Any Woman Who Truly Loved
Chapter Two
Anne walked out of the shop and looked around for her husband. Charles, who was watching some fishcutters working nearby while he waited for her, did not see her at first. As she approached him, he seemed to sense her presence and turned. She loved the way he smiled, the way his eyes lit up, when he saw her. She smiled in response and took his arm.
"Were you able to find the thread that you wanted?" he asked as they walked down the street. The shops lining the street were mostly empty; some were shuttered until the return of the summer visitors.
"Yes, I found the exact colour that I needed," she replied. "I must remember to thank the landlord's wife for telling me about that shop. The proprietor was most helpful."
"I noticed a bookshop a little further down," said Charles. "I would like to take a look in there, if you do not mind."
Anne laughed. "I know better than to keep you from a bookshop, my love. And you know, my mother sent me the names of some books that she thought I would enjoy, so I will look for those."
They accordingly turned into the shop, which proved to have an excellent selection of the newest volumes. As they browsed, they drifted apart, each following their own preference, looking for favored authors and recommended texts.
She did not see him until he stood in front of her. She looked up from a volume that she was perusing, seeing the naval uniform before she recognized the man wearing it, a reflexive reaction for the daughter and sister of sailors. "Good morning, Annie," he said softly. "It's been a long time."
Anne stared at him speechlessly. I don't believe it. He is here.
Elizabeth had wisely planned her party for the full moon, but a thick cloud cover prevented much moonlight from reaching the ground. Candles had consequently been placed about the verandah, their soft light keeping the darkness at bay and casting shadows on the surrounding walls. Anne walked to the edge of the flagstone surface, taking deep breaths of the cool air and wondering why she had felt so strange, so giddy and confused and warm, why it had suddenly become difficult to breathe, when she had been standing in the circle of Charles Musgrove's arm.
Two of the shadows on the other side of the verandah began to move toward her. One of them called, "Annie!" They walked into the circle of light thrown off by a nearby group of candles, revealing Edward Wentworth and another naval officer.
"Annie," repeated Edward, smiling and obviously happy to see her. "May I present Captain John Huntingdon? Captain, this is my sister, Anne Wentworth."
"Miss Wentworth." The captain bowed as Anne dropped a polite curtsey. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard so much about you and your family from your brother that I feel as if we are already acquainted."
Anne smiled. "You must be the Captain Huntingdon of whom Edward has written. I feel as if I know you as well." Her brother's letters had been peppered with references to his commanding officer, who had taken the young midshipman under his wing. Anne looked him over critically. This is the man who has Edward's career in his hands. She was pleased with his appearance. He was of medium height, with dark hair and sharply intelligent blue eyes. His face, like those of her father and brother, was darkened by long exposure to sun and weather, and there were small lines about his eyes that spoke both of years at sea and of an appreciation for the humourous aspects of life. He appeared to be in his thirties, although Anne knew that he was only eight and twenty, young to be a captain in peacetime, although the title was a courtesy; his actual rank was commander, but if Edward's letters were any indication, it was only a matter of time until he attained the rank of post-captain. Despite the weatherbeaten appearance of his face, he was rather handsome, especially when he smiled. Eliza will be quite taken with the captain when she sees him, I fear.
"I must thank your uncle for including me and my officers in his invitation. This has been an enjoyable party and," glancing up at the big old stone house, "he has a fine establishment here."
"When you become better acquainted with my uncle Musgrove," said Edward, "you will realize that he rarely passes up an opportunity to extend his hospitality to the officers of His Majesty's navy."
"A fine sentiment," declared Captain Huntingdon dryly, "and one which His Majesty's other subjects would do well to copy." Edward laughed at the captain's mild witticism, more loudly than Anne thought called for.
The musicians had started up again, an old-fashioned country-dance, and the music spilled out the open windows onto the verandah. The captain turned to Anne and said, "Miss Wentworth, although I am sure that you are acquainted with the shocking lack of social skills displayed by most sailors, I assure you that my dancing ability is sufficient to meet any young lady's expectations. Will you do me the honour of being my partner?"
Anne felt that she could hardly say no, especially when she saw her brother's delighted smile. "Yes, Captain, I thank you," she said, and placed her hand on top of his arm. They went back into the house and into the big old hall, serving that night as a ballroom, and took their place in the set. They passed Elizabeth and her partner, another officer, and the men exchanged nods while Elizabeth smiled and raised her eyebrows playfully at her cousin, looking the captain over rather blatantly.
As they worked their way down the set, Anne was hard-pressed to pay attention to the captain's polite conversation; she was looking around her, for something or someone she could not quite name. Then she saw the back of his head, his fair curls in their usual disarray, and as if he knew that she was looking for him, Charles glanced around and caught her eye. His face lit with a quick smile; then someone else claimed his attention, and he turned away.
Anne nearly stopped dancing from confusion and disappointment. The captain regarded her thoughtfully. "You are a thousand miles away, Miss Wentworth," he said. "I hope that I have not interrupted any other plans that you had for this evening."
"No," she replied. "You have interrupted nothing." Indeed, she said to herself. What am I thinking? Charles is my cousin, my friend, and nothing more. If he thought of me in any other way, he would have spoken by now. "Forgive me, Captain," she said. "I had something to work out in my mind. I have done so, and can now pay proper attention to my partner."
The lines around his eyes deepened as he smiled. "I am glad to hear that, madam," he said. "Very glad indeed."
Anne and Captain Huntingdon danced together once more before the end of the night, and they took tea together as well, during which he told her stories of his travels to the West Indies and North America. He was extremely attentive to her, and she appreciated his intelligence and rather dry sense of humour. Before he took his leave, he approached her and said, "Admiral Wentworth has invited us to your home to dine tomorrow. I hope that I will see you there."
