Captain Wentworth's Diary

Tuesday 5 August

I have kept my word to my brother, and I have not seen Miss Anne for a week. As the Elliots do not intend to go to the picnic, that will account for another few days out of her company, and after that, I believe I may safely speak to her again without arousing suspicion.

Friday 8 August

There was a heat haze shimmering over the fields when I rose this morning. It made me wish for the sea, for there is nothing better than a fresh ocean breeze on a hot summer’s day.

I rode out before breakfast and revelled in the feel of the wind on my face. It reminded me of the exhilaration of standing on the prow of a ship in the early morning, with the air rushing by, and I found myself wondering which ship I would be given to command. I felt myself growing restless for a return to the sea. My own ship! My own crew! A new life, and new challenges, with all the world before me, mine for the taking.

When I returned home, however, my restlessness vanished, for my brother remarked that the Elliots would be joining us on the picnic after all.

‘It seems they have heard a rumour that Mr William Walter Elliot will be in the neighbourhood of our beauty spot, and they wish to stage an accidental meeting, no doubt to invite him to Kellynch Hall again,’ he said.

‘Where do you hear such things?’ I asked him in surprise.

‘I have just come back from a visit to old Mrs Winters, who is bedridden, and who always enjoys my company. Her daughter is a maid at Kellynch Hall, and, it being her afternoon off yesterday, she told her mother all about it.’

‘Do servants know everything?’ I asked.

‘You have been too long at sea if you do not know the answer to that question!’ he said.

‘It will be interesting to see him, and to see how he behaves,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Will he welcome the meeting or will he be annoyed by it, do you think?’

‘He will be surprised, whatever the case, and surprises are always awkward things,’ said Edward. ‘I wish they had stood by their decision not to come.’

I could not agree with him, and so I kept my peace.

We set out, I riding my chestnut and my brother on a hired mount. I offered to buy him something better with the remains of my prize money, but he would not hear of it, saying he rode seldom and could not afford to keep a horse even if I gave one to him.

We joined the rest of the party in the centre of Uppercross, and set off in procession. I resisted the urge to ride beside Miss Anne’s carriage, though I was sorely tempted, for she was wearing the freshest gown of white muslin. I noticed her hands particularly, in their white gloves, and I thought how I could easily enfold both of them in one of mine. My eyes rose to her face, which was framed by her hat, and I thought I had never seen her look more enchanting.

When we arrived at the beauty spot, I could wait no longer and, having given my horse into the care of one of the grooms, I went over to her and asked her how she had liked the journey.

‘Was your carriage comfortable?’ I asked her.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said with a smile.

‘You were not jolted over too many potholes? That is the worst of a dry summer, the roads are rutted and full of holes.’

She assured me she had not been thrown about.

‘Would you care for a walk?’ I asked her. ‘It is refreshing, after an hour spent in a carriage.’

‘Yes, I believe I would.’

I offered her my arm. She took it, and as her fingers closed about it, I found myself rejoicing in the day; so much so, that Lady Russell’s disapproving look did not pierce my glow of happiness.

‘You have been here before?’ I asked her, as we began to take a stroll, whilst the servants took the rugs out of the carriages and the grooms took the horses out of the shafts.

‘Yes, several times. The view from the top of the hill is renowned for its beauty. It draws people from miles around, particularly in the summer months when the fields are at their brightest.’

‘Then let us go and see it.’

I was hoping that the others would find the prospect of a walk up the remainder of the hill too much, but the Pooles and the Laynes fell in with us, saying that they felt the climb would be worthwhile in order to see the view. We set out together, whilst the rest of the party contented themselves with strolling beside the picnic spot.

Mrs Layne grew tired before we reached the top, and she and her daughter said that they would remain where they were and join us again on our way down. Miss Anne and I, together with Mr and Mrs Poole, went on to the summit. The view was indeed splendid, showing us the land for miles about, and, far off in the distance, we could just make out the shimmer of the sea.

‘It must be strange for you to find yourself on land after so long at sea. Do you miss it?’ Miss Anne asked me.

‘Yes, I do,’ I admitted. Then I turned to look at her. ‘But not at this moment.’

She flushed, and looked down, and I thought she had never looked prettier.

Mrs Poole quoted a few lines of poetry. Mr Poole said, ‘Quite, quite!’ and then, having looked our fill, we set off back down the hill again.

We were soon joined by the Laynes. They were refreshed by their rest but, as Mrs Poole was by this time growing fatigued, they walked slowly, so that they could indulge her with conversation. Miss Anne and I outstripped them. Having already talked of the countryside and the weather, we had a chance for something more interesting, and out conversation turned to other outings and visits we had experienced. This led to our speaking of London, where I had been many times.

‘I would like to see London,’ she said.

‘But you have been there, surely?’ I asked.

‘No, never.’

I was astonished.

‘But I thought you went there every spring?’

‘No. My sister and my father go, but not I,’ she replied.

‘This is monstrous! You must have your share of the pleasure as well as they. The next time they go, you must go with them.’

‘They will not wish it.’

‘And are their wishes the only ones to be consulted? You must tell them to take you.’

‘It would be impossible,’ she said.

‘Nonsense. There is nothing easier,’ I returned.

‘For you, perhaps, but not for me. I am not a naval commander. I am not used to giving orders, nor to having them obeyed.’

