Captain Wentworth's Diary

Thursday 5 June

At last I am on my way to Somerset!

Harville and I travelled from the coast together, marvelling at how strange it was to see green fields as we went along, rather than the blue sea. Apart from the ground’s alarming tendency to stay still beneath us, instead of rolling and dipping like an honest element, the journey was not uncomfortable, and we managed to while away the time by regaling two governesses, the Miss Browns, with our recent adventures at sea. Or rather, I did, for Harville said little, and it fell upon me to astonish them with tales of the dangers we had passed through in our efforts to protect them from the French. I was rewarded by their horrified gasps and grateful thanks.

As they left the coach, I rallied Harville, telling him he was a fool to exchange the smiles of a country full of women for the shackles of one, and asking him if the elder Miss Brown was not the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He acknowledged that she was very pretty, but not as pretty as his Harriet, and he would not be dissuaded; he is still determined to ask her to marry him as soon as he gets home.

We found a comfortable berth at the Cow and Calf, and now here I am in my room, sitting by the open window, looking out over fields. I have not yet accustomed myself to the country, with its rich smell of flowers and grass. It seems strange to me after the salt tang of the sea, but I will grow used to it before long, I dare say, and I have no doubt I will soon be revelling in the joys of shore leave.

Friday 6 June

Harville and I made a good breakfast, and then we parted, he to go to Wiltshire, and I to go to Monkford. He left first, on the stage, and I had to wait an hour for the coach that was to carry me onwards. It arrived at the inn in a great hurry, pausing only long enough to change horses, disgorge three passengers, take up two more, myself and a young man who sat outside, and then depart at the same riotous pace. I took my place inside, being in funds, and was soon thrown about by the speed and the poor condition of the road, but as a very pretty farmer’s daughter was thrown into my lap I could not regret it. Her mother looked at me disapprovingly, but we could none of us help laughing when another pothole sent her into my lap as well! Restraint being thus broken, we began to talk, and it soon emerged that they had a cousin at sea. The time passed quickly as we talked of battles and promotion, and it was a surprise to me when it was time for me to leave the stage.

I looked about me, to get my bearings, and found I had some distance to cover on foot, but I was glad of the exercise after spending so long confined. I passed through Uppercross, which I had expected to be larger from my brother’s description, but which turned out to be merely a moderate-sized village, with yeomen’s houses, a high-walled mansion, and a parsonage. I wondered if my brother lived in something similar, and hoped it was so, for although the parsonage was a small house, it had its own neat garden, with a vine and a pear tree trained round the casements.

I came at last to Monkford, and found myself a subject of interest to the two dames and three little boys I passed, the latter falling into line some way behind me. I looked about me for my brother’s house, and at last I asked a gentleman coming towards me where Mr Wentworth, the curate, lived. He gave me directions, and I soon found myself at the gate.

My eye ran over the house with interest. It was not as fine as the parsonage at Uppercross, being much smaller, and without a vine, but it had a good aspect, and I was in high spirits as I knocked at the door. The servant answered and told me that his master was not at home, having not known exactly when to expect me, but that he could be found in the church. I left my belongings in the hall and went in search of him.

The church was a modest size, but in a good state of repair, which spoke well of its parishioners. As I went in, Edward saw me and gave me a hearty welcome. He finished his business, and then we left the church together.

As we walked back to his house along the dusty road, I told him all my news, of the ships I had sailed in and the captains I had sailed under, of the battle of St Domingo and my promotion to commander, and in return I listened to his tales of sermons and services, of neighbours and parishioners. I could not help laughing at the difference.

‘What! One of your neighbours climbed over your wall uninvited last month? What a calamity! I do not know how you survived the excitement!’

‘A pretty time you have had of it!’ Edward retorted. ‘Never knowing where you would be in a few hours’ time, and whether you would be alive or dead. I would rather be safe in my parish with my garden and my books, my home and my church, than tossing about on the open sea in a flimsy wooden boat. You were always the bold one, Frederick.’

‘And why not? The war has made it possible for men of ability and ambition to rise in the world, and I mean to use the opportunities it has given me to make my fortune. Ah! the limitless horizons, both at sea and on land, the battles to be fought, the prizes to be won. I will be a wealthy man soon, and I mean to own an estate before I am done.’

‘And then be off again the minute you have bought it! You will never settle on land, you will find it too dull. I believe you will scarcely be able to tolerate your shore leave. I can offer you no battles, unless you wish to frighten my parishioners into listening to my sermons instead of whispering about each other’s bonnets, and I can offer you no glory, save the glory of being a novelty, to be examined and talked over like a prize bull at a fair.’

‘It is enough. I have had my fill of battles for the time being, and I am ready for variety. A man may grow weary of the sea as well as anything else, and I will fight all the better for the change. Besides, I mean to enjoy myself whilst I am here, and to do all the things I cannot do on board ship. I mean to ride and walk and explore the countryside, and I am looking forward to meeting your neighbours. You have told me a great deal about them in your letters and I cannot wait to make their acquaintance. I hope there are some pretty girls hereabouts!’

‘I have never noticed.’

‘Come, now, even a curate notices a pretty face,’ I said.

‘If you had been plagued by every spinster from sixteen to sixty for the last twelvemonth, as I have, you would not be so eager to attract their notice. If they are not offering to arrange flowers in the church, they are baking me cakes, much to my housekeeper’s annoyance. “Do they think I don’t know how to bake a cake?” she asks. It is all I can do to keep her from leaving me; I have to soothe her ruffled feathers at least once a week.’

‘They may bake as many cakes for me as they wish, though I wonder they do not have servants to do it for them.’

