Chapter Four

Captain Frederick Wentworth tried in vain to relax his muscles, he knew that sitting so tense in the saddle would not make his journey any easier. He only had a short distance to ride before the horse would be given up and exchanged for a place on a coach to convey him the remainder of his journey to Whitehall. However short his ride, he must be careful in his seat, else he would feel it the morning after. He shut his eyes for the briefest moment in an attempt at regaining his calm and control. He must stay in control and not give in to the feelings tearing away at him from the inside out.

He had thought of her over the past few years, he had become accustomed to his situation. That his once broken heart although never fully healed, had erected itself a wall protecting him, making him numb and oblivious to those kind of feelings. It had meant no romantic entanglements; how could he? If he was to lower his defences enough to even consider loving another, it would open him up to the past all over again. And yet despite all that, all the speeches to the contrary, he had fled his brother's house knowing he had felt something.

On learning she was to marry another, he had felt anger and frustration, and jealously. He hadn't wanted to, he hadn't thought himself capable of it and yet he had. He had tried to hate her, to forget her. The thought of her marrying someone else and being out of his life forever, should bring him nothing but joy and yet he had felt nothing but envy for the man who would get to call her his wife.

He had imagined one day in the future coming back to Kellynch, being once again in the assembly rooms, moving once more in the same circles and they would meet, she with her husband, he with either some young beautiful girl on his arm, or in search of one. He would have shook hands with the man, introduced himself, and all the time she would be stood staring between them wondering whether or not he would let slip the true nature of their past acquaintance. Of how close they had once been. And all he would feel would be triumph and power. He would have accomplished all he had said he would, and she would have … settled. She would address him as Captain Wentworth and he her as Mrs Whatever-her-name was, all the while them both knowing he had loved her first; held her first and kissed her – however innocently – first. He may not have her forever, but Frederick knew he had her, and her heart, first.

But seeing her today across that meadow in their secret place with another, knowing what that man was there to do, had left Frederick wishing he would never look upon her beautiful face again, for fear of the pain being too much. That he could not be introduced to her husband, to hear another man call her his wife, to see his hands upon hers, to imagine her in anyone's bed but his. He would not be able to mock that man, he would only wish he was as lucky as he. And pray that man deserved her.

He had the sudden urge to return to Kellynch and beg her not to make another mistake. He couldn't believe she loved another. Their love had been swift but strong, he had known almost upon meeting her, she was the one he was meant to be with forever, the more time they spent together only cemented that fact. When they parted, he had himself believe she had never loved him, it was the excuse he needed to leave, to leave her. If he had thought there was anything worth fighting for, he would have stayed. He couldn't believe that anyone who truly loved another, like he had loved her, could put that other person through so much heart ache.

The past couple of years he had time to think on it though, he had started to wonder if she did love him. No one could fake the closeness between them, that intimacy or her actions. She was comfortable around him, shared her secrets with him. No woman would do that unless she truly believed she was to be with him forever. Would she?

To him she had been his other half, and the almost three years he had spent just existing, was testament to that fact. He had been parted from the other half of his heart and soul, and he had barely survived. But he could not... He would not risk the chance of being refused again, of that humiliation. He was too proud. Edward had applied for his own curacy and with any luck he would get one far away from Kellynch and all its memories.

For it was the memoires which brought him the most distress, not the bad but the good. All the times he had shared with her, the dances, the long walks, the conversations, her humour, her flirting when she did not even know it. Her innocence and shyness around others that would all but disappear when she was alone with him. He helped her out of her shell and forced her to soar while in return she would ground him when he had the tendency to fly off. He missed that more than anything. Romantic feelings aside, they had been friends and he missed her opinion, her stories and her voice.

He missed her.

The lapse in his concentration had let his horse stray, he jerked the reins to straighten them back up, as he did the leather slid quickly though his hands burning enough to sting and reminding him of that which he had forgotten. "Blast! My gloves." he cried into the empty road. He had left them at his brothers, never mind, he could easily purchase another pair. It didn't warrant turning back, enduring another ride in the opposite direction. The horse slowed and he realised it was at his behest. He pulled it to a complete stop and tried to think. It was ridiculous to even consider travelling all the way back just for a pair of gloves. He would then have the journey back to think of. For it would be too late to set out again, he would have missed the coach. He would be forced to stay at Edwards until the morrow and set off again then. But what was he thinking? It would be better not to think on it at all.

He kicked at the horse turning him around to move on forward. He would not go back, not for a pair of gloves. Not for anything. He rode on for twenty more minutes, each step further away from the past he felt it pulling him back. He stopped the horse once more, the beast sounding his displeasure. "Damn and blast!" he called out. He had to know, he needed to know. He would go back for the gloves, see Edward and hear him say it. He needed to hear the words before he had any chance of going back to his ship. His head would never be clear.

For the final time, he pulled on the reins and turned the horse around completely, giving the horse the incentive it needed, he drove the animal quickly back to Monkford.

Just over an hour and a half later, Frederick and his less than enthusiastic horse found themselves back at the home of Edward Wentworth. Frederick dismounted and surged towards the door, banging loudly.