Chapter Nineteen

Frederick replaced the pen back to its holder and stretched out his stiff fingers. He had been writing for what seemed like hours. He had no notion of how ladies were always writing their letters; pages and pages. He had stuck to the specifics and yet he still felt the effect. He observed the pile of letters ready to post. The ones to his sister and Whitehall would be sent by normal post, however the three regarding his impending departure and subsequent arrival in Plymouth had to go by express. He needed his men to know he would be attending sooner than expected, and that with him he would be bringing company. He had ordered provisions so that they could dine aboard the Laconia, it would be fitting and a good way for Anne – the Musgroves- to see what life was like.

Although it was a life significantly grander than a mid-shipman just setting out, like Dick, would find life at sea. It was a glimpse as to what could be accomplished with hard work. He was testament to the fact. His talent for thinking and planning had gained him possession of his greatest prize: the Laconia. That, and a lot of luck which had been on his side. He had taken it upon himself to arrange the lodgings for the Musgroves in both Exeter and Plymouth, he knew the area well and knew reputable places they might stay which were near the dock. He included that letter inside the thick one addressed to his first lieutenant Harry Harville. They had worked together on the Asp and Harville was one of the few men Wentworth trusted implicitly. He knew Harville would already have everything in order on the Laconia and these few extra tasks would not phase him. Harville was lately married and Frederick had offered Mrs Harville an invitation to the supper. He was sure she would get on with Anne.

He leaned back in his chair thinking of the second Elliot daughter. They had been so near in the carriage to regaining some of the closeness between them that had been lost. And then when he had spoken of his leaving, she had looked genuinely upset by his news. He daren't hope that she wanted him to stay. He could only deduce she was hoping for more time to settle their differences. They had spoken much on the journey and yet still he had plenty to say about events from two years ago. He thought again about what she had said, that she did it all because she loved him. He had been so sure her feelings had not been as strong as his and that was why she has found it so easy to walk away, but now he had doubts and those doubts were eating away at him, wishing his beloved Laconia and all that she promised lay farther away than Plymouth.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Frederick turned to find Edward standing in the doorway and sighed. "They are not worth your trouble."

"I doubt that. Will you be taking another morning's stroll today?" As he said it, the curate looked to the clock and Frederick joined him, it was already late. No doubt Anne would already be on her way back; that was if she had ventured out at all. He realised with sadness he no longer knew her routine or her habits, he wondered if they had changed as greatly has her other personality traits. He had not failed to notice her lack of laughter, the intelligence of her speech and her wit, she barely said a word to anyone at either of the gatherings he had witnessed, instead she stole away to the corners avoiding looking people in the eye and satisfied to blend in to the blur. She used to stand out, at least to him; to him she glowed. He wondered for the first time if she had suffered as much as he now imagined she could have. Could their parting have had such an effect on her to have left her a ghost of the Anne Elliot she once was. "Why does she no longer dance?" he said aloud.

Edward knew instantly who the 'she' was his brother was referring too and frowned before coming to sit down in his usual spot. "You were the last person to dance with Miss Anne. She no longer dances, not since the last night she was partnered with you at Mrs Finch's party."

"That was over two years ago." Frederick exclaimed. "Never since?"

"Oh at first she was asked, but she would always politely refuse. Her melancholy and refusal to enjoy the things young ladies do, painted her as … odd. Suiters stopped coming forward and soon her offers of dance partners dried up also. Now it is just a fact, Miss Anne does not dance."

"Not even with Charles Musgrove?"

"Not even with Charles Musgrove."

"But Why? She loved dancing dearly. It was always I who had to sit by and watch her with other men whose name adorned her card. I would have had her dance all night with me, but propriety forced me to have endure watching her smile in the company of others. But I could never fault her for it, for I knew how much she loved it. Why out of everything did she stop that?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

"You would have me believe it is because of me. My absence."

Edward sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "I think Anne's great enjoyment of dancing was largely due to her being partnered with you, and even when she was forced to dance with another, she knew you were there in the room with her, your watchful eye on her at all times. Even when you were partnered with other young ladies, there was no jealously on her part, only pride at watching you. The same could be said of you. You talk of enduring watching her in the company of others, and yet I never remember you being jealous. You were both so comfortable with the other, so assured of your feelings and their reciprocation."

"You are trying again to convince me of her feelings."

"Do you still require convincing? After all you have seen. Surely even you cannot help but have noticed how altered she is. Her friends are noticing how different she has become since your return."

"I was shocked I'll admit. When I first saw her standing there in this very room, I would not have known her had it not been for those brown eyes looking back at me. She lacks all of the brilliance, the vibrancy she had when I first met her. And yet, she is still Anne." he dropped his head. "At least to me." he added quietly.

Edward heard it and supressed a smile. He had the lady's confession of how she felt – still felt- and now he knew he was on the verge of hearing his brothers. "You still care for her."

