There is a fascinating thesis online called, "Shore Wives: The Lives of British Naval Officers' Wives and Widows, 1750-1815" by Amy Lynn Smallwood of Wright State University, published in 2008, which anyone wishing to write about Mrs. Croft's life or Anne's future life should read. corescholar dot libraries dot wright dot edu/etd_all/851 I can't say that I used much from it in this chapter, but I took copious notes for later use.
Frederick's reaction to such a letter was all that could be expected even if most of his reaction was directed inward rather than outwardly expressed. If he had been a woman, he would have felt the freedom to swoon in being assured that his beloved's most tender affections were still his and had a strength and vitality which caused her to devote herself in an education to take up the very profession that he had suggested would be of most use as appropriate for one of her sex on board a ship. However, as he was not a woman and was a captain who was supposed to be steady in any crisis, he only gripped the page too tight and thought the thoughts too precious to be said aloud to any but her. Oh my beloved, thought he, such precious feelings you must have expressed regarding me that Mr. Robinson would take it upon himself to communicate on your behalf. Such steadiness of purpose, such devotion, to think and plan of our future when my last words to you were so bitter. You have shown a constancy that has put me to shame, yet I shall redeem myself in your eyes, prove myself true.
Frederick remembered their last exchange so vividly, both their words and how she looked in each moment. He remembered demanding that he would never give her up even before she asked him to. There was just something in her quietness and sad eyes that made him know she was about to ask that, though he did not think he knew then or now exactly what made him know that. It was not her quietness or sad eyes alone, she had been quiet and sad before when something recollected to her the loss of her beloved mother and she did not want to burden him with that, but this time it was different somehow. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself, or the tilt of her head, or the way she grasped his arm just a bit too tightly even after he had stopped as she requested.
Yet in the next moment when Anne was asking him to do that very thing in order for him to succeed in his chosen occupation, he wished he had remained silent, made her raise the topic, for perhaps, just perhaps she would not have done it, would have delayed and then thought better of it. He remembered the feel of the flesh under her chin as he drew her face upwards with just one finger, silently demanding that she look at him. In remembrance, that finger tingled a little. Her little face had stayed tilted up toward him and he remembered wanting to bend down and kiss her senseless to stop her hated words, but with her words she had taken away the right she had previously bestowed on him to claim her with his kisses and, later, in all the ways that a groom might claim his bride after the wedding vows.
Now, when he recollected that moment, he wished he had acted on his impulse. Had he not done just that before he had any true right, that night after the assembly before he proposed? He had kissed her first, with a passion and vigor that had surprised even him, even though he knew how much he loved her and wished to show her physical affection, before he asked for her hand. She had surprised him by meeting his kisses with a passion all her own and it had been extremely difficult to not follow through on their shared passion to its natural fruition.
Frederic had long believed that women could enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. Were not the whores who swarmed each naval ship when put into port to ply their trade, wishing to separate sailors from their wages before they could even disembark proof of that? They must have some enjoyment of the occupation, it could not be fully mere acting. However, he always imagined that for an innocent woman, she herself did not know how her body could be made to feel and it would take time for a husband to awaken his new wife into the pleasures of her new station. He had known that Anne was an innocent, everything about her made that fully evident. Yet, when he kissed her, he discovered a roaring passion beneath her demure and always proper exterior, a heat and eagerness that matched his own, a side he confidently believed she had shown to none but him.
He should have attempted to bring forth Anne's passion to help her resist the rationality that led her to release him. Perhaps if he had, Anne could have put aside the disapprobation from her godmother and father, and in giving free rein to her boiling blood that beckoned her eager flesh to unite with his she might have come to understand that it could not be gainsaid. Yet, something then had held him back. Perhaps it was a latent fear that she might push him away.
He remembered the last thing he said to her was, "If you loved me, you would never let me go. You have used me quite ill to pretend affection and then at the first sign of opposition to send me away." He now knew for certain that none of those words were true. He knew she did love him and yet, inexplicably to him in that moment, she had turned him away. However, it was meant more as a delay, she had never truly let him go. He was still hers as long as she still pursued their future with her every action. Her affection had been true and constant. The opposition she had received must have been truly overwhelming from both the woman she regarded as almost a mother and her father in fact if not affection. She had been endeavoring to act in a manner that would allow him to achieve all his ambitions and she had been right that without the tether of a waiting sweetheart that he had been willing to be reckless when the situation demanded it, willing to take risks for rewards and this was what she must have foreseen. He understood that he could have returned after knowing he would have the Laconia and she would have without hesitation left everything behind to follow him.
To suddenly know she was awaiting him was too much. He could not absorb it all. It overwhelmed his ability to have any rational thought. Instead, images played in his mind. A hurried journey condensed into few quick images and then he would knock on her door and sweep her away. An image of them pledging themselves to one another, an image of the beginnings of the consummation, and image of him bringing her aboard the ship and the glad welcome she would receive from the men both envious of his good fortune and wanting to make a good impression on the kind lady who would come to their aid, soften his displeasure and make the ship a happier place. An image of every night in their cabin, her being his.
However, after a few moments, when some rationality returned to Frederick, he knew it was not that simple. Their ships were now at Gibralter, not Portsmouth or Plymouth. He was bound for the West Indies next and he knew not when he would be bound again for England. And even if bound for England, he was tied to his ship unless repairs were being made upon it or he was turned upon land at half pay while awaiting another posting. He might possibly give his ship up, but then he would never have another. He did not think that Anne, with the sacrifices she had made to be able to serve faithfully with him aboard his ship would want that.
Captain Croft and his sister Sophia were patiently waiting as Frederick considered these things and as of yet no one had said one word. Sophia could tell from Frederick's countenance that he was not unmoved. Many little things told her that Frederick loved this Anne still and would do all he could to return to her. Perhaps it was a slight relaxing of his worry lines, a subtle upturning and softening of his lips, his slow but deep breaths. However, she also knew the impossibility of the situation and what remedies might yet be pursued.