For You Alone (Frederick Wentworth, Captain: Book 2) Read online

  Edward stopped and smiled. “Ah yes, my lovely wife.” He laughed. “Catherine is well away from here. She’s with her parents in Kidderminster. Her father is buying a horse, and her mother needed company while he makes the rounds of the sales. Anywise, you’ll not be compromised.” He laughed, shook his head, and left the room.

  “Compromised, indeed,” he muttered, working off the second boot. He wondered where his brother had put the boy as he moved closer to the comfort of the fire. Another chair held the boy’s clothes. He’d never examined Tuggins very closely and now realised how worn were his coat and pants. It was impossible not to notice how small the boy was as well. The remains of Mr. Tuggins’s meal were evident on the table. He took a small piece of bread, dragged it through the stew’s gravy, and ate it. Pulling a chair onto the hearthstones, he peeled off his stockings and warmed his feet. The sound of the stew bubbling in the pot was as soothing as it smelled rich and inviting. His stomach growled in anticipation of more, and the warm stones around the grate felt wonderful on his cold feet. He made a silent concession to his brother: he would remove his soaked outer garments but keep his shirt and trousers firmly in place until he examined what Edward brought him.

  He’d never worn his brother’s clothes before. When Edward returned from the West Indies to care for Sophia and him, Frederick had been a short, wiry 12-year-old barely able to fill out his own clothes. Now, as adults, Edward was half-a-head shorter than he and more solidly built. And, if he was not mistaken, marriage had added not only to Edward’s happiness but to his girth as well.

  The Rector’s clothes were examined and deemed acceptable when compared to the Captain’s sodden ones. The resulting outfit was rather comical. “I’m sorry the pants are too short. They fit me very well,” his brother said, spreading the wet articles over the backs of two chairs.

  “Well, they would, wouldn’t they?” Frederick said, pulling on heavy woollen stockings.

  “It is not my fault that you’re the taller of us.”

  “I didn’t say it was.”

  Again, there was nothing of Edward’s previous warmth, or perhaps it was his own grim mood putting them at odds. “Where is George sleeping?” He was beginning to realise the boy would serve as a convenient diversion when feelings ran a bit high.

  Edward was filling bowls with stew. He motioned to the fireplace with a large spoon. “There is a small room behind this wall—quite warm and snug—with a bed. He ate and was practically asleep when I returned from getting him something to wear.” He paused in his serving and studied Frederick. He began to say something, thought better of it, and resumed his task. Finally, he said, “The boy seems like a good sort.” He finished with the food and picked up the tray.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  “Were Catherine here, we would certainly be in the dining room, but with her away I have become like a hermit in my own house. I spend most of my mornings out visiting, and the local ladies have taken pity and pass me around as a dinner guest. That leaves my evenings spent mostly in here. I only venture into the kitchen or the bedroom out of necessity.”

  They were seated before a roaring fire in Edward’s study. Frederick was amused by his brother’s enthusiastic hospitality. Edward insisted that he take the better of the two battered red leather chairs and a mismatched upholstered footstool. Above the change of clothes, he was offered a blanket, which he refused, and now he ate a bowl of stew that could feed three men along with a chunk of bread able to sustain four. It was a far cry from former days—days not all that long ago—when Edward had to be careful of every mouthful he consumed or provided.

  “Would you like more?”

  Frederick’s bowl still held a fair amount. He held up his hand in refusal and placed it on a small side table from which Edward served them both. “You are a better cook than I remember.”

  “Better circumstances. I still receive gifts of food—they are occasionally suspect in quality, mind you—but for the most part, people are doing well here and are quite generous. What’s more, Catherine’s family is very adept at seeing we never return from our weekly visit empty-handed.”

