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CHAPTER 18
Spring 1816
Mrs. Dashwood walked
out of Barton Cottage looking for her daughter. "Margaret!
Margaret, where are you? My dear, you must come inside to practice
your instrument! Margaret!"
Hearing no answer,
she thought about returning to the house, thinking that the girl
must have gone for a walk, when she recalled something. Going
around to the back of the house, she walked to a certain large
oak tree. "Margaret Mary Dashwood! Are you in that treehouse?
Come down this instant!"
Slowly a curly-haired
girl, not yet a full score in age, peeked from inside the structure.
"I am sorry, Mama - I did not hear your call…"
Mrs. Dashwood held
her ground, her hands on her hips. "A likely story, young
lady!"
"Truly, Mama…
I was daydreaming, I suppose."
"Dreaming about
what - living like a savage; like a Red Indian?"
"Mama - they
live in lodges, not trees."
"And neither
do gentlemen's daughters! Come down, I say!" Margaret soon
complied. "Now, my dear, I know it is a fine day, but you
must spend more of your time practicing your instrument and less
acting like a young child."
"I like to
think up there, Mama."
"Think about
what, may I ask? What is it that you need altitude to contemplate?"
"I was thinking
about how fine it would be in the crow's nest of a sailing ship…"
Mrs. Dashwood sighed.
"My dear, we just received the letter last week."
"But why hasn't
he come?"
"Lt. Price
wrote to say he thought his ship should arrive in Portsmouth
this week - it does not mean he is here. The letter was posted
in Bermuda; the packet may have made better time."
"Or else he
does not mean to come."
"He wrote to
say that he should."
Margaret tossed
her head. "I am sure that I do not care! I think I shall
go in and practice my instrument."
"That is a
very good idea, my love."
As the ladies returned
to the house they saw a carriage approaching. Hopes brought as
high as the clouds came crashing down as it proved to be a familiar
vehicle. "Elinor! How lovely to see you!"
"Thank you,
Mother. Hello, Margaret." She kissed the girl.
"Hello, Elinor,"
she replied without enthusiasm.
"Go practice,
dear," advised her mother.
After Margaret had
gone in, Elinor turned to Mrs. Dashwood. "He has not come
yet, Mother?"
"No - and no
word except for the letter last week."
"Perhaps it
is for the best."
"Do you truly
think so?"
Elinor changed the
subject. "Edward sends his love, as do the children."
"Thank you,
dear. Why did you not bring them?"
"I wished to
spend some time with you."
"And you cannot
do that if you bring my grandchildren?"
"No, Mother
- for your attentions would justly be commanded by more worthy
and enjoyable company."
"Elinor - the
things you say! You claim I neglect my own children!"
"For the favor
of your grandchildren; yes, you do."
"Well, I shall
not stand out here debating the issue with you. Come inside for
tea… Say…is that not Colonel Brandon?"
"Where, Mother?"
"That rider
that approaches…in the blue coat…"
"Colonel Brandon
does not wear his uniform any longer… No, that is not the
colonel…"
Mrs. Dashwood grew
excited. "I should say not! Margaret! Margaret! Come here,
my girl!"
"Mother! We
should not…"
"Oh, hush,
Elinor."
The youngest Dashwood
woman came from inside the cottage. "You called, Mama…?"
Her voice trailed off as the rider grew nearer. Finally the tall,
long-haired man in the blue coat pulled his mount to a halt in
front of the cottage. He dismounted, threw the reins to old Tom,
who was standing by, and approached the ladies. Removing his
hat he made a deep, dramatic bow.
"Lieutenant
Price! You have come!" cried Mrs. Dashwood.
The man grinned.
"Mrs. Dashwood - Miss Dashwood - Madam - good day. But I
must tell you that you are mistaken - I am not Lieutenant Price."
He turned to the young lady. "Am I, Miss Dashwood?"
