What if Mr Elliot had not come back into Munns Marzipan to fetch Anne?

"Although I only just arrived I'm already armed for Bath." He held out the long black umbrella.

"Please, take it."

"Thank you." She took it with both hands, her gaze faltering from his as his fingers grazed hers,

leaving the umbrella in her hands.

"I've hardly seen you since that wretched day at Lyme. I'm afraid you may have suffered somewhat

from the shock – the more so from it not overpowering you."

"I don't think I was in danger of suffering from not being overpowered." Anne was relieved when

he smiled back – this was progress!

"When you had the presence of mind to send Captain Benwick for a surgeon I bet you had little

idea of the consequences."

"No, I had none. I hope it will be a very happy match."

"Indeed I too wish them that. They have no difficulties to contend with at home, no opposition,

no caprice, no delays." He faltered. This was dangerous territory and Anne could not miss his

inference. Brilliant creature! But he must move slower, more tentatively, carefully, if he were

to win her, if he were to even gauge if he dare try. "The rain seems to have eased. Perhaps...

would you mind if I were to accompany you to your door?"

"Of course... that is -" she took a breath, attempting to gather her thoughts, or at least her

words, into something like intelligible English, "I would be most grateful Captain."

His smile could not but reach her, warm her, give her hope, as he lifted his arm. He looked away

as she took it, as if he was not yet ready to offer her more. She must show him how she would not

treat him so harshly as she had before. It was so long ago but every moment she was reminded, and

aching with regret and hope.

Captain Wentworth was desperately trying to reestablish more neutral conversation. Their

acquaintance was the obvious choice but he must avoid trespassing onto that which constantly

clouded his thoughts. In eight years he had trained his mind away from dwelling on those blissful

weeks and the horror that followed, but in these past few weeks all that hard work was undone and

every moment with her hearkened back to memories; memories of being tauntingly close or

infinitely further apart. The conversation must shy from such tempting arenas. "As I was saying,

I wish Benwick and Lousia every happiness. And yet... Lousia Musgrove is a very amiable sweet

tempered girl, and not unintelligent. But Benwick is something else, a clever man, a reading man,

and suddenly attaching himself to her like that; a man in his situation, with a broken heart." He

realised he'd covered her hand with his own and almost squeezed it. Grasping control of his

feelings, he looked at Anne to gauge her reaction. Only a quiet smile tugged at her lips and

eyes; she was clearly not displeased. That smile took him back to an intimate memory and the ache

almost halted his walk. "Phoebe Harville was a wonderful woman and he was devoted to her. A man

does not recover from such a devotion to such a woman." It was dangerous to continue, "He ought

not," but too late to halt, "He does not." Emotion choked his words.

Anne's eyes searched his face, desperate for a clear indication that he meant what she hoped. Was

it possible? Dare she hope he still suffered as she did, still hoped against all reason and self

-preservation.

"Did you stay long at Lyme?" Anne attempted to continue the conversation as if her entire being

was not pulsing with anxiety

"A fortnight – until we were assured of Louisa's recovery. The country round about is very fine.

I walked and rode a great deal." His heartbeat began to recover as she expertly turned the

conversation onto neutral territory.

"I should like to see it again."

"Would you? I mean, I would have thought the stress too painful."

"But when the pain is over – I have traveled so little, every fresh place is of interest to me."

She hoped to assure him she was not so fragile, her enjoyment so easily tainted. She longed to

help him imagine her accompanying him, walking or riding, even sailing. The Captain mistook her

meaning – her enjoyment had been cut short.

"It was my doing, solely mine. Louisa would not have been obstinate if I had not been weak." He

stopped their walk, removing his hand from atop hers and letting her drop his arm, regretting the

break in contact immediately.

"Captain, you could not have foreseen..."

He saw the kindness in her eyes as she implored him.

"I did not see the danger – every jump was higher. And I encouraged her – in every sense. I was

foolish and resentful. All in attempt to..." he realised almost too late what he almost

confessed. Too soon. He must step carefully if he hoped to win her – this woman who stood in the

rain to comfort him. He checked the umbrella covered her and lifted his arm. "We must continue.

The rain..."

"Thank you." she took his arm again, appreciating the warmth and shivering involuntary against

the cool spring rain.

"Oh Anne, you are cold. I'm so sorry, we should have-"

"I am quite well Captain, please. I like to walk very much. I would be no warmer had you not

accompanied me, or offered the protection of your umbrella – to your own detriment." She

acknowledged the dark watermark across his shoulders. "You have nothing to apologise for – on

either account."

The Captain almost answered her but thought better of it. She did not blame him. His own guilt

was far from allayed but perhaps in time he could ratify.

Anne knew she had not convinced him but feeling swelled in her chest and she dare not speak

further. They walked the remainder of the block, to the Elliot's address, quickly and in silence.

"I must leave you here. I hope the cold will have no effects Miss Elliot." he was all politeness

and clearly in check of feelings again.

"I thank you Captain. Do not concern yourself for my sake – I am well." She reluctantly lifted

her hand from the warmth and comfort of his arm. She could not but be aware of his figure and

strength. It was the imploring in his eyes, unexplained by his words, that arrested her entrance.

He snapped his eyes from her features and fumbled for civility. "Perhaps... May I call tomorrow-"

She shivered inadvertently, with the cold, and perhaps in response to his question, her nerves

fragile considering how long she'd hoped against hope.

"-Really Miss Elliot, I must not keep you any longer. You must be warmed." How he longed to take

her in his arms and do the job himself. Instead he stepped close only to reach past her and knock

on the door.

The servant soon appeared.

"Miss Elliot needs ah... she's quite cold. Please fetch her maid immediately."

"Yes Sir," the servant disappeared, leaving the door open.

The Captain ushered her inside. The awkwardness of being inside her family's house registered

with him and he stepped back toward the door.

With an inclination of his head he bid her good day and closed the door silently behind him.

Anne was not left to her thoughts for long, her maid ushering her to a hot bath without delay.

The warmth was welcomed, and distance from Captain Wentworth allowed the fog to lift from her

head. However, the clarity she longed for never came.

---

Captain Wentworth entered the assembly room, searching the crowds for a sign of her, even an

acquaintance of hers who might be able to assure him of her wellbeing. He had considered every

word of their conversation and rewritten it in his mind, coming to a raft of varying conclusions

and, not surprisingly, found no comfort in the missed possibilities.

"Good Evening Captain," She stepped forward and greeted him, glowing, it seemed, in the

candlelight.

"Miss Elliot," he collected himself, "Good evening indeed. I'm so relieved to see you well – you

are well?"

She laughed, her smile a delight to his eyes, "Yes Captain, very well. I want to thank you for

escorting me home this afternoon."

"My pleasure entirely, I'm just relieved you did not catch cold. I could not have forgiven

myself."

"Please!" she must cease his apologizing. "Perhaps the cold clouded your reason, rather than my

health. I would have walked home with or without your umbrella and company. Surely with these I

could only be said to have been better off. If – and please do not concern yourself I am

completely well – If I were to catch cold it would be my own foolish fault for choosing to walk."

He only grinned in response. That was the sum of all she'd said in the past few weeks and he'd

elicited it from her in a single speech! He was finally seeing some semblance of her former

passion and humour.

"Please Captain, let us speak of something else."

"Perhaps you should choose our subject – all my choices this afternoon seemed to lead down dark

alleys to shadows of... well, to be frank, of the past. I would very much like to start afresh."

Her surprise at his – he was correct – his frankness was evident in her every feature, but soon

cleared to show her pleasure at such honesty. "I would also like that." she nodded, with half her

being wishing they were alone, with the other half, relieved they were surrounded by a noisy

crowd whispering about the Dalrymples. "Very much." She held his gaze as long as possible, the

Dalrymples entrance calling the attention of every patron.

Anne was tired of the snobbery surrounding such people, only more so for her family's exuberance.

She hid it well but the Captain could see her real feelings – or hoped he was correct in his

interpretation. It was like a secret between them, a code, an intimacy. Although, in conscious

thought he claimed he was deciding if he dare hope for her again, he had in every way begun to

hope for everything with regards Anne Elliot and it was too late to save himself this time. He

watched as she was ushered to the seat beside her cousin. Captain Wentworth could not be

oblivious to the clear expectations of her family and the gentleman himself with regards to Anne.

But while Anne gave him reason to hope he would watch even that.

The concert began and he could hear her voice in hushed tones, her words indecipherable. He

inched closer until he could pick out a word here and there. Perhaps the volume of her voice was

rising as it often did when she became really interested or impassioned. He heard enough to

discover she was interpreting the Italian for her cousin. He clearly adored her. Wentworth could

not resent the man for that. But he could not help compare himself – with no connection to her

family, no hope of title or significant property, no favour with her father, or Lady Russel. Such

thoughts would not help him. But neither would standing here watching her be courted by another.

Without regard to the concert he strode out, every moment swallowing his instinct to go back and

fight for her.

"Captain,"

There was no mistaking that voice. He stopped, briefly considering how his strength wavered and

his resolve would so easily be broken by her. Of course he turned around, spoke her name with

perfect civility and prayed for strength.

"You are not leaving?"

"I was, yes."

"But is the concert not worth staying for?"

"Not the concert, no."

"The next song is a particularly beautiful love song. Is that not worth your staying for?"

Mr Elliot approached her from behind and touched her shoulder; so briefly and yet belying an

intimacy that touched every nerve in the Captain's being.

"There is nothing worth my staying for."

The moment he had spoken he felt the cruelty in his words. He turned, ashamed of himself, and it

seemed only right to keep walking.

He was at the end of the hall when he heard her speak next.

"Please Mr. Elliot, return to the concert. I will only be one moment. There is something I must

speak with Captain Wentworth about."

"If you insist, Miss Elliot."

Oh, the way that man said her name, as if she were his Miss Elliot. Captain Wentworth slowed,

only stopping at the door, his hand poised to push it open.

"Please, Captain," She was closer. She had followed him.

He turned. He had a chance, another one, and he must not miss this one.

"I only hoped... That is to say, I was enjoying our conversation very much and I hoped it might

continue after the concert... not that you ought to stay only for that, but-"

He finally turned, met her gaze and his resolve to leave – the obvious, most logical and self-

preserving thing to do – melted into the sweat on his palms.

"Anne, that is the only thing worth staying for."

The smile that broke across her face was more than worth any mortification possibly to follow.

The words were out of his mouth before he could herald them back and he could hardly regret them

when they elicited such a response.

The music reached them in that moment of blissful silence and hope – finally hope with good

reason and something like assurance of mutual regard.

"You are missing a very beautiful love song." The Captain smiled, resisting the urge to reach out

and touch her, as satisfying as it might be to gain some ground on Mr Elliot. No, this time he

would do everything right. He would not be swept away – well, that is to say, not entirely swept

away. And he would not sweep her away. If she chose him – how his chest swelled at the thought! -

she would choose rationally and decidedly.

"Am I?" she turned partly back toward the concert.

Captain Wentworth lifted his arm, offering her much more this time, though he would not yet admit

it. She looked at his hand, his sleeve where she tentatively placed her hands, his face. The

expression of hope and joy illuminating his features suited him well.

"You should return to your party," her seat was conspicuously empty and he must try to trust her

affections, or perhaps it was a test, "I will wait."

