Captain Wentworth's Diary (22 page)
Read Captain Wentworth's Diary Online
Authors: Amanda Grange
Friday 18 November
Louisa’s recovery continues slowly but steadily. Her periods of consciousness are longer and more frequent. God willing, she will continue to improve.
Monday 21 NovemberLouisa has continued to improve over the weekend, and she sat up for the first time today, a source of great joy to all of us.
There seems hope, real hope, that she will make a full recovery, and I think, at last, everyone in the house is beginning to believe it.
Tuesday 22 NovemberLife has returned to something resembling normal. Mary spent the morning at the library, and this evening she quarrelled with Harriet about precedence at supper. Charles Musgrove suggested an outing to Charmouth and his idea was met with approval.
I took advantage of the opportunity to say that I, too, thought of going away for a few days. As they had all accepted the idea that I did not want to see Louisa because I did not want to excite her, no one saw anything strange in my suggestion and I said I would go next week.
Thursday 24 NovemberLouisa sat up again today and had a conversation with her mother. Her lucidity delighted them both. Mrs Musgrove was all smiles as she told us about it, and her other children were greatly relieved, for it sent them off on their visit to Charmouth in good spirits. I remained behind, but made my plans for my trip to Plymouth, and declared my intention of leaving on Tuesday.
Friday 25 NovemberThe younger Mr and Mrs Musgrove returned to Uppercross, satisfied that Louisa was making good progress, but the elder Musgroves are still here as they are reluctant to leave their daughter. They hope she will soon be able to make the journey to Uppercross and are looking forward to having her at home, but I doubt if she will be able to return before Christmas, and it could indeed be some weeks more before she is ready to make such a long journey.
Tuesday 29 NovemberI took my leave of the Musgroves this morning. First I said good-bye to Mr and Mrs Musgrove so that, if they were displeased by my actions and demanded to know my intentions towards their daughter, I could reassure them and, if necessary, stay. However, they showed no displeasure, but instead they thanked me for all I had done. I then took my leave of all the rest. It was a melancholy affair, but once done I felt a sense of release. I must consider myself bound to Louisa if she has attached herself to me, but if my absence can lessen that attachment I will rejoice to be free.
DECEMBER
Monday 5 DecemberI wrote to Harville, as I had promised to do, giving him my direction. He promised to keep me informed as to Louisa’s condition.
Tuesday 6 DecemberI saw Jenson by chance this morning and we fell into conversation. He invited me to dine with him and I agreed readily enough, for I was afraid of the thoughts that tormented me whenever I was alone.
He was in high spirits as he told me all about his progress in the wine trade, after which the conversation naturally turned to the battles we had seen. He mentioned our triumphs of the year eight, when, for the first time, we found ourselves with several thousand pounds, and as he talked, my thoughts drifted back to that time. I had been on shore after my early success, and I had been tempted to write to Anne and tell her of my good fortune, and to offer her my hand once more. I had gone as far as taking up my pen, but pain and doubt had assailed me, and I had let them have their sway. Pride, wounded dignity, fear that she had forgotten me, fear that I would make myself ridiculous, fear of rejection—all these had held me back. But if I had mastered my fears, if I had written, as I wanted to do, then what would she have said? Would she have said yes?
‘. . . must come and see the ship tomorrow. What do you say?’ asked Jenson.
His words brought me back to the present.
‘The shipyard is not far from here. You can see the hull, and I can show you the plans,’ said Jenson.
I realized that he had invited me to see his new ship, which was in the process of being built, and I gave my consent to the idea. But as he talked on, telling me of the ship’s design, my thoughts returned again to the year eight. If I had asked Anne to marry me then, what would she have said?
Wednesday 7 DecemberAn interesting day. Jenson showed me his ship and she was a beauty. It was good to hear his cheerful conversation, and his high spirits raised my own, so that I was able to pay attention to everything he said. I dined with his family this evening, and found them to be sensible and agreeable people. They have invited me to dine again next week, and I have decided to extend my stay so that I may accept.
Friday 9 DecemberI wrote to Edward, apologizing for not keeping to our earlier arrangement but telling him I would like to see him, for I was now free to travel. I suggested I should visit him for Christmas, if he found it convenient, and gave him Jenson’s direction.
Saturday 10 DecemberA letter came from Harville this morning, telling me that Louisa continued to make good progress, and that they were now quite a cheerful party. He mentioned that Benwick entertained Louisa by reading her poetry when she was well enough, and I was glad to think of them both finding pleasure in each other’s company.
Tuesday 13 DecemberI had a letter from Edward, saying he was delighted with the idea of my spending Christmas with him and his wife, and so it has been settled, I am to go to him.
Wednesday 14 DecemberI dined with Jenson’s family again this evening, and after dinner, he and his father suggested that I might go and work for them as a captain of one of their vessels. I thanked them, but told them that my seafaring days were over, unless my country had need of me. They took no offence and wished me well, but as I returned to the inn, I found myself thinking that, if Louisa did not imagine herself engaged to me, and if Anne no longer loved me, then I might change my mind and accept Jenson’s offer.
But if she no longer loved me, then why had she never married?
Thursday 22 DecemberAnd so, at last, I am in Shropshire. It was a relief to my spirits to be with Edward again, indeed, I did not know the full extent of their oppression until I arrived. I was delighted to meet Edward’s wife, a lovely young woman, full of gentle humour and sense, with engaging manners and personal elegance. Her spirits are just those to suit him: lively enough to make her an attractive companion, but quiet enough to enable her to help him in his work; and I believe they are very happy. And why should they not be? They have each other, their house is a gentleman’s residence of ample proportions, and the living is prosperous.