‘Then it is time you became used to it. You may start with me. Give me a command, and I will obey it. You will soon learn how easy it is.’

She smiled, but only shook her head and said nothing.

‘I am waiting,’ I told her playfully.

‘I cannot think of anything,’ she said.

We were nearing the picnic spot, where the food was already laid out. Our fellow picnickers were gathered together, sitting on rugs beneath a shady tree, and waiting only for our arrival so that the picnic could begin. Sir Walter and Miss Elliot were sharing a rug with Lady Russell, Mr and Miss Shepherd. Miss Scott was on a second rug with Mr and Mrs Oldham, whose three young children were playing nearby, and two further rugs were vacant.

I led Miss Anne to a vacant rug, where we were joined by the Laynes, whilst the Pooles went to sit with the Oldhams. There were the usual pleasantries as the rest of our party asked us how we had liked our walk, and what we thought of the view, then the gentlemen began to serve the ladies, giving me the perfect opportunity to continue with my theme.

‘Miss Anne, what would you command me to bring you?’

She smiled, and said, ‘A little chicken, if you please.’

‘Are you sure you would not rather have the artichoke pie? It looks very good.’

She hesitated, then caught my eye and said, ‘No, thank you. A little chicken.’

‘Or perhaps the lobster? There is nothing better than lobster on a hot day, it is very refreshing. Let me tempt you, Miss Anne.’

‘Thank you, no, I will have some of the chicken.’

‘The cold beef looks very good—’

‘Commander Wentworth, bring me some chicken,’ she said severely.

‘There,’ I said with a laugh, ‘that was not so difficult, now, was it?’

‘With you, perhaps not,’ she said.

‘You need only a little more practice, and you will not find it difficult with anyone. You have only to speak boldly, and not stop until you have carried your point. If you apply yourself to my teachings, you will visit London, with all its many attractions, the next time your father and sister go there!’

I saw Lady Russell’s mouth harden as she watched us, and I knew that she was displeased to see how much time I was spending with Miss Anne, and how much Miss Anne was blossoming in my company, but I took no notice, for I was far more interested in seeing the colour spring to Miss Anne’s cheeks, and in seeing her eyes glow.

Our conversation being remarked by more than Lady Russell, however, I began to join in with the general talk, praising the food, the fineness of the day, and remarking on the pleasure of eating out of doors with friends.

When we had all eaten our fill, we split into different parties. Miss Scott went into the neighbouring copse to collect wild flowers, the Shepherds took a stroll down the hill, and the rest of the party remained on the rugs beneath the trees, answering riddles in a desultory fashion, as befitted a hot afternoon.

Mr Layne had just posed a riddle when Mr Poole, happening to look in the direction of the copse, said, ‘Hullo! What is this?’

I followed his gaze, and saw Miss Scott running towards us in a state of agitation.

‘The French,’ she cried, as she approached us, waving her arms. ‘Oh, heaven help us, do something, someone! Commander Wentworth! The French are here!’

I was immediately alert and sprang to my feet, taking command of the situation.

‘The French? Where?’ I asked, wondering if a group of spies could have penetrated our defences and even now be roaming the countryside.

‘On the other side of the copse!’ she said, gasping with a shortness of breath.

‘How many?’

‘A whole army of them.’

‘An army?’ I asked incredulously. ‘Come, Miss Scott, how many did you see?’

‘Well, just the one,’ she admitted, ‘but where one is, the rest cannot be far behind. Oh, Commander Wentworth, whatever shall we do?’

‘Show me,’ I said. ‘But go cautiously.’

Flustered, she set off for the copse. I followed, and a trail of picnickers followed me.

‘As soon as I saw him, I knew,’ said Miss Scott, as she led the way through the copse and emerged on the other side.

The trees gave way to open fields and I scanned the area, but saw nothing. My eye alighted on a high hedge with a man leaning over it, eating an apple. I was about to approach him and ask if he had seen anyone, when Miss Scott said, ‘There he is, over there. He is over ten feet tall, just as it says in the newspapers, and a good thing I read them, for otherwise, I would not have known him for what he was.’

‘Oh, Miss Scott ...’ said Anne, with quivering lip, as she came up behind me.

‘Which newspaper have you been reading?’ I asked her, as the ‘Frenchman’ continued to eat his apple, unaware of the alarm he had occasioned.

‘The one my sister sends me, and I am glad she takes the trouble, otherwise I might have approached him unawares and been murdered ten minutes since.’

‘I think such fears might be precipitate,’ I remarked, leading the way to the far side of the hedge.

Miss Scott was astonished to see that, so far from being ten feet tall, he was no more than five feet six inches, and standing on a ladder.

‘Good morning,’ I called up to him.

‘Morning,’ he returned.

‘And a fine morning it is.’

‘Arrrr,’ he agreed.

I engaged him in lengthy conversation, and through his thick country burr I was able to discern that he was just finishing his lunch, prior to returning to his task of trimming the hedge. The rest of my party laughed, and gradually dispersed, and at last even Miss Scott’s fears were soothed.

‘Thought it is a mistake anyone could have made, I am sure,’ she said, as she walked with Miss Anne and myself back to the picnic spot, ‘for he certainly looked to be ten feet tall, and as everyone knows, the French are giants.’

‘Rest assured, they are no taller than the English,’ Miss Anne soothed her.