He escorted her back to her seat beside Mr Elliot, surprising both himself and Mr Elliot, then

took his post toward the rear of the auditorium, trying to listen to the music, and trust Anne,

and not watch her every stirring, every word directed at Mr Elliot. Trying to not watch anything

is invariably more difficult than trying to watch something. When trying not to watch, one finds

oneself staring at patterns in the wallpaper or carpet, the shine on the violinist's shoes, or

the excess of powder on a bald man's wig. His mind wandered back to when they'd first met at

Monkford.

Edward had introduced them, and left to ask for tea to be served. He'd fallen in love with her

before Edward returned to the room. She spoke of the friends she'd been visiting in the village -

she, the daughter of a Baronet, but nothing like he'd expected. Her kindness, her intelligence

and passion had all been explicit in the space of a few minutes. She could not have known how

simply he'd been won. She humbly, modestly spoke of how little she could do to help and how much

more her mother had done.

Edward returned, adding his own observations to Anne's about his parishioners. Frederick watched

her speak, trying to listen but somewhat hypnotized.

He took his chance and expressed a desire to see the village and Kellynch estate, having only

traveled the main roads. Anne was walking back to Kellynch presently and allowed him to join her.

In the following two weeks before his departure she had shown him much of the area. Rolling hills,

flora and fauna, rambling streams and happy children playing in barnyards, greeting Anne

familiarly... everything he saw of her he adored.

There was one walk that stuck in his mind. She was visiting a family and he'd joined her. He

carried a bag and a basket, overflowing with gifts. The mother in the family was unwell following

childbirth, the baby had died and they were poor. Anne embraced the children on the threshold,

greeted the husband, and introduced Frederick.

She alone was let into the bedroom at first, but she emerged, inviting the children in. Anne

unloaded the basket, stocking the kitchen and putting on a large pot of soup before she left. She

left the bag with the husband, without telling anyone what was in it. Frederick suspected money.

She spoke of a doctor who would visit each week until Michaelmas. Or perhaps there were medical

supplies for the doctor - whatever it was her generosity was profound.

They walked away empty-handed and as the door closed behind them Anne slipped her hand onto his

arm.

She clearly had not thought to do so and almost pulled it back, looking into the distance rather

than his face. He caught her hand, covering it with his own before she could pull away. She

looked up at him and after a moment smiled. They walked all the way back to Kellynch like that.

They spoke less than before, but after that day their conversations were the highlight of every

day. That is, for the next three days, until he was required to leave.

Never was a concert so long. Anne focussed on sitting still, on rarely looking over toward where

the Captain stood, perusing the room. He seemed much calmer than she. Mr Elliot kept whispering

to her with a false intimacy that only stretched her nerves further.

"Do you take my meaning Anne?"

She had not heard a word he'd said but it was impossible to miss his meaning. She must appear to

be so focussed on the concert that she had not heard him. She began to hear the music again. Her

anxiety settled. She breathed deeply, sat upright in her chair, placed her hands open on her lap.

The soprano sang of dangerous hope, a beautiful melody that lifted a listener's spirits and then

dropped them into doubt and fear.

When Anne finally felt settled enough to do so, she twisted her head to look back at the Captain.

He seemed intent on something behind her. She resisted the urge to turn and discover what he was

staring at. Perhaps she could ask him after the concert. How she longed for that privilege – to

tease Frederick, to laugh with him, to share his secrets. There were moments, looks, when she

could see he might be thinking just the same thing she was, moments that promised so much. She

had known him well but so long ago. Dare she hope he had not changed? And if he were asking the

same question... She must assure him she was not so changed as first appearances may have

suggested.

The song had ended and Mr Elliot was calling her attention. He was bold and insistent and she

feared discouraging him would soon need to break the bounds of good manners. The concert seemed

to have finished; the audience were leaving their seats, moving out into the open hall. Anne took

Mr Elliot's arm and allowed him to escort her, following the crowd.

Frederick caught her eye. He was watching, a moment later following, but tentatively. He was

clearly undecided in his course of action.

Anne tried to reassure herself – he'd said he would stay, that she was the only thing worth

staying for. But she was carried in a flood of people to the corner where the Dalrymples seemed

to be holding court. She dropped her hand from Mr. Elliot's arm a moment before it would usually

be polite. He did not seem to notice her reluctance, smiling as if they shared a secret opinion

about something or other.

She turned away but could not keep going – he would assume she were unwell and find any excuse to

follow, and she could not have that.

"Excuse me one moment, I will return." she turned back and bowed briefly. She listened for

footsteps behind her and heard none. Returning to the music hall, she hoped to find Frederick

where she had left him.

The hall was empty aside from musicians polishing their instruments. Anne turned around twice as

if he were there and eluding her. There were no hiding places. She was so flustered that the

crowd seemed insurmountable. He was out there, or gone. She scanned the heads as they swarmed,

wigs and hats, elaborate coiffes. He was tall, and if he was close, she must spot him. Such a

beloved and familiar face, she must recognise even a glimpse.

Like a vision he stepped from the crowd on the other side of the hall. She'd been holding her

breath and found herself breathing heavily to make up for it.

"Miss Elliot, are you well?" his long stride closed the space between them, concern etched into

his features.

"Yes, Captain, very well." she tried to control her breathing, "Thank you, I am well."

He was less than convinced.

"How did you like the concert?" said Anne.

He nodded as he spoke, "I confess I was somewhat distracted."

"Yes, what were you looking at?"

"You noticed? Oh, I..."

"You seemed to be fixated by something behind me but I did not dare turn around." She wanted to

reassure him. He seemed to think she might be offended. "Was someone asleep?"

A smile played on his lips as he openly admired her. "No. There was nothing. I was simply

listening."

"Ah."

"Did you enjoy the concert?"

"Yes, very much. I find it remarkable how the music adds so much to the words. You feel the hope

rising in the melody, and then the doubt and despair."

"Music can be very powerful, indeed."

"And perhaps, sometimes, capture a feeling more completely than words alone."

"I think I understand you – if the feeling is very strong the right melody, the rising tones,

might recreate that very same feeling over again, almost as strongly as the feeling when first

experienced."

"Precisely."

It was a small victory but this understanding gave them both hope. If they could comprehend the

other's meaning on this small thing, then perhaps they dare...

"Ah Frederick," Sophie's kind and familiar voice broke their reverie. "There you are. How did you

like the concert? Ah, good evening Anne. I'm afraid we missed all but the end. The admiral has

something of import he wishes to speak with you about Frederick, and we were walking in the

vicinity. It is a very fine evening out."

"You found him my dear, excellent." The Admiral took his brother-in-law aside and Sophie elicited

a description of the missed-concert from Anne.

In a moment the Admiral and Sophie were gone; Frederick was before her and agitated.

"Whatever is wrong?" Anne spoke first, their rekindled friendship giving her boldness.

"I am mortified..." he looked around, as if for an exit, "The Admiral bids me ask you... Oh, I

cannot. You will find me presumptuous. I cannot believe what I must say..."

"Please, Captain," she alighted her fingers on his arm.

"Miss Elliot," he was all business, "The Admiral bids me inquire – and please remember it is he

and not I – but you must find me impertinent." He took a controlled breath and tried to begin

again. "Given the expected engagement between yourself and Mr Elliot, the Admiral bids me tell

you, that if you wish to return to Kellynch hall, he and my sister will vacate and find another

residence. I only need your yes or no and we are both released."

Anne removed her hand from his arm, bringing it to her chest.

"No," her voice was barely audible.

"No?"

Grasping at courage she met his eyes. "I am not to marry Mr Elliot and I would very much like to

know the source of such a report."

"You are not-?" It was the Captain's turn to clasp his hand to his chest.

"I am not." She could not bear his silence, excused herself and disappeared into the crowd. By

the time he had absorbed her information and recovered enough to speak, she was gone.

---

"Frederick you look terrible!" Sophie greeted him from the drawing room doorway as he removed his

hat and coat. "Are you well?"

"Please tell the Admiral Miss Elliot will not require Kellynch." He ascended the stairs with

haste and the last dregs of his energy, motivated to speed only by his desire to avoid his

sister's kind questioning eyes.

Sophie was left in the doorway, her husband approaching from behind.

"So we need not remove – well, that's good."

"What could be the matter with Frederick? He is so unlike himself today."

"Not likely tired from his journey – it is not far."

"Perhaps Louisa's betrothal has had more effect than we credited."

"I think not. I wonder..." she took her husband's arm, "No. We will see, I am sure."

Frederick's mind raced as he got ready for bed, flitting between the past and a disturbing replay

of the evening.

He had spent several weeks at the naval academy, after the short period at Kellynch, and returned with what would have otherwise been

good news. He had six weeks until the ship's departure. Six weeks to win her.

And he did, though it could be said that his absence had done much of the work for him. She was

isolated at Kellynch, though the villagers relied on her and the Curate was a good man, her only

real friend was Lady Russell. When Frederick returned he walked toward Kellynch, via the village,

hoping to happen upon her. She was sitting on a tree root, leaning on the tree, her feet up

against a stump. She was reading a book and humming. He watched her until she felt the presence

of someone and put her book down. She lowered her feet to the ground and looked around. When she

saw him her face lit up,

"Oh," she stood, "Mr Wentworth. I did not see you..."

He laughed. "Do not trouble yourself Miss Anne," Approaching he took her hand, bowed politely and

asked after her book. They fell instep, walking along the valley as she told him the story.

"Sorry, I've gone on so long, you'll never need to read it yourself." She laughed and looked up

at him, "How was your business?"

"Successful, well..." he sighed, "I've been commissioned, on the -----. We depart six weeks

hence."

"Oh." Her voice dropped, her eyes looking forward into the trees. "And where is your

destination."

"There are several places we will go but I do not know all the details yet."

She nodded. "Must be exciting. I find my own life, for the most part, really rather predictable."

"Does not make it less valuable."

She smiled up at him. "How long will you be away?"

"A year, or more."

"Oh." She breathed heavily. "That's a long time."

"Yes, and there are no long walks through beautiful valleys on board a ship. Do not mistake me, I

would choose no other profession, but there are things I will miss."

"How common it is for any event, any change, to bring with it both the good and the bad."

"Indeed."

"Myself, I would miss this." She lifted her hand, indicating the scenery. "The comforts of a

home, less so, but perhaps I am naive. I would probably miss those ordinary things more than I

expect."

"Eventually, but there are elements of shipboard life that I prefer. The usual boundaries of

society, the niceties, pomp and ceremony - the reason the navy have so much of that on shore is

made up for by the considerable lack of it on board a ship. You will find me shocking, but I find

it refreshing."

"Not shocking at all. In the village... you have looked at me as if my visits are pure charity,

but in truth I enjoy the lack of ceremony. The children especially; they are yet to learn how to

be false, how to act as they should. There is purity and honesty, unfortunately often accompanied

by sickness and malnutrition." She smiled, "I am fortunate; in my position I can enjoy the

benefits of both worlds."

"Miss Anne, you are very generous. You see the good where others would be too distracted by dirty

faces and worn clothing."

"You weren't." She smiled up at him. "So, tell me, are there ever women aboard a ship?"

"Rarely. My own sister Sophie lives with her husband on every ship she can. I have heard of few

others."

Anne nodded. "What are your plans before your departure?"