‘They are most of them too poor to employ more than a maid of all work, so that most of them take their turn in the kitchen from time to time,’ said Edward.

‘And which of your spinsters is the prettiest, do you think?’

‘If you must have it, Miss Welling is thought to be very pretty, and Miss Elliot is held to be handsome. She, though, is a baronet’s daughter, and I doubt if she has ever seen the inside of a kitchen in her life. She will not pay any attention to you, commander or no. You will be beneath her notice.’

‘Ah, yes, I recollect you mentioning the Elliots. It was Sir Walter Elliot who asked you if you were a member of the Strafford Wentworths, I recollect, and cut you when you replied that you were not,’ I said.

‘He did not cut me, he simply remarked that he was astonished the names of the nobility were becoming so common, and then passed on.’

‘Fine talk, when he is nothing more than a baronet. I have no time for such people. They do nothing useful, but give themselves airs because of the achievements of their ancestors. They are a spent force.’

‘Then I pray you will tell him so, and ruin my standing in the neighbourhood.’ Edward snorted.

‘Never fear, the Navy has not rid me of all my manners, or all my common sense, but I will take the liberty of thinking it.’

Upon asking him when I might have a chance of seeing Miss Elliot for myself, he told me that we were invited to a soirée tomorrow evening, and that Sir Walter intended to grace it with his presence.

‘And has Miss Elliot any handsome sisters?’

‘Two. Miss Elliot—Elizabeth—is the eldest, after which come Miss Anne and Miss Mary, though the latter is very young and is away at school.’

‘And Miss Welling? Does she have any sisters?’

‘An elder sister, who is married, and a younger one, who is not.’

‘Splendid! Four handsome young ladies to meet. I believe I am going to enjoy my time here!’

Saturday 7 June

I rose with the dawn and went to the stables, but nothing there took my fancy and I decided to buy a horse. I told my brother of my intention and he said it was hardly worth my while as I will soon be back at sea, but I was determined to have one, and I walked into Crewkherne after breakfast for that very purpose. I saw several horses, but none of them caught my eye, and I was about to walk away when Limming, who was conducting the auction there, told me of a chestnut he knew, which was to be sold on account of its owner having lost heavily at cards. He promised to have the animal for me on Monday, and I agreed to take a look at it.

When I returned to Monkford I had luncheon with my brother and I told him about the horse.

‘And can you afford it?’ he asked.

‘Of course I can. I have my prize money. I can afford ten such horses,’ I told him.

‘You do not think it too extravagant?’

‘What is money for, if not to spend and enjoy?’

‘To give to the poor,’ he said, taking another glass of wine.

‘It is a wonder to me how our mother could have had two such different sons!’ I exclaimed. ‘But to please you, brother, I will make a contribution to the poor-box. Are you satisfied?’

‘For the time being,’ he said.

After our meal, I explored the countryside whilst he attended to his duties in the parish. We met again in the evening and prepared to attend the party at the Honourable Mrs Fenning’s.

‘A new suit of clothes?’ he asked, as he cast his eye over me from head to foot when I joined him downstairs. ‘No, do not tell me,’ he said, as I opened my mouth. ‘Prize money!’

‘It is there for the taking, if a man has courage to fight for it. There are French ships just waiting to be captured, and as soon as I have my own vessel, I mean to take a dozen!’

‘You will need a steady supply if you continue to spend your money as quickly as you make it.’

I laughed at him and his caution and clapped him on the back, and told him to join the Navy and sail the seas with me. He returned with a desire that I would remain ashore and give myself to the church, and we set out for the party in perfect amity.

The Honourable Mrs Fenning’s house was a large mansion on the outskirts of Monkford, not as grand as the mansion house at Uppercross, but impressive nonetheless. I looked about me as I went in, thinking that I would like to buy something similar when I had taken a few more French ships. Mrs Fenning welcomed us cordially, and my brother and I went into the ballroom. I glanced around, and saw that there were already a number of people there.

‘And who are all these people?’ I asked my brother, then said: ‘No, let me guess.’ My eyes alighted on a good-looking man of perhaps forty or forty-five years of age. His hair was swept back in the latest fashion and he was dressed with the greatest style. ‘That must be Sir Walter Elliot,’ I said. ‘And the gentleman next to him is ... ?’

‘Mr Poole, with his daughter, Miss Poole.’ Miss Poole was a plain lady of indeterminate age. ‘And the young lady next to Sir Walter—’

‘Is his daughter Elizabeth,’ I said. ‘You are right, brother, she is very handsome.’

Edward was uncomfortable, and said with an embarrassed laugh, ‘That is not Miss Elliot. Sir Walter’s daughters are not here tonight, they are indisposed. A soaking at a picnic has given them a chill. No, the lady next to him is Miss Cordingale. We all thought he would marry Lady Russell when his wife died, for Lady Russell is a widow, they are old friends and they are of an age, but—’

‘Sir Walter, like many men before him, wanted a younger wife. It is the way of the world,’ I said.

Mr Poole stepped forward and spoke to my brother, then greeted me. We exchanged pleasantries, then he introduced me to Sir Walter.

Sir Walter looked at me with a critical eye.

‘You have just won your promotion, I am told,’ he said, in a stately manner. ‘I must congratulate you ...’ I was about to say that it was nothing, that I had only done what any sailor would do, and that I was proud to serve my country, when he continued: ‘... you have kept your complexion remarkably well. There are signs of leatheriness, of course, but it is not yet ruined. It will soon be destroyed, however, for an outdoor life is, above all things, an enemy to the skin. I would advise you to wear a hat, sir, and a veil, when in sunny climes.’

