For You Alone (Frederick Wentworth, Captain: Book 2) Page 7

  “No, it belongs here with me. Go to bed, Brother,” Frederick said, taking the candle. “You need some sleep. I can handle this.”

  Edward smiled. “Yes, I suppose you can.” He made for the door, and then turned. “Forgive me, but I must ask. When I address Mr. Tuggins at breakfast, should it be as a guest or as a nephew?”

  Chapter Four

  “Nephew or guest,” Frederick muttered. The question had taken him by surprise, though he could understand how it could be asked with complete sincerity. Explaining why and how he came in possession of Mr. Tuggins would be one of the first things he did the following morning.

  He turned on his side yet again, hoping that the unyielding mattress would relent just this once. It did not, and he soon turned onto his back. He did not wish to dwell on his troubles, but he could not help thinking about Edward’s question about Anne.

  She is so altered, I would not have known her.

  There was a physical sting to the remembrance. When he had said it to Miss Henrietta, he’d tried to phrase it in such a way as to seem innocent. But now that Edward had smoked out the truth about his feelings, he had to wonder how much had been said knowing the cutting remark would make its way back to her.

  Yes, how different life would be if stupidity were valued, as it ought. He wished he could be happy with a pretty face and body that could satisfy his baser urges, and leave the idea of an equal partner in love by the wayside. In his travels, he had seen many beautiful women, but most of them were not overly concerned with the inward self. Rather, their concern lay with the outward, and that only as deep as a comparison of their appearance with that of other ladies. A few of the more beautiful ones were callous to the very centre of their hearts. Women of beauty and quality were difficult to come by.

  I suppose you know he wanted to marry Anne? The words from that long-ago walk caused his pulse to quicken and the room to warm noticeably. While he would never say anything against Charles Musgrove as a man or an acquaintance, he, also, would never mistake him for a scholar. Had Anne, too, found that intelligent partners were rare? There was no reason, other than the opinion of the Musgroves, to believe that it was Lady Russell who had found the man lacking. Still, as Anne’s judgment on the matter was unknown, his questions remained unanswerable.

  He rose and stirred the fire. The room was finally cooling to a comfortable degree, but his mind would not allow the rest he craved. To his way of thinking, it was infinitely better to be active and doing something than to lie helplessly by, allowing a parade of harassing thoughts to tramp through his mind.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  Surprisingly, Frederick was not stiff when he woke. He had no desire to sit for any length of time, but for the most part, he was in fine shape for having ridden so far in so few days.

  “George!” He must get to the boy before Edward.

  All his clothing was completely dry; although, he would look as though he had spent the night in them. It could not be helped. As he attempted to tie his neck cloth, he rushed through the rabbit warren of halls on the ground floor, following the scent of coffee and ham to the kitchen. Thankfully, he found the boy sitting at the table, peacefully eating his breakfast while Edward sat by the fire, chatting and toasting bread on a long fork. Wentworth felt slightly foolish as he realised George had nothing to tell regardless of any questions Edward might ask.

  The Rector glanced to the doorway. “It’s about time, Brother.” He examined the slice of bread, deemed it sufficiently brown, and tossed it onto a plate on the table. “In that little oven is a platter with your breakfast on it. You’ll serve yourself.” He took another slice of bread and went back to toasting. “So, George, you think I am likely to be unexciting and a bit tedious, eh?”

  The boy’s fork hung between the plate and his mouth. He looked to the Captain with wide, pleading eyes.

  Edward hitched himself around to look at Frederick. “I take it you feel the same.” He turned back to the hearth.

  Mr. Tuggins quickly filled his mouth and began scraping around on his plate under Wentworth’s withering glare. It was clear their unflattering conversation about the clergy had been referenced in some way, and Edward was offended.