To win your hand, he thought. Walking several steps before answering. "They are not fixed yet."

"Well then, I hope you can stay here for, well-"

"I hope to."

They were nearing Monkford and he'd not yet seen his brother. He bid her good day and offered to

join her on any visits, especially those requiring baggage. She laughed, thanked him, promised

she would do so soon.

---

As soon as the sun lit the main street Anne escaped the confines of the house. She had to walk,

not, she insisted to herself, because it afforded an opportunity to happen upon Captain

Wentworth, but to clear her head, to settle her nerves, for the exercise, the health benefits in

general... oh, any reason would do.

Over an hour later she was almost home and gave up denying her disappointment that she had not

crossed paths with Frederick.

"Good morning Miss Elliot," The Admiral, not his long-desired brother-in-law, approached and

broke her tormented reverie.

Sophie, at his arm, greeted her by her Christian name, and took her hand. "How are you this

morning?"

"Better for a walk. And you?"

"We are well indeed. Though the Admiral is never so well than he is at sea."

"No, me legs take issue with solid ground." He chuckled and offered to escort Anne to her door.

They proceeded, Sophie on his left and Anne on his right.

She so enjoyed their congenial company, happy silences between unaffected and kind words – quite

a change from her own family. She could not but consider, this delightful couple had very nearly

been her family. Regret hit her with some force just as they stopped at her door. She had no

desire to give up her companions, though it seemed inevitable.

"Now I must go see this old friend of mine – he has been retired some years now. Sophie is less

than enthusiastic – the man rallies against women on ships and there's no avoiding the subject."

the Admiral laughed but Sophie could only smile.

"Would you stay for tea then Mrs Croft? I was just thinking how it seems cruel to end our

conversation here unnecessarily."

"That would be delightful. I believe the Admiral can do without me for the remainder of the

morning?"

"I think I can manage that, so long as I may have you to myself for the afternoon." he bid them

farewell and strode unhurriedly away, clearly enjoying the walk despite his protestations against

solid ground.

Anne bid the servant bring them tea and led her friend to the sitting room.

Sophie began to tell her friend of Captain Wentworth's visit to her other brother's residence,

presuming Anne's interest based on their acquaintance several years earlier. Anne would have been

interested, if she were not so busy being distracted by every mention of Captain Wentworth. For

some time she let the conversation meander, offering encouragement and query when they were

required.

"I am sorry Anne, I have gone on to long. My brothers and I are very close you see, perhaps more

so for my experience on board ships."

"Yes, I imagine so. I must admit, I am quite jealous. As you know, I have no brothers."

"And I have no sisters. Well, that is not entirely correct. My sister in law is a very good

woman, but not, how shall I put it, a kindred spirit."

"I believe I know exactly what you mean."

"Yes?"

"I might say the same of my sisters, though I love them dearly. In my own experience kindred

spirits are few and far between."

Mrs Croft indicated her agreement, and took Anne's hand with a squeeze as warm as an embrace.

Anne bid her tell more of her life on board her husband's ships. On this topic Sophie was set for

some time. Anne followed easily with genuine interest, Frederick's name rarely coming up. Later,

Anne knew, she would ponder her new knowledge of that life, and consider what it might be like,

if she were so fortunate as to ever find out. But for now she would be present entirely with her

friend.

"Heavens, oh, the time has run away from me." Anne saw her sister Mary would be happening upon

them any moment, with Charles and the Musgroves in tow. "Mary and Charles, in fact all the

Musgroves will be arriving any moment."

"I shall leave you, then, to make the preparations. The Admiral is likely wondering what has

become of me." Sophie stood with a laugh and hugged Anne. "I would very much like to see you

soon. Perhaps you would join us for supper on thursday evening."

"I would be delighted – oh, I'm afraid I cannot. My father is throwing an evening party, to

which, I believe, you are to be invited."

"Well in that case, make it another night. With as little delay as possible. I believe Frederick

would enjoy the company, alone with us so much of the time... he is young and perhaps needs more

variety than we offer."

Anne surprised herself with a coherent response. "I have never found your company at all wanting.

And Captain Wentworth must have enough variety in his travels to set him up for some time on his

return."

Sophie smiled, trying not to give her suspicions away. "That might well be the case, but I could

not very well be so selfish as to have you visit for my own pleasure alone."

Anne squeezed her hand and led her to the door. She had only a moments rest before the Musgroves

arrived and Mary's numerous complaints filled Anne's world for the next few hours. They were soon

ushered to see the Musgrove's appartments in ------ place and there met Captain Harville and

Captain Wentworth.

Anne found herself at Frederick's side as Charles announced his proposal of a visit to the

Theatre and invited all present. That was just what Anne would like but it would not be.

"I'm afraid I cannot join you. My father and Elizabeth are to have an evening party, to which, I

believe, you will all be invited."

Charles expressed his disinterest.

"If it were up to myself alone I should much prefer the theatre," said Anne, "but I have an

obligation to my family."

Mrs Musgrove declared they should go another night when Anne could join them and carried on the

conversation without requiring another word from Anne.

"You have not been long enough in Bath," Captain Wentworth was delightfully close to her and

spoke in such a manner that no one else heard, but friendly and without awkwardness, "to enjoy

the evening parties of the place."

"The usual character of them has nothing for me. Those who give them believe the theatre to be

beneath their dignity. And I am no card-player."

"No, you never were, were you?"

She could not but smile in response. "I am not so changed." Her voice was weak but the words must

be said. How could she assure him of her constancy? And yet she feared disclosure at the same

time.

The party was then supposed to leave, but for Elizabeth's arrival. She invited them all, the

Captains included, to the evening party and departed with as much suddenness as she had arrived.

Mary would then, of course, whisper to Anne, so everyone could hear, a mortifying comment on

Elizabeth's condescension in including the Captains. Anne's mortification could only partially be

relieved when she met Captain Wentworth's gaze and found it kind, slightly amused and decidedly

open.

Mary's work was not yet complete, however. Gazing out the window, to see if she could find

someone more important to look on than those sharing the room with her, she discovered Mr Elliot

and Mrs Clay. Mr Elliot was supposed to have left Bath on two days business, returning in time

for the evening party. Anne spoke before she saw the possible misinterpretation of her knowledge.

Mary, of course, would not leave the subject there, with no idea of the turmoil between her

sister and Captain Wentworth, and called Anne to the window to ascertain for herself. Mr Elliot

was there, speaking to Mrs Clay with a disarming intimacy and Anne was indeed interested, but not

for the reasons anyone else in the room might suppose. She confirmed Mary's observation,

therefore, as nonchalantly as she could manage, returning to her place beside Captain Wentworth

and hoping to resume their conversation, though it might take some time to return to such

openness as had been enjoyed only minutes before.

"I hope you will come to my Father's party." Anne began, acknowledging the likelihood that

Elizabeth had only included him because of his presence when she gave her invitation. Anne wished

him to know he would genuinely be wanted there by at least one of the family, and undoubtedly by

several other guests.

"I am afraid I- I am unsure at this moment."

"I know it does not offer you much, aside from present company. I imagine we might be of similar

minds as to those my Father would call 'good company', however good conversation can be had, I

have found, in some of the most unlikely places."

"Indeed, and how would you define 'good company', Miss Elliot?"

"Good company must include clever, genuine, well-informed people, who have a great deal of conversation."

Captain Wentworth smiled, his voice dropping in a private manner. "And your Father's opinion?"

"Quite different I am afraid. He would not likely recognize the value of such company without

title, great wealth, or connections to either. He has overlooked some of the best company I

myself have ever enjoyed." She tried to guage the Captain's reaction but he appeared to have made

no connections to himself.

"Yourself included – I am sorry, perhaps I am too bold to say so."

"No, my father and I are certainly not of one mind. I seek the company of good friends over sirs

and heirs. In his mind I am deficient and plain. I have been resigned to this for many years now.

What I struggle to accept is the impact, not only his, but opinions like his, have had... on

others, and on my connection, my friendship with them." She met his gaze with what she hoped he

would interpret as significance greater than her words, meaning that she dare not express

explicitly.

"One would hope your true friends might dare such censure and stand by you."

"Such friends are precious and few."

The conversation was too serious and possibly too personal for their present location. Frederick

would not give up her company for the world at that moment, but he feared such a topic would soon

divide them, or if their party's movements were to divide them, such a topic would leave them on

an unhappy note.

"Do you have such friends in Bath?"

"Yes, I am fortunate here."

"And the place in general – how do you like Bath?"

"I must admit I have never been fond of the place, but with the present company would find it

hard not to enjoy any setting, I imagine. I am very glad of the Musgroves', and yourself, and

Captain Harville's, visit here."

"Surely the sights, though perhaps not the weather, offer some enjoyment. You said you had

travelled very little and every fresh place was of interest. But not Bath?"

"I'm afraid Bath is not a fresh place. My mother died here, more than ten years ago, and perhaps,

that is to say, the event itself might not have tainted the place so strongly, but all that

followed, even until very recently. While my mother lived she kept reason and economy in my

family and in our home. Under her guidance we would never have needed to leave Kellynch." She

stopped herself. He could not wish to know this. She met his eyes with the intent to apologise,

but there she found compassion and understanding.

"And so you follow your family here, as they bid, without a thought to your own suffering. You

are too good, Anne."

This of course was the moment the party chose to move. The men had appointments with a gunsmith,

the women at a Milliners. Anne was dragged away by well-meaning friends who had not even

considered the possibility of a connection between her and Captain Wentworth. They had

determinedly stayed in each others' exclusive company for much of the afternoon and yet no one

appeared to give it a moment's thought.

As soon as she could do so, Anne excused herself from the party of ladies. Ribbons and muslin

could not hold her interest at a time like this. She needed to be alone. Her mind danced between

missing her mother so much it ached and considering Lady Russel's similarities and differences,

as she had virtually been the nearest thing to a replacement; between wonderings about Mr

Elliot's true character and, much more in the forefront, Captain Wentworth's true feelings. He

seemed to love her. But she dare not believe it and hope for she would be crushed beyond recovery

if he did not.

Mr Elliot's true character was not nearly so interesting, probably because it was of little

consequence to her own happiness. She did however fear her family's humiliation and resolved to

discover, though Mrs Smith's gossip channels might need to be employed, the truth of his

intentions and expose this to whoever need know.

She could not yet speak to Lady Russel, who believed Mr Elliot contained everything Anne could

want in a man. Anne would need some proof of his concealment, and probably more than Mrs Smith's

word. She longed for her mother's guidance. She knew her mother was half forgotten and molded

into the image of perfection by the passing of so many difficult years. In Anne's mind though her

mother was everything that was modest and kind, compassionate and intelligent, wise and

beautiful.

So she went to speak to her mother. The walk to the church was not short, but the time to think,

the silence and solitude, was much appreciated. By the time Anne found her mother's grave she had

long missed dinner. It was mid afternoon and her stomach growled with displeasure. The wise thing

would have been to make her way home, but she could not. The grave had been untouched for many

years, only kept from becoming overgrown by the groundsman.

Anne dusted off the leaves and twigs. She knelt there, muddying her dress at her knees, and

picked off the moss, telling the stones of all that had happened.