‘Thank you, but I believe I must carry on without them, for there is no time to think about veils in the heat of battle. There is a ship to be manoeuvred and an enemy to subdue.’

‘A sad comment on the preoccupations of the naval man,’ he said. ‘With a tolerable figure, the uniform is not unbecoming, but a ruddy complexion ruins all.’

‘But think of what good work the Navy does in protecting us!’ said Mr Poole, turning to me apologetically. ‘Without such courageous men, we would have been overrun by Napoleon long ago.’

‘So the newspapers would have us believe, but who writes them? Gentlemen? I think not,’ said Sir Walter. ‘There is not a single man of note amongst such scribblers.’

‘So there is not,’ said Miss Poole, much struck. ‘You are right, Sir Walter, there is not a one.’

‘Believe me, Mr Poole, it will take more than a French rabble to overrun England. One Englishman is worth ten Frenchmen,’ said Sir Walter.

‘Ordinarily, perhaps, but under the guidance of Napoleon Bonaparte, who knows? He seems intent on subduing Europe, and so far, he is succeeding. The man is a monster!’ Mr Poole was brave enough to remark.

‘How can one expect otherwise, when his father is a lawyer?’ returned Sir Walter, not to be outdone. ‘It is not to be supposed that he would act with propriety. On the contrary, he was destined from an early age to run contrary to everything that is decent and good.’

Miss Poole bobbed and smiled at Sir Walter’s side in silent flattery, mutely agreeing with every word, whilst Mr Poole looked as though he was about to speak and then thought better of it.

‘Nevertheless he has managed to make himself emperor,’ I remarked.

‘Any man may make himself an emperor, but an emperor is not a king. It takes centuries of breeding to make a king,’ returned Sir Walter.

‘And to make a baronet!’ remarked Miss Poole breathlessly.

Sir Walter rewarded this perspicacious remark with a regal smile, and I made my bow and moved on, glad to leave Sir Walter behind.

I was introduced to a succession of other guests, amongst whom were Mr Shepherd, a local lawyer, and his daughter; Mrs Layne; and Mr Denton. Then I took my place, for the music was about to begin.

Mrs Fenning had hired a harpist and I listened attentively, until the sight of Miss Welling dropping her fan attracted my attention. From her glance in my direction, I suspected the incident was not altogether accidental, and that it had been intended to attract my notice. She was a very pretty young woman, as my brother had said, with soft fair hair and a most engaging figure, and I looked forward to speaking to her after the music was finished.

I was not disappointed, and we engaged in an agreeable flirtation before the evening came to an end.

Sunday 8 June

The worthies of the neighbourhood were all at church today, with Sir Walter paying a great deal of attention to Miss Cordingale, much to Miss Poole’s chagrin. However, as Miss Cordingale blushed prettily when Mr Sidders glanced in her direction, and as Mr Sidders is a young man of about her own age, very handsome, and with a large fortune, I fear Sir Walter will have to look elsewhere for a bride. Perhaps Miss Poole will have him yet!

There were some pretty farmers’ daughters in church, and three young ladies whose smiles brightened the morning as I was introduced to them outside, after the service. To my surprise, I found I was enjoying my shore leave even more than my time at sea!

Monday 9 June

I saw the chestnut this morning and was very taken with it. The price asked was too high, but after some haggling I bought it for a reasonable sum. My brother shook his head, asking what I would do with it when I returned to sea, but nevertheless, he had to admit it was a fine animal.

This evening we attended a private ball at the house of Mr and Mrs Durbeville, a couple of impeccable ancestry and fortune, or so my brother informed me. I found them to be agreeable people, and not above their company, for they welcomed me warmly and hoped I would enjoy the ball.

I recognized a number of people as I walked in. I saw the Pooles, and then my eye fell on one of the pretty young ladies I had met outside the church, Miss Denton, and I led her onto the floor. So well did I like dancing with her, that I asked her for another dance later in the evening. She blushed prettily and expressed herself delighted to accept.

There followed a minuet with Miss Welling, who flirted most agreeably, but alas! the farmers’ daughters were not there, so I had to content myself with Mrs Layne for the next dance. She regaled me with talk of her children, and I believe I managed to sound interested in all their myriad virtues, before the dance was over and I found myself once again standing with my brother at the side of the room.

I soon found my eye drawn to Sir Walter Elliot, who had just arrived, and who was standing next to Mr Poole at the other side of the room. He was marvellously turned out again, his clothes just so, and topped with a handsome head that had been primped and preened by his valet. There was a handsome young lady next to him, and I remarked to my brother: ‘Another of Sir Walter’s amours?’

‘No, that is his daughter, Miss Elliot.’

I could see why she had a reputation for beauty. Her face and figure were both good, and there was something about her carriage that showed she knew her own place in the world. I was much taken with her, and began to cross the room, intending to ask Mr Poole to perform the necessary introduction. As I approached, however, I heard her speaking to her companion, a poor, dowdy creature, in the most slighting way. Her father encouraged her in this behaviour, and it gave me such a disgust of them that I changed the direction of my steps ever so little, and approached the companion instead. A set was forming, and I asked her, ‘Might I have the honour of this dance?’

Sir Walter looked at me as though I had confirmed all his worst suspicions about those beneath the rank of baronet, and his daughter was no more pleased. The companion started, coloured slightly, looked doubtingly at Miss Elliot, and then, with a hesitant ‘Thank you,’ took my arm.

I noticed several surprised glances from those around us as I took her onto the floor.