‘Oh, my dear, you mean well, I am sure, but you have never been to France, so how can you possibly know?’

Miss Anne was dumbfounded by this logic, so I said to Miss Scott, ‘You may rest assured, ma’am, that I have seen many Frenchmen, and I have yet to see one over six feet tall.’

She demurred; she doubted. But at last, saying, ‘Well, if you say so, Commander, then perhaps it is so,’ she relapsed into murmurs of relief.

On reaching the picnic spot, we settled down on our rugs once more.

Miss Elliot took no interest in the riddle game which resumed, professing herself bored. She, together with her father and Lady Russell, had not joined the trail of those eager to see the ‘French’, but had remained aloof. She yawned, and stood up, saying it was time to go home.

It was not difficult to see why she was dissatisfied, for there had been no sight of Mr Elliot, nor anyone unconnected with our party.

The day drew to a close. Disturbed by Miss Scott’s alarms and Miss Elliot’s remarks, the game lost its sparkle, and the Pooles and Shepherds began to speak of departure, too.

At last everything was gathered together, and nothing remained to show what an enjoyable day we had spent there, save a patch of shorter grass where the horses had grazed.

I handed Miss Anne into the carriage. Ignoring my brother’s looks and the looks of Lady Russell, I rode beside her, entertaining her and being entertained by her in equal measure along the way.

We parted at last, when her carriage turned into Kellynch Hall, and I was left to reflect on one of the most enjoyable days I had experienced for a long time.

Saturday 9 August

‘I see you ignored my advice yesterday, and singled out Miss Anne,’ my brother said, when he had completed his parish duties. ‘It is a good thing you are going to Harville’s wedding next week, for at least that should keep you out of harm’s way.’

I was annoyed by his interference, but I reminded myself that he had my best interests at heart, for I was conscious of having been the subject of one or two pairs of curious eyes, as well as those of Lady Russell, as I rode beside Miss Anne on the way home.

And now, as I sit here at my desk, looking out of the window over the fields surrounding my brother’s house, I feel myself torn as I have never been in my life. A part of me wants to spend all my time with Miss Anne, and yet another part of me feels I should be more circumspect, for she will have to face her neighbours when I am safely back at sea.

And yet, although I am aware of a longing to feel the spray on my face, I am conscious of a growing reluctance to leave the neighbourhood, for Miss Anne is becoming increasingly important to me.

I never expected to find such a woman when I first came to Monkford, for who would expect such a jewel to be tucked away in the country? Or that I would be the man who could make her shine?

Monday 18 August

I accompanied my brother into Uppercross this morning, and as we walked past the Great House I saw Miss Anne, Lady Russell and Mr Charles Musgrove coming towards us.

There was something about Mr Musgrove’s closeness to Miss Anne that I did not like, and I said to Edward, ‘Here are three of our neighbours. I believe the Elliots and the Musgroves are family friends?’

‘They have certainly been long acquainted,’ my brother agreed.

There was a hint of ambiguity in his reply that I did not like, but I thought it better not to refine too much upon the matter. If I pursued it, I felt Edward would look at me askance. But I could not help noticing that Lady Russell did not look at Musgrove with the same jaundiced eye she turned on me.

I said as much to Edward.

‘She likes him well enough in a general way, but if you are meaning that she approves of him as a suitor for Miss Anne, I think you are mistaken. Lady Russell is not eaten up with pride, like Sir Walter, but she knows the value of rank, and I believe she looks higher for her god-daughter. I do not believe she will encourage the match.’

‘He is not a bad sort, I dare say,’ I remarked, generous once I knew he was not a suitor. ‘He is well enough looking, and the property of Uppercross is not negligible. He will probably suit Miss Welling.’

‘You seem very anxious to find him a wife,’ said Edward, amused.

‘It is with Harville marrying. It has set my thoughts running on matrimony,’ I returned.

Her party drew close and we exchanged greetings. My brother and I fell in with them, for we were all going to the high street, and we walked on together. I could see that Lady Russell was not pleased to have met with us, and she endeavoured to engage my attention, leaving Miss Anne to Charles Musgrove. But I was not to be deprived of Miss Anne’s company. I asked her for her opinion on three occasions, and paid attention to her answers, and before anyone could stop us, we were deep in conversation, from which we did not emerge until our paths diverged.

Edward said nothing to me as we went on our way, but he looked at me, and I knew what was in his mind. Again, I had singled out Miss Anne, and again given her my wholehearted attention.

‘How long will you be away for Harville’s wedding?’ he asked me.

‘I go tomorrow, and will be back on Wednesday night.’

He seemed satisfied, for he knew as well as I did that it meant I could not talk to Miss Anne before Thursday.

Tuesday 19 August

I set out early, at a leisurely pace, blessing my horse, who made light work of the hills along the way. I arrived to find Harville in a nervous state, for though he welcomed me warmly, his conversation was punctuated by bouts of high spirits and equally frequent bouts of reflection.

‘You are not regretting it?’ I asked him.

He looked surprised, and I was reassured, for he could not cry off, even if he wanted to.

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I am looking forward to it. Only, I am conscious of the fact that, after tomorrow, my life will never be the same again. It has made me unsettled. I cannot see the future—but I dare say it will become routine soon enough. I am surprised you do not follow my example and marry, Wentworth. A bachelor’s life is a dry existence. You should find a good woman, someone you can love and esteem, someone to think about when you are away at sea, and someone to come home to when you are on shore leave.’