She had to go or it would be dark before she reached Camden Place. Hunger made her weak but she

determinedly walked quickly, fending off the chill of dusk. She slowed, passing the warm-lit

windows of bakeries and patisseries, a chocolaterie, a tea shop. They were closing for the

evening and their wares were at low cost, but Anne had not brought a penny on her impromptu

pilgrimage.

Then, like a vision, Admiral and Mrs Croft stepped out of a shop only a few yards ahead. They

turned the other way, walking ahead of Anne. She considered letting them go on their way, but she

was so tired, and craving company, craving food and warmth. She listened to propriety tell her to

let them be. She would make it home, though she may be late and hungry and cold. There was no

real danger.

She tripped and inadvertently expressed her frustration and pain in a few unintelligible words.

Sophie and the Admiral turned, of course, and were at her aid in a heartbeat. "Are you alright

Miss Anne, are you quite well, good Lord you are pale, and you must be freezing with only that

shawl to protect you, what are you doing so far from home? You must let us escort you home – only

it is so far from here?" Anne was not keeping track of who was saying what, only absorbing their

kind concern and warmth as they helped her up. "Perhaps you would come to our house, only a few

blocks from here, and stay to supper. Once you are warm and well again, then we will get you home

to your family. And we can send a message to them, so they will not miss you."

Anne had no concern that her family might miss her, except that it would mean an odd number at

the table for supper. "I thank you. I have walked a little far this afternoon I'm afraid."

"You must have seen a great deal of bath to come so far on foot." They were all admiration.

Anne laughed, "probably not. I was lost in thought. I have been visiting my mothers' grave and –

oh no, it has been many years since her death – I simply forgot the distance, in my reverie, and

did not consider I would have to cover it twice to return home."

"Here were are." Sophie bid her friend inside without waiting for the servants or the Admiral to

lead the way. Anne was rushed to the roaring fire of the drawing room, and bid stay there while

Sophie fetched a warmer shawl and spoke to the cook. It was not until several moments after her

departure that Anne noticed Captain Wentworth, open book in his lap, seated on the opposite side

of the room, watching her with interest, both concerned and wondering as to her presence there in

front of him, as if his will had brought this vision of loveliness out of the hypnotic flames

behind her.

He stood, closing the book without a thought, "Miss Elliot." He surprised himself, managing to

greet her politely.

"Good evening Captain Wentworth." she bowed. Her head was light and dizzy and she grabbed at the

chair on her left, unable to meet his strong gaze.

"Good heavens, what is the matter?" He crossed the room and helped her into the chair. Kneeling

before her he took her hands. As the dizzy fogginess faded her vision cleared to reveal him

there.

"Anne," He gave up propriety and cupped her face with one hand.

She realised this dream was reality. "Captain, I – I have walked too far today, that's all."

"Some tea or something to eat, some water – what can I get you?"

"Water, please. I don't wish you to go to any trouble."

"It is nothing." He stood and poured her a drink at the sideboard, returning to her side, while

part of him regretted giving up the position he'd held before.

"Thank you," she tipped the glass to her lips and quickly finished it.

He smiled. "Another? Perhaps some wine."

"No, I have not eaten in some time. It will go straight to my head. Just water. Thank you."

He imagined what that might be like and only pulled his mind back to the present as he handed her

the glass. She drank this more slowly and he took the seat beside her.

"I believe supper is very soon and you must eat. You will stay..."

She nodded, "Soph- I mean Mrs Croft has invited me."

"She would prefer Sophie, I have no doubt. You need not stand on ceremony with me."

With a nod, Anne took another sip, fearing to meet his eyes, knowing how crucial this moment

alone might be.

"So, where did you walk this afternoon that you are so exhausted?"

Anne named the church and a moment later explained, "my Mother's grave."

"But that is – heavens. And I dare say you have not eaten since breakfast."

She shook her head. "I have been somewhat distracted today I'm afraid. I should have postponed my

visit but it seemed so urgent after our conversation this morning. I have not been there since...

" Anne pulled her eyes away from his – the last time she'd been to her mother's grave had been

only a week after she'd broken their engagement. "For many years."

"I am glad my sister found you."

"As am I. Explaining myself to my family would have been a little beyond me by the time I reached

home. The Admiral and Mrs- Sophie are so accepting and kind, it was entirely natural to confess

the entirety without feeling the need cover myself with excuses or explanations."

"It's true, the Admiral and my sister are indeed kind and accepting. This has been my refuge."

"Your refuge?"

"Yes. Though only from the results of my own foolishness."

"What do you mean?"

"You cannot have been ignorant of my intentions toward Louisa Musgrove. I came back from the war

intending to marry and without anywhere near enough concern as to who. I foolishly courted her

then realised too late... The same foolishness that let her jump too far, let her believe I could

give her my heart when really..." He took a deep breath and met her eyes.

Mrs Croft knocked and entered in one swift movement. Anne and Frederick regretfully sat back in

their seats, trying to remember what normal kind of conversation they might have been having.

"Oh Frederick, I thought you might be home. Anne here has walked too far this afternoon and I

have invited her to supper that she might rest awhile. Oh, Anne you seem to have some colour back

in your cheeks. I apologise for leaving you alone but I really had no idea Frederick was in

here."

Something about the way she said it gave them both the suspicion that she'd known perfectly well

where Frederick had been all along. She wrapped a warmer shawl around Anne's shoulders.

"Thank you." Anne pulled it around her tightly.

The Admiral entered next, apologising teasingly for his wife's leaving them alone together.

"Sophie, I believe Miss Elliot has not eaten all day. Perhaps-"

"No wonder you were so weary Anne. Supper should be ready in a few minutes. Perhaps a cup of

tea?"

"That would be perfect." Anne nodded to Sophie then met Frederick's eye, her smile thanking him.

Sophie saw their silent exchange and smiled knowingly to the Admiral, raising her eyebrows for a

fraction of a moment. As soon as she dared she made some excuse and bid her husband follow her

from the room.

"Are you warm?" Frederick leaned toward her again.

"Oh yes, I am quite warm,"

"Too warm?"

"Please, I am perfectly well. Do not concern yourself."

He smiled openly, his eyes locking with hers.

"Captain, you should not blame yourself for Louisa's fall. You tried to warn her."

"Perhaps. But it is much more than that. Her entire family expected us to marry. I hoped my

absence would be enough for her to... well, fortunately it was. I stayed with my brother and his

wife, hoping to clear my head, to decide with some objectivity... but I have seen him so little

in the past eight years and he kept recalling events I was doggedly trying to forget. That,

combined with his obvious happiness, newly married..." He gestured to indicate all that went

along with that, his open hand remaining on the arm rest. "Hearing of Benwick and Louisa's

engagement I came here and yet again find myself in the residence of a very happy marriage and I

cannot help but covet-"

He stood, restless, seeking the best words. This was his chance.

Anne watched him anxiously. If he wanted her she would be his in a moment. He only needed to say

the words. He stood in front of the fire, one hand on the mantelpiece. She stood up and placed

her hand on his arm. "What is it you're trying to say?"

He turned and faced her, taking her hands in his own. "I tried to forget you - I tried... I thought I had."

He stroked her cheek, stepping closer, "Anne, I love you. I was weak and resentful, foolish - so foolish, but I never

stopped loving you."

Such words had greater effect than she could have anticipated.

"Good God, you're shaking." He led her to the chair and knelt at her feet again. "Have I said too

much? I should have waited till you were rested, till you'd eaten at least-"

"Please, no apologies." She took his hands. "Frederick," she smiled at the sound of his name

coming from her lips, as did he. "Frederick, neither have I stopped loving you." She must assure

him, convince him. He looked at her in surprise, hope, joy, disbelief... "I could not forget you,

hoping against all reason that you might return, that you might forgive me. I've loved none but

you."

He raised her hands to his lips, resisting pulling her into his arms and spinning her around the

room as he feared she might faint. "Oh Anne, I thought... it is not important."

"We have a remarkable ability to misunderstand one another. Perhaps you should say whatever it is

that you thought."

"Perhaps I should." He smiled and let go of her hands, standing up and sitting in the seat beside

her. "I thought Mr Elliot would... given the opinions of your family and friends, I thought you

might be convinced, regardless of your heart."

"Like I was before." She looked at her hands in her lap. When she dared look over at him she saw

he was also staring at his hands. "I was so young-" she began, then changed tact, "I don't want

to offer excuses as if I don't regret giving you up." He looked into her face, "I was guided by

well-meaning friends and family but they were entirely wrong, and I had no idea the significance

of that one foolish decision. I could not make the same mistake twice. Mr Elliot means nothing to

me. You mean everything to me. I would never give you up again."

"Thank God. I'm not sure I'd survive it." he lifted his hand, the palm against the curve of her

jaw, tilting her face up to his. "Marry me."

She nodded and before she could speak he kissed her. She was spun back years to the last time

he'd done that; greeting her in the conservatory at Kellynch. And once more, a very different

kiss; he'd begged her to reconsider. He'd been so angry, and he'd kissed her with much less

restraint, but it had made no impact on her resolve. Today her resolve was the opposite – never

to let him go.

It was clear in Frederick's expression that his mind had wandered back to that dreadful day.

"Perhaps we need to make some new memories."

Anne nodded as the supper bell rang.

"Do you mind if I tell them?" Frederick stood up and offered his hand.

"Not at all." she took his hand and his arm, allowing him to lead her through to supper.

At the last door before they would undoubtedly rejoin the Admiral and Mrs Croft, Frederick

stopped but did not let go, turning to face Anne. He looked at her openly, admiringly, slipped

his arms around her. Anne took his invitation and held him tightly. Responding in kind, the

Captain pulled her against him, lifting her ever so slightly off the ground. "Oh how I have

missed you." He reluctantly let her go, placing her hands appropriately on his arm and opening

the door before them.

"Ah, there you are. We were about to come in search of you." the Admiral held out a seat for his

wife. The seats were grouped together at one end of the table and Anne was glad to see it.

Frederick pulled out a chair for her and sat in the next on her left, Admiral Croft on her right,

at the head of the table, and Sophie opposite her, on the Admiral's right.

Sophie apologised for the informality.

"Do not trouble yourself; you are too generous." Anne reassured her and, as soon as the grace was

said, went to her meal with some enthusiasm. It could have been the combination of hunger and the

nervousness accompanying Frederick's imminent announcement but she finished long before her

companions.

"Please, Anne, have some more." Captain Wentworth lifted the lid of one of the dishes, realising

he'd used her Christian name too late to mend. And what was there to mend anyway?

After ascertaining that Sophie and the Admiral were acting as if nothing had happened, Anne

thanked him and took some more potatoes.

Once the main course was cleared and the servants gone Frederick took Anne's hand under the

table, as if for courage or strength. She squeezed it and, moving her head as little as possible,

met his eyes and smiled.

"I have some news," he began strongly, "But, I'm not sure where to begin and it will probably not

suffice to start with the conclusion." He looked to Anne again for encouragement, perhaps for

permission.

"Well then Frederick, start at the beginning. There is no hurry. Miss Anne, do you have plans for

the evening?"

She shook her head, still smiling. "No sir."

"Right then," Frederick began again, "Ah, you were probably unaware that during my stay with

Edward, eight and a half years ago, I met A-- a wonderful, a truly remarkable young lady. I...

loved her – love her very dearly, and she... loved me. I proposed and was accepted until... that

is, I could offer her very little and she was persuaded by a well meaning friend, and her family,

to end the engagement."