‘You should not have asked me to dance,’ she said mildly, as we took our places in the set. ‘We have not yet been introduced.’

‘Then why did you accept?’ I asked.

She coloured, and I thought that, although she did not have Miss Elliot’s striking beauty, she was extremely pretty, with her delicate features and dark eyes.

‘I hardly know, unless it is because I have so few opportunities to dance that I cannot afford to ignore one,’ she said.

I was about to feel sorry for her, when a spark in her eye showed me that her words, although no doubt true, were uttered with a spirit of mischief, and I found myself growing more pleased with my choice of partner.

‘You should not allow your mistress to dictate to you. Even a companion has a right to some entertainment once in a while,’ I said, as we began to dance.

Her eyes widened, then she said, ‘What makes you think I am Miss Elliot’s companion?’

‘I have not been at sea so long that I have forgotten how to detect a difference in rank,’ I said. ‘Even to my unpractised eye it is obvious. Your dress, whilst well cut, is not as elegant as Miss Elliot’s. You do not have her confidence or her air, and she speaks to you as though you are beneath her notice. Her father supports her in this, and encourages her to slight you. And then there is the fact that, as we walked onto the floor, you did not receive the deference from others that is her lot, indeed, they looked surprised to see that you had been chosen. You also have a shy and retiring disposition, suited to your role in life. But never fear,’ I went on kindly, ‘you are no doubt far more interesting than the beautiful Miss Elliot, for all she is the daughter of a baronet. And now, let us have done with Miss Elliot, I would rather talk of you. Have you lived in the neighbourhood for long?’

‘I have lived here all my life,’ she replied gravely.

‘That is a mercy. At least you have not been separated from your friends and family, in keeping with the cruel fate of most of your kind. Your mother and father are pleased to see you so well settled, I suppose?’

There was a small silence, and then she said: ‘My mother is dead.’

I cursed myself for my rough manners.

‘Forgive me. I have been a long time at sea, and I have forgotten how to behave in company. I have presumed too much on our short acquaintance, but please believe me when I say that I did not mean to distress you. Do you enjoy balls?’ I asked her, thinking that this would be a safe topic of conversation.

‘I like them very well. But you do not need to change the subject, and you must not worry that you have wounded me. My mother has been dead these five years. I miss her, but I have grown used to the pain.’

I was relieved, for I did not want to wound so delicate a creature.

‘And is your father living?’ I asked her, hoping that she was not an orphan, for then her lot in life would be hard indeed.

‘He is.’

‘That is a blessing. He is pleased to see you living at Kellynch Hall, I suppose?’ I asked.

‘Certainly. He regards it as the finest house in the neighbourhood.’

‘And he approves of the Elliots? He shares Sir Walter Elliot’s opinions and beliefs?’

‘I believe I may safely say that their thoughts coincide in every particular,’ she said.

Poor girl, I thought, if her father is another such a one as Sir Walter, but I did not say it. Instead, I asked her to tell me something of my new neighbours, in order to put her at her ease.

‘The lady to your left is Miss Scott,’ she said, indicating an elderly spinster of a timid disposition. ‘She is easily alarmed, and it is better not to speak to her about the war, for she lives in fear of the French invading England. Her sister sends her newspapers every month, telling her of some new threat, and I believe she will not rest easy until peace has been declared. Opposite is Mr Denton; he lives at Harton House. Next to him is Mrs Musgrove, and beyond her is Miss Neville.’

The dance was over all too soon. She had a surprising grace when she danced, which I found pleasing, and as a result of my attentions she had lost her downtrodden look. By the end of the dance, there was a light in her eye and some colour in her cheek, so that she was almost blooming. I escorted her to the side of the room and left her, reluctantly, with a displeased Miss Elliot, before rejoining Edward.

‘And what do you think of Miss Anne?’ he asked me.

I regarded him enquiringly.

‘Miss Anne Elliot,’ he elaborated.

‘I have not seen her. I assumed she was still at home with a chill,’ I said. ‘You must point her out to me—though if her father and sister are any indication, I do not think I wish to meet her. She will, no doubt, be proud and disagreeable, full of her own beauty and importance, and holding other people in contempt.’

‘But you have just been dancing with her!’ he said.

I was astonished.

‘What?’

I looked across the room at Miss Anne. She happened to glance round at that moment, and I caught her eye. Upon seeing me, she smiled and turned away.

‘So, that is Miss Anne!’ I exclaimed, as our conversation took on a whole new meaning. I could not help laughing. ‘I am beginning to enjoy my shore leave.’

‘I hope you are not thinking of a flirtation,’ said my brother. ‘She is very young, only nineteen, and no match for a man of your age and experience.’

‘Is she not, though? I think she is a very good match indeed. She has already given me one broadside, and I suspect she would be capable of giving me another.’

My brother looked at me doubtfully, but I clapped him on the back and told him not to worry, saying that I had no intention of harming the lady, but that a mild flirtation would help to pass the time until I return to the sea.

I am looking forward to it. I believe it will provide her with some much-needed attention, too. There is nothing like being singled out by an eligible bachelor to raise a young lady in the estimation of her friends.

Wednesday 11 June

I fell in with my brother’s idea of joining him on his duties around the village this morning, for I had nothing else to do. Whilst he pointed out the houses of every member of his congregation, and introduced me to those who were at their windows or in their gardens—which seemed to be all of them—I found myself wishing for a sight of Miss Anne Elliot. Unfortunately, the closest I came to such an encounter was when Sir Walter and Miss Elliot drove by in their carriage, going through a puddle and splashing my boots. Edward laughed, but I was not amused, for I had no servant, and when we returned to his house, I had to polish them myself.

