatened to consume her. She shook herself out of it as the gig rounded a corner and Mrs Croft hailed a small group of people out for a walk.

Apparently, the Musgrove daughters had prevailed after all. Younger sisters were good at that. At least, Phoebe presumed that the lively pair, barely out of schooling, competing for the attention of a man in the colours of the British Navy, were the two Miss Musgroves. That would make the more portly man behind them, walking arm in arm with a pinch-faced woman, Mr Charles Musgrove and his wife, Mary, formerly the youngest Elliot sister according to Sarah's descriptions. Behind them all trailed an older woman, likely around Phoebe's age… and radiating the same well-concealed disappointment and misery that Phoebe had been trying to avoid displaying, during those lonely days in London.

The navy man, who must have been Captain Wentworth, approached the gig and said something in an undertone, before moving to assist the eldest of the women up beside Phoebe.

Admiral Croft twisted in his seat, and Phoebe clutched at her seat as the gig bounced, the horse taking advantage of his slackened grip. "Ah, of course! Captain Wentworth, allow me to introduce Miss Phoebe Weirbrook, whose family took passage with us from the East Indies to London on our return voyage. Miss Weirbrook, my brother-in-law, Fredrick Wentworth, Captain of the Laconia. Oh, and the lady is Miss Anne Elliot, whose family owns Kellynch Hall."

Phoebe managed a curtsy as she moved over to make room for the other woman, and the gig continued on toward Uppercross, leaving the walkers behind.

There was nothing but sincerity in Miss Elliot's eyes as she offered a friendly smile. "I hope you will enjoy your stay at Kellynch, Miss Weirbrook."

There was something about Anne Elliot that hinted at a kindred spirit, another who had suffered from the best of intentions, who had sacrificed for an ungrateful family and regretted it, as Anthony had. "I am sure that I shall, but Admiral and Mrs Croft will not want to be always entertaining me. May I call you friend enough to visit occasionally?"

Miss Elliot's surprise hinted that people predominantly sought her out to be of use to them, rather than for her own sake. "I should like that above all things, Miss Weirbrook."

A bump in the road jolted the two women into each other, Miss Elliot's arms wrapping around Phoebe instinctively as Mrs Croft cried "The post, my dear! We shall surely take that post!", and the Admiral hastily corrected their course.

Admiral and Mrs Croft went to call upon the Musgroves, upon their arrival at Uppercross, leaving Anne and Phoebe to talk alone. Anne still looked exhausted, so Phoebe took it upon herself to make the tea, going through the familiar motions on instinct.

Miss Elliot blinked in surprise at the flavour, but merely inquired at it's origin, leading to a surprisingly pleasant discussion on tea and the ways of preparing it, considerate of the young boy sleeping on the couch. Phoebe did not make friends easily, but much like Mrs Croft, determined Miss Anne Elliot to be the kind of friend very worth having.

Keeping an eye out the window for any sight of the Crofts or the rest of the walking party, Phoebe set down her teacup. "You are very easy to talk to, Miss Elliot."

Miss Elliot looked honestly surprised at the compliment. It seemed incomprehensible that she should be so unaccustomed to praise… but many people said the same thing about Phoebe, who was regarded with distant admiration and an occasional dose of fear, more than actual respect. "Pray, do call me Anne, if we are to be friends. I hear myself called Miss Elliot wherever I go."

Phoebe smiled. "As long as you promise to call me Phoebe."

Anne nodded. "Phoebe, then. Forgive my surprise, but being from India, I did not expect such an English name.?"

Phoebe smiled, "The complications of a blended family, I fear. At the rate the Traders are gaining control over my mother's country, my parents decided that the more British I could be, the better off we were."

Her new friend looked sympathetic. "My mother died when I was fourteen, when I was at school. My godmother tried to fill her place, but I often wonder if Lady Russell sees who she wishes me to be, rather than who I really am."

The boy on the couch, Charles, stirred fitfully, and Phoebe motioned for Anne to stay seated, stroking the boy's hair and humming a lullaby. "I am far from the only Biracial person back home, and I often looked after such children when their parents were busy."

She rejoined her new friend, who patted her hand gently. "If you wish to talk about it, I would be happy to listen."

Somehow, Phoebe found herself spilling the whole story. How Anthony had courted her and proposed. How his family was set against her. Her fears that the Dowager Countess would succeed in driving her away, yet she knew that even leaving the country would not be enough to make her forget him.

Anne scoffed when Phoebe recited Lady Berrington's assertion that marrying for duty would be reward enough to satisfy her son. "If it were so easy to marry without affection or some kind of motivation, I would have accepted Charles when he asked me. As it is, he and Mary are a shining example of what happens when one marries and expects to be able to change their spouse's essentials."

How nice it was, to speak to someone whose views matched her own? "I imagine that men are capable of it, if they intend to take a wife for heirs and her dowery, and expend their actual affection on a mistress. But Anthony would not do that. He is faithful to his promises, and once he married, he would not stray, whether love was involved or not. You are very easy to talk to, Anne."

Anne's smile held an ocean of heartbreak, much like Phoebe was sure her own had. "I was persuaded to reject one proposal, then turned down another because I knew we would not suit each other. I fear I am enough of a spinster that I have no purpose but to be the keeper of other people's woes."