‘Not I!’ I replied, though not as heartily as I would have done a month go. ‘I am far too young for such a step, and I have too much of the world still to see. And as for shore leave, I can stay with my brother when I am home.’

‘Not as comfortable as staying with a wife,’ he said.

‘That is true, but a brother is not as hard to leave behind.’

His family were gathered about him, looking forward to the celebration. Benwick and Jenson were there, too, and I thought how quickly the time had gone since we had all met at the naval academy.

‘It is about time you made an honest woman of Harriet,’ said Harville’s brother, laughing at him. ‘You have been sighing over her for long enough!’

‘It is a grave responsibility,’ said his cousin, shaking his head.

‘You speak as though Harville was going to be burdened with command of the Navy, instead of being given the duties of a husband to one pretty woman,’ said Benwick.

‘At least I have my friends to defend me!’ said Harville.

But his peace was short lived. The rest of his family joined in and he was subjected to as many opinions on marriage as there were men in the room.

At last he cried, ‘Enough!’ and begged us all to talk of something else.

But as I retired for the night, I could not put his words from my mind. Follow my example and marry, Wentworth.

At last, feeling restless and knowing I would be unable to sleep, I slipped out of the house. It was a beautiful night, with a balmy breeze, and I made my way by moonlight along the road. As I did so, I thought of how I had felt, a few months ago, when Harville had told me he intended to marry. I had been incredulous, thinking him a fool, for the world was full of pretty young women, and why should he want to swap the smiles of so many for the smiles of one?

But as I stood at the crossroads, I understood.

Wednesday 20 August

Harville was up very early, and full of nerves. He found it impossible to tie his neck-cloth and I had to do it for him. Then he could not get into his coat, and Benwick and I had to assist him. He could not settle to anything, and although we tried to talk to him about his next ship, and his certainty of capturing more prizes as soon as he went back to sea, he did not listen to more than one word in ten.

It was far too early to go to the church, but he insisted we set out, with the result that we waited fifteen minutes at the altar. I thought he would wear his hands away with all the clasping and unclasping he did!

At last Harriet arrived, looking radiant in a satin gown. The service began, and as I watched Harville make his vows, I found that I no longer pitied him. I envied him.

As we emerged from the church, Harriet’s mother was crying, and Harville’s mother and sister were crying, but Harriet was beaming with joy.

We went back to Harriet’s house for the wedding-breakfast. After we had all eaten and drunk our fill, toasted the happy couple and made our speeches, the Harvilles set out on their wedding-tour.

Jenson, Benwick and I lingered on, enjoying the hospitality of Harville’s family. Benwick seemed very taken with Fanny, whilst Jenson talked to Harville’s parents and I spent the afternoon talking to Harville’s brother. We relived our battles and looked forward to the battles to come, hoping we might, at some time in the future, find ourselves on the same ship.

And then, at last, it was time for me to leave. I bade them all farewell, and thanked them for their kindness. They sent me off with their good wishes ringing in my ears, and I rode home at a steady pace. The weather remained fine, and I was treated to a magnificent sunset on the way. I reined in my horse and watched the spectacle, seeing the sky turn crimson before the sun sank below the horizon. Then I set off again, arriving shortly after dark. Edward was reading the newspaper, but as I entered the room he laid it aside and asked me how I had got on. I told him all my news and he asked me a number of questions about the service. I satisfied him as best I could, and he allowed it to have been well done.

Then he told me his own news, which was not so happy, for the curacy of Leigh Ings had been given elsewhere.

‘Never mind, there is still the living of Trewithing,’ I reminded him.

‘There is, and it would suit me better to have a living, rather than another curacy. I must hope for better luck there.’

‘Do you think it will fall to you?’ I asked.

‘Nothing is certain,’ he said, ‘but as I have friends in the neighbourhood, and as I do not think there is any particular interest in the living, I think it possible.’

‘It would be a very good thing if it did.’

‘Undoubtedly. I would have my own parish, a larger house, an increased stipend, and I would be better placed to hear of any other livings that might fall vacant.’

‘The church is not an easy profession for a man with no one to speak for him, unlike the Navy, where a man may prove his worth,’ I remarked.

‘But it is still not impossible to rise in the world,’ he said.

‘With Sophia well married, and I a commander, I would like to see you become a bishop,’ I said.

He only laughed, and said he did not have my ambition. Nevertheless, he expressed his intention of walking into town tomorrow in an effort to learn more.

We said our goodnights.

As I mounted the stairs, my thoughts returned to Harville, now married, and realized that a part of my life had changed. He and I had been as brothers, but now he had moved on to a new life, and I felt a restlessness inside me, a longing to move on to a new life of my own.

Thursday 21 August

Edward walked into town this afternoon to learn all he could about the living at Trewithing. Whilst he was out, a note was delivered from Kellynch Hall, and I had to contain my impatience until he returned, for it was addressed to him.

‘Upon my soul!’ he exclaimed as he opened it. ‘We are invited to dine with Sir Walter Elliot at Kellynch Hall.’

‘There must be some mistake,’ I said.

‘See for yourself.’

He threw the note to me. Sure enough, it was an invitation.

‘I thought Sir Walter did not like me,’ I said in surprise.

