The Dowager Lady Elliot
Sir Walter Elliot of Kellynch Hall was dead. No matter how she held the pen, Elizabeth could not erase that final entry into the Book. The final date. The last entry their family would be entitled to make in the Baronetage. The pen and the book would pass into the hands of the new Sir William and it, like all of Kellynch, would be the sole property of the new baronet. She shut the book with a sob, suddenly finding the formerly cherished book distasteful. She fled from the room, tears streaming down her face as she ran past the hall of mirrors and generations of family portraits.
Why, oh why, had not Mary been born a boy? Elizabeth thought to herself with regret- as if she had any say in the matter. She did not for a moment bemoan Anne's birth for Anne was far too useful as a girl- but little Mary, with all her cries and squalls and demands- she would have been far better as a boy.
"But Mama, why must we leave Kellynch? This is our home." Elizabeth cried, again and again, into her mother's shoulder, causing the fine fabric to grow damp with tears.
Lady Elliot could only sigh and shake her pretty head, tears still in her own eyes, though she fought to keep them from spilling upon her cheeks. Her tears were as much for the plight of her daughters and loss of their home as for the now buried baronet. She wondered which loss her firstborn child felt the most keenly – the loss of her treasured Papa or that of her home and the only life she had ever known.
"Because there will be a new master of Kellynch Hall and he has no wish for little girls underfoot," she answered, each time Elizabeth asked.
What the baronet's widow did not say, what she could not speak to so delicate of young ears, was that it was Lady Elliot who chose to leave first and remove her girls from the authority and influence of the newly minted Sir William. He was hardly more than a boy himself and as such was fully convinced of his invincibility and the confidence in his own judgement as only a man of two and twenty without the advice of sound elders who suddenly finds himself in possession of a great fortune, title, and estate can be. He had no desire for the sensible eye of Lady Elliot to attend him from the dower house any more than he wished for the presence of young girls meandering through his grounds. Rumors and whispers abounded that Sir William was only too eager for the company of older female visitors and this, along with the boisterous, dissipated young men he surrounded himself with, made Lady Elliot all the more sure of her desire to quit Kellynch and remove to Bath.
"Between my portion of Kellynch and my dowry, our needs are more than adequately met," she assured her dearest friend, Lady Russell. "Despite how we would enjoy your company, I have no wish to remain so close to our old home as Kellynch Lodge. I have a great longing to quit Somersetshire entirely and start anew elsewhere. We will stay near Anne's school in Bath and thus we will not be parted from each other's company for some time and we may start anew together.
"Why can we not bring Papa's Book?" Elizabeth cried, when they were ready to remove from Kellynch.
"It belongs to the house and the estate not to us," she answered.
"But Sir William does not care about it," Elizabeth protested. Lady Elliot sighed. No, the proud, eloquent new baronet had very little use for family lines and titles at the moment, but he had a great interest in the profit the estate could line his pockets with.
"Maybe not yet, but he might, someday," she told her daughter.
"Papa hoped I would marry him," Elizabeth said. "Then I would remain in his Book and my children too, he said."
"No estate in England is worth the price such a marriage would cost you, dearest. Better a sensible, kind, honorable man of modest means than a wealthy man who is unkind and foolish. No, dearest, you deserve better than Kellynch and Sir William," she said and she ran a hand through her fifteen-year-old daughter's fair hair.
It came as no surprise when Lady Russell informed her friend first of the outrageous spending of the new baronet followed by his rapid marriage to a woman of great fortune (and little family connection). The Dowager Lady Elliot had no desire to become acquainted with the new Lady Elliot or see all the "improvements" the pair had made to the estate. She was far too busy tending to the affairs of the former residents of Kellynch Hall.
The Dowager Lady Elliot- no longer burdened by the efforts of managing her husband and his estate - had no duties other than the care and upbringing of her daughters. While their new home was not so fine and large an establishment as Kellynch Hall, the Dowager Lady Elliot was a woman of both means and sound judgement and their new home reflected this. She ensured her girls had the best of all they could afford and surrounded them with the very best of people. She settled all three of her daughters in a good neighborhood in Bath. Lady Russell joined them as often as she could and they made a merry party whenever they were together.