  Frederick took a plate and went to the warming oven, hoping to think of something at the best, clever, and at the least, soothing. A blackened piece of bread appeared before him. He took it and went to the table. “I fear that you have misunderstood, Edward. We were speaking of clergymen in general, not you in particular. And you must own that Mr. Tuggins, being rather young, may have mischaracterized, inadvertently, of course, some things I said.” He took a good piece of toast from the plate and began to eat.

  Edward did not turn around this time. “I don’t know about that. But I am told that the word ‘spinsterish’ was used.” He hung the long fork on a peg, turned the chair back to the table. It placed him directly next to Frederick. “Have I indeed misunderstood?” His brown eyes gave the Captain no clue as to his thoughts.

  Frederick looked over to Mr. Tuggins, catching his eye just before he took a drink from his mug. The boy was afraid to his very bones. Wentworth softened his expression and noted that in future there would need to be an in-depth discussion of confidences between gentlemen and how keeping them was especially important at sea. He turned to Edward and met his gaze full-on. “I indeed said something to that effect, but it was not meant maliciously—”

  Edward didn’t change his expression and waited patiently for Frederick to finish. He might as well have done with it and tell the whole truth. “It’s just that you can be bloody peevish and silent as a grave to the point where people...” It was the whole truth he should speak. “I think you are like an old gouty man just waiting for the grave.” There it was. He was certain he had now goaded his brother too far. He gave a fleeting thought to his trunk that was making its way to Plymouth and wondered if, when he and the boy were shown the door, he might intercept it somehow.

  His brother’s expression was unchanged for a few seconds. Then, like a flash of lightening, he smiled and began to laugh. Edward stood, clapped Frederick on the back and told George he needed to eat some more. It took a little time for his laughter to fade as he went upstairs.

  George turned back from staring at the door, puzzled. “Is he angered or mad?” He took a bite of ham and chewed, awaiting the answer.

  The Captain turned back to his own plate. “No, no he is obviously not angry.” He looked back at the door for an instant then to the boy. “As to the state of his mind, I cannot say, Mr. Tuggins.”

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  The next day was spent visiting members of the Rector’s parish. When it had been proposed the evening before, Frederick had agreed without much thought. The Captain could not help but wonder if he had made a mistake in assenting to the project as Edward readied the cart, telling him all about his parishioners.

  “...and so the mother-in-law is always interfering with her daughter-in-law. I have tried to point out that her son is a man and under no obligation to please his mother but to no avail.” Was this the second or third domestic drama to which he had been made privy? He foresaw a boring morning.

  The morning was indeed boring, but during it, he saw aspects of his brother that left him mystified. First, Edward’s attention to the boy was significant. He asked him all sorts of questions to which Wentworth had given no thought. Such as, where were his parents? Frederick had assumed the boy had no desire to speak of them, wherever they might be, and so, had left the subject alone. He asked about siblings. Again, Frederick had given no thought to them. George had one sister who had died awhile ago. When asked about his favourite food, he said figgy pudding, which put him in good stead with the Rector, as he was partial to the sweetmeat himself.

  Another aspect of his brother that set Wentworth thinking was the hearty and genuine greeting he had for each of the families they visited. By the second household, Frederick’s notions of Edward being spinsterish were completely demolished.
Edward was treated much like a well-loved family member and not a superior in anything but benevolence. To Frederick’s embarrassment, when it was learned that he was the Captain Wentworth, hero of numerous battles at sea and piles of prizes, he was the one treated with deference bordering on worship.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  “I hope you appreciate how they all admire you,” Edward said after the final visit. He sat crooked in the seat with his legs crossed, giving George as much room as possible on the seat made for two.

  Frederick would be unjust if he did not admit that the parishioners of Crown Hill were extraordinary. In four visits, he had been shown the brownest of cows, the woolliest of sheep, and laying hens of infinite colours, sizes, and abilities to produce. He also could not help but notice that each household seemed to have an unmarried daughter, sister, or aunt who just happened to be in the vicinity. This was all done respectfully, but the hopefulness in the eyes of the family members was unmistakeable. “I’m sure they are as courteous a people as one could find anywhere. Tell me, Brother, if I was the object of such affection, why is it that I feel like a prize pig at the fair?”