The Admiral and Mrs Croft were failing to hide their confusion. Frederick met Anne's gaze again.

She nodded for him to continue.

"As you know, I left the country and have not stopped since – until a month ago. We met again but

I was... well, I was foolish and did not realize what I now know to be true and steady. This

evening my foolishness ends. I have asked Anne to be my wife, and she has accepted me."

"Oh!" Sophie was on her feet, "My goodness me. Anne! Oh, I had no idea."

The admiral laughed as he stood. Frederick and Anne followed suit and were immediately embraced,

their hands shaken by the Admiral and a bottle of good wine brought in.

"But Frederick you never said a word." Sophie gripped Anne's hand, grinning ear to ear.

"It was unnecessary to mention it, and perhaps too painful, anyway, it is done now. All is set to

rights." He lifted Anne's hand to his lips.

"And think," Sophie continued, "I was dreading the inevitable separation from you Anne, but now

we'll be sisters. Just as we should." She returned to her seat only to take Anne's free hand

across the table.

"Yes." Anne squeezed her hand, looking from her to Frederick with tears in her eyes. Everything

she'd hoped for was within her grasp.

The Admiral lifted his glass. "To the very happy couple." He laughed, watching Anne and Frederick

smile at one another, their eyes unwilling to wander anywhere else.

Frederick nodded his agreement and they clinked glasses. "And to Anne, for giving a man more than

he deserves."

She shook her head but the others drank to it.

It was Sophie's turn, the wine having its effects and putting them all at ease, "To good sense –

Frederick I didn't know you had it in you." She teased.

Frederick allayed Anne's uncertainty with the twinkle in his eye. "Fair call Sophie."

"I believe it is your turn Miss Anne," the Admiral poured a little more wine in all their

glasses.

"Indeed," she smiled thoughtfully.

"And none of this 'to the navy', something sentimental." Sophie elicited the exact reaction she

sought from the gentlemen, and another eye-wrinkling smile from Anne.

"Well then," she looked to each of her companions, squeezing Frederick's hand where it lay on the

tabletop between them, "to family."

"Here here." The Admiral lifted his glass.

"To family." Fredrick clinked with his sister, his brother, his fiance. "Excellent choice."

"Now the pudding must be cold. Shall we have it brought through to the drawing room, perhaps with

the addition of some icecream?" The Admiral stood.

"Yes, an excellent plan," said his wife, taking her husband's arm.

Frederick took Anne's hands and lifted her to her feet. It was all he could do to keep from

embracing her then and there. "If I happen to pick you up and spin you around the room this

evening..."

Anne laughed. "I haven't done that since I was a child." she took his arm and they turned to

follow the Admiral and Mrs Croft, "except -" she turned to look up at him, halting their progress

on the threshold of the hallway. "Till now that was the happiest day of my life."

He nodded, stroking her face. He could hardly believe she was there, and his. "Mine too." He

tucked her hand under his arm and turned back toward the drawing room. "That day I never would

have believed I could survive eight years without you." Within a few steps of the now-closed door

he stopped again. "Heavens."

"What's the matter?" She turned to him

"Your father – I'll not rest till I have his permission – but he is likely to refuse."

She shook her head, "He did not do so before. I would expect little more encouragement, and

possibly more shock, but even if he were to... I will marry you Frederick. Nothing could tear me

away."

She lifted a hand to his neck, her fingers reaching up, twisting through his hair, adoring every

fiber of his being. Their lips met softly, tantalizing. Headily breathing her in, Frederick held

her tight against him, kissing her desperately. Her hands explored his hair, his neck, his face.

She pulled back for a breath and he rested his forehead on hers. With heavy breath they

whispered, "I love you," smiled at each other and with remarkable restraint kissed softly,

briefly, savouring the texture and flavour, their lips quickly growing accustomed to the other's.

"Perhaps we should..." Frederick inclined his head toward the drawing room, ready for the knowing

look Sophie and the Admiral would exchange upon their entry.

Anne smiled and took his arm, tight and close, not loosening her grip till they reached the

drawing room door.

---

The servant had been sent with a message for Sir Walter, to not expect his daughter for supper,

and so she spent a happy hour after the meal, at Frederick's side, listening to remarkable

stories of adventures at sea, allowing herself the luxury of imagining that life as her own.

"So Frederick, is it safe to assume you have changed your mind about women living on board ship."

Frederick laughed, "perhaps, though I always did see the reason in your own arrangements, I

simply dared not imagine... that is, Sophie, you and Anne are rare creatures. I did not dare hope

I would be so fortunate."

"There you go again, as if we are so fragile," Sophie teased, "A little rough water ensures an

appreciation of the calm that no other experience can give. And we women crave a little

adventure. We are not so different."

"I am happy to believe it." Frederick squeezed Anne's hand again.

"Who would have thought?" said the Admiral. "And I had you ask... Oh, please accept my apologies.

My intentions were..."

Frederick shook his head. "It is done now. No harm."

Anne's smile was not sufficient to cover her yawn. She excused herself but was rewarded with

three voices of concern, hatching plans for getting her home and rested immediately.

"Oh, no please. I'm happy to walk."

Sophie turned to the window, "It is a very fine evening out, but are you sure you are not too

tired?"

"I'm quite rested, I assure you."

"Well if you're sure, perhaps we shall all escort you home." The Admiral stood.

"A fine idea." Captain Wentworth joined his brother-in-law and they were leaving in a matter of

minutes.

Captain Wentworth and Miss Elliot led the way, with the Admiral and Mrs Croft following at some

distance, easily keeping pace.

Captain Wentworth was trying to put some words together in his head. How would he begin? How

would he proceed? Heavens, if Sir Walter refused him... the idea did not seem so remote as Anne

had suggested.

"Please Frederick, you look so worried."

He smiled at her. "Oh Anne," he let his eyes wander over her face as she looked up at him, her

open expression, loving him, wanting him. "I think we've had our share of rocky waters. If there

is anyway to do this with your family's permission, that is the way I'd prefer. Much as running

away together would mean there was little delay..."

Anne laughed, "We've had out share of delay also, I think. But there is no reason to wait." She

squeezed his arm to her side. "If my father is, as he may well be, concerned only with a good

connection, wealth and title, he will not refuse. Please..." she stopped him, looked briefly

behind to see Sophie and the Admiral were yet to turn the corner, stood on her tip-toes and

kissed his lips.

They continued walking, "For once it will benefit... we can rely on my father's character in this

respect."

"You have almost convinced me. But I fear there is nothing you can say to put me entirely at

ease."

She laughed.

"You see, my dear, wonderful Anne – oh to call you this at last! - I care too much to be

nonchalant. Fortunately I may speak with him tonight. I'd get no sleep otherwise."

---

They were introduced and welcomed into the drawing room with a brief thank-you for returning

Anne. Captain Wentworth bordered on rudeness but would not delay the inevitable any longer than

absolutely necessary.

"Sir Walter, I wonder if I may speak with you privately a moment."

Sir Walter did nothing to hide his astonishment at being addressed so boldly a moment after his

guests had been seated, but led Captain Wentworth to an adjoining room and gave him the meeting

he'd requested.

"Sir," the Captain began again, willing himself not to pace, but to stand still and upright,

looking the man in the eye. "I have for sometime admired – loved your daughter Anne and this

evening she has accepted my proposal of marriage. Respectfully, I would like your permission to

set a date."

"Anne?" Sir Walter was shocked just as Anne had forewarned. "You want to marry Anne? Whatever

for?"

It was Captain Wentworth's turn to be shocked. Several replies flew into his head. He might say,

"to protect her from you sir, respectfully," or "because she deserves a family who adore her," or

any number of other things he could not say. In the end he replied, "Because I have loved her

since our engagement was broken over eight years ago and I see no reason to believe that will

ever change."

It was as if Sir Walter had not heard him, "And you will provide for her I suppose?"

"Yes sir."

"Well then, I suppose you may set your date."

The look on Frederick's face as he entered the drawing room answered any question in Anne's mind.

The Admiral and Mrs Croft displayed spectacular grins and Frederick did much the same as Sir

Walter made a feeble attempt at announcing the event to the other inhabitants of the room.

Catching Anne yawning again, behind her hand, Frederick stood, "We must take our leave sir. Thank

you for your kindness. We will see you tomorrow evening, at your party."

"Ah, yes." Sir Walter stood up, off his guard, and bowed as they left.

"Excuse me Father," Anne stood and followed them before he had a chance to comment.

Sophie and the Admiral began to walk back, leaving Frederick at the steps.

"Frederick, wait." Anne ran out the door and stopped him as he turned to follow his sister. She

could not help but find joy in the way his face lit up at the sight of her. "Will you sleep well

now?" She held out her hands, taking hold of his as soon as they were in reach.

"Well now, I don't know. This could be the best sleep I've had in years, the most peaceful... or

I could be restless with thoughts of you, anticipating everything I now have to look forward to."

"There is so much."

He nodded, lifting her hands to his lips, fearing to speak for the tears choking at the back of

his throat.

It is hard to say who reached out to who, but in one swift motion she was wrapped tightly in his

arms and clinging to him as if to life itself.

"Good God, I love you." He breathed the words against her neck and she shivered with delight.

Eventually, slowly and deliberately he stood back, never taking his eyes from hers.

"Till tomorrow." She inclined her head in the slightest bow, holding his eyes.

"Do you know what?" his voice was low and delightfully intimate. "In a month, or two months, but

hopefully less, there will be no more 'till tomorrow', no more 'good night' and parting."

His words delighted her but as soon as they were said he feared he had shocked her.

"I am sorry Anne, I'm too bold."

"No Frederick, don't apologise. How could I not look forward to that, and everything it will mean

to be your wife?"

He smiled and stroked her cheek, once again pleasantly surprised by the wonderful woman before

him. "You are remarkable. I have never seen your equal."

For a moment they were stuck there, unwilling to move, enjoying the stillness, the silence and

above all, the company.

He kissed her softly, briefly, then stepped back to a tortuously respectable distance. "Goodnight

Anne."

"Goodnight Frederick." She backed toward the steps as he backed away and turned. Turning toward

the house, she touched her lips in wonder, in disbelief and joy. She was exhausted and her heart

so full, her emotions dangerously close to the surface.

Inside she only entered the drawing room to make her excuses and bid them goodnight. Tears choked

her, spilled from her eyes and yet she wore an immovable smile. The events of the day must be

expressed. Too much had happened to hold in, to be polite and reserved. She sat down on the end

of her bed and played every moment over again in her mind. How he'd spoken to her, accidentally

using only her christian name, sharing his fears, his struggles so honestly, how he'd been so

vulnerable, how he'd looked at her with hope and despair at once, with adoration, with trust. How

he'd touched her hands, her face, how he'd held her carefully, tenderly, and then desperately,

even roughly.

She undressed, wondering at what was to come, at what it would be like to share her room with

him. What would it be like to do all this with him?

She blew out the candles, stoked the fire and slipped between the cold sheets. It would be

wonderful to have him beside her. Not to mention warmer. She rolled onto her side, imagining him

there, on his side, facing her, his shirt collar open. Reaching out she laughed; in only a few

weeks it would be real. All the dreams, all her dangerous and disappointed imaginings, would be

realised.