This afternoon, after putting the shine back on my boots, I rode out into the country. I was enlivened by the sight of a milkmaid with rosy cheeks, who was carrying two pails across her shoulders by means of a yoke. I helped her to put it down as she took a drink at the well, and was rewarded with a kiss and a smile.

I was beginning to think that life in the country was very pleasant, and to understand why Edward had chosen to stay on shore, when an evening playing whist with the local worthies reminded me why I went to sea.

Friday 13 June

I rose early, full of energy, and was soon out of doors. How my brother could bear to lie in bed on such a beautiful morning I did not know. I walked through the village and then on into the country, going through fields and copses until I came to the river. I jumped it at its narrowest point, in the exuberance that comes with an early morning in summer, and went on, through verdant fields. I had just come to a small weir when a familiar figure came into view. Miss Anne Elliot was walking there, and she was coming towards me.

‘Commander Wentworth,’ she said.

There was a smile around the corners of her eyes, and it was clear she was thinking of our last encounter as much as I was.

‘I am surprised to see you here,’ I remarked as I drew level with her, determined to pay her back in her own coin, ‘for I was sure your duties as a companion would keep you inside, even on a morning as beautiful as this one. Can it be that Miss Elliot did not need you, or have you slipped out of the house whilst she is still abed? Do not neglect your obligations, I beg of you, lest you should find yourself turned out of the house. I would not like to see you made destitute for the sake of a morning’s stroll.’

She laughed up at me.

‘Are you very angry with me?’ she asked.

I smiled.

‘How could I be angry with you when you bested me in a fair fight? You would be of great value aboard a warship, Miss Elliot. Your tactics have the advantage of being both original and efficacious.’

‘It was too tempting!’ she said.

‘But what are you doing out at this hour, alone?’ I asked her. ‘I cannot believe your father would be pleased if he knew you were walking without a chaperon.’

‘On the contrary, he has no objection to my walking alone when I am on Elliot land.’

I started.

‘Yes, sir, you see, you are trespassing. The land as far as the river belongs to us.’

I thought of my leap across it, taken without any idea I was entering private lands.

‘I am glad I did not know, or I would not have come so far,’ I said. ‘But you are within your rights to throw me off. Well, are you going to call one of your gamekeepers to eject me, or are you, perhaps, going to rout me yourself?’

‘I believe I will ignore it for the moment,’ she said consideringly. ‘You have, after all, saved us from Napoleon. It was a great service, and as our fields still belong to us, rather than belonging to the French, then the least we can do in return is to allow you to stroll in them from time to time.’

‘Then, if you permit, I will accompany you on your walk.’

She nodded gracefully and we fell into step together. I limited my stride so that I could accommodate her own smaller step, and as I looked down, I noticed that she had small and very pretty feet, encased in blue kid shoes.

‘Do you often walk in the mornings?’ I asked her.

‘Always, if the weather permits,’ she said.

‘The exercise seems to suit you,’ I said, noticing the air of vitality about her. ‘Are you always so animated, so early in the day?’

She coloured slightly, and I confess I felt a surge of vanity, as I guessed it was my attentions, and not the earliness of the hour, that had brought the bloom to her cheek. I took pity on her embarrassment, however, saying: ‘Perhaps you are remembering the assembly on Friday, and how enlivening it was? Or can it be that you are one of those souls who are always happier out of doors?’

‘I believe I do prefer it,’ she acknowledged.

‘And I. I feel trapped indoors, hemmed in, but then I am used to the open sea and the endless horizon. Have you ever been to sea, Miss Elliot?’

‘I have been on pleasure trips around the bay at several beauty spots, but never any farther.’

‘And how did you like it?’

‘I liked it very well. It was invigorating to feel the wind in my face, and to feel the spray. I wondered, at the time, whether life was like that for sailors, who live on a ship all the time, or did it become commonplace? Do you take pleasure in the elements, Commander Wentworth, or are they something to be battled against, or simply ignored?’

‘On occasion the sea is our enemy, but usually the open air, the wind and the sun are exhilarating.’

‘But is it not confining, also, to be on board a ship? It must be frustrating to be full of energy and yet unable to go anywhere.’

‘Unable to go anywhere?’ I exclaimed. ‘I cannot allow it. On a ship, one is able to go everywhere!’

‘I mean that you cannot walk very far, for if you do so, you will fall overboard.’

‘There is something in what you say, though with new sights always on the horizon, there is never any urge to walk very far.’

‘I can understand it must be so when you are within sight of land, but surely it is not the same when you are in the middle of the ocean?’ she asked.

‘Yes, even there. Every wave is different—a different colour, a different size—and the sails are constantly changing as they belly out or shrink with the wind. And then there is the thrill of knowing that at any minute an enemy ship might come into sight and chase us, or else present us with a tempting target to run down.’

‘I confess I should find that alarming.’

As she said it her shawl slipped down into the crook of her elbow, and I was distracted by the smoothness of her arm, so that it took me some time to answer. She turned questioning eyes on me, and I noticed how deep-set they were, and how attractive.

‘Do you not find it alarming also?’ she asked.

‘Not at all!’ I said, recollecting myself. ‘An enemy ship is nothing very terrible. On the contrary, it offers a man a chance to defend his country, and to seize a prize. There is a great deal of prize money to be won on the high seas, Miss Elliot, and, with the war, promotion comes quickly to those who are willing to take advantage of the opportunities on offer.’

‘You have already taken advantage of them, I believe. Your brother told us that you have been recently promoted.’

‘That is so.’

‘It was in consequence of the action off St Domingo, was it not?’

