Amanda Grange - Captain Wentworth’s Diary

I went, as usual, to the river this morning, and I was rewarded by seeing Anne coming towards me. We strolled through the fields, her arm in mine, and I asked her when her father was likely to return.

‘He will arrive in time for dinner,’ she said.

‘Then I will present myself tomorrow morning, though I resent every minute that keeps me from acknowledging you as my future wife. Little did I think, when I came into Somerset, that I would find such happiness.’

‘Nor I. Your visit was spoken of, and I was curious to see you, but I did not expect a friendship to develop, let alone anything more. I thought you would be a rough-mannered and impatient man, a sailor who thought of nothing but battles and the sea. I did not expect you to be someone I could fall in love with.’

We walked on. I spoke of my impatience for her father’s return, and I asked her if she had told Lady Russell of our engagement.

‘No, not yet. I felt my father should know of it first. But as soon as he has given his consent, I will tell her.’

A shadow crossed her face.

‘Do you doubt that he will give it?’ I asked her.

‘My father can be ...’ She paused. ‘He is very proud of his heritage—our heritage. You do not know him very well—yet— but his favourite book is the Baronetage. He often takes it up to read it. He likes to read about the first baronet, and to remind himself that he comes from an illustrious line.’

‘And you? Are you proud of your heritage?’ I asked her.

‘Proud of it, yes, but not blinded to the worth of everything beyond it. There are other things in life beyond the baronetcy, and other men of value beyond those listed there.’

‘But you do not doubt he will give his consent?’

She hesitated, then said, ‘No. No, I am sure he will give it. He might make matters uncomfortable for you, however.’

I laughed at the notion, for if I could withstand the might of the French Navy, I was sure I could withstand a cold look from Sir Walter. But I laughed inwardly, for I had no wish to wound Anne’s feelings.

My brother was not so sanguine as I joined him for luncheon a few hours later.

‘And have you thought that Sir Walter might say no?’ he asked.

‘Why should I?’

‘Because that will probably be his answer.’

‘It is a good thing my heart is not as faint as yours, for I am certain he will say yes,’ I returned.

‘You have no title, no fortune, no estate, nothing to offer his daughter beyond your youth and person.’

‘So you said last week.’

‘I am saying it again. It is as well to be prepared for whatever he might say.’

‘There is something in that. But no, I will not think of it. He will give his consent, and Anne and I will be married. I am sure of it.’

I could eat very little, and this morning I set off for Kellynch Hall. I was far too early, but I could wait no longer. I paced the lane until my watch told me I could proceed. I went up to the door. I asked to see Sir Walter. I was made to wait. I paced the hall. I was shown in. And there was Sir Walter, magnificently attired, with his hair arranged in the latest style, reading the Baronetage.

To begin with, he ignored me, as though he could not tear his eyes away from the book.

‘Sir Walter,’ I began.

He looked up slowly, but did not close the book.

It was not a propitious start.

‘You wished to see me?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I did. I do. On a matter of importance. I would like your permission to marry your daughter, Anne.’

‘Marry Anne?’ he asked, in a tone of disbelief. ‘You have not yet asked me if you might pay her your addresses. It is far too soon to be speaking of anything else.’

I was nonplussed, but came about.

‘My affections have developed swiftly—’

‘They have indeed. You have only been in Somerset a few months.’

‘But that is long enough for me to know that I am in love with Anne. Although they have developed swiftly—’

‘And will disappear as swiftly, no doubt,’ he interrupted.

‘That they will not,’ I said. ‘I know my own mind. I am in love with Anne, and I wish to make her my wife. She wishes it, too.’

He looked at me with haughty dislike.

‘You have spoken to her already?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Without consulting me?’

I hesitated, then said, ‘There would have been no point in my bothering you if Anne had made it clear to me she would not have me, and besides, I could not help myself.’

‘Indeed,’ he remarked. ‘And are you always so rash?’

‘Once my mind is made up, I act on it. I am a man of decision.’

‘Is that what you call it?’ he asked. ‘I call it irresponsible and hotheaded.’

I smarted at his words, and was tempted to reply in kind, but I knew it would do my suit no good, and so I replied mildly.