  This was another change. In the past, Edward gladly accepted the spotted and blighted offerings of whatever poor parish he served. When he was given anything in good repair and useable, he bristled. In those bygone days he seemed to feel he deserved only that which was fit for the trash heap, anything of decent quality was above him and should be humbly refused. Frederick was glad to see things changed. He’d eaten enough meals concocted from those dubious offerings to last him a lifetime. Possibly Mrs. Wentworth’s family had something to do with the change.

  “Would you like to see a picture of Catherine?” Edward asked. He’d been quiet for a while, perhaps thinking of her. Frederick said he would, and Edward brought a framed picture from his desk.

  Mrs. Wentworth was not a beauty in any sense. She, in fact, gave the impression of being rather severe, if the drawing was in any way true to the subject. Her grey eyes lacked any brilliance and her complexion was nothing at which to marvel. Her hair was a nondescript brown and her shoulders were somewhat narrow. It was not a formal portrait but an amateur composition with an ill-organised flower arrangement in the background. Even with nature at her back, it did her no real favours.

  Edward took the picture. “I hope to have something better done in future. This was rendered by a young cousin of hers a few years ago.” He touched the frame and replaced it. “She will be the first to tell you she is not pretty.” He sat down. “When she takes the time, she says she is tolerable. It angers her that I insist on telling her she is beautiful. ‘I know better than that, Edward Wentworth,’ she’ll scold.”

  Frederick glanced over to his brother. Edward stared blindly into the fire. “So, why do you tease her if it upsets her so?” Edward had never shown a propensity to mock anyone.

  He looked at Frederick with a countenance that warred between frown and smile. “You know better! No matter how loud the protest, ladies like a compliment. Besides, I am not teasing her.” He sat back and put a foot on the unused stool. Frederick pushed it towards him. “I do find her beautiful. Love does that I suppose. It has been my duty to baptise some of the most awkward-looking children ever born, but their mothers, particularly, see them as perfect little babies.” He was quiet for a time. “I know that Catherine does not fit the accepted mould of what passes as a beautiful woman these days, but I like to think that because I love her, I am able to see her more clearly than other men.”

  Frederick had no response for this theory. “I am pleased to see you happy, Brother.” And he was. At least one of them should be lucky in love.

  “Thank you. I am happy. One of the older parishioners told me she thought me one of the most cheerful men she’d ever known. But, after I married, she said I surpassed even that. I had always thought myself quiet and introspective. I guess I badly misjudged myself all the way around.”

  You and I, both, it would seem, Frederick thought. From the cheerful greeting outside, his brother’s mood had shifted between a light airiness and his customary earnestness. At some point, it had begun an inextricable move towards this more genial side. There was none of the distance and condemnation Frederick had felt in the past. Could a marriage make this much difference in such a short time? Perhaps. But the innkeeper had said Edward was a happy man even before that. Where had that brother been all these years?

  “Anywise, we are happy, and that accounts for it, I think.”

  “How did you meet Mrs. Wentworth? Is it a longstanding acquaintance? Or did you see one another and just know it was love?”

  “I have known Catherine since I moved to Glencoe—a market village just up the road—three years ago. I had it in my mind to pursue a trade of some sort.”

  “But God is your trade.”

  Edward raised a brow and looked at Frederick for a moment. He was clearly deciding something. “God is neither a trade nor a commodity to be bought and sold. Anywise, I wa
s worn to the bone and thought a complete change would be just the thing.”

  He did not ask why his brother was worn and had contemplated a change in occupation, but it was odd and something to keep in mind.

  “I was doing some teaching and met Catherine through her brother. I was tutoring his son in mathematics. Her family resides there. We saw one another at social gatherings, and she would take pity on a poor, hapless man who dances poorly. I noticed one evening that she had the habit of rescuing me by starting unusual theological discussions. We’d be left to ourselves in short order once anyone got wind of the topic. After a time, it was known that I was only good for deep philosophical conversations, and then, none of the ladies expected any dancing from me.” Edward smiled as he gazed into the fire.

  “That’s rather inappropriate, isn’t it? Two single people conversing so intimately?”

