Persuasion (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (15 page)

“Charles may say what he pleases,” cried Mary to Anne, as soon as he was out of the room, “but it would be shocking to have Henrietta marry Charles Hayter; a very bad thing for
her
, and still worse for
me
; and therefore it is very much to be wished that Captain Wentworth may soon put him quite out of her head, and I have very little doubt that he has. She took hardly any notice of Charles Hayter yesterday. I wish you had been there to see her behaviour. She was never parted from Captain Wentworth’s side and gazed up at him with great cow-eyes every moment of the time they were together. I swear, I even saw her touch his arm once or twice as she laughed. And as to Captain Wentworth’s liking Louisa as well as Henrietta, it is nonsense to say so; for he certainly
does
like Henrietta a great deal the best. He never once shook Henrietta off yesterday. But Charles is so positive! I wish you had been with us yesterday, for then you might have decided between us; and I am sure you would have thought as I did, unless you had been determined to give it against me.”

A dinner at Mr. Musgrove’s had been the occasion when all these things should have been seen by Anne; but she had staid at home, under the mixed plea of a headache of her own, and some return of indisposition in little Charles. She was quite glad she had not witnessed such a spectacle as flirtatious touch. She had thought only of avoiding Captain Wentworth; but an escape from being appealed to as umpire was now added to the advantages of a quiet evening.

As to Captain Wentworth’s views, she deemed it of more consequence that he should know his own mind early enough not to be endangering the happiness of either sister, or impeaching his own honour — something that had
used
to be the most important thing in the world to him — than that he should prefer Henrietta to Louisa, or Louisa to Henrietta. Either of them would, in all probability, make him an affectionate, good-humoured wife. With regard to Charles Hayter, she had delicacy which must be pained by any lightness of conduct in a well-meaning young woman, and a heart to sympathize in any of the sufferings it occasioned; but if Henrietta found herself mistaken in the nature of her feelings, the alternation could not be understood too soon.

Charles Hayter had met with much to disquiet and mortify him in his cousin’s behaviour. She had too old a regard for him to be so wholly estranged as might in two meetings extinguish every past hope, and leave him nothing to do but to keep away from Uppercross: but there was such a change as became very alarming, when such a man as Captain Wentworth was to be regarded as the probable cause. He had been absent only two Sundays, and when they parted, had left her interested, even to the height of his wishes, in his prospect of soon quitting his present curacy, and obtaining that of Uppercross instead. At least, he had been certain she was highly interested. If a man could not tell such a thing by the impassioned sighs his love breathed into his ear while he caressed her body, what
could
he tell it by? It had then seemed the object nearest her heart, that Dr. Shirley, the rector, who for more than forty years had been zealously discharging all the duties of his office, but was now growing too infirm for many of them, should be quite fixed on engaging a curate; should make his curacy quite as good as he could afford, and should give Charles Hayter the promise of it.

The advantage of his having to come only to Uppercross, instead of going six miles another way; of his having, in every respect, a better curacy; of his belonging to their dear Dr. Shirley, and of dear, good Dr. Shirley’s being relieved from the duty which he could no longer get through without most injurious fatigue, had been a great deal, even to Louisa, but had been almost everything to Henrietta. She had told him so in between feverish kisses. When he came back, alas! the zeal of the business was gone by. Louisa could not listen at all to his account of a conversation which he had just held with Dr. Shirley: she was at a window, looking out for Captain Wentworth; and even Henrietta had at best only a divided attention to give, and seemed to have forgotten all the former doubt and solicitude of the negotiation.

Her eyes had barely looked upon him as she had said distractedly, “Well, I am very glad indeed: but I always thought you would have it; I always thought you sure. It did not appear to me that — in short, you know, Dr. Shirley
must
have a curate, and you had secured his promise. Is he coming, Louisa?”

One morning, very soon after the dinner at the Musgroves, at which Anne had not been present, Captain Wentworth walked into the drawing-room at the Cottage, where were only herself and the little invalid Charles, who was lying on the sofa.