‘Indeed. Ah, that was a battle! The French were aiming to disrupt our trade, for there was little else they could do after we had decimated their fleet at Trafalgar. With their plans of invasion destroyed, they sailed for the West Indies. We gave chase, and at last we caught up with them. Then there were some spoils! Five French ships, all captured or driven ashore. A good day for England.’

‘And a good day for you.’

‘Yes. I was awarded my own command, and I had my share of the prize money.’

She listened attentively, and then said, ‘I hear the action crippled the French Navy.’

‘You seem to be knowledgeable about the war,’ I said, surprised at the depth of her information, for few young ladies had any interest in anything beyond their immediate neighbourhood.

‘I can hardly fail to be interested, since my fate and the fate of all around me depend on the outcome. If Napoleon invades, I fear England will be very different, and I, for one, should not like to see it.’

‘Have no fear, we will keep you safe,’ I assured her. ‘The French Navy is not completely destroyed, alas, for they still have more than thirty ships, and they are building more to replace those they lost, but the threat of invasion is behind us, at least for now. It will take them a long time to recover from the recent blows we have dealt them, and you can continue to take your walks in peace.’

‘I confess I am glad.’ She stopped and looked about her. ‘I like nothing better than to stroll out of doors in the summer.’

It was easy to see why. The English countryside, in all its verdancy, was encompassed in her gaze. There were fields and hedgerows, and the winding river flanked by placid banks. A small beach of sand was set in a hollow where the river curved, and, farther along, the water was transparent as it flowed over shallows, revealing the white and brown pebbles that littered the bottom.

‘This is the end of Elliot land,’ she said.

‘Then I must take my leave.’

I was reluctant to do so, however, and delayed my departure by asking her if she would be at the assembly rooms tomorrow. She replied that she would, and, able to find no reason to detain her further, I expressed a hope of seeing her there and made my bow.

As I walked away from her, I resisted the urge to look back, though I was sorely tempted. I wanted to see her standing there in her sprigged muslin, with her shawl draped over her arms, and the sunlight catching the side of her hair. I wanted, too—let me confess it!—to see if her eyes followed me.

I made my way to Edward’s house, and found him at breakfast.

‘Where have you been so early?’ he asked.

‘For a walk.’

‘I wish I had half your energy. I have a busy couple of days ahead of me, and I think I will forgo a visit to the assembly rooms tomorrow.’

‘Come now, you cannot ignore your neighbours, and who will the ladies dance with if you deprive them of two bachelors, for married men scarcely ever take to the floor?’

‘Most of the married men hereabouts are agreeable to dancing,’ Edward said.

‘Nevertheless, I must have you go.’

‘And why, pray, is that?’ he asked, helping himself to a rasher of ham.

‘It is only polite. Besides, I met Miss Anne Elliot whilst out walking, and discovered that she will be there.’

‘I hope you do not mean to pursue her, Frederick. It can come to nothing, and might harm her reputation.’

‘You think too much of such things. All right! All right!’ I laughed, as I saw him about to give me a sermon. ‘I will not damage her reputation, you may be sure. It will tread carefully, and treat her with the utmost respect. It will not ask her to dance more than twice, and I will not seek her out, or at least, not any more than is consistent with propriety. But I have a mind to dance with her, and as it would look odd if I were to go to the assembly rooms without you, I must beg you to find the energy.’

‘I am surprised at your preference. I cannot think what you see in her. I thought Miss Neville would be more to your taste,’ he remarked.

‘I like Miss Neville, too,’ I said, ‘but Miss Anne is better informed, and likes the sea very well!’

‘But will not live on it.’

‘You mistake the matter if you think I have marriage in mind. What, to throw myself away at the age of twenty-three, with ten years of danger and excitement before me? But I like the way she looks at me when I talk of the battles I have seen, and the ships I have captured. She is a very intelligent girl.’

‘Ah, I see, you fancy her a Desdemona to your Othello, a young girl enraptured by your tales of adventure in far away lands. Now I understand.’

‘I hope not,’ I said with a laugh, taking a slice of beef as I found myself hungry after my walk. ‘I am not a general, nor am I very much older than Anne. And if I ever show any inclination to strangle her, I hope you will knock me down! But come, Edward, I have given you my word I will not harm her. Indeed, I have no doubt my attentions will do her a world of good. They will give her confidence, and show her that her family’s estimation of her worth is not a general thing.’

‘If I had known your intentions were so charitable, I would not have objected in the first place. It is very kind of you to take such trouble over a downtrodden young lady,’ remarked Edward ironically.

‘Would you have me forgo the pleasure of getting to know her? You have always wanted safety, Edward, and I have never stood in the way of that, but I have always courted adventure. Let me make it where I may.’

‘If you can find it at the assembly rooms, then you are welcome to it!’ he retorted.

‘Rest assured, I will.’

They may not be as stimulating as a naval battle, but my encounters with Miss Anne were proving to be just as enjoyable, in their own way.

Monday 16 June

I found myself thinking of the assembly with some anticipation, and as the afternoon wore on, I became impatient for the evening. I was disappointed when I walked into the rooms and saw that Miss Anne Elliot was not there.

I overcame my disappointment, however, and passed the first two dances pleasantly enough by dancing with Miss Riversage. Her wit made her an agreeable partner to begin with, but it descended into spite before the dance was over, and I was glad to lead her from the floor.