‘My dear brother, not every invitation that arrives is a compliment to you. It is possible that he wishes to see me. If he has heard of my hopes—but no, he would be no more interested in the rector of a small parish than he is in the curate of an even smaller one. He is simply being neighbourly, that is all.’

‘Either that, or he needs to make up his numbers.’

‘You are not a very trusting man, Frederick.’

‘I have found it better to err on the side of caution when going into battle,’ I replied.

‘Sir Walter is surely no match for a man of your abilities,’ he mocked me.

No, I thought, but Lady Russell is.

I could not help wondering if she was behind the invitation. Did she want to see me, so that she might have an opportunity of getting to know me, and of observing my behaviour towards Miss Anne at close quarters? Did she, perhaps, think that a commander might not be a bad husband for her favourite, after all? Or did she want an opportunity to warn me away?

Friday 29 August

‘You seem to have dressed with unusual care,’ remarked Edward as I joined him in his sitting-room, prior to our setting out for Kellynch Hall.

‘Not at all. I am always carefully of my appearance,’ I said, adding, ‘as long as it does not involve wearing veils.’

The weather being fine, we decided to walk to Kellynch Hall. When we arrived, I had my first full sight of it, for although I had glimpsed it when walking by the river, I had never seen it from the front. As we walked up the drive, I thought it a very fine house, and said so to my brother.

‘Something similar would suit me when I have made my fortune,’ I said.

‘I do not doubt it, but you have to make your fortune first,’ he returned.

As we drew closer, I thought of Kellynch, not as a house, but as Miss Anne’s home. For her, every tree and every blade of grass was familiar, every brick and every stone. As I lifted my eyes to the attic, I thought of her as a child, looking out of the barred windows of the nursery on to the green lawns. I thought of her growing up there with a loving mother, and then losing her mother and going away to school, and then returning to the countryside she loved, the restful greens and browns of the park, with the blue sky above. I imagined her playing the piano in the drawing-room and looking out of the windows on to the same verdant expanse, or walking there through the changing seasons as the leaves turned from light green to dark green, and thence to orange and gold.

The drive was long, but at last we reached the house. We were admitted by a stately footman in splendid livery, and then shown into the drawing-room. It was large and well proportioned, with fine furniture and new curtains and rugs. Everything was of the first quality, and showed the refined tastes of Sir Walter and Miss Elliot. But there was something missing, for all its grandeur, and that thing was warmth.

Sir Walter and his eldest daughter turned superior glances on me, and Lady Russell looked at me as though I was a snake: something that would be safe if kept at a distance, but which could be poisonous if brought too close.

But a moment later I forgot Sir Walter, Miss Elliot and Lady Russell, as my eyes fell on Miss Anne. She smiled as she saw me, and the smile lit her face with a joy so bright it filled the room. She radiated happiness and good will. She came forward to greet me, and the two of us were immediately lost in conversation, only being recalled to our company when Lady Russell stepped forward to greet my brother and myself. Sir Walter and Miss Elliot did their duty and greeted us, too. Then Lady Russell began speaking to me, in an effort, I am sure, to separate me from Miss Anne.

‘We have been fortunate to have you with us in Somersetshire for so long,’ she said, in a way that made me feel she did not think it was fortunate at all. ‘You have more than one connection to the area, I believe? Your brother lives here,’ she said, glancing at him, ‘and I believe your brother-in-law is from the county as well?’

‘Yes, that is so.’

‘You have only the one sister?’ Sir Walter asked me, deigning to join in the conversation.

‘Yes.’

‘She has been married long?’ he continued.

‘For seven years.’

‘Quite some time. And what kind of man is her husband?’

‘He is captain of a frigate.’

‘Ah, a sailor,’ said Sir Walter, with an expression of distaste.

‘A naval officer, and a good one,’ I returned. ‘He has served his country for many years and has helped to keep our shores safe.’

‘Is he at sea now?’ asked Miss Anne, with genuine interest.

I softened at the sound of her voice.

‘He is.’

‘Your sister must miss him,’ she said. ‘It cannot be pleasant for a woman to be separated from the man she loves.’

‘No, indeed,’ I said, regarding her tenderly, for I felt her words were for me. ‘Nor for a man to be separated from the object of his affections.’

My brother cleared his throat noisily, then said in a jovial tone, ‘Fortunately neither of them has to endure the pangs of separation, as my sister sails with her husband.’

‘But how is that possible?’ asked Miss Anne in surprise, turning towards him. ‘I cannot imagine how she would survive, with only ship’s biscuits to eat, and a hammock to sleep in. She must be very brave.’

I laughed at her idea of life on board ship.

‘You may rest easy. She has a cabin to sleep in, and all the comforts any woman could want. She has good food to eat, and a servant to wait on her—’

‘A servant?’ she asked. ‘Surely such a thing is not possible?’

‘Of course it is. Naval officers are gentlemen’—here Sir Walter and Miss Elliot exchanged expressions of disbelief, but I ignored them—‘and they are used to living well. They expect no less when they are at sea.’

‘I am surprised there is room for a servant, for there are so many other calls on the space, but living on board must not be as cramped as I had imagined.’

