Awakenings
"I am to expect visitors this morning brother," Sophie called to Frederick as he strode into the breakfast room. A quick smile and a raised brow was the cue to show her that he was listening, as he immediately strode over to the buffet to fill himself a plate.
"The Musgrove ladies and Miss Elliot are arranged to call. We are to luncheon and enjoy the rosarium, as refined ladies do."
"How nice for you," Frederick replied, "I'm sure the company of women will be a welcome reprieve from the scrapes you usually find yourself in with your husband."
"Indeed, though perhaps a mite less exciting and much more civilised."
Frederick laughed at this, "Civilised indeed. You may be able to prevail upon the Miss Musgroves to play for you while they are here. They are delightful to listen to, I am sure you remember."
"And have had the best of Masters, if they are to be believed. Although, I cannot to be too hard on them. Any young girl, fresh from completing her education, must feel a little superiority when she returns to her home. If no other reason than to show their parents that the money has been well spent."
The two lapsed into silence while they enjoyed their repast. Frederick had no fixed plans for the day and while he did not wish to be quartered into a day spent being his sister's attendant, he thought he would certainly make time to give them his regards and see how the ladies fared. It had been nearly a week since their walk to the Hayter's farm and what an enlightening walk it had been. Miss Henrietta had become fixed in his mind as the opposite of what he would want in a wife, as demonstrated by her mistreatment of Charles Hayter through her lack of conviction.
He had been surprised by Miss Louisa. It appeared as though she certainly had a hand in the happy ending with which Miss Henrietta now found herself gifted and such a commanding character would be a welcome partner in married life, particularly if left to manage affairs at home if he were to be ever called away again. And yet there was a certain immaturity to the manner in which the whole affair had been managed. It occurred to him only later the resemblance Miss Hentrietta portrayed to an ensign being led to his captain in order to account for some type of misdemeanour. And their further conversation, which he must be held accountable for his own part in, had been indiscreet; showing that Louisa's had more care for being the one to tell the story, than for the people at all involved.
Previously burned, he may have been, by a woman who would not honour her word but he would be a fool to tie himself to an even younger woman in whom he could not hold faith in keeping his confidences. What Louisa Musgrove required was time, time to grow into the qualities that truly made a woman admirable. Honesty tempered by circumspection. Passionate and honourable without being controlling.
………………………….
Frederick had managed to while away his morning quite nicely with a long ride and returning home had developed a plan in his mind. He knew the kitchen staff well enough by now that he felt confident in his reception. He would sneak into the house through the side door and take the opportunity to wash up in the mud room before dropping in on his sister and her guests. He may even be able to tempt Mrs Reed with a crust of bread and wedge of cheese as he was famished, not having stopped since breakfast. Looking down at the wildflowers he'd collected, he hoped that the little spray would be what he needed to soften her heart. She ran that kitchen like a tight ship and not often could she be swayed from her heavily regimented dining schedule.
Entering the house, he could hear the hustle of the kitchen and was pleased to find the mud room unoccupied. Removing his riding coat and vest, he hung them over the coat rack and moved to the tub that was kept for washing the dust and dirt off of the workers who toiled away outside the home. Frederick pulled his shirt from out of his waistband and drew it over his shoulders, doing his best to avoid collecting the dirt from his face. Leaving it with his coat and vest, he proceeded to wash away the grime he had acquired from the morning outside. Feeling refreshed, he reached for the towel in order to dry his face. Sight obscured by the towel, his ears first heard their approach.
"Oh my!" He heard her gasp.
"Master Frederick, do cover up, there are ladies present," the gruffer voice of Mrs Reed sounded.
His face was burning, but what was there to be done? Lowering the towel, he sheepishly covered his chest and looked into the blushing countenance of Anne Elliot. "I apologise Ma'am, Miss Elliot," and nodding to both women, he mustered as much dignity as he could as he sidled over to the coat rack and turned his back in order to dress.
"If you please, Miss," he heard rather than saw Mrs Reed prompt Miss Elliot to return to the kitchen.