Margaret was uncertain
of her senses - she could not speak. But at the man's odd question
she took in his clothes more carefully. The coat was different…and
at the shoulders… Like the sun breaking out of a foggy day
all became obvious. She began to smile as her heart threatened
to burst out of her chest. "No sir, you are not…"
Mrs. Dashwood looked
at her daughter in confusion. "Margaret, what do you about?
Of course this is…"
"Mama, you
are indeed mistaken. Mama - Elinor - may I present to you Captain
William Price?"
William bowed again.
"At your service."
"Mr. Price
- I mean, Captain! How wonderful!" cried Mrs. Dashwood.
"Captain Price,
this is my sister, Mrs. Ferrars."
Elinor held out
her hand. "Captain, allow me to wish you joy on your promotion.
But it is a very recent event, is it not?"
"Indeed, Mrs.
Ferrars. I received my second epaulette when I brought the Saint
Jean in from Bermuda. Admiral Pellew made me post because
of it."
Margaret thought
she was going to faint.
"Sir, we were
just going in for tea." Mrs. Dashwood was beaming. "I
would be pleased indeed if you would join us."
"Thank you
ma'am; nothing would give me greater pleasure, I assure you.
But I have ridden hard and feel an inclination to refresh myself
by walking in your beautiful rose garden." He spoke to Mrs.
Dashwood, but his eyes were locked on Miss Dashwood. "If
I may be excused for a few minutes?"
Breathe, Margaret,
breathe!
"Of course,
Captain. Come in after you have finished your walk."
"Captain Price!"
Margaret recovered her voice again. "You would - I mean,
would you like some company?" Elinor began to frown, but
Mrs. Dashwood stilled her with a touch of her arm.
"That is very
kind of you." He held out his arm. "Shall we?"
"Elinor, get
away from the window!" Mrs. Dashwood cried from the far
side of her parlor.
"Mother, this
is very unseemly…"
"It is not!
William Price is an honorable man. Besides, I recall several
times you were out walking with Edward without chaperone."
"That was different,
Mother. That was…Edward," she said, as if that explained
everything.
Mrs. Dashwood laughed.
"I do not think Captain Price is in any way less the gentleman.
I do not think there is a smidgeon of difference between the
two at all."
Elinor's hand flew
to her mouth. "You…you are more right than you suppose…
Oh, Mother, come quickly…!"
"What is it,
my dear?" She hurried to her daughter's side. "Oh,
my goodness…he is kneeling!"
Elinor's eyes filled
with tears as she turned smiling to her mother. "You were
right, Mother - there is no difference between them - for they
are both your sons!"
William stood up
again. "You have made me the happiest man in the world,
my dear, lovely Margaret…"
"Oh, William,
I cannot believe it! I am so happy!"
"Why not, my
dear? Did you not tell me that I may have anything my heart desires,
should I put my mind to it?" He grew close. "I cannot
tell you how those words have driven me."
She reached up to
stoke his face, but a movement caught her eye. "Oh, my goodness!
We are under observation!" Her hand fell quickly to her
side.
"I beg your
pardon?"
"They are watching
from the parlor window. Oh, how mortifying!"
"Who is watching
- your mother and sister?" She nodded. "Hmmm…this
calls for drastic action, I think…"
"What…what
do you mean?" she asked as he stepped even closer.
"I think we
should punish them for their obtrusiveness."
"And…how
do you suggest that we…do that…?"
"By really
giving them something to look at."
Her deep brown eyes
grew very wide. "William…that is improper! We are only
just engaged…"
He chuckled deep
in his chest; an action that felt incredibly satisfying to the
lady. "Mrs. Wentworth told me that a naval officer must
train his wife for a life at sea. Therefore, my love, remember
this bit of wisdom from Nelson: 'Never mind maneuvers, just
go straight at 'em'." Her response died on her lips,
as they were more agreeable occupied.
When they came up
for air, Margaret murmured, "I think I like your Mrs. Wentworth."
Marianne and Christopher
had just finished tea. As the Mistress of Delaford was ascending
the stairs to check on the children in the nursery, the butler
interrupted her with, "Mrs. Brandon, Miss Dashwood is here
with a guest - a naval person."