‘On a frigate there is not very much space, I grant you, but my brother-in-law will not rest easy until he is in command of a man-of-war, and he will end up an admiral, I have no doubt. On a man-of-war, you know, there could not be better accommodations, or anything more spacious—’

‘—unless it is a fine house on land,’ said Lady Russell, entering the conversation with the air of one who has remained silent long enough. “That has far better accommodation than a ship, for it has spacious rooms, large gardens and ample servants’ quarters, everything to make life convenient and easy.’

‘But a house has not such views,’ I said.

‘The prospects at Kellynch Hall are very fine,’ said Sir Walter, not to be outdone.

‘But they cannot compete with the ever-changing views at sea, or the splendours of Lisbon, Gibraltar or the Indies,’ I returned.

‘As to that, these foreign places are overrated. They are nothing compared to London or Bath,’ said Sir Walter.

I saw Anne’s expression change, and I asked, ‘You do not like Bath?’

‘No, I must confess I do not.’

‘Only a fool would not like Bath,’ said Miss Elliot.

Anne flushed, but I encouraged her to speak, saying, ‘But it is an interesting place, is it not?’

‘Perhaps. But I did not like it. I found it hard and glaring, unlike the countryside, with its colourful softness.’

She evidently did not want to talk of it, so I turned the conversation back to the sights to be seen from a ship, and Anne listened with rapt attention. My eyes were on her, so that I scarcely noticed Lady Russell, Sir Walter and Miss Elliot watching us disapprovingly, until my brother caught my eye.

I allowed him to turn the conversation to books. Here again, Miss Anne joined me in feeling, as we discovered new evidence that our tastes coincided in all important matters, and, once more, we could not stop talking. It was only, indeed, dinner that put an end to our conversation.

Over dinner Miss Anne and I continued to talk of books, whilst Sir Walter recited his lineage to my brother, listing every one of his ancestors and remarking on the high standing of a baronet, whilst Miss Elliot talked determinedly of Mr William Walter Elliot, and their expectation of seeing him at Kellynch before the summer was over.

Lady Russell said little, but whenever I looked up, I found her eyes upon me.

Dinner at last came to an end. I wanted to dance, and I suggested it, but the idea was dismissed and I had to content myself with looking at Miss Anne, instead of touching her. At last her attention was distracted by her father, and Lady Russell took me aside.

‘You are very taken with Anne,’ she said.

‘I am indeed,’ I said, as my eyes lingered on her.

‘She is a very young girl, only nineteen, and as yet she has seen very little of the world ...’

‘Which is a great pity, for the world is a wonderful place,’ I returned, ‘and she deserves to see it. Her father and sister go to London each spring, I understand, but they do not see fit to take her. She ought to see it, and to have her share of the enjoyment. The museums, the theatres and the shops are all worth seeing. I have told her that she must demand to be taken to London when her father and sister next go.’

‘I do not think it a good idea for her to make demands, and I beg you will not encourage her. It does not sit well with her character, for it is not in Anne’s nature to be strident,’ she returned, looking at me with an unfavourable eye.

However, I did not mean to let her browbeat me.

‘Then, if she is not to make demands, someone must make them on her behalf,’ I said, looking at Lady Russell pointedly, ‘or else she will still have seen very little of the world when she is five-and-twenty.’

Lady Russell did not like my reply, and I could tell that she was less than ever my friend.

She rallied herself, however, and, with the appearance of one coming to the point, she said, ‘You are a man of the world, Commander, and so I will speak plainly, in the certainty that you will not misunderstand me. Anne is very young and inexperienced, and is easily swayed by those around her. I do not wish to see anyone taking advantage of her youth or inexperience. In time, she will meet a man of her own standing who can give her all the advantages she is used to, and more besides. I am sure you do not mean to harm her by yours attentions—’

‘You may rest assured, Lady Russell, that I would never do anything to harm her,’ I said sincerely.

‘Ahhh,’ she said, nodding. ‘Then you relieve me of a great burden. I am glad we are of one mind in this matter, I felt it must be so. A man of your experience could not think otherwise. And now, we need say no more about it. You will be returning to sea soon, I believe?’

‘Yes, as soon as a ship is available.’

‘And you are looking forward to it?’

‘I am eager for it,’ I said, ‘for then I can set about making my fortune. I mean to leave the Navy a wealthy man.’

‘I wish you success in your ventures,’ she said. ‘You are young and strong, you have ambition, and I hope you may achieve your heart’s desires. We are fortunate to have such a man protecting our shores.’

She gave a slight nod and then moved away. To begin with, I was pleased with our conversation, for I felt it had gone well, but as I thought back over it, I was left with the unsettling feeling that we had, perhaps, been at cross purposes. There had been something ambiguous in her speeches, and, although mine had been straightforward, I nevertheless felt she might have misconstrued them.

But then Miss Anne approached, and Lady Russell was forgotten. We did not mean to ignore the others, but our minds were so well attuned that we scarcely noticed them until it was time for me to leave.

I bade Miss Anne farewell, reluctantly, and took my leave of Sir Walter, Miss Elliot and Lady Russell, then Edward and I left Kellynch Hall.

He was quiet on the walk, but once indoors he said, ‘Frederick, I must speak to you once again about your attentions to Miss Anne. You scarcely said a word to anyone else all evening. Your attentions are far too particular. It would be better if you left Monkford and visited some of your friends for the next few weeks.’

‘I would like to oblige you, Edward, but it is beyond me,’ I confessed. ‘I cannot give her up.’

