Captain Wentworth's Persuasion (21 page)

Anne remarked, “I doubt Captain Benwick will join us this evening; he has all the appearance of being oppressed by the presence of so many strangers.”

The words had no sooner escaped her lips than Captains Harville and Benwick appeared in the doorway of the private dining room. Charles Musgrove greeted them loudly, so that no one else would speak of Benwick. The group split, allowing the two newcomers a chance to take center stage.

At first, both men sat with the entire group, but as the evening progressed, Frederick watched James Benwick withdraw both physically and mentally from the gathering.To Frederick’s chagrin, the very good impulse of Anne’s nature obliged her to begin an acquaintance with Benwick. She seated herself beside him and
devoted her conversation to him. Frederick wanted her to hear of
his
exploits—
his
successes—to appreciate how close
he
had come to death and how hard
he
had worked to achieve respectability.

“Did you tell them about Copenhagen?” Captain Harville asked as he launched into another story of their service together. Frederick shook his head in the negative, but his eyes and ears still searched the corner where Anne sat with Benwick.

He strained to hear what they shared.Their heads bent together in quiet conversation; Frederick noted Benwick’s shyness and his disposal to abstraction faded as the engaging mildness of her countenance and the gentleness of her manners soon had their effect, and his response repaid Anne the trouble of her exertion. Despite twinges of jealousy, Frederick could not help but smile with the knowledge
his Anne
could reach the unreachable. Frederick picked up snippets of what they said to each other.

“Miss Anne, it is a pleasure to speak to someone who loves poetry as much as you. I feel less alone in my sadness when I read a tragic poem.” Benwick’s shyness existed on a different level now.

Anne smiled. “I agree, Captain; but I remind you of the duty and benefit of struggling against affliction.”

“Oh, Miss Anne, a man could not feel such remorse in your presence.” Benwick said the words with such passion that Anne blushed. That jealous pang shot through Frederick again, and he forced the ache from his throat. Looking back at them, Frederick took some delight in watching the redness spread even if it came from another man’s attention. A woman in a full blush was exquisite, and he recalled speaking words of endearment to Anne simply to achieve that same reaction. The thoughts brought him an “unusual” contentment.

“Did you really eat caviar three times a day?” Louisa’s words pulled Frederick into the conversation at hand.

“Every man on board developed a taste for fish eggs,” Frederick declared.“The French love the dish, but, personally, I quickly tired of its novelty.”

“What other French foods have you tasted?” Louisa inquired sweetly.

Harville answered for him, and Frederick only half heard the gasps as Thomas described escargot.

“Snails!” Mary Musgrove said with distaste.

What Benwick said to Anne captured his attention again. “Do you prefer Sir Walter Scott’s ‘Marmion’ or ‘The Lady of the Lake’?”

Anne laughed lightly.“Obviously,‘The Lady.’”

“A romantic.” Benwick’s gentle gaze rested on Anne’s face, and Frederick felt the green-eyed monster all over again.The tenor of his friend’s voice softened as he began to repeat Scott’s words:

How dare he?
Frederick thought.The man repeated love poetry to
his Anne,
the only woman he had ever loved! He had once saved Benwick’s life, and he was the one who had given the man comfort when Benwick found out about Fanny Harville.
And what of Fanny?
Would he push her memory to the side and welcome Anne into his heart?

“You captured Scott’s tenderness, Captain.” Anne offered him an enchanting smile. “And what of Lord Byron? Do you prefer ‘Giaour’ or ‘The Bride of Abydos’?”

Again, Benwick fell into the rhythm of the poem.

Anne looked concerned. “Captain, you must not let the hopeless agony consume your thoughts. May I recommend a larger allowance of prose in your daily study?”

He smiled sadly.“I loved Fanny Harville, Miss Anne.You cannot know my pain—my despair.”

Anne pulled herself upright.“I preach patience and resignation, Captain, because I, too, suffered the pains of lost love, and I wish most desperately that someone had offered me such advice.”

Had he heard her correctly? Frederick felt his heart would break; his departure had hurt Anne as much as it had hurt him. He knew she spoke of
their
love, for, without a doubt, Anne had once loved him. When he left that day eight years ago, she still desired him as much as he desired her. After that, Frederick heard nothing either group said. He was lost to his own thoughts. Finally, Louisa Musgrove and the others demanded his undivided attention. For once, Frederick was happy to divine her with his tales; he did not want to think anymore about Anne Elliot and their lost love.All he really wanted was to escape to his own room and replay every word spoken and not spoken today.

“Captain.” Louisa snuggled into his arm. “I thought we might take a stroll before breakfast.”

“Should we not wait for the rest of our party?” Frederick purposely stepped away from her, pretending to look toward the stairway to see if Anne or the others might be about.

“Henrietta wanted to speak to Anne privately about pleading for Lady Russell’s help in securing a position for Cousin Charles. They left a quarter hour ago, and, of course, Mary will not be up for at least another hour.” She smiled winningly.