As soon as his gaze landed upon the sleeping boy and his former fiancé at the boy’s side, his feet skidded to a stop. The noise of his boots scuffing upon the floor brought her dark head up with an almost audible snap. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and her lips parted. Without permission, Frederick’s eyes narrowed in on the pretty pink flesh, which only grew more distracting as her abrupt nervousness at his presence manifested itself in a swift dart of her tongue across her bottom lip. The surprise of finding himself almost alone with Anne Elliot, deprived his manners of their usual composure: he started, and could only say, “I thought the Miss Musgroves had been here: Mrs. Musgrove told me I should find them here,” before he walked to the window to recollect himself, and feel how he ought to behave. Old habits died hard. His body traitorously reminded him of what he
would
have done eight years ago upon finding Anne alone in a room. With meticulous attention to detail, his memory flowed through the times he had pressed her up against a wall, desperately pushing into her body with his own. The stolen kisses he had sneaked from her when no one was around had consisted of a furious plunging of his tongue into her warm mouth and an exultation in each of her hearty moans.

She spoke, interrupting his trip to the past quite effectively with a voice that wobbled. “They are up stairs with my sister: they will be down in a few moments, I dare say,” was Anne’s reply, in all the confusion that was natural; and if the child had not awakened and called her to come and do something for him, he suspected she would have been out of the room the next moment, and released Captain Wentworth as well as herself.

He continued at the window, his breath fogging up the glass in a quicker cadence than it should have; and after calmly and politely saying, “I hope the little boy is better,” was silent.

She was obliged to kneel down by the sofa, and remain there to satisfy her patient; and thus they continued a few minutes as the awkwardness in the room billowed like ever-quickening smoke, when, to her very great satisfaction, she heard some other person crossing the little vestibule. She hoped, on turning her head, to see the master of the house; but it proved to be one much less calculated for making matters easy — Charles Hayter, probably not at all better pleased by the sight of Captain Wentworth than Captain Wentworth had been by the sight of Anne.

She only attempted to say, “How do you do? Will you not sit down? The others will be here presently.”

Captain Wentworth, however, came from his window, apparently not ill-disposed for conversation; but Charles Hayter, who spared the Captain only one black look, soon put an end to his attempts by seating himself near the table, and taking up the newspaper; and, with a barely contained sigh, Captain Wentworth returned to his window.

Another minute brought another addition. The younger boy, a remarkable stout, forward child, of two years old, having got the door opened for him by some one without, made his determined appearance among them, and went straight to the sofa to see what was going on, and put in his claim to anything good that might be giving away.

There being nothing to eat, he could only have some play; and as his aunt would not let him tease his sick brother, he began to fasten himself upon her, as she knelt, in such a way that, busy as she was about Charles, she could not shake him off. She spoke to him, ordered, entreated, and insisted in vain. Once she did contrive to push him away, but the boy had the greater pleasure in getting upon her back again directly.

“Walter,” said she, “get down this moment. You are extremely troublesome. I am very angry with you.”

“Walter,” cried Charles Hayter, “why do you not do as you are bid? Do not you hear your aunt speak? Come to me, Walter, come to cousin Charles.”

But not a bit did Walter stir.

In another moment, however, she found herself in the state of being released from him; some one was taking him from her, though he had bent down her head so much, that his little sturdy hands were unfastened from around her neck, and he was resolutely borne away, before she knew that Captain Wentworth had done it.

He firmly placed Walter upon one hip and carried him over to the window where he had been keeping time since entering. A soft, low exchange occurred between the two of them, after which, Walter nodded his head exuberantly and looked quite contrite: his lower lip protruded further than the top, and his little eyes were swimming with tears when they found Anne’s across the room.

“Sorry, Auntie,” the small child said in a tremulous voice. “I be a gentleman now. Promise.” His
r
s were softened
w
-sounds, and Anne’s heart hitched within her chest when Captain Wentworth looked down at Walter with a soft, approving smile.