  “Think how those poor women feel.” Edward’s laugh nettled him. “You forget, Frederick, this is the country. You are a long way from the civilities of life by the bell and the strict disciplines of the sea. These are simple people who offered up their best. Now, you didn’t fail to notice that most took you to inspect their prize farm animals well before they introduced their female relations.” He laughed again, more quietly this time. “Oh, and sorry about your boots. I’ll clean them myself.”

  “I can do it,” Frederick said. “You never told me that I would be tapped for duty as a mule.”

  “The cart was stuck; there was nothing else to be done. The man overworks himself dreadfully. You did no more than he did himself.”

  An old parishioner had gotten his pony cart stuck in a muddy field and begged the help of the Rector. When they had it up and out of the mud, there had been thanks all around and an offer of something to restore them. It would be no trouble to the lady of the house, as the refreshments were kept in the barn. The rector politely refused, and they hastily said their goodbyes.

  “The stuff he offered is homemade. It is rumoured just having a jug of it in the place keeps the rats out of the hayloft,” Edward said, explaining why they had passed on the man’s offer. “We must also be an example to this young man.” He winked at George.

  “Home at last.” He manoeuvred the cart around the house then jerked them suddenly to a stop. “Take the reins,” he mumbled, shoving them towards George, as he dismounted.

  “What the...” Frederick said, watching his brother walk quickly away. Looking in the direction Edward headed, he could see a woman. The Captain could only guess that the inestimable Mrs. Wentworth was home. Wentworth took the reins from the boy. “That would be the Rector’s wife.”

  Edward’s behaviour was odd but fascinating. The man was dazed and stumbled around the wooden shack that housed the horses onto a path leading to the garden farther past the house.

  The boy watched as well. He scratched his nose and said, “I wonder what she will think of me being here.” He’d not moved when Edward left them. Wentworth felt him move a little closer as he spoke.

  Mrs. Wentworth was facing towards the garden, away from him so it was impossible to see what she looked like in the flesh. Just then, it occurred to Frederick that he and George were intruders on this intimate scene and they should take themselves elsewhere. Before he could act, Edward reached out and touched his wife’s arm. He could hear the low strains of Edward’s voice but no distinguishable words.

  The woman turned to her husband. From this position, Wentworth still could not see her face clearly but did discern a wide, welcoming smile. The couple stood face to face. Edward reached up and swept off her bonnet. Neither of them showed the least bit of concern when it went straight to the ground. The woman continued to smile as her husband spoke. They were quite oblivious to the fact that anyone other than themselves might be present. Edward laughed loudly and, reaching out, took her in his arms. The passion with which Edward kissed his wife shocked Frederick. He was also a bit shocked at her eager response as well.

  He quickly dismounted the small carriage, took George from the seat, and put the horse between them and the romantic scene playing out in the garden. He tapped George on the head when he noticed the boy straining to look past the horse. When they had nearly reached the shed, he heard his name.

  “Frederick! Come here, Brother, and meet Catherine,” Edward called. Frederick breathed deep. To George, he said, “We must put on a front that we’ve not seen a thing. She would be quite embarrassed.”

  “What have we seen, sir?” George’s face was open and quite innocent of any notions of impropriety.

  The boy was such a curious mix of innocence and wisdom that

  Wentworth was not willing to go further. “We’ve seen nothing. Make a first-rate leg when you are introduced and stand quietly.” With orders given, he himself fought to prepare a severe countenance, one that would not give away his amusement, puzzlement, and intense interest.

  The couple’s heads were close together and they were talking intimately. Frederick trod with a heavy foot to warn them of their approach. Edward, instead of turning to greet him, laughed, took his wife’s face in his hands and kissed her again and again.

  Between kisses, Frederick heard her voice for the first time.