‘What kind of talk is this? A man who has taken French ships cannot do without the company of a nineteen-year-old girl? You have simply to take yourself off and the thing is done.’

‘You do not understand me. Not only can I not give her up, I will not give her up,’ I said, acknowledging the feelings that had been growing in me ever since meeting her. ‘I never thought I would meet a woman like her: her mind so superior, her taste so refined, her heart so open; her hair so soft, her eyes so bright, her skin so smooth, her countenance so beloved; her voice, her smile ... In short, Edward, I am in love with her.’

He looked at me in concern.

‘You have paid attention to many young women in your time, but I have never heard you say that you were in love before. It is serious, then?’

‘It is. I cannot live without her, and I mean to ask her to marry me.’

He shook his head.

‘I cannot like it. You have nothing to offer her.’

‘I have my prize money.’

‘You have spent it.’

‘I will make more.’

‘Do you never see a problem?’

‘Never one I cannot solve.’

He sat down heavily.

‘I cannot encourage you in this, Frederick. You will not have the blessing of her family, or Lady Russell. They want to see her marry a man of wealth and rank, and with good reason. Her entire future depends upon her choice.’

‘You do no think I am a good match?’ I asked him, surprised and a little wounded.

His answer was matter-of-fact.

‘You have a long way to go in the world before you are a good match for a baronet’s daughter. You will encounter a great deal of opposition if you go ahead with your plan. They will not give her to you willingly, and they may not give her to you at all.’

‘Opposition is there to be swept aside.’

‘We are not talking of the French Navy now. You cannot sail up the drive in a frigate, nor can you de-mast Kellynch Hall. Sir Walter will not be afraid of you, nor will he surrender. If he is set against you, he will withhold his consent.’

‘Then I will marry her without it.’

‘And would Miss Anne consent to such a marriage?’

I hesitated.

‘You see, you do not only have yourself to think of.’

‘You take too dim a view of things,’ I told him, rallying. ‘Sir Walter has not yet withheld his consent, and until he does, I see no use thinking about it.’

‘And are you sure Miss Anne will have you, even with it?’ he asked.

’I ...’

I stopped. I had been about to say, I am sure of it. She loves me, but what if I was wrong? For the first time in my life I was hesitant, and I did not like the feeling. But I could not rid myself of the thought. What if she did not love me? I could not bear to think about it.

‘I think she loves me, and tomorrow I will know for sure,’ I said.

‘Tomorrow? Do you really think you will have an opportunity to speak to her so soon?’

‘A man of action makes his own opportunities, he does not wait for them to come calling,’ I said.

I thought of her early morning walks by the river, and I made up my mind to meet her there, and ask her to be my wife.

Saturday 30 August

I had a terrible night, even worse than the restless sleep before a battle, for I was kept awake by a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

I rose at half past five, for I could toss and turn in bed no longer, and then I dressed carefully. Eschewing breakfast, I lifted the latch and went quietly outside. I turned my steps towards the river. As I did so, my spirits rose. The morning was one of soft air and a warm sun on the rise. The world was aglow with blue and green, and sparkling with the dew that clung to the grass. It was a perfect morning for a proposal—if Anne said yes.

Unused to feeling such uncertainty, I quickly banished it. I walked by the river and then stopped to skim stones, until I caught sight of a kingfisher. I paused to watch its turquoise plumage flash past, iridescent in the early-morning light, and I saw it dive into the water. I took it as a good omen: a halcyon bird had come upon me, giving me notice that my own halcyon days were about to begin. I saw the warm, calm summer stretching ahead of me, with Anne by my side, and I was joyful.

I walked on, and at last I was rewarded by the sight of her. It was still early, no more than half past six, and I was elated to think that she, too, had not been able to sleep. She saw me; hesitated; and then came on.

I walked towards her, quickening my step, until I was almost running. She sprang to meet me and then we stopped, inches apart, and looked at each other as though we could never get our fill.

She spoke.

I interrupted.

‘I can be silent no longer,’ I burst out. ‘I have watched you these many weeks ... I have talked to you ... danced with you ... been enraptured by you ... I cannot go on without knowing ... Anne, my dearest Anne ... I am in love with you’—and here I took her hands—‘please tell me, put me out of my misery, are you in love with me, too?’

She blushed, looked down, murmured something I could not hear, looked up, and pierced me with such a glance that my heart stopped beating. I stepped back the better to see her, then caught her hands and raised them to my lips, and thought that a happier man had never walked the earth.

‘Anne,’ I said, ‘will you be my wife?’

She smiled. She blushed.

‘Yes, Frederick,’ she said.

Yes, Frederick! Never had two words sounded better to me.

‘When I go to sea, will you come with me? Should you like that, Anne?’

‘Yes, I think I should like it very much. You have told me so much about your life that I am longing to see it for myself.’

‘The wonders I can show you!’ I said, anticipating the pleasures she would experience; imagining the adventure, the excitement, and the newness of it for her, who had never been beyond her own shores. ‘The ever-changing moods of the sea, its mountains and valleys, its smooth, glasslike plains. And the ports you will discover. The colours, Anne! The vibrant reds and blues and greens, not the dull colours of an English summer, beneath an English sky, but the brilliance of the Mediterranean and the clear light of the Indies.’

‘I am longing to see it all,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘I will be as well travelled as your sister before many more years have passed.’