“Then maybe we should find them.” Frederick started toward the door, avoiding offering her his arm. He would walk with Louisa, but he would not encourage her unduly. During the night,
he thought it best to make Anne aware of his constancy. Somehow he must find a way to speak again of his love.

They walked less than a quarter mile down to the sea, where they met Henrietta and Anne, who were returning from their walk, one where the women went to the sands to watch the flowing of the tide. Frederick regretted not joining them. He would have liked to tell Anne about the tide—how a fine southeasterly breeze was bringing it in with all the grandeur, which so flat a shore admitted. He would teach her to praise the morning, to glory in the sea, to sympathize in the delight of the fresh-feeling breeze—and to be silent, just as she was yesterday—and let the world come to her.

Breaking his concentration—his thoughts of Anne—Louisa exclaimed, “I wanted to buy a new fan for Mama! We must go back to town. After breakfast we will be leaving, and there will be no time.”

“Certainly,” Anne added quickly. “Mrs. Musgrove will be quite pleased with your thoughtfulness.”

Frederick watched as Louisa beamed with praise, playing the grown up role bestowed upon her by Anne. Crossing the last of the shoreline, they prepared to climb the steps leading upwards from the beach to the top of the seawall and the path into town. Just as they reached the steps, a gentleman at the same moment preparing to come down, politely drew back and stopped to give them way. He wore an armband, indicating he observed a period of mourning. They ascended and passed him, and as they passed, Anne’s face caught his eye, and he looked at her with a degree of earnest admiration.

Frederick, having gone up the steps first, stood braced near the top, waiting to help each of the ladies over the last step and to safety. Louisa, always taking precedence, waited for the others, and Frederick held Henrietta’s hand to steady her footing when he saw the man’s intense interest in Anne. Frederick followed the man’s eyes. She was looking remarkably well; her very regular, very pretty features, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored by the
fine wind, which had been blowing on her complexion, and by the animation of her eyes, which it also produced.

It was evident that the gentleman, completely a gentleman in manner, admired her exceedingly. Frederick quickly summed up the situation. If he did not make a move soon,Anne would assume he intended to declare himself for Louisa and take up with someone else.
I cannot lose her again!
he thought, although as quickly as the thought came, he amended it—knowing at the moment Anne Elliot was not his to lose.What was worse was Anne took note of the man’s interest, and she gifted him with a beguiling smile. Frederick wanted to grab the cad’s cravat and throw him from the steps into the sea. Finally, Anne reached him, and as Frederick took her hand to steady her way as he did the others, he could not resist giving hers a gentle squeeze and stroking the inside of her wrist with his index finger. A slight blush radiated from her, and Frederick basked in her heat. She refused to make eye contact with him, but he did not care. He elicited a response from Anne, and she repaid his effort.

They soon reached the town and, after attending Louisa through her business and loitering about a little longer, they returned to the inn. Frederick noted upon their return that the gentleman in question was also staying at the inn. A well-looking groom strolled about the area, and, like the man on the steps, the servant was in mourning.The knowledge that Anne might see the stranger again vexed Frederick; he could not risk their forming an acquaintance. Feeling a bit overwhelmed with how quickly things changed and how little control he had over the situation, Frederick resolved to make an immediate move. He would ask to speak to Anne privately, and he would explain he was foolish in thinking he could forget her. He would explain he would not want to hurt Louisa Musgrove or affect Anne’s relationship with the Musgrove family, so he would travel to Shropshire and spend time with Edward in order to weaken the girl’s expectations. He would reason that with Anne’s returning to Lady Russell’s home, it might not be best for him to call upon her at this time, but he would seek
her permission to do so when she retired to Bath with her family. He would let her know he hoped to regain her regard.

Happy with the decision, Frederick waited impatiently in the main hallway for Anne to come down to breakfast. Finally, he heard her light tread on the landing. Blood rushed to his ears, and he could briefly hear only the beat of his own heart. Then a heavy thud—one of a door closing nearby—mixed with the approach of Anne’s footsteps.The voices rang clear as he moved into the shadows.

“Pardon me,” the man responded to Anne’s small gasp of surprise. Then an elongated silence told Frederick they partook of each other’s countenances. There was a moment of silence, and then the man spoke again.“It seems, Miss, I am to plague you with my presence.” Frederick knew instantly it was the man from the beach, and Frederick stifled a moan of disbelief.

“It is perfectly all right, Sir,” Anne replied pleasantly. “You simply frightened me momentarily; my heart you gave a start.”

“My apologies.” Frederick imagined the gentleman doffed his hat with these words. “I would not have you fear me in any way. May I say it is rare to meet such a delicate rose in winter?”

“You
are
too bold, Sir,” she replied. “Now, if you will excuse me.” With that, Frederick heard her step away from the guest. Before she could see Frederick there in the shadows, he moved quickly away.
My timing is off. Damnably off.
He could not approach her so soon after the stranger‘s unwelcomed way. He would wait until they prepared to load the coaches; in the midst of the chaos of packing so many bags, he would take her into the private dining room and plead his case.Trying to appear casual, he was at the sidebar filling a plate when Anne entered the dining room.