Renewals and revelations

Another fine morning had brought Frederick back to Uppercross in search of company. He rode toward the manor with a renewed sense of freedom and in anticipation of enjoying whomever's company he found. Even the prospect of sitting down to a visit with Mrs Mary Musgrove could not dampen his spirits. He knew the source of the change and considered how much the anger he had nursed for Anne Elliot had burdened him over time.

He looked forward to putting the past behind him and in doing so, take full pleasure in the company of this small circle. He knew Anne Elliot to be interesting, thoughtful and good and now he need not ignore her any longer. He felt renewed.

Before he realised it, he trotted past the Hall and continued down the road to the cottage; thoughts of Anne Elliot at the front of his mind. Their conversation had been interrupted yesterday and he wanted to continue it. He wanted to talk with her about his adventures and hear her questions. He wanted to bask in the warmth of her attention and bring the soft smile that he had glimpsed so briefly yesterday back to her face.

He had built the perfect image in his mind of the two of them conversing as they used to but was soon brought down to Earth. Entering the morning room of the cottage he watched with dismay as her face fell upon the maid announced his entrance. A fleeting but telling look, he was chagrined. It was clear to him now, she had been merely polite yesterday, she had not been waiting for his forgiveness nor waiting for him to bestow his attention upon her as though some benevolent deity. There was still a history there that had not been resolved.

To cover his own disappointment he made up a flimsy excuse of expecting to find the Miss Musgroves here and made for the nearest window, looking out at the view in order to collect himself. Hearing her murmuring to the little boy prompted him to turn and view nurse and patient. There she was, bent over to hear the requests of the poor child but heaven help him if her derrière wasn't perched enticingly in the air. He averted his eyes, clearing his throat to cover the fact that he was choking on air. To distract himself more than anything he said, "I hope the little boy is mending." He did not expect or receive a reply. From the corner of his eye he could see that she had finally moved to her knees to continue tending to the child.

Deeming himself safe to look again, he took the time to observe her quietly. There was nothing extravagant about Anne Elliot. Her beauty was as it had always been, hidden in the ordinariness of her features. Her dark eyes were the same as her sisters, though Anne's flashed occasionally with the feelings she kept within. And while her mouth was small, her top lip was slightly too big, making it shaped like a tulip. He remembered what he considered to be her finest feature. She had one freckle, placed invitingly below her ear where one's nose could rest easily when drawing her scent. He had taken such liberties before, the memories were burned on his soul and though it had been some time since he allowed himself to reminisce in such a fashion they were quickly recalled as though they had merely been waiting for him to remember them.

Was he in danger of himself? No. He was not in love with her, despite her many attractions, but he liked her a good deal. He hoped that they could become friends.

A distraction in the form of Charles Hayter was very welcome. Frederick looked upon him with relief and was ready to enter into conversation with the fellow but it was to no avail! A short greeting and straight to the table with a paper while he too waited for the Misses Musgroves. If only he had thought of such a device! Ah well, there was nothing for it but to return to the window. What an odd circumstance to have found himself in. There was never any shortage of conversation when visiting any of the Musgroves and on the day he was well and truly in pursuit of it, he found himself oddly tongue tied. Well, but there were no Musgroves present.

Frederick's reverie was broken through by the sound of Anne's voice, her tone decidedly cross. Turning, he saw the conundrum. Little Walter had taken it upon himself to climb upon his aunt, despite that she had been clearly protesting. Here was the behaviour of which she had been speaking yesterday. Frederick looked to the cousin, waiting for him to act.

"Walter, stop. I say Walter, you are being very naughty. Stop now boy," Hayter called from over the top of his lowered paper. Frederick scoffed internally. Is that all there was to be done? He looked on as the little boy, intent on his play, paid no heed to the admonishments of his older cousin. And what three year old would, when the source of the play was so enticing?

Anne winced as the little boy's fingers, tangled in her hair and pulled on it by dropping his full weight in order to swing from her neck. This would not do. Frederick strode across the room and with the purposefulness of one who is determined to have their will carried out, disentangled the boy from his aunt and bore him away to the window to engage him in play. Little Walter Musgrove had the mischievous countenance of his father mixed with the dark curls seemingly present through the great majority of his mother's family. Distracting the boy was easy enough, any little boy loved to be thrown, surprised and tickled. Frederick soon had him giggling in that infectious way that children are want to do.

He dared look back at the couch, hoping to catch her eye and felt as though he had just missed her stare. Come, Anne! Try again! He urged her silently. He wanted to share this moment with her, to pass her a look that showed her that he meant his help to be an offer of good will and friendship. As though they were comrades against the tyrannical rule of the reigning toddler. Look at me! He urged again.

He thought briefly she might disappoint him but no, she looked up from where she had been fussing over young Charles. He smiled. She blushed. He gestured to the child in silent reference to their conversation the day before, making her chuckle lightly. She read him perfectly. His heart warmed. Who needed conversation? He thought to himself, turning his attention back to his little companion. That short interaction was better than any conversation he'd had since the peace arrived.