  Edward chuckled. “Yes, it was. I did once mention that she opened herself to great and unwelcome speculation on the condition of her soul by doing this. Her answer was that in the country everyone is so closely tied and that practically anyone at any time could know what she was about. There was no opportunity for her to be up to mischief. Besides, the conversations were not always about theology. She is keen on practically all matters, and we merely took advantage of the circumstances.”

  “So, did the two of you fall immediately in love, or did it take time?”

  “You probe rather deeply, my boy.”

  The rebuke made him realise he was being amazingly meddlesome. “Sorry. I am just interested in the change of affairs. Ignore me.”

  “No, I’m glad to tell someone. We were merely acquaintances. She had almost decided it was not her lot in life to marry. One day, we met outside the shops, and she showed me a cap. She said she might buy it. ‘It is not too gruesome, but it will send a clear message to those who think themselves eligible,’ she said.”

  “I must say that even as a single woman, she was quite frank.”

  “Very much so. After that meeting, I began to contemplate our separate situations and found that a solution would be for us to marry.” Edward shifted in his chair but did not look at Frederick.

  This struck Frederick as absurd. “I can scarcely believe the happiness you describe is the result of convenience alone.”

  Edward glanced Frederick’s way, but quickly looked back at the fire. “It is not. God has an amazing sense of humour. I proposed, and she accepted. There were smiles all ’round, handshakes of congratulation. I suspect her family knew what I was about. They saw me as Catherine’s gallant knight come to save her from spinsterhood. Though, the truth be known, she has saved me.” He turned away and kicked off his shoes, setting them precisely by the leg of the chair. After he sat up, he continued. “Just a few days before the wedding, I began to think myself very unfair. I would be quite comfortable in the arrangement, but what if Catherine harboured secret ideas about romance and such?”

  “You said she is intelligent; didn’t you think she also understood this to be a practical matter?” Frederick knew he should scold himself for going more deeply into a subject that was clearly none of his concern, but he was fascinated.

  Edward leaned over the arm of the chair. “And what if she did not? I have seen perfectly rational people turned into idiots by weddings and ideas of love. I began to think very carefully about what I might have started.” He sat back. “And that was when I decided that I had to make everything clear to her. That very night I was dining with the Keyes. My stomach was so tied in knots I thought I must be ill.”

  “Is Mrs. Keye such a bad cook?” Frederick asked, not able to resist the jest.

  “Please, Frederick. Put that brilliant wit aside for a moment. So, I dined with them. I was perfectly senseless the entire meal. My hands were shaking, I dropped so much cutlery I spent more time under the table than upright. I mutilated a perfectly good chop to look as if I had eaten. Thankfully, we adjourned to the sitting room. Catherine’s brother was to read us something of his own composition...as he always must.”

  Frederick could not help noticing the sarcasm-laced reference to Edward’s brother-in-law. It was not his usual way. He was beginning to enjoy this man he had thought he already knew.

  “Catherine took a seat next to me, as she usually did. I would normally have endured the recitation with a modicum of grace but not this time. He began, and I noticed immediately that her presence was quite unnerving. We had always been perfectly at ease, but that night...”

  The Captain knew what confession was to follow. He took a drink rather than laugh.

  “I began to feel ill again, and I quit the room with as much aplomb as my haste would allow.” Edward rose and faced the mantle, denying his brother a look at his expression. “I stood in the vestibule for a moment, considering what I should do. The heat in the sitting room was excessive; it was cooler there. Dusk was falling and the candles had not yet been lit,” he paused to poke at the fire. He took a deep breath. “Catherine came to me. She asked if I was ill.” He paused for a long time.

  Curiosity was getting the better of Frederick. “And you told her—”

  He turned to face Frederick. “I told her nothing. I stuttered and stammered and finally, I kissed her.”

  That was the outcome Frederick had suspected. He could not help but laugh.