  “Edward, please,” she said. Her voice was low, but the tone was filled with laughter and held no hint of embarrassment or shame at her husband’s last antic.

  Neither was Edward ashamed as he made the introductions. “Mrs. Wentworth, please meet Captain Frederick Wentworth. And this is George.” They all watched as the boy made a very proper bow to the lady.

  Mrs. Wentworth acknowledged the Captain and then knelt down to the boy. “Well, George, the Rector neglected to tell me I am an aunt on his side of the family. You are a fine looking young man.” She touched his shabby coat and straightened his neck cloth.

  Realising his mistake, Edward whispered, “This is not Frederick’s son.” He helped her stand. “I should have said this is George Tuggins. He is Frederick’s travelling companion at the moment.” He looked at Frederick. His expression meant a further conversation about the boy was in order.

  Catherine’s countenance never faltered. Her finger briefly caressed George’s still-bruised forehead. “In any case, you look to be a fine young man. I am happy to see that you have come through the terrible weather unharmed, Captain. Your brother has been beside himself to get you here.” She took her bonnet from Edward but did not put it on.

  The picture in the study had captured her features in the strictest sense, but the subject was certainly not dull as the drawing had led him to believe. The artist simply had not the talent necessary to capture the essence of the woman.

  Catherine Wentworth’s medium-brown hair was tucked under a modest cap. She possessed plain features, but the shine in her grey eyes was irresistible, and the set of her mouth was positively mischievous. Her want of strikingly beautiful features would put everyone at their ease and certainly be a comfort to the insecure. Someone of an unconfident disposition might, in fact, be drawn to her because of her lack of beauty. He speculated that, initially, beautiful women felt honestly superior to Mrs. Wentworth. He suspected this pleased her a great deal. Such a circumstance would allow her careful and close scrutiny of many a character. He used such a tactic when in the presence of superior officers who actually believed superiority was measured by yards of gold braid. His first instinct was to like her. Mrs. Wentworth was, without doubt, worth knowing and staying within her good graces.

  “Yes, our dear Sophia has told us of some of your business,” she said, smiling and taking Frederick’s arm. She touched George lightly on the shoulder to draw him along as well. “We will go into the house, and I shall make us something refreshing. Then you sh
all tell us of your other bits of ‘business.’” Catherine Wentworth was, it appeared, like a force of nature that could be resisted only with a great deal of strength.

  He took a look at his brother. There was no getting his attention. Edward was smiling like a fool as he fell in step behind them. The Captain had the distinct impression he was now a prisoner of war. One that would be gently treated, to be sure, but a man captured nonetheless.

  ~~~~~~~&~~~~~~~

  A housekeeper, Mrs. Bell, had been added to the household now that Mrs. Wentworth was returned. The plump, middle-aged woman moved around the sitting room, dispensing tea and sweets. “Please take George out to the kitchen, Bell, and make him something hot. He needs a meal more substantial than tea.” He was sitting close to her, and when he rose to leave, she patted his arm.

  Frederick wondered if he should begin to assert some authority and start treating Mr. Tuggins as though he was being trained for the sea and not as though he was a pet.

  “She was a very young woman, a maid in my family’s house, when I was born. I have no idea what life would be like without Bell as part of it. You shall grow accustomed to her, Edward, I assure you.”

  “I doubt it. How do we come to have her?”

  Catherine paused for a moment. “It is at Mother’s insistence. She feels that with your position and at this juncture in our marriage, it is necessary to have Bell take care of the household. You know how Mother can be.” She cocked her head with an air of general understanding.

  He replaced his cup on its saucer. “No, I don’t know how your mother can be. She has always struck me as a good and sensible woman and not given to insisting other people live by her edicts.” Edward raised a brow and waited for an explanation.

  Frederick was completely out of his depth in this. The two already had looks and gestures that telegraphed emotions and understanding he could not begin to fathom. Perhaps the best course of action was to make an excuse and leave them to discuss their household without the impediment of his presence.