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Authors: Amanda Grange

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‘I am very sorry to hear it. It was not serious, I hope?’ I asked, concerned for the little fellow.
‘We feared so at the time, and called Mr Robinson, the apothecary, straight away.’
‘It was Anne who sent for him,’ said Mrs Musgrove. ‘Anne has always been very sensible and she took charge at once, so that little Charles was given the best attention right away. She sent for him even before she sent word to us.’
‘Very sensible of her,’ said Mr Musgrove.
‘Well, Robinson examined him and said he had a dislocated collar-bone. Robinson replaced it—’
‘Oh, that was nasty, and very painful for him, poor little man,’ said Mrs Musgrove.
‘You may imagine that we were all vastly relieved when he had done, and said that he believed, with plenty of rest, all would be well,’ said Mr Musgrove. ‘It gave us hope, and we were able to come home again.’
‘Though I do not believe I ate a mouthful of dinner for worrying about him,’ Mrs Musgrove said.
‘However, he had a good night and seems to be going on well,’ said Miss Musgrove briskly, as though anxious to be done with little Charles and the talk of his fall.
‘Ay, Mr Robinson does not believe there will be any lasting damage, for which we are all very grateful,’ said Mrs Musgrove. ‘We thought my son and his wife would have to cry off tonight, but they are so pleased with little Charles’s progress that they feel they can leave him for a few hours. Had things been different, they would have had to stay at home, which would have been a grave disappointment to them, for they are very desirous of seeing you,’ she said politely, with a bow in my direction.
At that moment, Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove were announced. As I heard the names I felt myself tense, despite my belief that I had put the past behind me. I did not immediately look round. Mr Charles Musgrove came into the room with a quick step and I recognized in him the same man I had seen in the year six, the man Anne had described as a family friend. As my eyes ran over him, I was surprised she had married him, for he was nothing out of the ordinary, and was even less well favoured than I remembered him. He was certainly not the catch Lady Russell had wanted for Anne, and it gave some solace to my pride to know that her schemes had come to nothing, after all.
‘Here you are, just in time to meet Captain Wentworth,’ said Mr Musgrove. ‘Captain Wentworth, might I introduce my son, Mr Charles Musgrove—’
I greeted him, and was then forced to turn my head to include his wife in my vision, and to my astonishment I saw that it was not Anne, in fact it was a woman I had never seen before in my life.
‘—and my daughter-in-law, Mrs Charles Musgrove, who was Miss Mary Elliot before she married,’ Mr Musgrove finished.
So it was Anne’s sister who had married Charles Musgrove! I was elated, though I did not know why, and then amused, and then I felt foolish and not a little angry with myself as I realized how much time I had wasted thinking about the meeting.
Mr and Mrs Charles Musgrove greeted me warmly and were evidently very much interested in their new neighbour.
‘Are you sure it is all right for you to leave little Charles?’ asked Mrs Musgrove, when the greetings were over. ‘I am not easy about him. I know Mr Robinson is hopeful, but I am worried that he might have a setback.’
‘You may be perfectly easy, Mama,’ said Charles.
‘Oh, yes, perfectly easy, for we did not leave him alone. Anne is with him,’ said his wife. ‘Anne is my sister,’ she explained to me.
‘Well, if Anne is with him, I am sure he will be all right,’ said Mrs Musgrove.
‘Of course he will. Anne is the very person to look after him. She does not have a mother’s sensibilities, and besides, she can make him do anything. He always attends her more than he attends me. I do not have any fears for him, you know, for he is going on so well that I feel quite at ease. Anne can always send word if anything should happen, and we are only half a mile away.’
We all sat down, and I smiled to find that Miss Musgrove and Miss Louisa managed to seat themselves one on either side of me, both vying for my attention.
‘I believe you met Anne when you were here before,’ said Charles, as he settled himself on a sofa next to his mother.
‘Yes, we were acquainted,’ I said.
‘Really?’ asked Mary.
‘You were away at school at the time, but Anne was at home,’ said Charles. ‘It must have been in the year five, or thereabouts?’
‘The year six,’ I said.
‘Ah, yes, you are probably right. Your brother was the curate at Monkford, was he not?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘I hope he is well?’
‘Yes, thank you, very well. He is married now.’
‘A good thing, marriage,’ said Mrs Musgrove comfortably. ‘Every man should marry.’
‘And every woman,’ said Mr Musgrove, looking at his two girls benignly.
I longed to ask whether Anne was married, but my pride would not let me.
‘You will see Anne before long, I dare say, for she is staying with us at present,’ said Charles. ‘Her family has gone to Bath, but my wife was not well and needed her sister so Anne stayed behind.’
‘Indeed, I could not have done without Anne,’ said Mary.
We went into dinner. Mr Musgrove escorted Mary, Charles escorted his mother, and I was left to take in the Miss Musgroves, one on each arm.
I was delighted with them. They were full of questions about my life at sea and they made playful remarks that set us all laughing, bringing good cheer to the table, and, after dinner, they entertained us by playing on the pianoforte and the harp.
‘Such musical girls,’ said Mrs Musgrove happily. ‘They are so clever, I do not know which of them plays better. What is your opinion, Captain Wentworth?’
‘They are both very accomplished,’ I said, admiring them as much as their mother could have wished, for their faces were full of life, and their posture enchanting—though I believe they did not play very well! It was hardly surprising. They were far too boisterous to endure many hours spent practising their instruments, and I was sure they abandoned the task in favour of walks or shopping or gossip as often as they could.
‘And so they are, very good girls, both of them. I like to hear them both, and I never know which I like more, the piano or the harp. Mr Musgrove and I are spoilt for choice. Let us have some singing,’ she said then to the girls.