True to her word, the Dowager Lady Elliot arranged for Elizabeth to meet only the finest of men (at least, according to her mother's ideas of what constituted good company). Through her mother's longsuffering, indelible influence- combined with the greater humility the loss of her home and former position required- Elizabeth grew and gained a deeper maturity and true elegance than she had henceforth known. Thus, when a gentleman of some five thousand a year with an estate in Herefordshire turned his head to her great beauty, she was only too happy to accept, despite his lack of title.
With Elizabeth married and Anne already so well grown, Lady Elliot's attention turned quite often to young Mary. The youngest Elliot girl thrived under her mother's devotion and gradually exchanged her anxious pleas and cries for attention with a greater confidence and sympathy for others. She was, perhaps, not so classically beautiful as Elizabeth nor as clever and elegant as Anne, but she had an exuberant spirit and a humor the other girls' lacked. She made her mother laugh and provided companionship to her elder sisters, whenever she was home from school, and she had all the potential of growing into a handsome, amiable woman.
After her sister's marriage, the middle Elliot daughter came of an age to be introduced to Society. Under the care and supervision of her mother, Anne Elliot danced across ballrooms in London, Bath, and Herefordshire. Everywhere she went, Anne Elliot was praised for both her sweetness of temper and elegance of mind.
It came about that Anne Elliot received an invitation to stay with Lady Russell at Kellynch Lodge one summer. Upon ascertaining that the baronet and his wife would be in London and then visiting friends in Scotland for the duration of the summer, the Dowager Lady Elliot gave her permission for her daughter to stay with Lady Russell while she, herself, attended to Elizabeth during her second confinement.
It was sometime after the birth of Elizabeth's second son, while Lady Elliot tended to the affairs of the first and aided her daughter's recovery, that she received a very unexpected letter from her dearest friend. Lady Russell went on at length about the introduction of a dashing, handsome naval officer into their neighborhood. The attraction between the newcomer and her middle daughter had been immediate and there was every sign of a very potent… and rash… attachment developing between them.
"I have tried to argue caution, but I am afraid they appear quite determined," Lady Russell wrote. "The man is brash, bold, and filled with confidence in his own merit- without any firm prospects or fortune."
Lady Elliot was surprised. Till now, her middle daughter had proven herself quite circumspect and prudent in all her interactions with men. It was unusual for her to fall in so quickly with an admirer. She knew her daughter's heart had a great capacity to love- and to love deeply- but she was also so firmly rooted in wisdom and good sense that Lady Elliot could only hope both aspects of her daughter's character were in unison over this captain.
She sighed. A sailor. While holding His Majesty's Navy in the utmost respect and appreciation, she had no very high opinion of its officers in regards to their suitability as husbands for her girls. She would much prefer a landed gentleman, or even a clergyman, for Anne. What did Anne know of life at sea or the dangers she would face there during this seemingly ceaseless war? What future lay before her if this was the path she chose to take? She knew her daughter. Either Anne would spend long years constantly pining for her absent husband, longing each day for a man who lived in constant peril, or she would be alongside him facing French canons, storms, disease, and all the other perils of the sea during a war. Thus, Lady Elliot made her excuses as quickly as she could and left Elizabeth in the care of her husband's mother.
It was with bittersweet nostalgia that she returned to her old home and walked the grounds of Kellynch again. She found her middle daughter in all the bloom of a first attachment, speaking in rapture of the man she loved. Lady Elliot hoped that, after further inquiries, she would find the man less brash and in possession of a greater fortune. It was not the case. Oh, Captain Wentworth was all that was handsome, engaging, and brilliant. Lady Elliot could not deny the charm and charisma the man possessed, nor his obvious infatuation with her daughter, however, Lady Elliot could not approve of the match.
"You cannot marry him, Anne," her mother chided, as gently as she could, once they were alone together. "He has no fortune – only hopes for the future and a woman must eat more than hope."
