Captain Wentworth's Persuasion (35 page)

“It is no problem—I shall remain here.” Harville shifted his weight, allowing the cane to support him.

Making his unexpected return, Frederick said, “I apologize, Mrs. Musgrove,” as he crossed the room,“I left my gloves behind.”

Mrs. Musgrove stood by the window, looking out for the rest of their party. “It is quite all right, Captain Wentworth.” The woman did not even turn around.

However,Anne stood close by, and she watched his every move. Stepping beside the desk, Frederick purposefully slid his fingers along the edge of the blotter paper. He locked eyes with Anne and then he drew out the letter and placed it on the desk. With the slightest of nods, he hastily collected his gloves and was again out of the room—the work of an instant!

His future was now in her hands. Frederick found Harville where he had left him, and they started toward the portrait studio to meet with the artist. They walked two blocks in complete silence—Frederick’s vexation clearly evident.

“Do you want to tell me who will receive the second letter?”
Thomas asked softly, never looking at his friend.

Frederick hesitated.“You saw that?”

“Obviously,” Thomas taunted. “Was it a love letter for Miss Anne?” Then he guffawed at his own joke. His friend chuckled some more at seeing Frederick flinch, but when Frederick did not answer, Harville gasped a little too loudly, “It was a love letter for Miss Anne!”

Barely audible, Frederick acknowledged, “Yes—yes, it was for Anne.”

“Anne?”Thomas responded with disbelief. “How long has she been
Anne
?”

“From the first day I laid eyes on her—”

“In Somerset more than eight years ago,”Thomas finished the sentence for him.“I knew it, you sly fox!” He slapped Frederick on the shoulder.

Obviously distressed, Frederick countered, “Do not congratulate me,Thomas; I know not my fate.The letter professes my love, but will Anne accept a renewal of my regard?”

Thomas took pity on his old friend. “May I ask why you are with me? Give me the miniature and the letter; I can well do this without you.” Frederick started to protest, but a wave of Thomas’s hand stopped him short.“Go—go back to the White Hart and win the woman you love. Do not leave there until
she
is
yours!
”

“Dare I risk it?” Frederick looked back the way they had come; he was unsure what to do.

Thomas grinned.“Do you truly love this woman?”

“Most wholeheartedly,” Frederick insisted.

“I never knew you, my Friend, to allow anything to keep you from what you most desired.This would be a first.”

“No.” Frederick shook his head. “It would not be a first.” His anxiety increased as he looked away once more.“I must go—I am sorry, Harville, but I must go!” As he strode away, he heard Thomas chuckling.

Turning the corner at Bath Street, he noted that Anne and Charles Musgrove had crossed to Union. He quickened his step to
catch up, but when Frederick reached them, he paused. Knowing that within a few minutes he would speak what was in his heart, he froze—irresolute whether to join them or to pass on, saying nothing, after all. He stared at her, wondering what to do, each heartbeat infinitely long.Then Anne, sensing his approach, turned suddenly; she blushed—the cheeks, which were pale, now glowed, and the movement, which hesitated, was decided. Frederick stepped up beside her, and they were lost to each other. Eyes danced in happiness, and they were as before—united—hearts interlocked, needing no words to declare their love.

“Say,Wentworth,” Charles implored him. “Which way are you going? Only to Gay Street or farther up the town?” Charles appeared most anxious to leave.

Frederick did not take his eyes from Anne’s face. “I hardly know,” he replied.

Charles continued, oblivious to the lovers. “Are you going as high as Belmont? Are you going near Camden Place? Because if you are, I shall have no scruple in asking you to take my place and give Anne your arm to her father’s door. She is rather done for this morning and must not go so far without help.And I ought to be at that fellow’s in the marketplace. He promised me the sight of a capital gun he is just going to send off; said he would keep it unpacked to the last possible moment, that I might see it; and if I do not turn back now, I will have no chance. By his description, a good deal like the second-sized double barrel of mine, which you shot with one day, round Winthrop. What do you say,Wentworth?”

Frederick tried to stop smiling, but he gave up the effort when he saw a like smile on Anne’s face.“It is fine, Musgrove. Go see the gun. I will be most honored to escort Miss Anne home; she will be safe with me.”