“Well done, sir,” the Captain said to the boy alone, though his deep bass carried to where Anne sat. “Now, what gentlemanly exploits shall we get up to?”

The child shrugged shyly — an emotion Anne had never seen him exhibit.

“Every man should know how to navigate with a compass, wouldn’t you say?” she offered quietly from her seat beside her sick nephew.

Frederick’s eyes found hers, and the smile he still carried upon his handsome face from conversing with the child struck her through and through. His smile dimmed somewhat, but he nodded curtly just before turning back to Walter. “She is right, of course,” he said while lowering the boy to the ground with one hand and reaching into his coat pocket with the other to produce a shiny, brass compass — the same one he had carried upon his person always when he had been Anne’s. Frederick pulled the boy’s hand up, placed the disc of metal within his hand, and leaned over to instruct him in its uses.

We would have made a good team
, she thought as she looked upon them.
And he would have made a breathtaking father.

Her sensations on the discovery of her wayward thoughts made her perfectly speechless. She could not even thank him for the rescue. She could only hang over little Charles, with most disordered feelings. His kindness in stepping forward to her relief, the manner, the quiet in which it had passed, the little particulars of the circumstance, with the conviction soon forced on her by the noise he was studiously making with the child, that he meant to avoid hearing her thanks, and rather sought to testify that her conversation was the last of his wants, produced such a confusion of varying, but very painful agitation, as she could not recover from, till enabled by the entrance of Mary and the Miss Musgroves to make over her little patient to their cares, and leave the room. She could not stay. It might have been an opportunity of watching the loves and jealousies of the four — they were now altogether; but she could stay for none of it. It was evident that Charles Hayter was not well inclined towards Captain Wentworth. She had a strong impression of his having said, in a vext tone of voice, after Captain Wentworth’s interference, “You ought to have minded
me
, Walter; I told you not to teaze your aunt;” and could comprehend his regretting that Captain Wentworth should do what he ought to have done himself. But neither Charles Hayter’s feelings, nor anybody’s feelings, could interest her, till she had a little better arranged her own. She was ashamed of herself, quite ashamed of being so nervous, so overcome by such a trifle; she was even more ashamed by the brief but desperate wish that she had conceived all of those years ago. But so it was, and it required a long application of solitude and reflection to recover her.

Other opportunities of making her observations could not fail to occur. Anne had soon been in company with all the four together often enough to have an opinion, though too wise to acknowledge as much at home, where she knew it would have satisfied neither husband nor wife; for while she considered Louisa to be rather the favourite, she could not but think, as far as she might dare to judge from memory and experience, that Captain Wentworth was not in love with either. When he had been in love with
her
, he had been unable to keep his eyes nor his hands to himself. He barely looked upon the young women. They were more in love with him; yet there it was not love. It was a little fever of admiration; but it might, probably must, end in love with some.

Charles Hayter seemed aware of being slighted, and yet Henrietta had sometimes the air of being divided between them. Anne longed for the power of representing to them all what they were about, and of pointing out some of the evils they were exposing themselves to. She did not attribute guile to any. It was the highest satisfaction to her to believe Captain Wentworth not in the least aware of the pain he was occasioning. There was no triumph, no pitiful triumph in his manner. He had, probably, never heard, and never thought of any claims of Charles Hayter. He was only wrong in accepting the attentions (for accepting must be the word) of two young women at once.

After a short struggle, however, Charles Hayter seemed to quit the field. Three days had passed without his coming once to Uppercross; a most decided change. He had even refused one regular invitation to dinner; and having been found on the occasion by Mr. Musgrove with some large books before him, Mr. and Mrs. Musgrove were sure all could not be right, and talked, with grave faces, of his studying himself to death. It was Mary’s hope and belief that he had received a positive dismissal from Henrietta, and her husband lived under the constant dependence of seeing him to-morrow. Anne could only feel that Charles Hayter was wise.