Marianne's eyes
grew wide, but checked her outburst. "Show them into the
sitting room. I shall collect the colonel."
A minute later,
Christopher and Marianne entered the sitting room and beheld
a very flushed and overjoyed Margaret standing next to a tall
man in a Navy uniform. "Hello, Margaret," Brandon welcomed
her with, his eyes on the gentleman. I think I know who this
one is.
"Colonel, Marianne,
may I present to you Captain William Price of the Royal Navy?"
Marianne's eyes grew even wider. Captain? "Captain,
this is Colonel and Mrs. Brandon."
"Welcome to
Delaford, Captain." Brandon offered his hand.
"Thank you,
sir. Mrs. Brandon, you have a beautiful home. Colonel, may I
trouble you for a few minutes…?"
Christopher looked
back and forth between the two young people. "You wish to
speak with…me?" He then saw the same expression on
Marianne's and Margaret's faces - Take him into the library!
He stopped his mouth before he could say anything else that
could be regarded as foolish. "I am at your disposal, sir.
Right this way…" I suppose I can look at this as
practice toward the day some young man comes for my Joy…
When they were alone,
Marianne turned to her sister. "Margaret…?"
She received the
brightest smile possible. "Yes - he has already spoken to
Mama…but he wanted Christopher's blessing as well!"
She flew into Marianne's arms. "Oh, I am so happy!"
Marianne didn't
know what to think. "Margaret - this is…wonderful…"
Margaret leaned
back. "And Marianne…I have reflected most strenuously
on our conversation last summer… Believe me; I do
know what I am doing."
Tears of joy appeared
in Marianne's eyes. "That is all I have ever wished for
you, my love."
June 1816
Mr. Thomas Tucker,
a partner in the firm of Tucker & Philips, with offices in
London and Meryton, looked up as a clerk entered his London office.
"A Captain Wentworth is here to see you."
Tucker glanced at
his watch - the officer was right on time for his appointment.
Nothing like naval efficiency. "Please show the gentleman
in." Within a minute a tall man in a captain's uniform strode
through the door. "Captain Wentworth? My name is Tucker.
I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir."
"You come highly
recommended, Mr. Tucker." Frederick took the seat indicated.
"Indeed? May
I inquire as to whom has shown me such consideration?"
"Captain Harville,
as well as his employer, Mr. Gardiner."
"Mr. Gardiner
I have known these many years. Captain Harville I have recently
become acquainted with; an excellent gentleman."
"You'll find
no better man than Harville, sir."
Uncle Gardiner
shares that opinion. "I
am sure you are right, sir. Now, how can I be of service to you?"
Captain Wentworth
explained at length a proposed business contract with Mr. William
Walter Elliot.
"And Mr. Elliot
turned you down?"
"I was unsuccessful
in speaking to Mr. Elliot directly. It was his solicitor who
rejected our offer. Told us not to come back."
Tucker played with
the papers on his desk. "How well do you know Mr. Elliot?"
Wentworth then explained
the matter he had recently resolved for his wife's friend Mrs.
Smith - an injustice caused by Mr. Elliot's indifference to the
widow's plight. "I am afraid I do not think much of Mr.
Elliot."
Tucker considered
what he had heard. Captain Wentworth's story is all of a piece
from what I know of that gentleman's character. William Elliot
is a bad one. He attempted to rope in Uncle Gardiner on some
scheme - Uncle sent him packing with his tail between his legs.
He looked at Wentworth. "How important is the matter to
you, sir?"
"To me, it
is as nothing. But to my wife…"
"Say no more,
sir - I quite understand. I would be happy to look into the matter
for you."
"Thank you,
Mr. Tucker; I would be most obliged."
"It may take
some time - and it will not be inexpensive…"
Wentworth stood
and extended his hand. "Sir, you have a reputation as a
miracle worker. Please do what you can."
"You have my
hand on it, sir."