"Oh! Of course!" She replied, rather breathily and Frederick was left to put himself to rights in peace. The unexpected interruption had left his heart racing. Looking down before throwing his shirt over his head, he felt mildly smug as he had nothing to be ashamed of. His life aboard ship had been hard on the body but he was fit and healthy. His only concern of course, would be for Miss Elliot's comfort. He would hate for her to retreat further into her shell. He hastened to return to the kitchen, to apologise for the indiscretion but it was clear she had returned to the party.
With purpose, he strode over to Mrs Reed and delivered her the wildflowers and then promptly made his way to the parlour his sister favourited, crust of bread forgotten.
He could hear the pianoforte as he approached and was more than pleased to see Miss Louisa and Miss Musgrove at the instrument as he entered the room. With a short bow and a smile, he made his way over to his sister and seated himself on the settee.
"And how have you spent your morning, brother?" She enquired after receiving him.
"I've had a lovely morning touring the grounds, I believe I made it to the western border of the property." He replied, accepting a cup of tea. "I came to a great oak tree that resembled the one described by your gardener."
"Do you know the tree of which I'm speaking Miss Elliot?" Frederick turned to Anne and asked, startling her out of her reverie.
She had clearly been staring at his chest as she quickly raised her eyes to his face and blushed quite prettily, "I do apologise, I've been woolgathering."
"I was telling Sophia that I rode as far as I believe to be your western border today. There was a rather grand oak tree."
"With a swing hanging off the lower branch?" She smiled, delighted at the recollection.
"The very one," he smiled in return.
Miss Elliot continued, "it has been many years since I have seen that grand old dame. Mary would remember, we had some wonderful play there as children."
"Indeed," Mary responded, "when Mother or Father could be prevailed upon to allow Nurse to take us there."
"Grand old dame, you say?" Sophia asked.
"Most definitely!" Laughed Anne, "Though I am ashamed to admit why."
"Do tell us, I can't imagine you being anything other than entirely well behaved at all times Miss Elliot." Cajoled Sophie, smiling back.
"I am afraid it is because her withered trunk held a striking resemblance to our dear grandmother, Dame Elliot. Though we would have never admitted it to her face, or to any other adult for that matter. It was a secret for just us sisters."
The small group laughed at this, interrupting the flow of music coming from across the room.
"We do apologise my dears, play on, play on." Mrs Musgrove called to her daughters.
"You know, I do believe there is a painting of that oak tree somewhere."
"Probably stored in the attic, my dear," Mary suggested lazily from her seat. "Lord knows Elizabeth would not have taken it to Bath with her." Not showing awareness of how her words may embarrass others was a gift of Mary's.
"Would you care to look for it?" Enquired Sophie, "You'd be most welcome to. The admiral and myself have only been thinking that you may like the opportunity to go over your old things."
"Oh no, I couldn't possibly." Anne demurred as Mary interrupted.
"Well, I would like to look myself as this was my home too, you recall."
"Of course," Sophia replied, "Frederick would you be happy to escort the ladies to the attic?"
Frederick was happy to. His curiousity had been peaked and any time spent with Anne Elliot in which they were not stumbling over past grievances or stuck in awkward tete a tetes would be welcome.
They knew the way of course, and were quick to find themselves amongst the stored treasures. There was less dust than expected, indicating the quality of the staff that such an ill used area of the home would still be fit for purpose. Mary was quick to wander off to where she believed her old trunks were stored, though her voice easily carried through the crates and trunks separating them all.
"If you would direct me, Miss Elliot, I would be pleased to be of assistance." Frederick ventured, offering Anne a small bow.
"Thank you," she replied, blushing once again, "I do believe it will be toward the rear of the room, as most of these items would have been from our recent removal." And indicating as she described, she excused herself, brushing past Frederick to make her own way there.
Frederick was quick to follow, and not willing to let their conversation die, continued speaking, "Do you still paint a good deal?"
"A little," Anne replied, looking over her shoulder, "though not at all while I have been staying at the Musgrove's. I find painting an interesting subject but admit to losing patience with it more than what I would with the pianoforte. It is certainly not my strong point."
"So is this oak tree likely to represent the real thing, or must I prepare myself to be polite?"
Anne gasped and turned to face Frederick, "I see you have not lost your love of living dangerously Captain Wentworth!"
Frederick threw his head back and laughed, "and you still remain an easy target for jesting, Miss Elliot."