Miss Welling caught my eye, and I could not resist the unspoken invitation. Her elegant figure made her an agreeable partner, and her dancing did not disgrace me. On the contrary, not a few eyes followed us down the room. She had a great deal of charm as well as beauty, and entertained me with talk of art and books. I was about to continue our conversation at the side of the room, but her mother’s speculative eyes upon me showed me that I was in some danger of being regarded as a suitor, and that was something I did not want. So, after thanking her for the pleasure of dancing with her, I beat a hasty retreat.

‘What! Are you afraid of Mrs Welling?’ asked Edward, much amused at my sudden appearance by his side.

‘She has a calculating look in her eye. I went into the Navy of my own free will, and I have no intention of allowing myself to be press-ganged into marriage,’ I returned.

The next two dances I danced with Miss Bradley, whose company was all the more agreeable to me when I learned that she was all but engaged, and then I retired to the side of the room. As I took a drink from the tray of a passing footman, I found myself at the edge of two groups, and I could not help overhearing both conversations.

‘... he is the best son a mother ever had. Ay, my Dick is a handsome lad, and as good as you could wish for,’ said a proud woman of middle age, who was standing to my right.

A gentleman to my left was not so fortunate in his offspring.

‘... the boy’s always in trouble,’ I heard him grumble. ‘If it is not one thing, it is another ...’

‘... not that he is perfect,’ continued the fond mother. ‘I would not wish any mother a perfect son. He is not above a bit of mischief, but that is all it is, and what I say is, a boy isn’t a boy if he doesn’t get into mischief now and again ...’

‘... his mother is far too complacent, she refuses to see that the boy is getting out of hand and needs discipline. It is all very well sending him to school, but when he is at home in the holidays he is getting beyond control. I am all for sending him into the Army, or better yet, the Navy. That will stop him trespassing on other people’s property ...’

‘... he can climb any wall, no matter how high. A boy should be able to climb, and he’s so good at it, he never takes a tumble, but his father is always complaining ...’

‘... going into our neighbours’ gardens and stealing apples ...’

‘... never takes anything from the tree, of course, it’s nothing but windfalls, but his father will make a fuss ...’ she said.

‘... fighting with the other boys ...’ remarked the father.

‘... very good at his boxing, I do think it is so important for a boy to know the gentlemanly arts. Ah, yes, my Dick’s a good boy ...’

‘... and I intend to pack Dick off to the Army or Navy before the year is out, whether his mother likes it or not ...’

I began to laugh as I realized that the two sons were the same, viewed from a mother’s and a father’s point of view. I hoped Master Dick would not find himself in the Navy, where he would no doubt plague his captain—though if he was good at climbing he might, perhaps, be useful in the rigging!

I was about to return my empty glass to a passing footman when I caught sight of something much more interesting out of the corner of my eye: Miss Anne Elliot. She was being ignored by her father and sister, who were congratulating each other on their looks, and was standing quietly by their sides.

I went over to her.

‘Something has amused you,’ she said, when I had made my bow.

I told her about the excellent and troublesome son, and she told me that the happy couple was Mr and Mrs Musgrove, who lived in the Great House at Uppercross, and were newly returned from Clifton. She further enlightened me that Dick was the boy who had trespassed on my brother’s property a few weeks ago.

‘I had no idea this was such a place for criminal activity. You must tell me more about it whilst we dance, for I need to be prepared,’ I said.

‘You have not asked me yet,’ she returned.

‘Would you do me the honour?’ I asked her.

‘Thank you,’ she said, making me a curtsey, and we went onto the floor in high spirits.

I danced two dances with her, and found that we drew many eyes, some curious, some pleased, and some—those of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot—contemptuous. Anne took no notice of them, however, for she never faltered, and I found her company as well as her dancing exhilarating. We never stopped talking, about art, about music, about her work in the parish and my life at sea.

I was forced to relinquish her hand to a lawyer, a dull fellow, when our dance was over, and then she danced with a baronet. I was far less pleased with this partner for her, and I found it hard to take my eyes from them.

‘You had better look elsewhere,’ said my brother, coming up to me. ‘Your attentions are starting to be marked.’

‘I may look at the dancers, I suppose. It is only what everyone else does.’

‘The dancers, yes, if it is all of them, but you do nothing but look at Miss Anne—and scowl at her partners, I might add.’

‘I do nothing of the sort.’ I tried to turn my eyes away from them, but found it impossible. ‘Who is he?’ I asked.

‘Sir Matthew Cruickshank. He is visiting relatives in the neighbourhood.’

‘So he is not resident here?’

‘No, he resides in Gloucestershire. He will be returning tomorrow.’

‘He looks a very agreeable man,’ I said, in high humour at the knowledge that he would soon be leaving, particularly as it was evident that he and Anne had exhausted their supply of pleasantries, and had nothing further to say to each other.

‘Will you be taking her in to supper?’ asked Edward.

‘Of course.’

‘Then make sure you talk to your neighbour at the other side of you as well,’ he cautioned. ‘You do not want to draw attention to yourself, or to her.’

‘I hope I know how to behave.’

‘So do I,’ he remarked, and was then claimed by Mr Cox, who wished to introduce him to a young lady visiting relatives in the neighbourhood.

As I approached Miss Anne, I was gratified to see an increase in her animation as she saw me walking towards her, and to know that she wanted to go in to supper with me, as much as I with her.

I remembered my brother’s words, and I engaged my neighbours in conversation, which was not difficult as the subject under discussion was a general one, that of Napoleon.

‘There will be no easy victory, I fear,’ said Miss Anne.

‘On the contrary, the war will be over by Christmas,’ asserted Sir Walter, showing no compunction in silencing her in front of the assembled company. I saw her flush, and I felt I would like to have Sir Walter on my ship for a few weeks, to show him the meaning of hard work and the value of respect.