July 1816
Mr. Tucker rode
through the streets of the British capital in his carriage with
his newest employee, a clerk by the name of Richard Price. Meryton
was all fine and good - for a country town - but London! There
was the place a man may make his fortune. All things were possible
there. London was the center of the universe - in social and
business matters - and he that could master this city was Master
of his Fate. Good Lord, how he liked London!
The last year had
been a very prosperous one for Tucker - having such clients as
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Colonel Brandon and the Earl of Matlock (he
couldn't count Edward Gardiner, as he was already a client) had
given him the ability to purchase a partnership with his old
employer Philips - the senior partnership. His political
ambitions were coming closer to fruition - if he could arrange
to have Colonel Brandon elected to Parliament as a Tory, his
"friends" in the Party would be very much in his debt,
which would be invaluable when the day came when he would seek
his own seat. But that was not his only acquisition - Mary finally
was with child.
He said a quick
prayer under his breath, as he did each time he thought of Mary's
delicate condition. For as much as he wanted success, it would
mean nothing to him without his wife and future child. She was
his best friend, counselor, lover and lucky star. Her connections
made his career. He knew he would still be a clerk in a small
county town if not for Mary Bennet Tucker. The best work I
ever did was to go to that Meryton assembly. Let Sir William
Lucas keep his Maria and his once-a-year visits to the Court
of St. James. I have Mary Tucker in my bed and Fitzwilliam Darcy
in my pocket!
A jolt of the carriage
ended his reminiscing. He turned to his clerk. "You have
all the documents, Mr. Price?"
"Oh, yes sir.
I hope this business is settled directly…"
"Have you something
else to do, Mr. Price?" he asked in a rather frigid manner.
"Of…of
course not, sir! It's just that my brother marries next week…"
"Ah, yes…well,
that should be not be any trouble. You are brother to Captain
Price?"
"Yes, sir.
He marries Miss Dashwood from Barton Cottage."
"That is my
understanding; he was lieutenant under our client, Captain Wentworth,
before his promotion."
"Yes, sir."
Tucker decided to
be polite. "Where is the wedding - Dorsetshire?"
"Yes; Miss
Dashwood marries from Delaford, though there was some talk about
Mansfield Park."
"Mansfield?
Why Mansfield?"
"My uncle,
Sir Thomas, suggested it. My sister, Fanny is married to the
vicar there - Sir Thomas' son."
"A worthy relative."
"Indeed, sir.
When Miss Dashwood decided on Delaford - her brother is vicar
there - Sir Thomas settled some money on her."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, sir -
five thousand pounds."
Tucker could not
hide his surprise. "Such a sum! Very generous, I must say."
"Yes, sir.
He felt some obligation to her family, it seems."
"Yes…a
very worthy gentleman." And a worthy would-be client.
And Price here is his nephew? I did better than I thought when
I hired him away from his old firm. "Our business here
should not take long. Let us review. What paperwork have you?"
Price rifled though
the packet. "One - a letter authorizing us to act in behalf
of Captain Frederick Wentworth, RN. Two - a copy of the entail
for Kellynch Hall and the surrounding properties. Three - a bona
fide offer to establish a long-term lease for the house at Kellynch
at a very generous amount, if I may say so…"
"You may not,"
Tucker snapped. "Continue."
"Sorry, sir.
Where was I…? Yes - the lease, with power of sub-lease,
effective upon the receipt of Kellynch by Mr. William Walter
Elliot from the estate of Sir Walter Elliot… Sir? May I
ask a question?"
"Yes."
"Why are the
Wentworths doing this? Is Sir Walter in any danger?"
"My understanding
is that Mrs. Wentworth wishes to ensure that they will have the
opportunity to live in Kellynch Hall; Mr. William Elliot having
declared on several occasions that he will never take up residence
there. Last I heard Sir Walter is in good health. Mrs. Wentworth
plans to continue sailing with her husband and fears being out
of the country should any misfortune fall upon her father. This
is a contract - no payments will be exchanged, save for a sizable
deposit. This contract has nothing to do with either the title
or the lands - it is for the house alone."