They made me very welcome, and set an excellent dinner before me. We spoke of their marriage and my time at sea; of their neighbourhood and neighbours; of Sophia and Benjamin; and then of generalities.
Once dinner was over, Eleanor withdrew, leaving us to our port. I congratulated Edward on his wife, and he smiled and told me he was a lucky man.
‘I have a beautiful wife, and I have done well in the church,’ he said expansively. ‘Not as well as you hoped—I have not become a bishop!—but I like the life I have.’ Then he turned astute eyes on me and said, ‘But all is not well with you, it seems. You must have sustained a shock when you found that Sophia had taken Kellynch Hall.’
I said nothing, for I was afraid his sympathy might unman me.
‘Come, there is no need to hide it from me. It is eight years since Anne rejected you, and in all that time you have never spoken of another woman. You still think of her.’
‘Yes,’ I admitted. ‘I do. And you are right in supposing I was shocked when Sophia and Benjamin took Kellynch Hall. Of all the houses in Somersetshire, for them to settle on that one.’
‘And how is Anne? She remained in the neighbourhood when her family went to Bath, I understand?’
‘Yes.’ And then, before I knew what I was doing, I was telling him everything. It was a relief to my spirits to be able to speak at last, for I had never mentioned my short-lived engagement to another living soul, kept silent by a desire to protect Anne’s reputation as well as my own pride. Edward was the only person in the world I could talk to, and now that I found myself in his company again, out it all poured: my meeting with Anne, the Musgroves, our trip to Lyme, and Louisa.
‘Well,’ he said, when at last I had done. ‘You always liked action, Frederick, and it seems you have managed to find it here as well as at sea.’
I shook my head.
‘That poor girl,’ I said.
‘You cannot blame yourself. She wanted to jump, you tried to dissuade her, but she would not listen. It is not your fault. Besides, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it would not have led to any great ill. You would have caught her anyway; or she would have fallen and sprained her ankle, and nothing more. It was unfortunate she hurt herself so badly, but it was not something you could have foreseen.’
‘No,’ I admitted, feeling much better than I had done for a long while, for although Edward had always been quick to deflate me when I was full of conceit, now that I needed solace he gave it in full measure.
‘Still, I cannot acquit myself of ungentlemanly behaviour,’ I said.
‘You were wrong to encourage the attentions of the young ladies, certainly, and it was even worse of you to encourage them through pride, but you did not wilfully mislead them, for you did not understand your own feelings at the time. You will have to abide by the consequences, and may yet have to pay for your folly, but do not despair; everything may turn out for the best. Louisa is only nineteen. She is at an age when her feelings are changing rapidly. She may not have regarded herself as engaged to you, and even if she did, she may yet see a man she likes better. You look surprised!’ he said mockingly. ‘Yet you are not the only man in the world. There are others younger, richer, handsomer, more courteous and more gentlemanly—there is no need to look at me so. I love you very well, and I think any woman would be sensible who did likewise, but you are not the embodiment of every virtue.’
I was forced to smile, and say ruefully, ‘True enough.’
‘Now, enough of Louisa. Tell me about Anne. Is she much altered?’
‘She looks the same as she ever did,’ I said, as I recalled the brightness of her eye and the freshness of her complexion on the Cobb.
And then my spirits fell, and I told him of her coldness, and of how she avoided me. And then they rose as I told him that she had turned down Charles Musgrove, at which point he said, ‘Ah,’ thoughtfully. And then I told him how I had admitted to myself that she was the only woman I could ever wish to marry.
‘Brooding will not help matters. You must fill your time here, so that you do not have time to think. We will keep you busy with visits and parties. Never fear, you will come about.’
The opportunity to unburden myself had done me good, and his common sense had further heartened me, so that it was with tolerable spirits that I left the table with him and joined Eleanor in the drawing-room. She played the harp and sang to us, and the evening was more enjoyable than I had any right to expect.
Sunday 25 DecemberIt was a bright, sunny morning, and every one of Edward’s parishioners turned out for church. The sermon was affecting and the singing was uplifting. Afterwards, I had a chance to talk to Edward’s neighbours, and then we went home to a hearty meal.
I wondered how Anne was spending her Christmas, and whether she was happy.
Wednesday 28 DecemberEdward had a letter from Sophia this morning. He gave it to me to read. She talked of their Christmas celebrations, and of Benjamin’s bad toe, which she hopes will soon be better, but fears may be gout. She mentioned that they might go to Bath for the waters, and said that Lady Russell and Anne were already there.
I frowned.
‘You are reading the part about Lady Russell,’ said Edward, reading my frown correctly. ‘You still have not forgiven her for the part she played in separating you and Anne?’
‘No, I have not. It was a bad day’s work. I am surprised that Sophia likes her,’ I remarked.
‘But I am not. They are both of them sensible women.’
‘Hah!’ I replied. ‘Poor Anne! To be once more with her father and sister, who will slight her as much as ever, and in Bath, a place she has never liked. If only I was free, I could go to her,’ I said.
‘Perhaps her father and sister treat her better now,’ said my brother, taking the letter back from me when I had done.
‘Perhaps. But I do not believe it. I am sure they are just as bad as they ever were.’
A letter from Harville told me that Louisa was now so much better that she was able to rise every day, and that, although she was quiet, for her nerves were still delicate, she was almost fully recovered, and would soon be returning home to Uppercross.
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