The Gift of Circumstance #3
Wentworth’s attention narrowed to Anne. Her glance at him proved her words precise and pointed. She had not been happy these five years without him. Wentworth’s heart ached in knowing she had suffered in equal measure from the day she rejected him.
“I can promise you that you and your company have quite livened my night. It is like pulling teeth with calipers to get these two to talk an evening through,” Sophia teased her husband and brother.
“I prefer to admire you and listen to you speak at ease with all we meet,” the admiral said with a cheeky wink. “Come, let us retire. You will want to be well rested so you can properly set Edward’s home to rights.”
“I would not need to if he would marry,” Sophia complained, looking around the room. “I suppose Edward will not even have yet hung the greenery.”
“If there is not, we will get some,” the admiral said, guiding her to the stairs.
***
Wentworth and Anne stared at one another, now the only two in the common room.
“You chose not to stay in the room you should rightfully have, the one I now occupy,” Wentworth murmured.
“I am glad for you to have it. The cot they brought me is comfortable enough for a single night,” Anne said, the words soft-spoken and just between them.
Unable to turn his gaze, he saw her glance at him then again look downward. Wentworth was disappointed to learn the bravery she showed earlier in the evening was nowhere in evidence.
“There is yet a full half hour you intend to wait. Shall we take the seats before the fire?”
“You must be exhausted. You need not stay-”
“Do not suggest I go. I would not. I could not.”
“I would like that, to sit with you.”
“I am glad you enjoy the warmth of the yule log. One of the older people of our community died this year, and the family asked us to burn their yule log in our inn. He was one of the first people to settle here,” the innkeeper said when he passed over to Wentworth a bottle of brandy and two glasses.
Moving furniture about, Wentworth adjusted two chairs so they nearly abutted a small table. Once done, Anne sat whilst he poured the brandy for them before joining her.
“I had not thought you to be here. I understood the Elliotts to be in Bath for the winter.”
“Would you have come if you had known I was? No, do not answer that.”
“I would not have, but I would have been wrong to stay away. I would have been angry at my weakness in not facing you whilst even more desperate to see you.”
“I deserve your anger. If I had only known then what I understand now when it is too late,” Anne whispered, taking a sip from her glass.
“What do you mean? What is it you wish you had known?” Wentworth asked, his voice a raspy echo of his normal baritone and he cared not.
“You left so quickly after… after. I tried to explain, but I-” Anne looked upward and blinked rapidly.
“I could not stay and pretend all was well.”
“I received warnings from my family, how I would be cut off from all I knew. Even Lady Russell said we would have to cut our acquaintance. I begged her to recant. I could not make myself care at the loss of my father and sister after their unkindness. But to lose her as well? It was unfathomable.”
Only then, five years after that most terrible of days, did Wentworth understand wretchedness. He had not considered them capable of being so cruel. They had made threats against him if the marriage took place, but never had he thought they would be so cold toward his Anne.
“Proving their love for you to be based on standing alone, and I abandoned you that same day.” Wentworth cursed low under his breath.
“You said you would never let me sail with you. I would have been-”
“Utterly alone.”
“I would not have regretted the balls and parties- I was never a card player. But I do not enjoy total seclusion, to live only with the fear of your not returning as my companion day and night.”
“Sophia would rather sink with the admiral than remain on shore.”
“I understand well her desire. Every day, I scoured the broadsheets hoping to see news of your ship, praying with every part of my soul that if I should find it, it were not accompanied by news of it sinking or of being called lost.”
“Adding greatly to the loneliness. If I would have-”
“Yes.”
“You suggest that if I had promised you could sail with me until there was a child, you would have married me though it meant the loss of your connections?”
“Yes.”
“If only I had known then what I understand now.”
Wentworth reached for his glass, falling still when the backs of his fingers brushed hers. She did not pick up her glass nor pulled away. He curled his hand and left it there, turning his head slightly to better see her profile as to witness her reaction to their touch.
When Anne blinked, a tear dropped to her cheek.
He understood why. These five years unshared and a past to regret.
He knew such relief in understanding the cause for which she broke the engagement.
A large portion of it fell on his shoulders.
It meant he no longer could ascribe blame to the woman he loved.
Anne could not suppress her sob. Though it made him a beast, the proof she had loved him and had missed him perhaps more than he had missed her, was heavenly.