"I … I do not know. I am so conflicted. I think I do, and yet I know I should not, after all she put me through, I should hate her, or at least be indifferent, and yet I cannot shake the fact every time I am in her presence I feel ... complete. For want of better word. Like something has been missing for the past two years since I left. I had always thought she still owned a piece of my heart. It was a piece of my heart which had been broken and would never heal, but hers none the less. But now I no longer know. It could still be that, and it could also be that she still holds the key to mending it again."

"You came back for her, surely that must mean something."

"I came back to prove I had accomplished all that I set out to. And if you remember it was you whose door I came to, not hers. It was not because of her I returned."

"What about the second time you knocked on my door?"

"I had forgotten my gloves."

Edward snorted. "You believed she was about to accept the hand of another. You thought for a time she had. How did that make you feel?"

"I was angry. Of course I was. I was angry that she had found it so easy to move on while I was still alone, still thinking of her."

"And now you know differently. That she is single and had turned down a proposal from another man, a good man. Surely that must give you hope she still holds you dear."

"I do not know anything for sure, not her feelings, nor my own." Frederick frowned.

"What about this trip? You seemed more than happy she would be accompanying you."

"Yes, I thought if we spent some more time together it would make my feelings clearer."

"And what about hers?"

"Hers also."

"And what if these feelings become clear, that they are still very much there? For you both. What then?"

Frederick rose and paced around the small sitting room. "Then, I do not know. I am due to leave for the West Country and then onto who-knows-where, in one month." He looked at his brother to find him shaking his head.

"It does not have to mean the end."

"You mean ask her to wait for me?" he shook his own head violently. "I would not have her do that. Look how the last two years have fared her."

"That was when she thought you had forsaken her. She would know how you feel. You could correspond."

"You know I cannot do that unless we were …" he shook his head again. "I will not speak of renewing my offer when we do not even know we are renewing our feelings."

Edward shrugged. "It was just a thought. If you were betrothed you would have certain perks you do not have as courting only, let alone as friends. Then again, if you were to propose, why not just go the whole hog and get married? Then you could take her with you."

Frederick paused his pacing and swallowed down the spark of joy which had risen inside of him. To have Anne as his wife, to have her travel with him like they had always planned for her to do. He frowned. "She may not want to leave her family. Just because she spoke of doing so at nineteen does not mean she feels the same way now." Edward grinned. "What is so amusing?" Frederick asked him.

"It sounds to me like you know exactly what your feelings are. You are already thinking of her accompanying you. That sounds a lot more that you wanting friendship alone. You are thinking of her as your wife. That must mean something. And as for her not wanting to leave her family, I think any reservation she had when you parted will have been put to rest over the last couple of years. The Elliot's are not as they were once were. Since the death of her mother relationships have been strained, however since the refusal of the heir presumptive William Walter Elliot to visit Kellynch and marry Elizabeth, I think bitterness, pride and vanity will run that family in to the ground. If my suspicions are correct, Miss Mary has her eyes on Charles Musgrove as her escape. I would not want to think of Anne left behind to act as nothing but a nurse maid for her sisters and father, or a spinster aunt. She is meant for more than that. She longs to travel, she often tells me such. I presume she has shared this with you also."

Frederick smiled. "A long time ago yes." He looked away lost in a moment, until the clock chiming brought him back. "But all this is conjecture until we know how she feels."

"Are we at least in agreeance your feelings are unchanged. You have never loved another, for you have never mentioned anyone in your letters -as sporadic as they were."

"No, there has never been anyone who has matched her." he admitted. "I do not believe to have ever met even her equal. She cannot be supplanted in my mind, or my heart." he said finally.

Edwards stared at him intently. "You need to tell her."

"What if she no longer loves me? What if she ridicules me for even imagining she could? What if she now agrees with her family, and thinks me unworthy? What if-"

"What if, she loves you too?" Edward interrupted. "She is of age now. Do you really want to be wasting precious time you could have together wondering all these scenarios? Coming up with a worst case for each of them. Go man, go now and speak with her, before your trip. Tell how you really feel, tell her anything you think she needs to know, and ask the questions you need answering. Do not live with regret. Do not think on this day in five or ten years' time, and wonder why you never took the chance. I have never see two people more in love than you both. Nor two hearts so entwined. I find it hard to believe that has broken. After all it was her family who disapproved and persuaded her to give you up. Do not forget so readily her accepting you in the first place. She was willing to marry a young commander with naught but ambition to bring to the marriage."

Frederick smiled at the memory. His brother was right, Anne had been so happy when he proposed. As she had said in the carriage she was not that good an actress, he could not believe it was all pretence. They had loved each other fiercely and he had to cling to the hope that that which had attracted her to him in the first place and made her want to give up everything to be a lowly wife of a sailor was still there somewhere, waiting to be awoken once more.