"And the Wentworths
think Mr. Elliot will entertain this offer?"
"He'd better."
Tucker had done his homework. Thanks to his and his uncle's contacts
with men of trade, he learned the details of Elliot's shady business
dealings. Tucker spent no little time ferreting out all he could
about the man and his finances. Those, he discovered, were balanced
on a razor's edge. It would not take much to cause the whole
house of cards to fall. A word here, a letter there, to the right
people, was all that was required to apply pressure upon the
man.
Now thanks to his
efforts, several of Mr. Elliot's "business dealings"
had come undone recently. Investigations were being made. There
was talk of prison. Elliot needed money for legal help. Pressure
- now we'll see if a bit of pressure will convince Mr. Elliot
to consider a fair business offer with a more favorable eye.
There was a cry
and the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Seizing the pistol he
kept under the seat (he may have loved London, but he was no
fool), Tucker leaned out. "Driver - why have we stopped?"
"Beg pardon,
sir - the Bow Street Runners have got the lane blocked off."
Tucker turned to
his associate as he replaced his pistol. "Bring the papers
and come with me." The two descended from the carriage and
walked towards the Elliot townhouse.
A constable held
up his hand. "Hold on, gov'nor, that's as far as you go."
Tucker did not back
down. "I have an appointment with Mr. Elliot. My name is
Mr. Tucker."
"Now look 'ere,
I gots me orders. No one gets into that…"
"Tucker! Is
that you?" A magistrate was exiting the townhouse.
"Yes, your
lordship. How are you? I have an appointment with Mr. Elliot."
The magistrate waved
Tucker over. With a smirk and half-bow to the constable, Tucker
and his associate walked up the steps. "Good lord, Tucker,
but you got here fast," they were greeted.
"Fast, your
lordship? I fail to understand your meaning. I have had this
appointment for over a week."
"Oh! I thought
you were… You are not representing any of Elliot's creditors?"
"No, sir -
but I do have business to conduct with him; I and my associate,
Mr. Price. We represent Captain Wentworth, who is married to
Mr. Elliot's cousin."
"Oh, what a
muddle… You better come in, then, Tucker. You too, Mr. Price."
The three men entered the townhouse. Tucker saw at least two
more constables in the hallway as the party moved into the parlor.
The magistrate turned to them. "I take it then you haven't
heard?"
"I know nothing,
sir, save the gentleman I am scheduled to meet with at this hour
has a house filled with constables."
"Yes, yes…
Well, I suppose I can tell you, Tucker. Not likely to be kept
quiet, with all the litigation… This morning, Mr. Elliot's
man found the gentleman on the floor of his study, completely
insensible, and the door to his safe wide open. The doctor was
called for, of course. After a preliminary diagnosis, I was sent
for."
Tucker showed incredible
patience.
"It seems that
Mr. Elliot was the victim of an attempted poisoning."
"Good lord!"
cried Price.
"How is the
gentleman?" asked Tucker.
"Doctor's with
him now. Brought in an expert."
"This is a
terrible occurrence. Is it yet known who did it?"
"Who wouldn't!
There's plenty of angry 'investors' who would like to do that
one in, I can tell you."
"Do you have
a suspect?"
"Well, yes.
It seems that Mr. Elliot had a Mrs. Clay under his protection.
When the servant found Mr. Elliot he raised the house, of course.
This Mrs. Clay was not in residence, and has not been seen since
last night."
"Indeed."
"There's more
to it than that. All her clothes and things are gone. The safe
was found completely empty. And we've talked to a hackney cab
that picked up a woman in the neighborhood matching her description
early this morning, just before sunup."
"He was not
suspicious, a woman hailing a cab with a trunk of belongings?"
"He said she
only had a small carpet bag with her. He drove her to the docks."
"Ohhh…that's
bad," put in Price.
"Yes, yes,
I'm sure it is," said Tucker. "Is it thought she has
taken ship?"
"There was
a boat bound for America left at sunrise. Here - here's the butler.
