"My dearest Anne," said Lady Russell to her beloved god-daughter. "Please understand I care for your future happiness. I am distraught to see you throwing away your opportunities so carelessly. And for what? And for whom? A man known to you scarcely a month, with no fortune to his name, nor any useful connections to offer. A man who might perish any day as a result of his chosen profession. A profession I might add, that had yet to result in any pecuniary rewards or great advancement. Truly my dear, you mustn't. You have greater opportunities than that. If only you…"
"No Godmother!" Anne Elliot hotly interrupted. She had listened to the good Lady long enough.
"Do not tell me that! You, the one who claims to care most for my happiness, you cannot now ask me to throw away true love for mere worldly gain, in the hope of my one day in the future attracting some unknown wealthy, well connected, possibly titled man who will love me better. That is not sound reasoning and you know it. Holding me back because I am, as you say, 'known by so few' is nonsensical. I will never been 'known to many' whilst living at Kellynch Hall. There is no opportunity to cultivate a large acquaintance, nor would I wish to. I have no need of a great circle of acquaintances with power, affluence or titles. No indeed. I am not my father or even my elder sister, madam. I am my mother's daughter!"
"Indeed!" cried Lady Russel, affronted. "And just remember how she threw herself away on a worthless and vain man for no more than blind infatuation!"
The moment he words left her mouth, Lady Russel knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Anne, clever, beautiful, but generally unloved Anne, would not respond favourably to a slight to her mother.
"Your opinions on my parents' marriage are your own," Anne replied coldly. "But never again let me hear you speak of 'infatuation' or 'worthless man' as referring to my Frederick. He loves me. I love him. By suggesting I am acting on no more than infatuation, you are cheapening what we have!"
Anne stood and paced across the parlour.
"Even if he is not well connected or wealthy, he is a genuinely caring man," she continued. "He is not pursuing rank or privilege or the so-called honour of having a Baronet for his father in law. He seeks happiness, a union of equals. You cannot know, Lady Russell, what it means to me to be valued, to be cared for, to have one soul dedicated to my own, after so many years of having virtually no one."
The words cut Lady Russell to the quick.
"Have I not loved you all your life, stood in for your mother?" she asked, failing to hide the affront she was feeling.
"So you have," replied Anne. "Which makes it all the more difficult to bear to see you now advocating my father's views instead. He would be only too happy to have me chase wealth and especially rank. Not for my benefit, you see, but for the perceived increase of his own consequence and the joy of scribbling such into his book. Is that what my mother wanted you to teach me and my sisters?"
Lady Russell was quiet. What would her dear friend have wanted? If she were honest with herself, Lady Russell was convinced the late Lady Elliot would likely choose happiness for her daughters, but would she not care about the lack of financial security at all? It was doubtful, Lady Russell thought. Although, as she thought about it longer, she knew the late Lady Russell would have taken Sir Walter in hand, and worked on him until he not only blessed the union, but honoured his son in law by providing the dowry that had been reserved for each of his daughters.
While Lady Russell thought, Anne Elliot sat down again. She knew her godmother well enough to know her decisions took time being formed. The pause also gave Anne time to imagine her future. One option was a marriage to Frederick, if not now, at least after he'd had some time to gain prize money. In any variation, ranging from pure poverty to respectably settled, having Frederick made her feel lighter, and more able to bear whatever may come. When she tried to imagine her future without him in it, either with or without some unknown quantity of a man who could provide for her, that was when she experienced real pain. Anne's resolve hardened. She would not give him up. She would bear the consequences if her father kept to his lack of promise and provided nothing. She had been taught well by her perpetually frugal mother and she would make do. Anne was anything but a wasteful, pampered Baronet's daughter and she was not afraid of reduced circumstances, as long as she was secure and could retain a decent dwelling.
Lady Russell in the meantime, had come to a conclusion.
"I will meet your young man," she said to Anne. "I wish to know how he intends to provide for you."
Anne raised her hand before she could continue.
"Is that all you wish to know?" she demanded.
"What do you mean?" Lady Russell asked, not following her God daughter's train of thought.
"Would you not wish to know the man who will take me away from here, who will, God willing, one day be the father of my children?" Anne asked in clear tones of exasperation.
Lady Russell, widow of a knight, had ever been prejudiced in favour of people of rank, of distinguished family. A Mr. Wentworth of no great ancestry, was not a man she would know in the normal course of her life. However for Anne, and for the memory of the late Lady Elliot, Lady Russell would, if challenged, step out of her usual comfortable habits. And challenged she was. Anne had drawn a line in the sand, and Lady Russell had to make a choice.
Having already convinced herself that her dear friend, the Elliot girls' mother, would pry loose the dowry that Sir Walter appeared disinclined to part with, and that she would support her daughter's happiness even if it were to be found with a Naval Officer of no particular distinguishment, Lady Russell decided she could do no less. She was not suddenly in favour of this engagement, in fact she still thought it ill-advised, but she would meet the man her dearest Anne loved, and she would sit down with the both of them to work out how to best protect Anne.
"Very well, my dear," the Lady spoke at last. "I will meet your betrothed. If, and I do mean if, I can be convinced of your future security, I will support you. Then I will even speak to your father on your behalf."
"Very well," Anne conceded. "We will speak about finances and security. Because you wish it. But you will also spend time getting to know Frederick for the good man he is. I demand no less."
Thus agreed, the ladies made plans to meet for tea two days hence.
Two days later, Lady Russell welcomed into her parlour a man she had never before expected to visit her abode. Still reserved, and quite honestly appalled by his brash optimism, she had no trouble discerning that this man did indeed feel deeply for her Anne. What Anne may have told him, she knew not. But the two of them united were a sight to see. Lady Russell quickly realized that breaking them up, something she had still hoped would be possible, would not do. This man, somewhat rough around the edges, somewhat gruff in his speech, with the weathered look of all those who spent many hours in the sun, had stars in his eyes when gazing upon Anne. They seemed so comfortable together, so right. Against her own inclinations, Lady Russell had to allow it to be so. If not this man, Anne may not marry at all, by the looks of things. And anybody caring for her dearest girl so well, could not but touch the Lady's heart, loath she might be to admit such a thing.
Commander Wentworth, having been advanced in his profession shortly before arriving in Somerset, to Lady Russell's great surprise, had an income of 350 a year, not including prize money. This was more than sufficient for Anne to live on in an acceptable home. Circumstances were not nearly as dire as Lady Russell had imagined them to be, something, she thought ruefully, she might never have known if not for speaking to the man himself.
Lady Russell had spoken to Sir Walter, for Anne's share of the ten thousand pounds invested for the Elliot daughters. Playing heavily on Sir Walter's sense of honour and nobility, she had won the day. While remaining invested, but in the Wentworths' name, Anne and Commander Wentworth would have the income of Anne's dowry.
Anne's security now guaranteed, Lady Russell dedicated her time to getting to know this young man. After all, Anne's own family may easily forget her, once removed from their home. But Lady Russell, for good or for ill, would stand by the young bride and her future husband. In the many months when her husband would be at sea, Anne would for a certainty need a loving Godmother and confidante.