As that was impossible, I came to Anne’s defence, saying, ‘I hope it may be so, but Napoleon is not the type of man to surrender, and his influence is spread so wide, that I believe the war will last for at least the next few years.’

She flashed me a smile of thanks, which more than recompensed me.

Sir Walter, however, was not pleased to be contradicted.

‘Depend upon it, he will be defeated by Christmas,’ he said, more firmly than before.

‘Oh, yes, by Christmas,’ said Miss Poole, nodding vigorously. ‘You are so right, Sir Walter, I am sure it must be so. With our splendid officers fighting against him, it cannot be long before he sues for peace.’

Anne looked down at her plate, but I could see that she was smiling at Miss Poole’s blatant flattery.

‘I cannot abide to talk about war,’ said Miss Elliot, stifling a yawn. ‘It is the most boring of subjects. I believe we must have the yellow room redecorated, Papa, for Mr Elliot’s visit. It is looking shabby, and besides, there is some wallpaper I have seen in Ackerman’s Repository that would look very well. We should have the bed-hangings replaced, and a new carpet as well.’

‘Yes, my dear, I believe you are right. We must not neglect to show him any courtesy, for we do not want him to think that Kellynch Hall is deficient in any way. As the heir presumptive, he will have a natural interest in its upkeep. I believe we should have the drawing-room redecorated as well.’

They continued to discuss their ideas for the improvement of their ancestral home, whilst Miss Poole nodded vigorously and interjected, ‘Oh, yes!’ or, ‘How wonderful!’ every few minutes, and I was free to turn my attention back to Miss Anne.

We had an interesting discussion of the latest books, comparing Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border with his latest work, The Lay of the Last Minstrel. It would have been less invigorating, however, if it had not been accompanied by her changing expressions, sparkling eyes and frequent smiles.

All too soon, supper came to an end. Reluctantly, I gave up her company as we returned to the ballroom, and I saw her dancing with a fellow called Lauderdale. I was introduced to two young ladies whose names now escape me, and I did my duty, partnering them on the dance floor, but my heart was not in it, and I made a poor companion.

The evening came to an end. I hoped to snatch a few words with Miss Anne, but it was impossible, and I could do no more than catch a glimpse of her as she left, looking as pretty as she had done when she arrived.

Tuesday 24 June

This morning brought a letter from Sophia.

‘I wish our sister would not sail the high seas with her husband, but would settle down on shore,’ Edward grumbled, as he took the letter from the salver. ‘I do not say she should have remained at Deal, but she should have settled near here, in Plymouth, perhaps. It is a fine port, with some respectable houses, and she would not have been lonely, for I would have been able to visit her regularly.’

‘As if the occasional visit from a brother could compensate her for the lack of a husband!’ I snorted, as I helped myself to a plate of ham and eggs. ‘She did not marry Benjamin only to part from him. You know how much she worried when he was away in the North. She could not sleep at night for anxiety about him, fancying him lying on deck, injured or dead, and in the daytime it was no better, for she could not eat because of the same fears. I stayed with her when I had a spell of shore leave, you will remember, and she had never looked paler or thinner. She suffered from all manner of imaginary complaints, and I believe she would have worried herself to death had she not decided to go with him the next time he sailed.’

‘But the seasickness,’ Edward protested.

‘She never suffers from it, at least not after the first twenty-four hours, and there is no healthier life than a life spent at sea.’

‘It must be very uncomfortable for a woman, whatever you say,’ he remarked.

‘Sophia is not just any woman, she is my sister, and she has her share of the Wentworth spirit—’

‘Which I have not?’ he interjected.

‘We cannot all be the same,’ I said kindly, feeling sorry for him that he did not have our bravery.

‘Thank you,’ he returned drily.

‘Besides, I am beginning to think it is a good thing you have no taste for the ocean. With our parents dead and Sophia at sea, where would I go on my shore leave if you were not on dry land?’

‘I am glad I can be of service to you. I took the curacy on purpose,’ he remarked, as he spread out the letter next to him and helped himself to another rasher of ham. ‘I confess, though, that she seems happy. I thought she would soon tire of the life, and urge her husband to put her ashore, but her letter is cheerful enough,’ he went on, beginning to read it to me.

‘And why should it not be? Think of all the places she has seen, and all the things she has done. She has experienced far more of life than she would have done if she had married Mr Wantage, as you wished.’

‘I? Wish her to marry Mr Wantage? You jest. I never liked him. It is just that I thought she would be safer with a lawyer than a sailor. Even now, I cannot think a warship is a suitable accommodation for my sister.’

‘There is nothing finer. She will live like a queen,’ I assured him.

He continued with the letter, in which Sophia mentioned my visit and said that she hoped I had arrived safely, before passing on her hopes that I would soon be given a ship of my own, then she concluded her letter with her best wishes for our health and happiness.

Having finished his breakfast, Edward penned a reply. I added a postscript and it was sent without delay.

‘Though when it will reach her, I am sure I do not know,’ he said.

‘Depend upon it, it will be welcome whenever it arrives. There is nothing better than a reminder of home when one is on the other side of the world. It brings back pleasant thoughts of friends and family, and is treasured up to be read again in quiet moments.’

We talked over our plans for the morning, and I left my brother to his parish duties whilst I set out for a ride. It took the edge off my energy, and this afternoon I went into town to see to some business. I had hoped for an outing this evening, but, no invitations having been issued, I spent a quiet evening with my brother, playing chess. It was a novelty, but, I confess, many such evenings would try my patience sorely. It is a good thing my brother went into the church, and not I!