My good man, tell us - did Mrs. Clay own very many belongings?"
At the butler's look, he added, "Come on, man - out with
it!"
"Mrs. Clay
could not remove her…belongings in less than two trunks,
sir."
"Hmmm…could
she have had the stuff removed earlier?"
"Mrs. Clay
did have some things she wanted to give to the poor house, she
said. She removed two trunks two days ago."
"And no one
noticed?"
"She had expressed
a desire to donate to the poor house last week sir. The removal
was expected."
"Where's her
maid?"
The butler colored.
"She's late - she has not come in yet, sir."
Tucker turned to
Price. "It seems your observation was correct, Mr. Price.
Your lordship, if I may be so bold as to speculate, it seems
that Mrs. Clay was planning to leave Mr. Elliot's household for
at least a week."
"Aye - makes
it premeditated."
"Of course,
your lordship. But, might I inquire of this gentleman,"
he indicated the butler, "if there was any reason for Mrs.
Clay to leave? Had she lost Mr. Elliot's affections?"
The butler struggled.
"Mr. Elliot…had been paying attentions of late…to
a Miss Liverpool, an heiress."
"I see. Was
Mr. Elliot known for keeping large sums of money in his safe?"
"Well, sir,
Mr. Elliot was…very quiet about his business dealings. The
existence of the safe was known to only a very few - Mr. Elliot,
myself…"
"And Mrs. Clay?"
"Yes, sir…
Mr. Elliot would often work late into the evenings. He stored
his papers and such in the safe."
"How much money
did Mr. Elliot normally keep in the safe?"
"He liked to
keep about a thousand pounds on hand, sir." There was a
low whistle from Price that was quickly stifled by a glare from
Tucker.
"Hmmm…
Bad business," rumbled the magistrate. "'Scorned woman'
and all that. Thank you, my man - you may return to your duties."
After the butler
left the room, Tucker asked, "How bad off is Mr. Elliot?
Do you fear for his life?"
The magistrate looked
Tucker up and down. "Hmmm…you said you represent his
cousin and her husband?"
"His nearest
relations, as far as I can ascertain."
"Well, won't
do any harm. Come along; we will ask the doctors." No sooner
had the party reached the hallway than a doctor left the study.
"Doctor! Can you tell me any more? These gentlemen represent
his relations." The butler, who had not gone far, moved
closer to the group.
"Mr. Elliot
is very ill. He has ingested a very potent poison of a kind I
am completely unfamiliar with. We found traces of some sort of
exotic plant in a glass of whiskey. My colleague believes it
is from India, but he does not know of an antidote."
"Doctor, will
he die?"
"We do not
think he has suffered a fatal dose, as he stills breathes. He
may recover. We are purging him even now. However, this is not
the worse of his troubles. The shock of the poison attacking
his system apparently cause him to suffer an apoplexy, from which
he is paralyzed from the neck down. He may survive the poison
only to suffer a more lingering condition."
"What are his
chances, Doctor?" asked Tucker.
"Full recovery
is out of the question. His chances of seeing Christmas, I believe,
are one in three. Should he reach that milestone, he may live
another five years…it is too early to tell."
"A plant from
India? Where would she get that from?" mused the magistrate
out loud.
"Begging your
pardon, sir," interjected the butler, "but Mrs. Clay's
maid was from India."
The men looked at
each other. "Anything else, doctor?" his lordship inquired.
"No, except…did
you know that there is an open safe in Mr. Elliot's study?"
"Yes, we noted
that. Thank you doctor." The three gentlemen returned to
the parlor. "Well, all the pieces seem to fit - motivation,
opportunity, and knowledge of the weapon. I'll give you odds
that when my man comes back from the docks, he'll bring news
of two ladies taking passage on that America-bound boat. What
a hullabaloo there will be when this gets out!"
Tucker looked at
his associate. "Excuse me, your lordship, but has Mr. Elliot's
solicitor been contacted yet?"
"Not yet, but
I can send for him. Why?"