Her body was heavy with relief that it could finally rest, but her mind was buzzing. How could

she sleep when there were such delights to think about? After years of wondering what might have

been and refusing to let her mind wander down those delightful paths, she could finally wonder

only at what would be, and her mind was free to wander.

---

Frederick was similarly engaged. He thought of all the things he wished to say to her. Tomorrow

he could begin. And in only a few weeks she would be there beside him perhaps - or he could take

a house for them here in Bath, or perhaps somewhere else entirely. Lyme? Or someplace fresh and

untouched. He would ask her tomorrow. The life he looked forward to had brightened considerably

and all the possibilities played in his mind. With her he would be happy to share everything,

even the close quarters of shipboard life - the closer the better in fact. But he would have to

ask her about that too. She could have little idea about the details. Perhaps Sophie might

describe... Surely Anne would choose to join him. She'd been so interested this evening and she'd

clearly spoken to Sophie about it before. Leaving her would be unbearable. Of that he was

certain. The memories had tortured him but everything was finally mended.

She took him up on the offer to help on her next visit to the village.

They took bags of apples to each family, the harvest having been especially good. He carried

two full baskets, she took one, moving it from one hand to the other as her arms wearied.

"One moment," she lowered the basket to the ground and shook her arms.

He put his baskets down, removed his coat and laid it on the ground. "Please," he indicated to

her to sit, "rest awhile."

"Thank you," she sat on the edge of his coat and looked at the space beside her. "Will you not

join me?"

He sat gingerly, trying not to touch her. Of course he wanted to, but did not wish her to be

uncomfortable.

"An apple?" she took one from the basket and gave it to him, then took one for herself.

They ate in companionable silence, leaning back on the tree.

She threw her core into the trees, startling a hidden doe who trotted away. Anne laughed,

surprised, then sighed.

He thought it was a sad sigh and asked if she was well.

"How could I not be? How could this be more perfect?"

"I have no idea." He watched her face as she looked around them, and eventually at him, catching

him staring.

She smiled, "Shall we continue?"

On their way back, baskets empty, Anne stopped walking at that same place. The sun was setting,

the valley darkening. "I think I will always remember this day."

He turned to her, watched her face. "You are not sad?"

She met his eyes. "Only that you must go."

He stepped closer, looking into her eyes.

"Other than that..." she tried to jest.

He reached out, touching her face so lightly.

She inhaled sharply and he pulled back, apologising. She shook her head and he reached out again.

Her eyes closed briefly as he touched her. Her skin was soft and warm. She turned her face,

pressing against his hand.

"I have to go, but I..." She looked up at him. "If there was any way... I have no desire to leave

you."

She smiled, giving him the courage to go on.

"I have little to offer you, but I will work hard, I'll do everything I must and I'll be

successful, I have no doubt. This moment, however, I have nothing. No matter my success it will

mean nothing without - without you. Would you, even though at this moment I can offer you nothing

but myself, would you marry me?"

She was looking up at him, an amazing smile on her lips, filling her eyes with joy. "Yes," she

laughed, "yourself is not nothing - you are everything I want."

He laughed and took her face tenderly between his hands, kissed her lips, timidly, awkwardly.

She slipped her arms around his shoulder and he happily embraced her, picking her up off the

ground, laughing and spinning her around.

When he put her down she was grinning, her face full of colour and joy.

"You are so beautiful."

He walked her home and returned to his brother's home. Edward asked him about the ridiculous grin

on her face and he spilled the entirety. The following day he applied to her father and was,

reluctantly, accepted. Several days of blissful hoping and planning, long walks and delicious

kisses, followed.

But then he had to go into town for a few days. He returned to a different Anne.

He found her, on his arrival, in the conservatory at Kellynch. He kissed her softly in greeting,

told her how he'd missed her, and was interrupted by Lady Russell's entrance. Anne was reserved,

as if ashamed of their attachment. She was constantly in the company of Lady Russell and it was

five days before he found her alone again. She was sitting beneath the tree where they'd eaten

apples, at the place where she'd told him he was everything she wanted, where he'd kissed her,

spinning her in his arms, their joy overflowing in laughter.

"Anne," he stopped standing off a way still.

"Frederick," she stood but did not walk toward him.

He could not stay away. "I know something is the matter, something has happened."

She shook her head.

"Anne, please. Tell me."

"I think I..." She looked away, "Perhaps we were too hasty."

"Too hasty? Too hasty to what?"

"To become engaged." She met his eyes again.

"I love you Anne, what more should I wait for. Unless you do not... unless you do not love me."

She tore her eyes away, unable to say what she had decided to say and look at him at the same

time. "I only mean that... I simply cannot..."

She turned her back to him. He noticed she was shaking and put his hands on her shoulders, every

fiber of his being demanding that he comfort her.

"Please Anne, only tell me. Do you love me?"

She sobbed, her "yes" barely audible.

"Will you marry me?"

When she did not reply he moved to face her, holding her there forcibly.

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"It is unwise. Perhaps in a year or two, but these feelings may not..."

"You cannot believe that."

"I do."

He kissed her, expressing his desperation and passion, hoping he could rekindle the feelings

she'd expressed in kind, only a week earlier.

She opened her mouth to him, but only for a moment before she tore herself free. He did not want

to hurt her and let her go, even though he could feel everything he'd dreamed of crashing and

sinking into the mud.

"Please Frederick, don't do this."

"I am not the one doing this."

She was crying and he was only a step away. He pulled her into his arms, holding her there

against her efforts to escape. She gave up quickly, shaking with tears, letting him hold her to

his chest. He kissed her hair and stroked her back. "Don't do this, Anne, I love you."

She lifted her head, met his eyes, looked as if she would give in, but only so briefly that he

later suspected he'd imagined it.

"I have to. I can't explain. I just can't... can't marry you." She backed away.

He was broken. She turned and ran back toward Kellynch, disappearing into the trees.

The memory, not surprisingly, was not helping him sleep. Tonight this had all been vindicated. He

played her touch, her kiss, every smile that was just for him, he played it all over in his mind

and that did not seem to aid his sleep either. He must try to rest. Tomorrow he could speak with

her. At last there was no doubt of that.

---

After a restless breakfast Anne set off, once again on a walk, but this morning with no pretense

- her entire purpose was to chance upon Frederick. Lost in her thoughts, in anticipation and

excitement, she did not see her friend until she was greeted.

"Good morning Anne."

"Oh, Lady Russell, I'm sorry, I did not see you."

Lady Russell smiled, "You are well?"

"Oh yes, very well, just a little distracted."

"I can see that. Is there news? Has Mr Elliot...?"

Anne took her friends arm and asked if they might walk a little.

"Of course, but Anne you must not leave me waiting, what is the news?"

"I'm not sure... that is, what I have to tell you may not be what you expect." Anne took a

breath, prepared for the worst. But at least this time she was prepared. "I have for some time

known that I could not marry Mr Elliot. I never felt I could trust him and I have since seen

things, heard things, to confirm that suspicion. No- none of it is concrete, but that is not why

I cannot marry him. Believe me, I am fully aware of my family's - not only my family's

expectations. I have been guided by them before but now... " she stopped walking. They were in a

small park, away from people. This was the perfect opportunity but the words would not come easy.

"Lady Russell, I value your friendship so highly and your opinion has always been very important

to me but... in this I will not be persuaded. Fre- Captain Wentworth has proposed and I have

accepted him."

"Oh." Lady Russell turned away to absorb this information.

"His circumstances are very different now..."

"That is true." She turned back to face Anne,

"But more importantly - I have never stopped loving him. And somehow, though I find it hard to

believe even now, and heaven knows what I've done to deserve it, he still loves me."

Lady Russell looked at her friend's face. She was glowing - happier than she'd seen her in a long

time. And clearly resolute. "Then I am happy for you." She took her hands but found her self

enveloped in an embrace.

"Oh I'm so glad. I thought - oh it doesn't matter what I thought."

"I only wish I knew him better Anne. I only ever wanted what was best for you."

"I know and I do not blame you or anyone but myself for my decision then. It is done and gone. We

have wasted too much time to spend these happy days in regrets. You will love him when you know

him."

Lady Russell could not help but be effected by Anne's joy. "I'm sure I will. When will you

announce?"

"Within the week, I suppose, we have not discussed it. Father gave his consent last night and

nothing else has been done."

"That's a good start. I will help with the preparations - that is, if you want me to."

"Of course I want you." Anne hugged her again.

"And Captain Wentworth - will he not have some objection to my..."

Anne shook her head, "Once you know each other, I have no doubt, you will be good friends. Oh,

but I interrupted your walk. I should not keep you long."

"Yes, I must go. But Anne, I am happy for you." She squeezed her hands.

Anne watched her walk away, relieved and happy. Her anticipation at meeting Frederick returned.

But perhaps he would not be out walking. They had not actually planned to meet, but if he was

anywhere near as restless as she the confines of a house would be unbearable before long.

Anne continued her walk toward the Croft's residence. If Frederick had the same idea they would

cross paths. She turned the corner to their street and slowed her pace, turning her head to scan

the vicinity only to see him disappear around another corner, in the general direction of her own

residence. If she took her original route she would meet him but - oh, he'd stopped to speak with

someone. She walked toward them. She had a glimpse of him, or rather of his naval hat, around the

corner. His companions were out of sight.

She had to keep from running. He was nodding to them, tipping his hat, bidding them farewell.

Rounding the corner, she met his companions - the Musgroves. They greeted her with their usual

enthusiasm, ensuring Frederick heard her name repeatedly and turned around, his face immediately

lighting up.

"Would you join us Anne? We were just on our way to the milliners to pick up Henrietta's gown."

"Yes, you must come. You have not seen it yet."

"Oh please do Anne."

She met Frederick's eyes. "I'm sorry, I cannot this moment. But perhaps I may visit you later

this morning."

They accepted her reply and scurried away, completely unaware of Captain Wentworth's continued

presence.

Anne did not move till they were out of earshot.

"Good morning." He tipped his hat and stepped towards her.

"Yes, it is rather." She smiled and met him, taking the arm he offered as they began walking, so

naturally, as if they'd been doing that for years.

"Best in some time, indeed," he met her eyes and smiled, halting their walk, "You look beautiful

this morning, and somehow, heaven knows how, I am the man who gets to tell you so." He brushed

the stray strands of hair off her face and it was all he could do not to kiss her.

She smiled, "Thank you."

"Did you rest well?" He started them walking again - a good distraction from her lips.

"I'm not sure I did. Too many wonderful things to think about..."

"Yes. For many years I have unwittingly wondered what a life with you might have been like, and

then redirected my thoughts, refusing to let myself imagine... But now, there's no reason not

to."

"Precisely. I had hoped I would sleep immediately, perchance to dream of you, and to hasten the

night's passing."

His smile was brilliant, wrinkling his eyes and cheeks. "And did you... dream of..."

"No, but not for lack of trying. Is it always the way with dreams that they come when you least

want them and contain what you do not wish to see, until you do wish to dream, when they will not

come at all."

He laughed. "Do you know how wonderful you are?" He lifted her hand from his arm to his lips,

replacing it promptly as a passer-by turned their head to watch. Oh, how he looked forward to

having her to himself.

"You will spoil me, Frederick, with all these compliments."

