Persuasion (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (14 page)

“I beg your pardon, madam, this is your seat;” and though she immediately drew back with a decided negative, he was not to be induced to sit down again.

Anne did not wish for more of such looks and speeches. His cold politeness, his ceremonious grace, were worse than anything.

As Frederick and the Crofts left the party that evening, he cursed himself soundly inside the carriage. His sister and her husband chatted happily where they nestled to the point of impropriety across from him. Frederick was left to look out the window and brood.

What the devil had possessed him to teaze Anne so by sitting across from her under the guise of talking to Mrs. Musgrove? Indeed, he had had no idea of his intentions until he found himself sitting beside the large woman, placing himself in a prime location for Anne to observe him. He knew she would watch him — no, he corrected himself —
hoped
is perhaps a better word. However, nothing could explain his earlier actions. He bit his lip — what in heaven’s name had driven him to such depravity? Beyond simply being an ungentlemanly thing to do, it had been unkind. Over the years, women who learned of his self-imposed celibacy often teazed him physically: running their hands over his chest when no one was looking, brushing their breasts against him, some — the more bold — even fondling him. He had truly hated it. How dare he do such a thing to poor Anne, even if she did not want him any longer?

But his actions had not even been the worst thing that had happened to her this night. Frederick had discovered Anne to be even more neglected than she had been when they were young — and that was saying something. To put her to work at the piano-forte without any opportunity to engage in merry-making herself —

Was he the only one in the room who had had to force himself not to stare at the vacant space beside Anne as she played as though it were the brightest mark in the world? And he had nearly run aground on the rocks at her feet dozens of times. It had taken indomitable strength of will not to approach her and offer his services as page turner as he had used to.

No one paid her any mind, and, rather than such a thing passing his notice completely, Frederick had found himself becoming incensed. How did they not recognise such a treasure in their midst? It was true that she was no longer of value to Frederick himself, but for
them
to ignore her so —

It was not to be borne.

In the candlelight tonight, she had looked much as she had when he’d loved her. The flame had flickered over her hair, bringing out the highlights and lowlights of the glorious colour that was wound into a style that had not been as severe as the first time he had seen her after their long absence from each other. Frederick sighed and shifted in his seat as he remembered how delicately she had played tonight. Her fingers skipped over the keys at moments, and at others, they caressed the ivory. Her small forearms had rippled slightly with her movements, bringing to mind how they had done the same thing whilst she had worked a part of Frederick’s body all those years ago. Her hair had not been the only thing to benefit from the candle perched on the instrument. Shadow and light had played across her entire body, casting enticing dark pools across the peaks and valleys of her bosom. The dip between her breasts had looked particularly warm, dark, and inviting. He could have slid his fingers into her bodice quite easily and stroked across the firm flesh, seeking —

Frederick broke off his line of thought with a violent curse as arousal swept through him so swiftly it nearly stole his breath. His shaft punched up against his breeches, and he scrambled to cross his legs as his sister and brother paused in their cooing at one another to look at him curiously. A quick glance at his lap and Frederick realized crossing his legs was not going to be enough. He tried as nonchalantly as possible to fold his hands across the most rebellious erection he had ever had and forced himself to meet his sister’s eyes with a carefully innocent expression as she asked, “Are you quite all right, Frederick?”

His brother-in-law glanced down to where Frederick was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his condition. The older man chuckled low and squeezed his wife a tad closer. “He’s fine, love, let him be.”

Frederick was blessed to have his unfortunate blush of horror go unnoticed by them both as the Admiral reclaimed his wife’s attention through a loud smack of lips against her cheek. She turned to him in delight and continued whatever trivial lover’s conversation she had been engaged in prior to Frederick’s outburst.

As Frederick rode through the rest of the trip home in absolute discomfort, he once again vowed to devote his attention to the wife hunt. He apparently needed it more than he had guessed if he was lusting after Anne Elliot, the last woman he would ever marry.

Captain Wentworth was come to Kellynch as to a home, to stay as long as he liked, being as thoroughly the object of the Admiral’s fraternal kindness as of his wife’s. He had intended, on first arriving, to proceed very soon into Shropshire, and visit the brother settled in that country, but the attractions of Uppercross induced him to put this off. There was so much of friendliness, and of flattery, and of everything most bewitching in his reception there; the old were so hospitable, the young so agreeable, that he could not but resolve to remain where he was, and take all the charms and perfections of Edward’s wife upon credit a little longer. He was most certainly
not
, he reminded himself often, staying in Kellynch to be near Anne.

It was soon Uppercross with him almost every day. The Musgroves could hardly be more ready to invite than he to come, particularly in the morning, when he had no companion at home, for the Admiral and Mrs. Croft were generally out of doors together, interesting themselves in their new possessions, their grass, and their sheep, and dawdling about in a way not endurable to a third person — Frederick still had palpitations over the time he caught them making love against the side of the stables — or driving out in a gig, lately added to their establishment.

Hitherto there had been but one opinion of Captain Wentworth among the Musgroves and their dependencies. It was unvarying, warm admiration everywhere; but this intimate footing was not more than established, when a certain Charles Hayter returned among them, to be a good deal disturbed by it, and to think Captain Wentworth very much in the way.

Charles Hayter was the eldest of all the cousins, and a very amiable, pleasing young man, between whom and Henrietta there had been a considerable appearance of attachment previous to Captain Wentworth’s introduction. He was in orders; and having a curacy in the neighbourhood, where residence was not required, lived at his father’s house, only two miles from Uppercross. A short absence from home had left his fair one unguarded by his attentions at this critical period, and when he came back he had the pain of finding very altered manners, and of seeing Captain Wentworth.

