Authors: Amanda Grange

Captain Wentworth's Diary (8 page)

BOOK: Captain Wentworth's Diary

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‘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.

BOOK: Captain Wentworth's Diary

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