"You would rather I did not speak my mind?"

"No... but, well, so long as you do speak your mind - no more."

"I do."

"Well, then I am yours to adore, as you wish." She squeezed his arm against her side.

---

He joined her to visit the Musgroves later in the morning. The morning of conversation had put to

bed any concerns the Captain had about Anne's wishing to join him aboard ship. They had also

discussed how to best tell their friends of their engagement, considering how little notice had

been taken of their recent behaviour.

They entered the room together, without offering excuses for arriving together, alone, but after

a minute it was forgotten in favour of wedding arrangements. They remained close to one another

but no one paid attention.

"Perhaps we could get right to it and just invite them to the wedding." Frederick whispered, an

intimate smile on his lips, his hand wandering toward hers before he realised and pulled it back.

Anne laughed, finally eliciting a response - a look from Mary as if to say, 'what am I missing

out on?' Anne smiled at her sister and asked after the wedding dress. She immediately regretted

it as she was shepherded into the next room to view it.

"You should not so monopolize Captain Wentworth," Mary whispered, not so quietly as she thought,

the door closing behind them. Mrs Musgrove turned, at first dismissing the possibility as

another of Mary's imaginings. But come to think of it... well, now that would certainly be a

surprise. Henrietta was oblivious, opening the closet and explaining every detail to her

listeners.

On their return, as usual, all the gentlemen stood. When the others sat down again Captain

Wentworth remained standing. "I have some news." He smiled, his eyes meeting Anne's. This should

be interesting...

"Is everything well?" Charles sat upright, ready for action.

"Yes, very much so." Frederick placed his hand on the back of Anne's chair. "Yesterday afternoon

I asked Miss Anne to marry me and she has accepted."

A confused combination of disbelief and happy enthusiasm followed. The Captain simply explained,

"We were... attached many years ago but there was a... misunderstanding."

This satisfied everyone present and they enthusiastically gave their congratulations and wished

them joy. They all wondered how they'd never known a thing but fortunately did not require an

answer. In fact the ladies kept the conversation going without needing any input from Anne.

When Charles moved to look out the window, Frederick stood and, with a squeeze of Anne's hand

under the table, took the place beside him. They looked on the view briefly before Frederick

spoke.

"I want to apologise for any... confusion."

"Oh no, no..."

"Well it's all set to rights now, but it could have been pretty bad and of my doing -"

"Love makes fools..."

"Something like that - but... I am sorry to have misled."

"Enough." Charles held out his hand and they shook hands. "It is in the past. It is done. And

undoubtedly we'll have three weddings in the next few months. We'll have to come up with a plan

if we're to avoid talk of muslins and laces for two hours together."

---

The weeks that followed seemed as if they might take forever, but when it came to the day Anne

was amazed at all that had happened. Between Lady Russell and Sophie Croft, the wedding was

arranged and the couple still on speaking terms with each other and their families.

Anne stepped from the carriage and took her father's arm as he led her to the church door. There

were whisperings and turning heads. Frederick turned to see her and she was glad the small church

meant she could see his face at that moment. She was impatient to meet him, to take his hands -

in every sense, to say all the things she was here to say, make every vow to him, and to leave,

on his arm, to kiss him, to hold him. And for the first time in several days - to be alone with

him, to speak candidly, to have no reason to check herself, or hold back.

He handed her up into the carriage, following her closely and taking her hand again. They waved

goodbye to their family and friends, the carriage pulling away toward their new home. Frederick

turned to her and smiled a smile that almost laughed.

Anne squeezed his hand and he exhaled, staring at her in wonder.

"You are so beautiful." He stroked her cheek, resting his forehead on hers.

She loosed her fingers from his, running them up his arm till they rested against his neck.

Tilting her head she met his lips with her own, her breathing heavy. He felt the warmth of it on

his skin between kisses.

Her hands explored his chest, his arms, enjoying the strength she found there. He held her

tentatively at first, unsure how to proceed with his new freedom, but her touch, her kisses were

heady and he could not be so controlled for long. His hands traced the lines of her body, pulling

her closer, his mouth exploring hers.

As the carriage slowed their lips parted. They breathed heavily, laughing at themselves, or

perhaps their joy simply would not be expressed in a simple smile.

Anne let her fingers dance over the contours of his forehead, his jaw, his lips. She smiled at

the liberty she had and its evident effects on the man before her. "I love you."

He looked at her with adoration, taking her hand in his own, holding it to his chest. "I have

been used to the gratification of believing myself to earn every blessing that I enjoyed. I have

valued myself on honourable toils and just rewards." He sighed, "But in you I have much more than

I can ever deserve."

Anne kissed the hand that held hers so tight, moving closer to him again. "I know you too well to

try and dissuade you of it."

Frederick had taken a house for them near Bath. They would not remain there for more than a few

months, but had agreed it would be best, for now, to not be traveling. Their journey from the

church was brief, therefore, and within the hour Frederick Wentworth helped his bride from the

carriage and led her into their first home. It was not large and there were few servants, but

that is just what Anne wanted and, though he wanted to give her so much more, it was all they

needed.

Their bags were taken to their rooms and a small supper served there. Frederick dismissed the

servants and stoked the fire then moved his chair much closer to Anne's before he sat down. She

was watching him, wondering how to allay his nerves. He took a generous sip of his wine.

"Is everything alright?" She lay her hand on his leg.

He looked at her hand and covered it with his own. "I don't want to hurt you."

She stroked his cheek and he met her eyes. "I love you and a few moments of pain are... nothing."

She stood and he followed suit. They stood close, face to face.

He resolved not to be swept away by all he felt and wanted, trying to find the self-control he

would require to be gentle.

Anne began to pull the pins from her hair, letting strands fall around her shoulders. Once it was

all loose she ran her fingers through and pushed it behind her shoulders. His fingers followed,

beginning at the back of her neck, moving up her scalp and then down, twisting through the curls.

His breath was heavy on her cheek. Restless, her hands found the buttons of his coat and slipped

each one free, pushing her open palms and spread fingers from his stomach up to his shoulders and

letting the garment fall to the floor. He knelt down, removing her shoes and stockings, then his

own.

Frederick turned her, his hands lightly on her shoulders, and began unlacing the back of her

dress, covering each newly discovered patch of skin with kisses as he went. "My God, you are

beautiful." He breathed against her neck, slipping the sleeves from her shoulders. She stepped

from the dress, her corset and petticoats still covering her, but much less than she'd been

covered in his presence before. Her shoulders were bare and his hands lingered there tracing

every curve adoringly.

She arched back against him, savouring every moment. He kissed her neck and continued unlacing,

this time her corset. His fingers fumbled and he pulled back to look at what he was doing.

Smiling at his efforts, she began on his shirt collar, her hands loosening the fastenings, their

warmth delighting his skin, her nails scratching lightly at the dark hairs at the base of his

neck. He shivered, giving up on the half-undone laces and pulling the bodice open. His fingers

slid beneath, finding her warm skin smooth and soft.

His shirt was open and her hands slipped inside, around to his back, up to his shoulders, pulling

him close and kissing his chest.

He moaned her name, his hands dancing at her hips, feeling bold as his fingers slipped beneath

the bodice, tracing a line of hot, soft skin around to the back. He found another lace, much more

simply undone. Her petticoat fell to the floor and she gasped.

He pulled his hands back. "Sorry."

She shook her head a smile on her lips, but shyer than before.

"Lift your arms," his voice was breathy and soft. He lifted the bodice over her head, laying it

on the chair behind him.

She slipped his shirt from strong shoulders, running her fingers across the muscles of his back,

finding the belt of his trousers and slipping her fingers beneath. "How does this...?" she looked

up at him.

"Here, let me." He opened the clasps and let them fall to the ground.

"Oh." She blushed, her hands falling away but he caught them in his own.

She looked up at him, her confidence waning. He let her hands go and cupped her cheeks. "There's

no hurry Anne."

Her hands gingerly worked their way from his chest down.

Tilting her head he kissed her lips, a soft open invitation. She opened her mouth to his, letting

her hands roam freely. He lost his ability to exercise restraint, lifting her up, still kissing

her, fortunately close to their bed.

He lay her down, stopping for a moment just to look at her, amazed to see her looking back at him

with the same wonder and adoration. He pulled the covers back and lay beside her. His hands began

to follow his eyes, tracing her breasts, her waist, her arms and thighs.

His touch was heady, intoxicating, warming her. She rolled onto her side to face him.

His hands stopped, his eyes glued to hers. She leaned toward him, kissed his eyes, cheeks, lips.

Her hands were shaking as she reached out to him, steadying herself against him. As much as he

was enjoying lying there while she adored him, he could hold back no longer. He rolled over,

gently pushing her onto her back, leaning over, his body brushing against hers. He knelt over

her, kissed her lips, pressing his mouth hard against hers.

"I love you, Anne."

She smiled up at him. "I trust you." She whispered, pulling him down onto her.

"Oh," she cried out inadvertently, in more pain than she expected.

He pulled back in guilt at experiencing pleasure but causing her pain.

She breathed heavily but smiled to reassure him and lifted herself to kiss him.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and he tried again. She held back the cry in her throat, clenching her jaw and closing

her eyes. She arched against him, trying to enjoy it. Everything else she'd enjoyed but oh, my

word! Why must this be so difficult?

He groaned in pleasure as she lifted her hips. This could not last much longer, but considering

the look on Anne's face, perhaps that was best. She lifted her hips again and it was his turn to

cry out.

She opened her eyes, the pressure finally easing, mixing with an unexpected pleasure. She lifted

her hips again and again until he pinned her down, his breathing erratic. He lowered himself onto

his elbows, his lips brushing haphazardly against hers.

She kissed him, her happiness overflowing in breathy laughter, glad to give him such pleasure,

and that the pain had eased.

"Are you well?" His words were barely intelligible.

"Yes." She kissed his lips, chin, jaw, neck and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down so

all his weight rested on her. She'd never felt so full and safe.

"Should we stop?"

She lifted her hips again, eliciting another moan from his lips. "Perhaps, for now."

He nodded, pulling back, rolling onto his side, still pressed against her. He rested his head on

the pillow, his breathing slowing.

She turned to face him and he was delighted to see her look so happy. "I love you." She stroked

his face.

"I love you," he leaned his forehead against hers, slid his hands behind her and pulled her

close, "so much."

---

Sunlight peaked around the curtains, streaking the sheets.

Anne inched, half awake, toward the warmth beside her and finding her companion opened her eyes.

The sunlight behind him, his face peaceful, his shoulders and chest bare, legs brushing against

hers, she nestled closer, waking him just enough that he would wrap his arms around her. She

kissed his neck then closed her eyes, dozing pleasantly, savouring the touch of his warm skin

against hers, how it brushed hers as he breathed. Her hands sleepily explored him, gently

tantalizing him as he woke.

"Can I be greeted with this every morning?" He did not yet open his eyes, but sought her lips

with her hands and kissed her, his hands running over her body.

"If I wake up first..." The first sight he had was her smile and his heart sped up at the sight

of her, hair strewn around the pillows, bare neck and shoulders, breasts against his chest, her

legs intertwining with his.

"You are..."

"What?"

"The words escape me." He smiled and kissed her head, pulling her closer, still barely awake but

wanting her no less. Her leg slipped over his, wrapping around him, pulling him closer.