“That is superb news! I am in your debt,” Charles added quickly. Then he disappeared, hurrying along Union Street.

“Which way, Miss Anne?” Frederick’s voice remained husky with emotion.

“Some place quiet, Captain—you may choose.”Anne placed her
hand on his proffered arm, and Frederick pulled her close to his side. Relief rushed through him as they turned away from the crowd.

As they entered the park, Frederick led her to a nearby bench. “May we sit for a time?”They spoke little over the last few blocks other than small talk about the weather and such.When he properly seated himself beside her, Frederick took her hand in his, clutching it to his chest. “Anne,” he whispered, “my heart beats again because of you—with the hope that you will receive me—that you understand how ardently I adore you.” He brought her palm to his lips and planted a kiss on the inside of her wrist.“Please say that I am not too late.”

Anne released her hand from his, but she did so to trace the outline of his lips. “Yours is the face I see every time I close my eyes. It has been so for eight years—nothing you could say or do would ever change that.”

Frederick suddenly felt quite warm.“May I be so forward as to presume there is hope for us?”

“There is more than hope, Frederick. I give you my assurance.” She did not look away.“I am no longer that foolish green girl; I am not so persuadable. If God gives us a time once more, I will never turn from you.You will be my life if that is truly your desire.” She raised her chin to look him directly in the eyes.“I love you, Frederick Wentworth ; I have loved none but you.”

Frederick’s fingertips traced the line of her cheek from her temple to her jaw.“You have no idea,” he began,“how much I love you.” He took her hand once more and pulled Anne to her feet. “Come, my Dear, let us walk. It would not do for me to take you in my arms in the midst of this busy park, and I fear if we sit here any longer, I will ruin your reputation with that or more.”

Anne laughed—a light tinkling of bells drifting on the breeze. “You would never break with propriety, Captain,” she teased.

He leaned towards her, letting his breath tickle her ear.“Do not tempt me, Miss Elliot,” he taunted in return. “When it comes to you, I have little control.”

Redness spread across her chest and warmed Anne’s face. “I
recall vividly,” she murmured.

Frederick knew instantly he liked the more mature Anne. She still blushed with his words, a fact in which he took great delight, but she, too, spoke more boldly and accepted his
seductive
ways. “I plan to give you new memories,” he whispered.

They retired to the gravel walk, where the power of conversation would make the present hour a blessing indeed. There they exchanged again those feelings and those promises, which once before seemed to secure every thing, but which were followed by so many, many years of division and estrangement. There they returned again into the past, more exquisitely happy, perhaps in their reunion, than when it was first projected: more tender, more tried, more fixed in a knowledge of each other’s character, truth, and attachment; more equal to act—more justified in acting. And there, as they slowly paced the gradual ascent, heedless of every group around them, seeing neither sauntering politicians, bustling housekeepers, flirting girls, nor nursery maids and children, they could indulge in those retrospections and acknowledgments, and especially in those explanations of what directly proceeded to the present moment, which were so poignant and so ceaseless in interest. All the little variations of the past week were gone through, and of yesterday and today there could scarcely be an end.

“Admit it; you were jealous,”Anne suggested.

They walked into a secluded area; a row of hedges blocked their view of the finely worn path. Instinctively, he pulled Anne to him, taking her into his arms; she snuggled into him—her head resting on his chest. Frederick glanced down at her. “Were you trying to make me jealous, Sweetling?”

Anne tilted her head back to look up at him. “If I did, you deserved it, you know.” A smile turned up the corners of her mouth, and Anne’s eyes twinkled with enjoyment.

Frederick outlined her lips with his fingertips, pulling gently on her bottom one. His smile matched hers—his being lost to her closeness. “I believe, Sweetling, I did; but you have no idea how I suffered this past week.”

“I would think that you would know me well enough to realize that Mr. Elliot was not to my liking.”

“Oh, Anne, you do not know the doubt—the torment. It is not pleasant to speak of.” Frederick held her to him until he heard someone approaching at a distance.“We should walk again, my Dear.”