Mrs. Musgrove and Mrs. Hayter were sisters. They had each had money, but their marriages had made a material difference in their degree of consequence. Mr. Hayter had some property of his own, but it was insignificant compared with Mr. Musgrove’s; and while the Musgroves were in the first class of society in the country, the young Hayters would, from their parents’ inferior, retired, and unpolished way of living, and their own defective education, have been hardly in any class at all, but for their connexion with Uppercross, this eldest son of course excepted, who had chosen to be a scholar and a gentleman, and who was very superior in cultivation and manners to all the rest.

The two families had always been on excellent terms, there being no pride on one side, and no envy on the other, and only such a consciousness of superiority in the Miss Musgroves, as made them pleased to improve their cousins. Charles’s attentions to Henrietta had been observed by her father and mother without any disapprobation. “It would not be a great match for her; but if Henrietta liked him,” — and Henrietta
did
seem to like him. They were always found together on the property. As children, they had played with each other exclusively. As young adults, when they were found together, a springing apart was often the result. Mrs. Musgrove and Mrs. Hayter had laughed many a time over the look upon their children’s faces whenever they were caught kissing in one of the rooms adjacent to the parlour. When Charles and Henrietta slipped off, their mothers exchanged a glance and a small smile, and then a handful of minutes later, one of them would go retrieve them, making sure to make a good deal of noise as they approached whatever room had a conspicuously closed door.

The two mothers might not have been so blasé about the liberties Charles and Henrietta were taking with each other had they known that, recently, the two had moved beyond kissing.

Knowing they would be caught post haste if they remained in the house, the two had taken to walking the countryside together. Such an activity afforded them a good deal more privacy, they discovered. In a copse of trees nearby, they had tentatively begun to explore one another’s bodies — through their clothes, of course. Charles had insisted on this one nod to propriety. Their kisses were still the desperate, unpracticed embraces they had taken to in the house, as though they worried any moment they may be caught, irrational as the worry was, given their location. Now, however, their kisses were accompanied by fumbling hands and urgent squeezes that they were only beginning to discover brought the other person as much joy as themselves. In these moments, with Henrietta’s sweet breath puffing against his neck and her breast filling his hand, Charles was sure he would never find more happiness with any other woman.

Henrietta fully thought so herself, before Captain Wentworth came; but from that time Cousin Charles had been very much forgotten.

Which of the two sisters was preferred by Captain Wentworth was as yet quite doubtful, as far as Anne’s observation reached. Henrietta was perhaps the prettiest, Louisa had the higher spirits; and she knew not
now
, whether the more gentle or the more lively character were most likely to attract him.

Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove, either from seeing little, or from an entire confidence in the discretion of both their daughters, and of all the young men who came near them, seemed to leave everything to take its chance. There was not the smallest appearance of solicitude or remark about them in the Mansion-house; but it was different at the Cottage: the young couple there were more disposed to speculate and wonder; and Captain Wentworth had not been above four or five times in the Miss Musgroves’ company, and Charles Hayter had but just reappeared, when Anne had to listen to the opinions of her brother and sister, as to
which
was the one liked best. Charles gave it for Louisa, Mary for Henrietta, but quite agreeing that to have him marry either could be extremely delightful.

Charles “had never seen a pleasanter man in his life; and from what he had once heard Captain Wentworth himself say, was very sure that he had not made less than twenty thousand pounds by the war. Here was a fortune at once; besides which, there would be the chance of what might be done in any future war; and he was sure Captain Wentworth was as likely a man to distinguish himself as any officer in the navy. Oh! it would be a capital match for either of his sisters.”

Anne had to look away to hide her flare of disgust.
She
had loved him when he was poor.

“Upon my word it would,” replied Mary. “Dear me! If he should rise to any very great honours! If he should ever be made a baronet! ‘Lady Wentworth’ sounds very well. That would be a noble thing, indeed, for Henrietta! She would take place of me then, and Henrietta would not dislike that. Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth! It would be but a new creation, however, and I never think much of your new creations.”

It suited Mary best to think Henrietta the one preferred on the very account of Charles Hayter, whose pretensions she wished to see put an end to. She looked down very decidedly upon the Hayters, and thought it would be quite a misfortune to have the existing connection between the families renewed — very sad for herself and her children.

“You know,” said she, “I cannot think him at all a fit match for Henrietta; and considering the alliances which the Musgroves have made, she has no right to throw herself away. I do not think any young woman has a right to make a choice that may be disagreeable and inconvenient to the
principal
part of her family, and be giving bad connections to those who have not been used to them.”

Anne’s disgust morphed into hot anger. It was this attitude that had worked its persuasion upon her. It was the very reason she had parted from Frederick. Such attitudes were not only harmful to happiness, they were crass.

Mary continued, “And, pray, who is Charles Hayter? Nothing but a country curate. A most improper match for Miss Musgrove of Uppercross.”

Her husband, however, would not agree with her here; for besides having a regard for his cousin, Charles Hayter was an eldest son, and he saw things as an eldest son himself.

“Now you are talking nonsense, Mary,” was therefore his answer. “It would not be a
great
match for Henrietta, but Charles has a very fair chance, through the Spicers, of getting something from the Bishop in the course of a year or two; and you will please to remember, that he is the eldest son; whenever my uncle dies, he steps into very pretty property. The estate at Winthrop is not less than two hundred and fifty acres, besides the farm near Taunton, which is some of the best land in the country. I grant you, that any of them but Charles would be a very shocking match for Henrietta, and indeed it could not be; he is the only one that could be possible; but he is a very good-natured, good sort of a fellow; and whenever Winthrop comes into his hands, he will make a different sort of place of it, and live in a very different sort of way; and with that property, he will never be a contemptible man — good, freehold property. No, no; Henrietta might do worse than marry Charles Hayter; and if she has him, and Louisa can get Captain Wentworth, I shall be very well satisfied.”