"You wish me to become like you- marrying only for position and situation," Anne pressed, her large eyes pleading with her mother.
"No, I wish you to be well taken care of with a man who knows what he is about. Yes, Captain Wentworth is a fine man. He may even be a good man. Yes, he loves you and values you. But he is in no position to marry. He has not even made post yet and if he is given a position, where will that leave you?"
"We can remain engaged for however long it takes… and then I will go with him to sea."
"You expect me to rejoice in my daughter as the wife of a sea captain? Anne, do you even know what such a life will entail?"
"Captain Wentworth has spoken in great length about all I can expect."
The Dowager Lady Elliot sighed and moved to embrace her daughter. How reminiscent Anne's protests and raptures were to what her own had once been! Of all her daughters, Anne was the one which reminded her most of herself. For all her sense and wisdom, the heart could overcome all and resolutely and obstinately determine a course of action – regardless of the consequences. She remembered her own whirlwind courtship to the breathtakingly handsome, titled, and wealthy Sir Walter. How well spoken and attentive he had been! How he doted on her and showered her in admiration!
Oh, she had loved her husband… and he had loved her… but she learned quickly that affection and admiration are not always built on respect or equality of minds. She wished something more for her daughter and to help her avoid the heartbreak and loneliness that she, herself, had experienced after the first blush of infatuation had cooled and the reality of life set in like a winter's frost.
"I do not like the notion of a long engagement, but I find that far preferable to a rash marriage. I will not forbid the arrangement, but know I am speaking out of care and concern for you. If I cannot convince you to relinquish the engagement, then at least wait to marry until his prospects are more certain and he has the means to support a wife."
While somewhat disappointed by her mother's lackluster reaction, Anne agreed. Thus, when Captain Wentworth departed from Monkford, he did so as an engaged man. He would have much preferred to have left a wife behind, but he was confident it would not be long before he could marry. Thus, the long correspondence between the pair began. Lady Elliot watched her daughter's spirits rise and fall with each post, held her as she cried over each setback and worry, and did her best to encourage her daughter to find joy in pursuits and connections outside of Captain Wentworth. Her own heart grew heavy as she watched her daughter pine and struggle, all the more so as the years drew out longer and longer between them.
His desire for rapid advancement was tempered by time and opportunity. It was very early into their engagement when he gave up a very risky position on the Asp to remain with his betrothed. It took time before another position opened and even longer before he saw any profit from it. Thus, it was not until four years later before he had garnered enough prize money to enable him to claim his bride.
Anne Elliot was radiant the day she married her dashing Captain. The letters that followed her journey across the oceans overflowed with novelty and adventure and every evidence of the raptures of newly married life. However, the length and tone of those letters shifted as the months progressed, as the war continued, and sea sickness warred with her increasingly delicate condition. Oh, how she loved her Captain Wentworth, but she could not remain alongside him forever. For all his stories about life in the navy, none quite prepared her for life as a woman onboard ship. A man-o-war was no place for a newborn and not even the loyal, determined Anne Wentworth could fight against the lure of returning home to the arms of her mother.
"He's beautiful, Anne," the Dowager Lady Elliot told her middle daughter, when she lay the tiny infant into her daughter's sweat-stained arms. "He has the look of his father in him, through and through."
"He does," Anne said fondly, affectionately tracing the line of her son's jaw, no doubt seeing the echo of his father in his features.
In the years that followed, young Frederick took after his father more and more in all he said and did. It was a small comfort to Anne, for in the years that followed, she saw the father less and less. There were months they stayed together in Portsmouth or they journeyed with him on shorter trips around England, but the war continued on and the naval captain continued with it, often leaving his family behind for months and months at a time. It was as if Frederick and she lived two lives which only occasionally came to port together- long enough for days of joy and stories, and nights of passion enough to ensure another confinement before he came to port next. These were followed by long months worrying if, and when, she would see him again.