Phoebe had only been in Somerset for an afternoon, and it already seemed very clear that the inhabitants of the area took Anne very much for granted. "I am sorry, then, to add to your burden."

Anne sipped her tea again. "Do not be. You are the first one to have considered the impact of your words before you give them to my keeping."

They sat in silence for a moment, before the sound of voices, shrill but indistinguishable, could be heard approaching, and Phoebe knew that their time was drawing short. "The one you were persuaded to reject… did you regret it?"

Anne considered the question as she drained her cup. "Yes, but also no. I had not broken the engagement an hour before I regretted my loss… yet seeing what he has made of himself, unfettered by considerations of a wife and young family, I cannot repine his good fortune."

Phoebe blinked in surprise. "You have seen him again?"

Anne's eyes flickered to the window, where Captain Wentworth could be seen walking down the lane toward the great house, a Musgrove sister on each arm, fawning over him. Ah. "I see. The good fortune of others can be cold comfort, I fear."

For a moment, Anne's placid facade fell, and she allowed Phoebe to see the woman underneath. "Yes. But when the alternative is to dwell on how weak-willed and inconstant he must think me, I will accept his indifference."

Captain Wentworth was officially a fool. Phoebe wondered if their equal status as guests of Admiral and Mrs Croft would allow her to tell him so. "I could never call you weak-willed. There is a strength in risking your happiness for the sake of your loved ones, especially when you do not know how it will turn out."

Anne smiled again, and this one was a little less pained. "Then we shall be kindred spirits together, and rejoice in their ignorance of our trials."

An idea sparked in Phoebe's mind. Neither of them were truly made for solitude, and Phoebe was perhaps not the only one in need of a new beginning, if matters with Anthony went badly. "I confess, I am uncertain of what I shall do now. I have enough money for passage back to India, but only for one, and I already know that I will marry no other. I do not relish the thought of a life alone."

Anne looked thoughtful, "My dowery is not part of the estate, and I had the foresight to confirm that Father could not diminish it to increase Elizabeth or Mary's portion. Perhaps, when you find a suitable captain to convey you home, if you are not opposed to my company…"

Who could do anything but rejoice in the company of such a kind, selfless person. Phoebe was not the only one who needed to be kinder to herself. "You would be happy, so far from your home?"

There was a hint at Anne's quiet strength that so may overlooked as weakness! Phoebe was glad to see it. "I would rather be halfway across the world, than remain here to smile as he marries another. You can understand that, I think."

"I can indeed."

Dinner with the Crofts and Captain Wentworth was both formal and not.

Phoebe found it a nice change. "Please do not think that I am eager to leave your company, but I hoped that you or Captain Wentworth could assist me in finding me a trustworthy Captain to take me home to India, if it becomes necessary."

She hoped it wouldn't be necessary, after reading the letter Anthony had sent her, but she did not think Lady Berrington so easily dissuaded, and if she needed to flee in a hurry, it was best to be prepared. Admiral Croft gestured with his fork, "That will be no trouble; trade ships are always going back and forth between the far-flung ends of the empire. The trouble will be finding a maid or other chaperone to accompany you; captains are wary of taking a young woman alone."

Phoebe smiled, keeping an eye on the Admiral's brother-in-law out of the corner of her eye, "Oh, that is no problem. Anne - Miss Elliot, that is - expressed an interest in accompanying me."

Captain Wentworth twitched, clearly not as indifferent to the lady as he was trying to pretend, and Phoebe dug the metaphorical knife deeper. "After all, she has rejected at least one offer of marriage, and is unlikely to receive another. What is there for her here, that we should not be well-educated spinsters together in Pondicherry?"

Phoebe was very familiar with the expression that flashed across Wentworth's face: the desire that Phoebe could have been born a man, eligible to be challenged to pistols at dawn or an unfriendly bout of fencing or fisticuffs. Ah, the benefits of being born female! "English Gentlewomen are very fashionable and sought-after in the colonies, you know, so perhaps she may marry after all."

The Captain's jaw tightened in a way that suggested he was making a very great effort to avoid saying something ungentlemanly. Mrs Croft raised an eyebrow at her brother, but he controlled himself. "That brings us up to two mutual acquaintances, then, Miss Weirbrook. I had intended to ask if you had heard from the former Captain Lockwood recently."

Phoebe suddenly felt well-paid for her earlier teasing, but further conversation was stalled by the arrival of an express messenger with a letter for Captain Wentworth.

He read it quickly. "A friend has need of my help. It should not take more than a day or two, Sophy, but will you extend my regrets for any missed social engagements you have planned?"

Mrs Croft nodded, "Of course. Nothing serious, I hope?"

Wentworth shook his head, "I shall find out when I arrive, I am sure. I'll send word if I am delayed. Forgive me for not joining you for port, Croft, but I must pack if I am to leave at first light."

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A/N: Well, Every Possibility of Earthly Happiness is off with my editor, so I've got some breathing room to work on this one. (If you want a version with no typos and about 6000 extra words, you can pre-order through the link on my profile)

Work is going well, but still taking up a lot of my time, and I had a nasty fall shortly after posting this chapter, which meant my wrist required time to heal before I could type much.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and I should have the next one up soon. As ever, critique and constructive criticism are appreciated.

Thanks

Nat