To know she searched every day for news of him while he refused to look at the engagement announcements fearing to catch her name was a source of joy.
Wentworth passed her his handkerchief with his free hand, unwilling to deny them the comfort from the touch they yet shared.
Anne, too, took it with her free hand, angling herself more toward him in doing so.
She knew he watched her dry her eyes, but she did not look away.
They sat in quietude, staring at one another in the dimming firelight, only their fingers touching, long into the night.
***
“Anne? Wake up, my darling.” Wentworth uncurled his nerveless fingers from his yet untouched glass. He reached over with his other hand to touch her cheek. “The sun rises. We must go up to prepare for the day.”
Anne’s eyes fluttered then opened wide. “It was not a dream?”
“It was not.”
“Can we not just stay here?”
“If you wish, I will stay.”
“I do wish it. But I must take Mrs. Smith to Bath. Her sister has no means to travel. I would not keep them apart for Christmas. And nurse Rooke has a daughter.”
“And I have not seen Edward these last years as I have been at sea.”
“Of course, we must go, but I will be… sorry to leave.”
“Not so much as I. When I will look into the situation for Mrs. Smith, might I call on you?”
“Yes,” Anne said, her breath hitching in her hope, her need for him to understand it was exactly her wish.
“Ah, there you are, Brother. Are the carriages ready?” Sophia asked, coming down the stairs on the arm of the admiral. “Oh, Miss Anne, you gave us quite a fright. I will tell Harriet you are already up and about.”
“I will have tea ordered for you both,” Anne said, attempting to smile.
“I will see our carriages readied for departure in an hour,” Wentworth assured those within, then went to the innkeeper to settle the bills for both parties.
Though he could not depart with her, he was pleased to do this one small thing for Anne. His beloved traveled for Mrs. Smith to do that which the Elliotts, as a family, should have done, yet had left for her to complete alone.
His Anne had forgiven him for his hotheaded, misguided attempt at chivalry that would have forced her into a life of solitude. As for Wentworth, he had forgiven Anne understanding her rejection of a life filled with loneliness and fear of his loss.
In the next week, two at most, they would meet again and plot their shared life’s course. He had not known any circumstance when forgiveness was so great a gift. The anger that had been burning in his breast these last years was now replaced with hope. A hope he knew Anne shared.
As he rode away, Wentworth regretted the lack of opportunity for them to speak again, but it was a silence he would not have to endure for long.
***
Bath, two weeks later
“Pardon my intrusion, I seek a Mrs. Smith?” An unknown gentleman walked into the small apartment Mrs. Smith now occupied in the lower floor of her sister’s home.
“I am Mrs. Smith,” Harriet said, moving forward in her chair.
“I come by way of Captain Wentworth. My name is Captain Benwick.”
“You are most welcome, Captain. Do come in. Our mutual friend also knows Miss Anne, who is here as she visits on Wednesdays.”
Mrs. Smith made introductions. Captain Benwick then sat in the second of the only two chairs in the room, other than the one Mrs. Smith occupied which had wheels.
“Wentworth and Admiral Croft were called to their ships this last week and set sail tomorrow. As I wait for my own ship to be readied, he commissioned me to see what I might learn of the situation with your husband’s finances, Mrs. Smith.”
“Oh, I am so very thankful he thought of us. Are not you, Miss Anne?” Mrs. Smith said. She then shared every detail pertinent to her husband’s business she could recall, and a great deal more besides.
On his way out, the captain requested Anne accompanied him to the door.
“Wentworth gave me a particular message that I might ask Mrs. Smith to pass along for you. I am pleased I can discharge this request myself. He wishes for you to know he will return and fulfill his promise. He requests your forgiveness for his tardiness.”
“He attends his duties, Captain. There is nothing to forgive. When you see him again, please assure him that if he requires it, he has both my forgiveness and my hope for his safe return to home shores. Please add that I will be waiting for him so we might fulfill our mutual promises.”
“I shall pass your message faithfully, Miss Anne. The gift of forgiveness, whether or not it is considered necessary by the one offering it, is a fine thing in any circumstance. It is good to see life returned to him again. Indeed, it is.”
Captain Benwick tipped his hat then left in the direction of the solicitor used by Mr. Smith. He intended to learn all there was to know of it, and, if it was in any way possible, see it redressed. Then he would go to Lyme where his beloved, Miss Fanny Harville, awaited him.