"Your lordship,
I have with me a copy of the entail for Kellynch Hall. Mr. William
Elliot is the heir to Sir Walter Elliot, Mrs. Wentworth's father.
However, should Mr. Elliot fail to survive Sir Walter or die
without male issue, the baronet devolves to the eldest male child
of the eldest daughter of Sir Walter. As Miss Elizabeth Elliot
is not married, the heir to Kellynch Hall would be the son of
Captain and Mrs. Wentworth: Kenneth Elliot Wentworth.
"Since I represent
the parents, I also represent him. He is also potentially heir
to the other assets of Mr. Elliot. I would have to review the
will, should any exist. In any case, I must take steps to protect
Master Wentworth's rights." Including having me appointed
as guardian and trustee for Mr. Elliot - that way I may settle
with his "investors" and protect what assets are left.
The magistrate read
over the document. "It appears you are right, sir. I shall
have him sent for directly. Sad business, this…" he
said as he left the room to issue orders.
"What a terrible
thing, sir." whispered Price.
"Yes, yes…terrible,"
answered Tucker, but his thoughts were elsewhere. His conscience
was hurting. When he took this case, he only wanted to serve
his clients. To assure his success he had done some things that
he now found very little pride in. Had his efforts to pressure
the man started a sequence of events that led to this current
tragedy? Had his pride and desire for success caused all this?
Suddenly, Tucker
felt an overwhelming need to rush home and seek solace from his
wife. Mary would know - Mary would console him. God in heaven,
I need Mary!
August 1816
Captain Wentworth
sat in the library of Kellynch Hall finishing the latest letter
from Mr. Tucker in London:
…I have
been appointed guardian and trustee over all of Mr. Elliot's
affairs. I should be able to settle his debts and still have
some money left for the invalid's care. In any case, there will
be no claim on Kellynch…
Frederick rose from
the chair and left the library, seeking out his family. He found
them in the great sitting room: Admiral Croft on the sofa, holding
a squirming Kenneth on his lap; dear Sophy sitting beside them,
laughing; Lady Russell taking it all in from her armchair; and
his beloved Anne in her own chair, a look of absolute delight
on her beautiful face. The Wentworths were guests at Kellynch
- the Crofts were still renting the place from Sir Walter. Frederick
was waiting for the brand new 40-gun frigate (a frigate - hurrah!)
he was promised to come off the ways at the shipyard. William
Price would get the Laconia, as soon as it was finished
refitting, and return to Bermuda, taking Mrs. Price with him.
Apparently Wentworth's luck was catching.
Frederick hesitated.
He could not upset such domestic felicity with the melancholy
contents of Tucker's letter. He put it in his pocket - there
was time enough this evening, after Anne and he retired, to share
such news. William Elliot - his mind trapped in a failing
body - only his eyes and ears seemed to respond - unable to speak
or communicate in any way. An invalid for the rest of his days.
Were his crimes so bad as to deserve this? A selfish, greedy
man, to be sure - but this? Doomed to have a diaper about him,
like an infant? It is too much. May God have mercy upon him and
end his sufferings.
Still unnoticed
by his family, Frederick took a moment to look about the place.
His future home, when he retired from the sea. Kenneth's destiny
- Sir Kenneth. My son. My, how fine that sounds! His thoughts
went to the first weeks of his marriage; how much his life had
changed since then. And he recalled the part a short, brilliant,
disagreeable-looking doctor had in helping Anne and himself to
understand each other. Stephen Maturin had been a friend indeed.
Maturin, last he had heard, was sailing the South Atlantic with
Admiral Aubrey (Jack finally got his flag - oh, how happy
he must be!) after a somewhat successful mission helping
the Chileans win their independence from Spain. I wish you
fair winds and a following sea, my dear friends.
"Frederick,
what are you about - standing there like a knock-kneed midshipman?"
Admiral Croft admonished him - he had just noticed Frederick
standing in the doorway. "Come join your family, sir!"
Anne gave him a heart-warming smile.
Frederick grinned.
"Nothing would give me greater happiness, sir."
THE END
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