They were eager to do as she asked and I went over to the pianoforte and joined in with their songs. They smiled up at me most agreeably, and it was difficult to know which of them I liked best, Miss Musgrove with her glossy curls, or Miss Louisa with her bold manner and her dimples.
At last the singing came to an end and we resumed our conversation. It was not long before Charles Musgrove invited me to go shooting with him on the morrow.
‘We will meet at the Cottage for breakfast and then take our guns out afterwards,’ he said.
‘I would not like to be in Mrs Musgrove’s way, with a sick child in the house,’ I replied, though really my objection was because I felt a strange reluctance to see Anne.
I was honoured for my concern, there was some discussion back and forth, and the upshot of it was that we should breakfast at the Great House, and then to go out with Charles Musgrove afterwards.
All too soon it was time for me to take my leave. Buoyed up by an evening spent in the uncomplicated company of such pretty, spirited girls and their convivial family, I returned to Kellynch Hall.
As I walked up the drive, I found my thoughts straying to Anne once again, and thinking how strange it was that my brother-in-law should have rented Kellynch Hall. Of all the houses in Somersetshire, why did he have to rent that one? A place that held so many memories? And a place that would bring me into company with Anne? It was only by chance that I had not already met her for, if not for the child’s fall, she would have been at the Great House and I would have passed the evening in her company.
As I remembered the past, I felt a spark of anger for her vacillating character, and an ache of bruised pride at the way she had treated me. And then I calmed myself. I knew I would have to accustom myself to seeing her, for we would often be together, and it would not do for me to let any trace of resentment show. I made up my mind not to mention the past and I decided that I would treat her with perfect good humour, simply as a woman I once knew.
But even so, I could not help my thoughts dwelling on her as I went inside.
Anne Elliot,
I thought,
after so many years.
Anne Elliot.
Saturday 15 October
I joined the Musgroves early for breakfast. The Miss Musgroves were as pretty a pair of breakfast companions as any man had a right to expect, and were just as animated as they had been yesterday. They talked constantly during breakfast and kept trying to delay Charles and me, until Charles could bear the delays no longer and stood up, saying it was time for us to set out. The girls could not bear to part with us—let me confess it, with me! for what interest has a brother to his own sisters?—and declared their intention of coming with us as far as the Cottage. Their excuse was a desire to call on their nephew and see how he went on, though they had not mentioned him all morning.
I was content to have their company, for what man could resist the attentions of two such pretty girls? But again I felt a reluctance to see Anne. It could not be avoided, however, and so I thought it better to give her notice of it. Why I was anxious to spare her a sudden shock I did not know, but so it was.
We reached the Cottage and I could not help smiling at its name, for it was in fact an extended farmhouse, very spacious, with French windows looking over neatly trimmed gardens and a pretty veranda.
The girls giggled and chattered by my side as we went in. I saw Mrs Musgrove at once and looked around for Anne, but I saw no one except a dull, faded creature of hesitant manner who was that moment attending to a little boy. I thought she was a nursery governess until she turned towards me and, with a start, I realized it was Anne.
‘You might remember my sister, Miss Anne Elliot,’ said Mary.
So. She had not married, and it was hardly surprising, for her beauty had gone. The bloom of her cheek; the brightness of her eye; all had disappeared. Her figure was bowed; and she was, in fact, so careworn, that I would not have believed it possible she could have changed so much in only eight years.
‘Miss Elliot,’ I said.
‘Captain Wentworth.’
Our eyes half met. I bowed, she curtseyed. And all the time I kept thinking:
Once, we would have had eyes for no one but each other.
I continued to move and speak, though without any idea of what I was saying. And then, mercifully, Charles appeared at the window, having collected the dogs, and we were away.
In a few brief minutes, all my memories of Anne’s beauty and grace had been demolished, and I was left with nothing but anger and bitterness, for if she had only had a little more resolution then it could all have been otherwise.
‘What do you think of Anne?’ asked Miss Musgrove, as we reached the end of the village.
‘She is so altered I would not have known her again,’ I said.
As I spoke, I remembered her as I had seen her on that first morning, walking by the river, with the sun shining on her hair. I remembered the light catching the ripples on the water; and I remembered her eyes being even brighter than the ripples as she laughed at me.
But that Anne had gone forever. She had let me down, deserted me, disappointed me, and shown a feebleness of temper that I could not understand or forgive. She had given me up to please others, and I could still feel the pain of it, but now it was a dull ache and nothing more. Fate had thrown us together again, but her power over me had gone.
The Miss Musgroves walked with us to the end of the village. Their bright spirits formed a marked contrast to the scene we had just left, but even their butterfly minds could not lift me out of my dark thoughts. It was only after a morning’s strenuous exercise that I was able to feel myself again.
I parted from Charles at last, thanking him for the morning’s activity, and then I returned home and sat with Sophia. She told me about her morning, and about her plans to buy a one-horse chaise so that she and Benjamin could drive around the country. Then, after listening to my account of my morning, she asked me, ‘And what do you think of the Musgrove girls?’
‘They are pretty, lively creatures,’ I said.
‘And do you think that you could marry either of them? You ought to be thinking of settling down, you know.’
‘I dare say I have a heart for either of them, if they could catch it,’ I returned lightly. ‘I would have any pleasing young woman who came in my way.’
Except Anne Elliot,
I thought.
She smiled at my levity, then said, ‘I think either of them would make an agreeable wife. Have you no preference?’
‘None at all. I am quite ready to make a foolish match. A little beauty, and a few smiles, and a few compliments to the Navy, and I am a lost man. Should not this be enough for a sailor, who has had no society among women to make him nice?’
BOOK: Captain Wentworth's Diary
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