‘Indeed you will. The stories you will have to tell when you return!’

She was aglow with the sheer excitement of it, asking me how hot it was in the Indies, and whether it ever rained; whether she would understand the people, and whether they would understand her.

And then we embraced, and walked on ... I scarcely know what we did ... where we went ... what we said ... I was in a haze.

The sun climbed in the sky, but still we walked, now talking, now silent, with the world all before us, until at last our steps took us back to Kellynch Hall. The sight of it reminded me of the formality yet to be endured, the disdain of Sir Walter, his raised eyebrows, his cold glance, but they were all a small price to pay for winning Anne’s hand.

‘I must speak to your father,’ I said. ‘I will speak to him at once.’

She shook her head.

‘You are too late. He has gone to visit a friend for a week, and,’ glancing at the sun, which was now high in the sky, ‘he will already have left.’

I was not to be disheartened.

‘No matter, I will speak to him as soon as he returns.’

‘Until then, we will have to be circumspect in company,’ she reminded me.

I agreed. I longed to publish my prosperous love, but the matter could not be spoken of in company until Sir Walter had given his consent.

‘But what does it matter?’ I said to her. ‘For we can meet every morning by the river, and we know, dear Anne, that we are engaged.’

We walked on together as the sun climbed towards midday and it became hot, in the joyous manner of an English summer, until at last she said, ‘I must go in.’

‘Stay awhile.’

‘It will soon be time for luncheon, and Elizabeth will be wondering where I am. If I do not go now, she will send a maid to find me, and then she will ask me where I have been.’

Reluctantly I agreed.

She turned to go; I pulled her back; we embraced; she turned again. I let her go, but I looked forward to the day when we would never be parted.

I watched her as she walked back to the hall, her muslin gown fresh and pretty in the morning light, her shawl slipping from her shoulder and falling into the crook of her arm, her hair curling in the nape of her neck, and then she disappeared from view.

I stood watching the spot, and then I roused myself and returned to my brother’s house, full of high spirits. I could say nothing of my love to the world at large, not yet, but I could tell my brother.

He was not at home, and did not return until half past twelve. By that time I was bursting with the news and poured it out almost as soon as he entered the house.

‘I have asked Anne to marry me, and she has said yes!’ I told him.

‘You ought to let a man have his luncheon before springing that sort of thing on him,’ he complained, going through into the parlour.

‘Are you not going to congratulate me?’ I asked him, though I was so happy I scarcely cared.

‘Has her father approved?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then I will defer my congratulations until he does. Have you eaten?’

‘What care I for food?’ I said.

‘If you are going to see Sir Walter, you had better care for it. You cannot go to see him on an empty stomach.’

‘As he is away until Friday, I scarcely think it matters. Food taken now will not last until then, so I will defer my meal awhile yet. Besides, I cannot eat. I am too happy!’

He sat down.

‘At the very least sit down, you are making me nervous.’ I sat down. I stood up. I paced the room. I laughed. I sat down. I stood up again.

‘Lovers!’ said my brother, taking up his newspaper.

‘Edward, she is wonderful!’ I said. ‘The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on—’

‘Her sister is far handsomer.’

‘And her manners—’

‘Are no better than those of any other gently raised female.’

‘Her love of books, her musical taste, her knowledge of the world around her, and her thirst for more. Her intelligence would put a schoolmaster to shame—’

‘An easy thing to do,’ he declared, ‘for they have not one ounce of sense between them.’

‘And her taste ... we think alike on everything,’ I said, not to be dampened.

‘Then I pity you,’ he remarked drily, ‘for you will never have anything to talk about.’

I laughed at him.

‘Never anything to talk about? We never stop talking! Have I not brought you the most wonderful creature for a sister-in-law?’ I asked. ‘The most beautiful, refined, elegant young woman, superior in every way? With such taste and discernment, such ability and sense?’

‘You have not brought her to me yet,’ he reminded me.

But I could tell he was pleased, for he shook his paper three times before turning each page, and that was a sure sign of happiness with him.

I was in high spirits all day, and in no mood to spend a quiet evening indoors. I went out for a ride, cursing the fact that I had not been invited to the dinner-party that was claiming Anne’s evening, but consoling myself with the fact that I would see her tomorrow.

Sunday 31 August

I met Anne by the river this morning, and we spoke at length, our conversation ranging from our neighbours, to books, to our wedding-tour. I would have lingered there all morning, but, reluctantly, we had to part in order to dress for church.

As I sat in my pew, I could not help imagining the day, not too far distant, when she would stand beside me at the altar and become my wife. It was a very pleasant daydream, and it helped to pass the time during the long and tedious service.

Why my brother chose to lecture his flock at such length on such a beautiful day I do not know, for I was longing to be out of doors. I was sure the rest of the congregation shared my feelings, for I had never heard so much shuffling and coughing in all my life!

Edward ignored them and did not let us go until he had spoken for an hour. He ended with a stern warning against trespassing and the stealing of apples, no doubt with a view to making sure his own orchard would be safe this year.

I was able to speak to Anne outside the church, and after exchanging pleasantries we embarked on a more satisfying conversation. It was cut short by the appearance of Lady Russell, who greeted me coolly and spirited Anne away, but I knew it would not be long before we were acknowledged lovers and could talk to our hearts’ content.