"I will be there, sir," she said.
"I look forward to it." He took her hand in both of his. "When a man spends a great deal of time at sea, it is good to come home and see that which he is fighting to defend," he said softly. "Thank you, Miss Wentworth. You have given me a beautiful memory to sustain me on my next cruise." He bowed and touched his lips to her hand.
She blushed profusely and looked at the ground. "I thank you, Captain," she said. "That is a lovely compliment."
"Until tomorrow, then," he said, released her hand, and went outside to his waiting equipage.
"Anne!" a voice squealed in her ear, and her arm was captured and held tightly by Elizabeth Musgrove. "Who is that absolutely delicious man with whom you spent half the evening?"
"He is Edward's commanding officer," Anne replied. "And I did not spend half the evening with him, Eliza. I danced with him twice."
"He is very handsome. He has a faraway look in his eyes. As if he has seen many places and things."
"I would think that a captain in His Majesty's navy would indeed have traveled many places." Anne's remark was sharper than her normal tone, and she was instantly contrite. "Forgive me, Eliza. I must be more fatigued than I realized."
"You do not offend me, dearest. I am near to dropping from exhaustion myself." They walked out to the carriage arm-in-arm and exchanged a warm embrace. "Mamma tells me that we are to dine at Oaklands tomorrow, so I will see you then," said Elizabeth. "I should have brought my shawl. It is much too chilly for me out here, Anne, I am going back inside. Good night, dearest." She ran back into the house, turning at the door for a last wave.
Charles and Edward stood next to the carriage, deep in conversation, and since Charles was motioning toward the horses, Anne felt fairly certain of the subject of their dialogue.
The admiral handed his wife into the carriage, and Edward shook hands with Charles and climbed in after his mother. Anne took a deep breath. "Good night, Charles," she said, holding her hand out to him.
He took it, startled, but bowed gallantly. "Good night, Anne," he said. He held her hand for a moment, as he had done earlier that evening; she had the feeling that he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. He released her and watched as her father handed her into the carriage.
The admiral climbed in behind her and the carriage rolled away. Anne looked back to see if Charles still stood by the drive, but he had turned away and was walking back into the house. He sees you only as a friend, Annie girl, she told herself sternly. Do not throw your heart away where it is not wanted.
She leaned back against the cushions and closed her eyes, and despite her new resolve, her mind wandered back to Charles; she imagined that she was back in his arms, just the two of them in a huge white marble room, waltzing around and around as the music played endlessly.
"Good morning, Captain Huntingdon," she finally managed.
"Please, Annie. We were good friends at one time. I wish you would call me by my Christian name."
"If you prefer...John," she said, and he smiled down at her.
"How come you to be in Lyme?" he asked. "Are you here with your family? Is Edward with you?"
"I am here with my husband," she said quietly. "I was recently married."
A shadow passed over his face. "I wish you joy, Annie," he said with some emotion. "You know that."
At that moment, Charles approached them, a volume in his hand, smiling broadly. "Look what I found, Anne," he said, then stopped when he noticed her talking to a stranger. "Good morning," he said politely.
"Charles, may I present Captain John Huntingdon." She remembered that Edward had written that his former commander had been made post-captain; the title was no longer merely a courtesy. "Captain Huntingdon, this is my husband, Charles Musgrove."
"Your servant, sir," said Charles, bowing, then inspected the naval officer curiously. "I believe that we have met previously."
"At Elizabeth's eighteenth birthday party," Anne reminded him.
"Your wife and I are old friends, Mr. Musgrove," said the captain. "I was previously Lieutenant Wentworth's commanding officer, until he was posted to the Gryphon. How is Edward?" he added, directing this question to Anne.
"He is well," she said. "He is on furlough, visiting my parents. The Gryphon sails for North America just after Christmas."
"I was happy to hear of his promotion," said the captain. "I wrote to the Admiralty, recommending him for lieutenant, more than a year ago. They must have finally received my letter."
Charles chuckled, and Anne gave a small, strained smile. Her husband looked at her, frowning slightly, then addressed the captain. "It is always good to meet a friend of Edward's. Will you dine with us tonight, sir?"
"I thank you, Mr. Musgrove. I would be honoured." A time was fixed upon, and Charles gave him the direction of their lodgings.
The captain took Anne's hand and bowed. "Until tonight, Mrs. Musgrove," he said, and left the shop.
"Anne." She looked up to see her husband's eyes fixed on her face with an expression of concern. "I should have consulted you before I extended the invitation. You are uncomfortable in the captain's presence. Would you like to cancel the engagement?"
"Is it that obvious?" she asked, embarrassed.
"Only to me, love." He took her hand and pressed it reassuringly.
Anne marveled at his ability to read her thoughts so well, after only two weeks of marriage. "I am just being silly. Your invitation was entirely proper." I cannot tell him. Not yet.
Charles looked down at the book in his hands. "I do not think I will buy this book just now. Did you find anything?"
"No. Perhaps we can come back another time."
He smiled. "I am sure that we shall. Are you ready, then? Let us go back to our lodgings. I would sell my right arm for a hot cup of tea."
Walking down the street on the arm of the man she loved had brought her inexpressible joy only an hour before, but the captain's appearance had turned her happiness to distress and worry. Charles deserves to know, but I do not relish telling him about this. He feels things so strongly. But there was no other answer for it; Anne knew that she would have to find a way to tell her husband about her past relationship with Captain John Huntingdon.
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