  “What is so funny?”

  “You intend to tell her it’s all for convenience sake, and that, perhaps, she needs to think again; and to prove it, you kiss her. That makes no sense, Brother.” He continued to laugh quietly.

  Edward laughed in agreement and settled back into his chair. “No, my actions do not. But love doesn’t really make any sense, does it?” He took a drink and raised a toast to love and the confusion it brings to mankind.

  “I was astonished at it all. I had not been in love with her when I proposed, but then there I was. The greater surprise came when I realized that she fully returned my...affection. We, um, parted, and all I could see was the most beautiful woman ever created. As I looked at her, I realized we were becoming part of one other. It was like—”

  “—seeing your own reflection looking back at you in a mirror. It is not your face, not even your sex. But, it is you.”

  The sentimentality passed over his lips before he could stop it. The shimmering coals of the fire were his only refuge, but after a moment or two, he looked over to see Edward nodding in agreement. Sentimental the thought may be, but it obviously had a ring of truth to it.

  “I now understand more fully how crushed you were when Miss Anne Elliot broke your engagement.” The unexpected mention of Anne’s name made Frederick catch his breath. “That night, had Catherine said she thought better of marrying me, I would still be shattered, I think.” His tone was hushed, and Frederick assumed he was counting his blessings that such a thing had not happened.

  Frederick wanted distraction, so he rose and went to the window. There was nothing to see in the dark but a few lights scattered in the distance.

  “How is Miss Anne? Sophia is very taken with her. Though, of course, I cannot tell from her writing if she is much changed.”

  This second mention of Anne was more than unsettling. “I see no change in her at all.” He could not bring himself to add more.

  They were quiet a few more moments. Edward broke the silence. “I know you have always thought my advice about your engagement to her was meant to wear it down, wither it on the vine, or kill it outright. It was never meant in that way. I had a sort of understanding about how you felt and what you wanted. I know she loved you deeply, but she was so young, and so vulnerable to those who could only see you as a—” He stopped to find a word.

  “Go on.”

  “As a proud young man with little more to offer the daughter of a gentleman than a handsome face and a sharp wit.”

  “Fortunately, I have learnt to use the sharp wit in ways that are to my advantage and not to harm myself as in former days.” Lady Russell’s disapproving face whe
n she was the object of that unleashed wit came to his memory.

  “Miss Anne’s godmother was only doing what she thought was best for her. The Elliot family’s position in the area was quite attractive and probably brought out all sorts of undesirable fellows. A young woman in Miss Elliot’s circumstances—her mother deceased and father so—needs good advice in life. I imagine she still takes it from time to time.”

  Frederick could hear Louisa’s voice that day on the walk to Winthrop. “...she persuaded Anne to refuse him.”

  “I have been told she, indeed, still does.” He noticed that his brother looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

  “I said, I think you still have feelings for her.”

  He looked back into the fire. “And what have I said that makes you think this?” He would make short work of whatever his brother said, and then excuse himself for bed.

  “It is not what you say, but what you keep to yourself.” Edward sat back.

  That is not fair, Wentworth thought. He was about to ask where he was to sleep when Edward spoke.

  “I am glad you are come, Frederick. I should not be surprised if this visit we find we are more alike than you know.”

  “I would not be opposed to that.” He was relieved that the conversation had turned.

  Edward roused and stood. “Your room is ready, and I must tell you, you look as though you need it desperately.” He headed towards the door. “Come.”

  The rector lit a candle by the bed’s side, and Frederick could see the room was indeed prepared for his occupation. The fire was low but had been given enough time to warm every corner of the room and make it more than comfortable. The bedclothes were pulled back, beckoning. Several blankets were at the ready at the foot of the bed. He wondered for a moment if he should check on George Tuggins but decided against it.

  “This will have to do for the night. I laid out the contents of your bag and that shabby blanket, as well. Are you sure it shouldn’t be in the barn with the horse?”