‘Do I have your permission, Sir?’

‘You say that you have already asked Anne?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘And she wishes to accept your offer?’

‘She does,’ I assured him, heartened by the memory.

‘How very extraordinary. I cannot think why,’ he said. ‘She has been brought up to know her own place in the world, and to value it accordingly. Her name is in the Baronetage.’ He took up his book and began to read it to me, in slow and measured stately tones. ’ "Elliot of Kellynch Hall”.’ He paused dramatically. ’ "Walter Elliot, born 1 March 1760, married 15 July 1784, Elizabeth, daughter of James Stevenson, Esq., of South Park, in the county of Gloucester; by which lady (who died 1800) he has issue Elizabeth, born 1 June 1785; Anne, born 9 August 1787 ...”’ He broke off and turned the book towards me. ‘Anne,’ he said, pointing to her name. ‘The daughter of a baronet. There she is, my daughter, surrounded by her illustrious family. Can you offer her a similar ancestry?’

‘No, I cannot,’ I said boldly, looking him in the eye, ‘but Anne places love above rank, as I do.’

‘Indeed?’ he said.

‘Well, sir, do I have your permission?’ I asked him, wanting the matter closed.

He appeared to weigh the matter.

‘Anne is not her sister,’ he said. ‘She does not have Elizabeth’s style or manners, nor does she have Elizabeth’s beauty. But still, she is Miss Anne Elliot, and can look higher than a sailor for a husband. The alliance would be degrading ...’

I contained my temper with difficulty.

‘... and if she disgraces her name by marrying so far beneath her, I will do nothing for her,’ he went on. ‘She will have no fortune. It would be better for you to give her up, for you will make nothing from your connection to her, not a penny.’

I was inwardly seething, but replied, ‘I want nothing, only Anne.’

‘And can you support her?’ he enquired with disdain.

‘I can.’

‘You have a fortune, then?’

‘Not yet, but I have been lucky in my profession, and I will soon be rich.’

‘Indeed? You have a very sanguine view of the matter.’

‘Am I to understand that you are refusing me permission?’ I asked, in no mood for more of his insults.

He paused, then sighed, and said, ‘Ah, well, if you had asked for Elizabeth, I would have sent you about your business, but as it is only Anne ...’

I had to control my temper again. Only Anne, indeed! Only Anne.

‘Yes, all right, very well, you may have my permission,’ he said wearily. He rang the bell. ‘Commander Wentworth is leaving,’ he told the servant.

I was angry; but anger soon gave way before the happy prospect that stretched out before me, so I thanked him, and went to find Anne, to tell her that her father had given his consent.

I came upon her in the garden. She turned her face to mine anxiously, but as she saw my smile, her own face relaxed, and she ran towards me. I ran, too, and embraced her.

‘Your father has agreed to the match! We need keep our feelings a secret no longer. I want to tell all the world of it! I am the happiest man alive.’

She smiled, and said, ‘And I am the happiest woman. I am as eager to tell my friends as you are, but I ask only one thing: you must let me tell Lady Russell of it first. She has been like a mother to me for many years, and I want her to hear it from my own lips, before she hears of it from anyone else. We are dining with her on Tuesday evening at her house. It is to be a small party, only Lady Russell, my father, my sister and myself, and I will tell her then. Then we may tell the rest of our friends.’

‘Very well. I have already told my brother—not of your father’s consent, of course, but I told him I meant to ask you to marry me, and I told him that you had said yes. I am looking forward to telling him that our wedding can go ahead. I would like him to conduct the service. Should you have any objections?’

‘None at all. I think it an excellent idea, if Mr Gossington does not object. I would like nothing better.’

‘If Gossington conducted marriages as a general rule, he might wish to perform the office himself, but since he customarily leaves such things to my brother, I see no reason why he should object on this occasion. I will write to my sister tomorrow. I would like her to attend the wedding, and, if she is on shore at the time, I know she and Benjamin will want to come.’

We talked more of the wedding, of Anne being attended by her sisters, and of my plans to ask Harville to stand up with me, and so engrossed were we that we lost all track of time, and Anne’s maid had to come and warn her that it was time for her to dress.