"What are you laughing at?" Called Mary, "it is good of you to leave me here to go off and have your fun."
"'Tis nothing, Mary. We shan't be long," Anne called back as she turned and continued walking. She quickly found the crate in which she believed her past artworks to be stored. "Here we are," she muttered more quietly, removing the dust cover and passing it to her companion.
Lifting the lid, she knelt down and invited Frederick to do the same. There was a reasonable collection of canvases stored in the crate, each covered in swathes of calico. They began unwrapping together, discovering a variety of fruit bowls, pets and pretty landscapes in their search. Frederick let out a small sound of surprise as he beheld the familiar countenance of Mrs Reed. Holding it up to Miss Elliot in explanation, she smiled.
"Oh the fast talking it took me to convince Mrs Reed to sit for me, even for only half an hour." She said, shaking her head. "I do believe I shall keep this one out."
It wasn't long before she found it, "Here we are!" She grinned, "tell me Captain, was this the old Dame of which you spoke?" And she held the painting up for Frederick to see.
"Ho! The very one," He replied, taking the painting from her for closer inspection. It really was quite ordinary and yet he could see the scene as clear as when he had been there this morning. "How old would you have been when you painted this?" He asked, handing it over for her to see.
"Hmmm… thirteen perhaps? I was homesick and longed for my mother excessively. Especially as I knew she was ill. I painted this and sent it home for her as soon as I could." Anne responded in a low voice.
"Thirteen?" Frederick echoed, "why that couldn't have been long before." He stopped himself, seeing Anne's eyes glass over.
"Yes, the next year she was gone. This was displayed in her room, I know. For she wrote me of it. By the time I came home though, these many things were packed away as Elizabeth had directed." I single tear bloomed and spilt down Anne's cheek.
Struck with sudden tender feeling for the woman before him, Frederick reached out and brushed the tear away with his thumb. "Anne," he whispered. She looked up at him and he held himself as still as possible, his hand cupping her face. He didn't want this moment to end, didn't want to scare her away or ruin it in some fashion. He hadn't intended to be in this moment but now that he was here, he was awakened to all of those characteristics in Anne Elliot that he had once loved and found he loved very much still.
Her hair was muted by the low light allowed through the high windows of the attic. Her features softened by the reminiscence and unexpected display of affection. Staring into his eyes, she offered a small smile and took a breath before saying, "we should probably return to Mary."
Frederick let his hand drop. "You are probably right." He stood and held his hand down to help Miss Elliot to her feet. She graciously accepted and they turned to make their way toward the front of the room.
What they had both failed to remember was the dust cover that Frederick had laid on the floor behind them. As they stepped forward, it slipped out, sending their feet sliding. Frederick was adept at keeping afoot in many situations and was quick to right himself. But Miss Elliot was not accustomed to the floor moving out from underneath her, she flailed, sending her paintings flying in front of her and an indelicate squeal from out of her mouth.
Quick to act, Frederick threw out an arm and grabbed Anne around her waist, drawing her quickly into his firm body. He could feel her breath coming out in quick puffs as she fought to regain herself. "Forgive me," Anne murmured, looking up into Frederick's eyes. Her mouth slightly agape, hair slightly mussed and eyes still glistening, in that moment she looked more beautiful than she ever had.
"Not at all," he responded and before he thought, before he regretted or allowed cowardice to control his actions Frederick lowered his head and kissed her.
Softly at first and then more soundly as he turned his body to hold her, both arms circling around her waist. Her own hands were rested softly on his chest and he felt her grasp his shirt front as their kiss deepened.
"Anne, are you coming? I'm hungry, I've had enough." The sound of Mary's approach was enough to bring them back to their senses as they both jumped apart, breathing heavily as they stared at one another.
"Anne!" Mary called again, impatience clear in her tone.
"Coming Mary," Anne replied eyes still locked with Frederick's.
"Oh look, here is the painting you were looking for. Honestly Anne, did you walk right past it?" Mary came into view, picking up the painting from the floor where Anne had thrown it.
Brushing down her dress and fixing her hair, Frederick watched Anne return to her sister and make her way to the door.
She turned and enquired, "Are you coming?"
"Yes, yes I am." He replied and followed her back to the parlour.