Captain Wentworth's Diary (5 page)
Read Captain Wentworth's Diary Online
Authors: Amanda Grange
‘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.
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 JuneThis 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!
I was walking through the village this morning, when I was agreeably surprised to turn a corner and find myself following Miss Anne Elliot. She was in company with her sister, Miss Elliot, and Miss Shepherd. They stopped outside Clark’s shop, there was some conferring, and then Miss Elliot and Miss Shepherd passed into the shop and Miss Anne crossed the road, walking towards a small cottage.
I recognized it as the house of Miss Scott, and guessed that Miss Anne was going to pay her respects. I turned my steps in the same direction and we arrived on the doorstep together. She looked up, surprised, and I made her a bow, remarking that we seemed to be intent on the same purpose. She smiled, and we exchanged pleasantries. She was looking remarkably well, with a bloom on her cheek and a look in her eye that showed me she was not averse to teasing me if the occasion arose.
I was just about to make some remark when we noticed that the door was ajar. Miss Anne looked at me questioningly and I pushed the door open, whilst Miss Anne called out our names so as not to alarm anyone in the house.
We went in, expecting to find the maid, but no one was there, and so we went through to the parlour, where we were confronted by Miss Scott, brandishing the poker.
‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry, I thought you were Napoleon,’ she said.
She returned the poker to its place by the fire, whilst Miss Anne behaved as though she was mistaken for the scourge of Europe every day, and asked Miss Scott how she did.
‘Very well, I thank you, my dear. It is very good of you to call.’
Miss Anne remarked on the open door, and Miss Scott tutted, and said she had had problems with her new maid, a young girl who spent more time flirting with the baker’s boy than she did in attending to her mistress.
We sympathized with her, and Miss Anne promised to speak to the girl.
‘My dear, I will be so grateful, for I am sure she will listen to you. I have told her until I am blue in the face that the French will be here at any moment, but she does not believe me.’
She went on to regale us with an account of her ailments and her sister’s ailments, before asking after Sir Walter’s health, Miss Elliot’s health, Miss Anne’s health, and Miss Mary’s health.
Miss Anne and I eventually took our leave, and we had just reached the doorstep when my brother happened by. I was disappointed, for I would have liked to savour my last few minutes alone with Miss Anne, but I hid my feelings, and my brother and I escorted her back to the shop together. We parted from her outside, she to go in to her companions, and we to continue on our way.
‘It was very noble of you to call on Miss Scott,’ said my brother, as I walked on with him, ‘or could your visit have had another purpose?’
‘It was entirely prompted by charity,’ I told him.
He did not believe me, but he let it pass, and we went to luncheon together.
Friday 11 JulyThis morning brought a letter from Harville, telling me that his beloved Harriet had accepted his proposal, and that they had agreed to marry at the start of September.
‘Will you go to the wedding?’ Edward asked me.
‘Certainly. He asked me to stand up with him.’
‘He seems rather young for such as undertaking. He is no older than you, I believe, and you are only three-and-twenty. It is far too soon to be taking a wife.’
‘I agree with you, and I have told him so, many times, but he is determined on the match, and nothing I can say will change his mind.’
‘Can he not put it off? He would do better to enter into an engagement than a marriage at his time of life. Marriage brings with it burdens and responsibilities, and they would only weigh him down.’
‘He has a distrust of long engagements, and, having made up his mind, he feels that he cannot marry too soon, for he could be called back to sea again at any time. I dare say that Harriet does not want to wait any more than he does, and if they miss this opportunity, who knows when he will be at home again? He asks me to go and see him, so that I can meet Harriet,’ I said, folding my letter. ‘I will go next week, if you are agreeable.’
‘Pray do not consult my wishes, I am only your host.’
‘You may pay me back when I buy my estate,’ I said. ‘You may visit as often as you like, and come and go as you wish, without ever giving me word.’
‘When you but your estate, if you want to please me—’
‘It will be my first consideration.’
‘—I beg you to buy one with a living attached, and give it to me,’ he said. ‘Waiting for one to fall vacant is slow work, and with no one to speak for me, I fear I will be a curate ’til I am seventy.’
‘I will do my best,’ I promised him.
‘And make sure it is a good living, with a fine house attached, nothing poky or dark, with plenty of land.’
‘Have you anything else to add?’
‘I would not object to a stretch of river, and a fine library.’
‘And a house in town as well, I suppose.’
He laughed, and said that if he was dreaming, he might as well do it in style.
‘Even so, I wish you might find promotion, and find it soon. Is there no one to speak for you?’ I asked.
‘The bishop is a friend of Melchester’s wife—you remember Melchester? We were at Cambridge together.’
‘Yes, I remember him. A stout fellow, with a liking for port. So will the bishop speak for you, do you think?’
‘He will if he can, but he has his own relatives to think of first, and two of them have entered the church. So you see, it is not very promising.’
‘And is there nothing you might do on your own account?’
‘I am doing all I can. There are one or two possibilities. Mr Abbott, the curate of Leigh Ings, has just been given a living by one of his cousins, and I believe I have a chance of adding the vacant curacy to my own. The duties are light, and it would mean an increase in my stipend. There is also the possibility of a living in Trewithing becoming available, and as there is no one waiting for it, it might fall to me.’
I expressed the hope that it would be so, and then I set about making my arrangements for visiting Harville. I am looking forward to meeting Harriet, and seeing what sort of woman has won the heart of my friend.
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