Captain Wentworth's Persuasion (48 page)

“Yes—yes, he is the most
romantic
man under that stiff exterior,” Anne said shyly.

Sophia smiled with the knowledge that her brother had finally found happiness. “Do you not think he possesses the capacity to love his own child? His heart is large enough to love all those in his life.The man is built to love and protect. How can you doubt it?”

“I never doubt my husband,” Anne spoke with determination. “I doubt myself often, but never Frederick. I simply fear disappointing him; I did so all those years ago.”

“Trust me,” Sophia said as she walked Anne toward her chambers. “Frederick would rather have your news than all the recognitions
he will receive tonight.”

Anne smiled that Madonna-like smile commonplace among mothers and mothers-to-be.“Thank you, Sophia.You have put my mind at ease. I will tell him this evening when we return.”

Being announced, the Wentworths and the Crofts walked proudly into the dining hall at Carlton House. A naval attaché to the court had called upon them two days earlier to review the protocol at a dinner with royalty present.They were as prepared as one can be—but then again, one can never be fully prepared for the grace, the splendor, and the dignity of such an occasion.

The light of hundreds of candles flickered off the gold trim of the ceiling. Chandeliers hung low, their light shimmering over the gold-edged place settings and goblets upon the cream-colored linen of the tables.Wall sconces every few feet added to the brightness; it was as if one stepped into the brightness of day. Bouquets of fresh flowers perfumed the air, while guests crushed dried rose petals and lavender under their feet as they walked about.

Women wearing gowns of various shades of the rainbow—and some wearing plumes that arched high out of their hair—moved about the room on the arms of handsomely dressed gentlemen. The shimmer of the material and the sparkle of their jewels added to the glow of the evening.

Anne wore a custard-tinted empire-waist gown of satin, and Frederick thought her the most arrestingly beautiful woman he ever saw. A pearl necklace adorned her throat, and beaded pearl pins held the complicated upsweep of her hair in a sleek design. Frederick, who wore his full dress uniform, looked large and powerful and perfectly in control. Together, they were a striking pair, and more than one head turned upon their entrance.

The Crofts sat at one of the many tables dedicated to the Navy, while Frederick and Anne found themselves at a table headed by Vice Admiral Pennington. Lieutenants Harwood and Avendale, along with Dr. Laraby, represented
The Resolve
, while like officers from the
Bellerophon
also occupied the table.

“So, Wentworth, did you share your news with your wife?” Pennington called from his end of the table.

Frederick looked up suddenly, discomfited by the question. “Unfortunately, I arrived home too late to fully give it my attention, Admiral.” He took a sip of a very fine white wine.

“
One
of you must tell me the news!” cried Anne.

Frederick cleared his throat and put down his wineglass. “I am sure, Mrs. Wentworth, you will find this news amusing. The Navy Board has chosen to release five sets of captain’s logs as books to the public. My log from the last months of my service—the capture of the two French ships and the American traitor will be the first one released. The book publisher asked that I review the entries and add any pertinent details—embellish so to speak.”

Anne offered one of her beguiling smiles, and he knew immediately where her mind would go. “Embellish?” she laughed.“They will allow you, my Husband, to embellish your log? The publisher must have heard of your storytelling prowess.”

Avendale’s new wife, Margaret exclaimed, “So, you will be an author!”

“Of sorts. But I do not expect, Mrs. Avendale, to compete with Mrs. Ratcliffe, if that is what you mean.”

Anne laughed, although she tried to stifle it. “No, Mrs. Avendale, I cannot see Admiral Wentworth competing with the new Gothic writers—no castles or strange prophecies or damsels in distress aboard a ship.”

Frederick loved her taunt; her quick wit never ceased to amaze him. “Maybe I will be able to compete with your favorite writer, my Love.What is her name?”

“We readers are unsure. Her first book
Sense and Sensibility
simply reads ‘by a Lady.’ The second reads ‘by the author of
Sense and Sensibility
.’ Hers are novels of our time, speaking of the social classes and the economic structure, which paralyzed our efforts for independent thinking. But they are books of hope because one can see the changes coming whether those in charge choose to recognize it or not.”

Mrs. Avendale took on a quizzical look. “I thought they were simply love stories.”

Frederick smiled at the woman. “My wife is a great believer in crossing cultural lines, but I am sure she enjoyed the romance part of the book, as well, for she has a very tender heart.”

“If it is the captain’s log, then we shall all receive a mention,” Dr. Laraby observed.

Admiral Pennington confirmed, “I expect you will. When Admiral Wentworth was disabled, others filled in the report—the log. It will reflect the two captures and the Admiral’s struggle to survive. The publisher anticipates that the British public will be enthralled by the drama.We jumped the gun, so to speak; the Army has not deployed its high rollers, as of yet. The Battle of Copenhagen—and probably that of San Domingo—as well as the Battle of the Nile will also be released. Did you not see action in some of those,Wentworth?”

“I did, Admiral, at both San Domingo and Copenhagen.”

“Then maybe we can tie the logs together that way.Your story in one log will lead to another log, in which you play a different role. Excellent idea, if I do say so myself! I will run it by the higher-ups tomorrow.” He returned his attention to Anne. “Mrs. Wentworth, your husband’s log will be the first one released; you must be very pleased.”

“Admiral Pennington, I assure you that I am extraordinarily proud of my husband.”

“I thought,” Frederick whispered privately, “I might persuade you to help me review the logs; you have a gift for words.”

Anne smiled mischievously. “Sir, I am not so
persuadable
as I once was.”

“I did not think you were, Madam,” he retorted slyly. “But I believe my charm might overcome your reservations.”

She giggled. “It is possible that it might, Admiral Wentworth.” She took a leisurely sip of her excellent red wine.