Anne stayed with her mother or sisters whenever he went away. It came about that Mary wed Charles Musgrove, who she met during her own visit to Lady Russell, and the Musgrove family was as eager for Anne's visits as her sister. Cousins abounded and Anne was grateful for the presence of her sisters and brothers-in-law in her children's lives. Overall, though, she spent most of her time living with her mother in Bath.
"I love my husband with all my heart… I just wish, sometimes, he was not married to the sea," Anne admitted, in one of those quiet moments she shared with the Dowager Lady Elliot, once all her children had been sent to bed.
"No man… and no marriage… is perfect, my dear," she told her daughter. "We all have our challenges, no matter which choices we make."
"Sometimes, I think it would be easier – if I loved him less."
Lady Elliot nodded and gave her daughter a sad smile. She reached over to clasp her daughter's hand.
It was a strange thing, then, when peace was declared and treaties signed, pouring the contents of the navy back on land again. Captain Wentworth, while not as grand or as brilliant a fortune as he had hoped, made enough to ensure a comfortable life for himself and his family. Now that he was to be settled on land for some time, he determined to settle his family in a home of their own. He and Anne decided it was best to remain in Bath, near her mother. His eldest sister and her husband, Admiral Croft, also settled in Bath, adding to their joy of being together.
It was strange, then, to find themselves living together on land. Anne had lived onboard a ship with her husband… and spent some months at port here or there with him… but they had never lived on land for longer than a handful of months. Always, there had been the pressure of a looming departure and the knowledge that all around them was a temporary pleasure which would all to quickly vanish again. Now, they had months…or years… ahead of them and neither knew quite how to do it.
It was harder than either anticipated. The land swelled unsteadily beneath Captain Wentworth's feet more than it ever did on sea and he was forced to face the wife who had spent long years as the captain of their family in his absences. There were five children he had often visited and loved from afar, but had never learned to live with. Then there was the challenge of finding his way in a Society which did not quite know what to make of men who earned their fortunes and were not born to them. There were days he was far too rash, too passionate, and too consumed by his own affairs. Yet, Anne loved him through all of it, as her mother knew she would, because once her middle daughter gave her heart, she would love completely and faithfully… through every weakness, trial, failing, and shortcoming… until the very end.
Just as she, herself, had done.
It was just the Elliot way.
Long years later, the Baronetage at Kellynch Hall was opened again. More names and dates had been inscribed on its pages – some carefully and some with very little attendance to care- and it was time for a new entry. With a wide, victorious smile, Elizabeth took up the pen and added a new entry.
"ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL.
"William Elliot II, born April 8, 1810, married January 8, 1833, Elizabeth, daughter of John Willims, Esq. of Hill Park, in the county of Heredfordshire…"
Elizabeth Williams gave a contented perusal of the chaos of the intervening entries – so much life and death and change that had occurred- and then she turned to grin at her mother.
"Well, Mama, I do believe Papa would be proud," she exclaimed.
The Dowager Lady Elliot, now an old, white-haired woman gave a sharp look at her eldest daughter. "Perhaps he would," she answered. "Your mother, on the other hand, was proud already. That any descendent of our cousin, God rest him, could turn out so well is nothing short of a miracle. My grand daughter has married a good man, and that is more important than any name or title in that Book."
"Ah, but Mama, that is the victory! The very fact that Will turned out so well I believe would make Sir William turn over in his grave. I believe we have our dearly loved Lady Russell to thank for that and I will be forever indebted to her for the part she played in raising my son-in-law to the man he is. I am proud his name is written here, alongside my daughter. It is as it should be. It is the good men whose names will be remembered the longest and the bad men whose names will be poorly written and easily forgotten about!
"I do not believe it is so very simple, Eliza," the Dowager Lady Elliot answered.
"No, perhaps not," Elizabeth answered. "However, I am a simple creature and it is enough to leave me well-pleased. Now, come. Mary and Charles have already arrived. Anne and Frederick will arrive soon and we must be there to welcome them."
"Your daughter will be very busy with visitors this week."
"As she should be," Elizabeth said. "You know we are never so well-pleased as when we are all together."
And she shut the Book behind her.
The End