He pressed against her, amazed at her passion, knowing it would probably still hurt her.

"Anne, if there's any way not to hurt you..."

She met his eyes, rolling on top of him, pressing down slowly. Her breathing was rough. It did

hurt, but it faded into pleasure.

He tried to focus on pleasing her, but seeing her like that... there was no way he could resist

the rush of feeling, begging for release.

"Is this right?" Anne murmured breathily.

"Right? This is... you are wonderful -" his hands wandered over his view, his hips rising faster,

fingers sinking into her skin, pulling her hard against him.

She loved to see him so unrestrained, expressing every feeling fully and freely. She pressed

harder, needing him more with every movement.

Seeing what she was feeling he kept going. His hands explored her until she collapsed against

him, half laughs on her lips between heavy breaths.

"Heavens." She whispered feverishly against his temple.

"Heavenly." He pulled her close, tight. She was so much more than he'd dared hope. He smiled,

squeezing her tight before releasing her. She lay beside him, smiling at him, stroked his face,

down his neck, leaving her hand resting over his heart as she drifted into a blissful doze. He

covered that hand with his own. Wide awake now, he watched her, letting his mind wander back.

Edward asked why his brother was so distraught and was told in as few words as possible. He asked

why but Frederick could not tell him. He had another month before his ship left, but he fled

Kellynch the following day. Only once had he almost returned. His first post had taken him away

for two years and he had written a letter on his return, addressing her boldly, begging her to

reconsider. He hoped that if she were unchanged the mode of his address would only help his

cause. Why hadn't he sent it? Why indeed? He looked on her perfect face, sleeping beside him.

Occasionally she nestled closer, or ran her fingers in circles and lines around his chest and

stomach. He'd been angry; that was why. Two years had not cooled his anger enough to send such a

humbling, pathetic letter.

In eight years he'd given up trying to forgive and had only willed himself to forget.

Occasionally, for a few days, a week, he would forget. But then, one night in port, while his

companions chased after easy women he could only lift his glass to his lips and wonder if she

were still there, still the same wonderful Anne, visiting the village, so generous and kind,

walking through that valley. Would she stop under that tree? Or had she forgotten him as he so

desperately tried to forget her.

When the war finished he had convinced himself he'd forgotten her. He must have - heavens! -

eight years was no short time. She must be married - no he should not think of that. But it

should mean nothing to him. The entirety of their connection fitted within a few weeks. How dare

it's effects reach into almost a decade? It was not possible. He simply must marry. There must be

others, many others as young and beautiful, free, kind, intelligent... but he should not compare

them to Anne. If he could only fall in love once more Anne would forever be out of his head.

Then he'd seen her. The anger, ignored for many years, returned in a confusing kind of

resentment. He needed distraction and Louisa Musgrove served well as that. When he realised that

Louisa was nothing to Anne, that every woman he'd known in eight years had been measured against

Anne, that he still loved her, if anything, loved her more; when he realised that it was too

late. Louisa's family expected their union - even Anne expected it. It was only the miraculous

turn of events following that could possibly free him. Louisa's engagement to Benwick left

Frederick with the frightening option of trying to win Anne Elliot. Everything would be risked,

or nothing. If he tried and failed, if she turned him down, or worse, accepted him and was

convinced otherwise, he could not remain... he could not bare to think what might happen if she

did not want him. But if he did not try what else did he live for? He'd achieved more than ever

expected in his profession but he'd been right when he'd first proposed - it was all nothing

without her.

By some miracle she lay before him now, entirely his. He kissed those lips, finally his to kiss,

and woke her.

She smiled and told him she loved him and that she was hungry. He wrapped her tightly in his

arms.

"What would you like for breakfast, my love?"

---

'Anne Wentworth', she signed the letter and blotted the page, leaving it on the desk to fold and

seal later. Pink light peaked through the small windows in their quarters and the only place to

be at theis hour was on deck. She snuffed the candle and pulled the shawl around her shoulders

before ascending the steps into the open air, the breeze immediately refreshing her with a

lungful of fresh air.

She scanned the deck as the dinner bell rang. Men nodded to her as they passed, the deck clearing

as they finished their tasks. She spotted Frederick as he nodded to a sailor.

"Mrs Wentworth," that same sailor handed her to the upper deck and Frederick tuned on hearing her

name.

"Thank you," she nodded to him and then went to Frederick's side, looking out to the sunset as he

sidled closer. She could feel his warmth, looked around and found them alone.

As she smiled up at him he took her hand and placed on on his arm, pulling her closer, her chest

against his arm.

"Who would have thought this view could be improved?"

She laughed, "Then I've recovered from the seasickness. Without a glass it's hard to say, but I

imagine I was quite pale thismorning."

He smiled and touched her cheek. "Yes, I'm glad to see you better. And only two days, perhaps

three, till we reach port. Thank god you have not suffered the entire journey."

"So the weather changes, a few days sickness is not nearly enough reason to say in England while

you are away."

He smiled, "Oh, Anne." Squeezing her to his side he looked around the deck then swung her around

and kissed her.

She reached up, taking his hat from his head and running her fingers through his hair.

"Let's have dinner in our room."

---

How had she spent her whole life in England? And in a small part of England nonetheless! Anne

wandered leisurely, perusing the wares in shop windows. She saw her reflection in a darker shop

and stopped, pretending to look at the hats behind. She was surprised at her appearance; the

colour in her cheeks, her hair so healthy, a bit tanned, but that was to be expected, though her

father would be less forgiving. She smiled at the thought. That was it - she looked beautiful and

happy. She felt beautiful and happy. Her favourite dress, and a new shawl, undoubtedly helped.

"Which one would you like?" Frederick stood behind her.

"Oh," She turned to him, "I didn't..."

"Good, I think the other you admired at Benson's was much more beautiful than any of them."

"What?"

"The blue one, creamy yellow," he pointed to his head, "um..."

She laughed at his attempt to describe a bonnet. "How did you know?"

He grinned. "Would you like it? I think it would look beautiful on you."

"I don't need another bonnet."

"Let me..."

"I like it, I do, but we share one room and another hat box is one less place for knick knacks

from... where are we going next?"

"You could store things inside a bonnet surely, it is thin, flexible, hollow..."

"And if there is a beautiful bonnet at the next port?"

"You can wear this one until we get there. Walk with me."

Anne took his arm, her smile immovable from her lips. "You don't need to buy me presents

everywhere we stop."

"If I needed to they wouldn't be presents. I love you and I'm the happy man who gets to spoil

you. Plus... We've been three weeks at sea and soon another three weeks... I know there isn't

much for you on the ship."

She stopped walking.

"If there's anything that would make your time more enjoyable, name it and it's yours."

"Frederick," she put three fingertips against his lips then pulled them back remembering they

were close to the docks and any of his men might be near. "I need nothing. Whatever made you

think I might be unhappy?"

"Not unhappy. I just want to do everything I can to make sure you never regret..."

She shook her head decidedly. "I will never regret coming with you. I will join you again and

again as long as it is in my power to do so. I remember too clearly what it is like to live

without you."

He smiled and pulled her alongside him, continuing their walk. "Perhaps, too, I am particularly

enjoying having you along. At sea there is always something to do, somewhere to be and people to

be with. I would loathed the days, sometimes weeks spent on land because my peers happily found

company, even if not the reputable kind and I would not..." He led her up a walkway, "I want to

show you a sight," he indicated where to walk.

"So you stayed in your quarters and..." She found it hard to believe.

"No, not usually. I would join them for a drink or two, but never... And not because I'm

particularly noble and moral and all those wonderful attributes you are imagining. I was more

than willing to forget you and in attempt to do so, on more than one occasion, overindulged in -

I'm ashamed to think of my behaviour. I don't want to shock you but the types of company sailors

often find can be very..." he coughed, not sure why he was explaining this to her.

She smiled at his discomfort.

"Remember how we were that week, when I first proposed, talking and planning, affectionate...

much like we are now. Well all those touches, those ways of speaking and sitting and walking and

being... My only experience of any of that was with you, who I loved. Then, in some foreign port,

surrounded by sailors, who have a reputation for a reason, I hate to say; we are approached by

all kinds of women and at an inn, and, need I say it, liquor... anyway, every one recalled to my

mind a moment with you and how to have that again would taint that moment with you. And then I

got tired of being reminded so I stopped going along. Coming in to port was lonely and insipid.

Till now," he grinned and squeezed her hands against his side.

She smiled up at him. "You amaze me. I mean, I always hoped, but eight years is a long time and I

simply assumed that you must have..."

"There are other reasons too, illnesses, not to mention that my conscience would never let me be.

But I was never so glad, thinking it was my own weakness rather than wisdom, though it sounded

wise, until I realised I still had a chance with you. I realised that if you really did love me

still then such an act would always, in my mind, be unfaithful, almost adulterous; and probably

hurt you. Though I must admit that is precisely what I wanted to do when I first returned. God, I

was such a fool. What do you see in me?"

They reached the summit but she didn't look out at the view, the sun getting lower across the

ocean, lighting up the sky and sea in molten gold, bleeding into each other. She turned to him.

"You did hurt me then. But then I more than deserved it, and feeling that hurt certainly reminded

me that what I felt for you had not dissipated - which perhaps hurt more than any comment or

flirtation of yours'. I see in you a strong and gentle man, kind and honest, intelligent," she

removed his hat, "generous and passionate. You are my future."

He slipped an arm around her, squeezing her to his side and turning her to see the view.

She smiled and watched for a moment, awestruck into silence.

"You see all the good."

"I see the man I love, and want to share everything with. I think of all the wonderful things we

have to look forward to. Travels and adventures, having children and watching you play with

them." She turned, smiling at the thought, and stood very close.

The breeze had blown her hair onto her face and he brushed it back. "Life is so good."

She nodded and reached up to kiss him.

---

As the peacetime became more certain and stable they decided to take a residence near the seaside

on England's south coast. They lived there between journeys, on most of which Mrs Wentworth

joined the Captain. Returning from one exception the Captain searched the house and could not

find his her. He had been gone three weeks and would not consider waiting till her return,

choosing to walk the vicinity in search of her.

He found her sitting on a broken piece of the sea wall, where it had fallen on the rocks below.

The tide was out and she was watching a sea gull duck and dive further along the shoreline. He

stopped on the wall, watching her before descending to the beach. The sound of his step on the

broken stones reached Anne and she turned. He had been expected that evening and

she'd escaped the house to keep from watching the clock. On seeing him she cried out, a happy

grin accompanied by tears on her face. She would have run to him but after two steps he'd reached

her, picked her up and swung her around in circles.

"Oh, no, I shouldn't." she clung to his shoulders and he put her down compliantly.

"Why ever not?" he kissed her before she could answer.

"Oh, I've missed you." She said between kisses, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him

again. He laughed, joy overflowing, and squeezed her tightly. "Wait," she pushed away.

"What is it? Are you hurt?" He loosed his arms, still holding her.

"Not at all." she took a deep breath, "I'm just not sure how careful I need to be. I haven't seen

the doctor yet, but I'm fairly certain-"

His face lit up with understanding and hope, "Really?"

She nodded and he laughed, picking her up more carefully, cradling her, spinning, kissing her.

Everything would change, once again. But finally, everything good dream they'd cherished was coming true.