The attaché, who had attended them previously, appeared at the table, interrupting their conversation. “Admiral Wentworth, His
Majesty George IV wishes to speak to you and Mrs.Wentworth.”

“Sp-Speak to us? Now?” Frederick stammered. He touched his napkin to his lips.

The man nodded, and Frederick stood quickly, reaching for Anne’s hand, which had begun to tremble.As they walked the long aisle between the tables toward the head table, the man instructed him, “You are quite tall, Admiral. His Majesty is not, so sit when you speak with him.”

Frederick nodded and then steadied Anne as she rushed along beside him.Touching her elbow, he balanced her as they wove their way between tables and among the serving staff.“Are you all right, Sweetling?” he asked as they followed the attaché, who was hurriedly leading the way.

“We have been summoned to meet the heir to our country’s throne. How should I be?” Anne responded, sounding frightened. Frederick was not sure that her teeth were not chattering, although to him, the room suddenly felt very stuffy and warm. Unconsciously, he ran a finger around his collar, feeling it tightening on him.

Anne nearly swooned as they came within sight of the Prince Regent.“My legs!” she hissed to Frederick.“They are rubber!”

“I am here,” he murmured.

Despite what she knew he must be feeling, he looked self-assured; for that,Anne was suddenly grateful.They were together—she and Frederick could do
anything
together. She took a deep breath and then straightened her shoulders. “I am ready,” she told him as he directed her the last few feet before being presented to George IV and his special guests.

“I never thought otherwise, my Love.” He placed her hand on his arm as they stepped in front of their future king.

“Your Majesty,” the attaché spoke once the Prince Regent turned his head to look in their direction.“May I present Rear Admiral Frederick Wentworth and his wife Mrs. Anne Wentworth?” Both men made a proper bow as Anne dipped into a deep curtsy.

No one raised his eyes or spoke until the Prince spoke. “Admiral Wentworth, would you and your wife care to join us
for a few minutes?”

“We would be honored, Your Majesty.” Frederick’s voice changed in timbre. He handed Anne into the nearest chair and took the one set at an angle from the Prince, making the disparity in their heights less obvious.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Mrs.Wentworth?” the Prince asked nonchalantly.

Anne swallowed hard before answering. “It is a magnificent gathering,Your Highness.”

“Then you approve, Madam?” He seemed amused by her innocence, and his tone spoke volumes.“Have you not been to Carlton House previously?”

“No,Your Highness. I mean, I have not been to your home previously.” A tone of disapproval crept into her voice; she did not like being the object of his entertainment. “As far as approving of the supper,” she blurted out, “one would be foolish to disapprove of what one’s monarch offered.” Suddenly, she wished that she had not opened her mouth.

A long pause added to the tension before the Prince laughed. “A woman with spunk, Admiral Wentworth! You may have your hands full.” He motioned to the man on Anne’s left.“This is Prince Metternich of Austria, Madam.”

Anne dropped her eyes, but did not stand to curtsy. “It is with pleasure that I greet you, Prince Metternich.”

“Mrs.Wentworth,” the Austrian spoke in heavily accented English, “we understand that we owe your husband a great debt.”

“I am sure my husband does not feel he alone is worthy of such accolades, Prince Metternich.”

The Prince Regent interrupted, “Is that true, Admiral Wentworth? Does your wife speak your thoughts on the matter?”

Frederick spoke with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances: “My wife is extremely loyal and honest. My men—my crew—were as much a part of the success of our campaign as I was. In fact, they carried on most efficiently once I became injured.”

“Then you give them the credit for the captures?” the Austrian prince questioned.

“We are a crew, Prince Metternich; each of us relies on all the others to survive. Like a chain, we are only as strong as our weakest link.” Anne stared at him in disbelief; her softhearted husband appeared a rock of granite.

George IV laughed heartily, as did the minions seated at his table. “A lesson we are pleased Bonaparte never learned. Tell me, Wentworth, from where you hail,” Prinny demanded.

“From Herefordshire,Your Highness.”

“And your parents?”

“Edward and Cassandra,Your Majesty, of simple birth if that is your question, my Prince.”

“Was I misinformed?” Prinny looked almost embarrassed. “I thought you were from Somerset,Admiral.”

“My wife and I currently reside in Somerset with my sister and her husband,Admiral Croft.We are at Kellynch Hall,Your Highness.”

“At Kellynch?” the Prince Regent now seemed completely interested. “Sir Walter Elliot’s seat?”

“The very one,Your Highness. My wife is Sir Walter’s daughter.”

Prinny directed his comment to Anne. “Your father, Mrs.Wentworth, is well known as a pompous ass!”

“I am aware of his reputation.” Anne, thankfully, did not crack a

smile. The rest of the Prince’s table, however, burst into laughter again, as if on cue.

The woman to the Prince’s right inquired, “Then are you not Lady Wentworth?”

Anne allowed a smile to turn up the corners of her mouth.“My husband has no title, Madam.”

The Prince Regent leaned forward and flirtatiously took Anne’s hand in his while Frederick fought the urge to snatch it out of his grasp. Prinny knew exactly what he was doing—a test, so to speak, of the Wentworths’ reported devotion to each other. He brushed his lips across Anne’s knuckles.“Tell me, Mrs. Wentworth, when did you meet the Admiral?”

Anne flushed a little but spoke forthrightly,“Your Highness, my husband and I fell in love when I was but nineteen, and he had just received his first command.We never loved another or even considered another worthy of our attention, although we spent many years apart.”

“Not even a prince, Mrs. Wentworth?” Prinny prodded her. Frederick bit back the anger swelling in his chest.

Anne gazed at the heir to the throne. “Your Majesty, although you have the world to offer, I never wanted the world; I turned down riches and a title, preferring to marry the Admiral. I do not regret my decision.”