“Frederick,” she began softly as she fell into step beside him. “I would like for us to be honest with each other. When we were together before neither of us spoke the whole truth. For me, it was because I did not want to disappoint; I so desperately feared losing your love. I suppose it was my age or my lack of life experience; I had no idea of what I should expect.—Sometimes, the feelings were so foreign to me, and I wondered if other women felt as I did. For you, I believe you tried to protect me. Unfortunately, because I did not know what to expect, my fears surfaced too quickly.”

“I do not understand,Anne.What do you desire of me?”

“I would like for us to speak what is in our hearts, whether it is jealousy, love, or fear. I want the same type of relationship I observe in your sister and the Admiral.”

“Then you wish to know of my anguish?”

“I would never ask of you to do so, especially if it was a painful experience; yet, if we are to really know each other, we must speak our hearts.” Anne looked up at him, trying to explain the unexplainable.

Frederick nodded.“Your words make excellent sense. Over the past few months, I have observed couples: my brother and Christine, Thomas and Milly, and Sophia and Benjamin. Seeing them, I realized I could not settle for anyone other than you.

“I came to Bath to win your regard, and when I saw you in the company of Mr. Elliot, I regret to say that I lost reason. Jealousy began to operate in the very hour of first meeting you in Bath; it returned, after a short suspension, to ruin the concert; and it influenced me in everything I said or did or omitted saying and doing in the past four-and-twenty hours. It gradually yielded to the better hopes, which your looks, or words, or actions occasionally
encouraged; it was vanquished at last by those sentiments and those tones which reached me while you talked with Captain Harville. Listening closely and feeling so much, I knew I must respond.”

“It was a beautiful letter,”Anne maintained.“I was in awe.”

“Every word was true,” he insisted.“I have loved none but you; no one could supplant you in my life; I never saw your equal. I tried to forget you and believed it to be so; I imagined myself indifferent when I was simply angry at your actions. Because I suffered from our separation, I tried to deny your merits; but your character is perfection itself. Only at Uppercross did I learn to give you justice, and only at Lyme did I understand myself.”

They returned to the main courseway, and Frederick led her to another bench. “When Mr. Elliot gazed at you admiringly on the steps at Lyme, I wanted to throw the man into the sea; I had no right, but I admit to such violent thoughts.You mesmerized me as I watched you on the Cobb—the way the ocean played at your feet; you were like a water sprite.Your superiority shone through at the Harvilles’ home, when you showed empathy for Benwick. And I have nothing but respect for the calm, confident way you handled Louisa’s accident on the beach.”

Anne dropped her eyes and pretended to straighten a seam on her dress. Frederick took her chin in his palm and raised it once more.“Anne, I am a foolish man—very foolish. I wanted to punish you for not loving me enough.” Anne started to protest, but he silenced her with a touch of his finger to her lips.“I know you love me—I knew it then, but my pride would not let me admit it, so I tried to attach myself to Louisa Musgrove, although I soon realized we had nothing upon which to build a relationship. At Lyme, I tried to distance myself from her; I planned to approach you before we boarded our coaches to return to Uppercross, but fate twisted those plans. Louisa’s mind could never compare with the excellence of your mind or the perfect, unrivaled possession it has over mine. At Lyme, I learned to distinguish between the steadiness of principle and the obstinacy of self-will. I deplore the pride, the folly, and the madness of resentment, which kept me from trying to
regain your love the moment I returned to Somerset and found you unattached.”

Anne responded slowly, “It was a terrible time for both of us. I knew we could still be friends from the moment you took Little Walter from the room; I believed you no longer hated me when you secured the Admiral’s carriage for my comfort.” She slid her hand under his cupped one, and Frederick tightened his grip, guaranteeing she could not change her mind and withdraw. “Of course, I would have preferred not to listen to the Admiral speculate on which Musgrove you would marry.”

Frederick chuckled.“Do I detect a bit of jealousy in your tone? I would relish in knowing so.”

“Then fancy yourself satisfied, Sir. I wanted you for myself, and as much as I esteem Louisa Musgrove, I could never picture you with her.”Anne’s voice did not falter.