Could it be true? Could Lady Russell once again have persuaded Anne to refuse another suitor?

‘When were Mary and Charles married?’ I asked nonchalantly.

‘Four years ago, in 1810,’ said Louisa.

I was left with much food for thought. Had Lady Russell persuaded Anne to turn down another suitor, or could there be some other explanation? A part of me felt there must be, for I did not believe Lady Russell would be set against Charles Musgrove. He had a respectable home, good prospects, and she had appeared to like him when I saw her with him in the year six.

Could it be that Anne had turned him down on her own account?

I stole another glance at her, trying to read the answer in her face, and I was still trying to solve the riddle when I was startled by the sight of Sophia and Benjamin in their one-horse chaise. They pulled up beside us and asked if any of the ladies would like to be driven home.

‘There is room for one more, and, as we are going through Uppercross, it will cut a mile off the journey,’ said Benjamin.

The ladies declined, but as we crossed the lane I noticed that Anne looked fatigued. I spoke in an aside to my sister, and she said, ‘Miss Elliot, I am sure you are tired. Do let us have the pleasure of taking you home. Here is excellent room for three, I assure you. If we were all like you, I believe we might sit four. You must, indeed, you must.’

Benjamin added his voice to his wife’s, and I assisted Anne into the carriage. As I touched her hand, I felt all the power of my previous emotions. I recalled the times I had touched her before, dancing with her, walking with her, embracing her, and I could not understand how we had grown so estranged.

Had I been wrong to leave in the year six? Had I been wrong not to go back? Had I been a fool not to write to her, as I had almost done, in the year eight, when I found myself with a few thousand pounds? Pride had held me back, and the fear of being rejected again. But if I had conquered my pride and routed my fear of another rejection, then might the last six years have been different?

I watched her as she drove off, still puzzling over what I had heard. She had had a chance to marry respectably, and yet she had declined it. Why? What did it mean? Did it mean that he did not match up to another love?

But no, such thoughts were folly. She had shown neither interest nor enjoyment in my company since my arrival in the neighbourhood; indeed, she had done everything in her power to avoid me and to make any intimate conversation impossible. She had made her feelings clear.

Monday 7 November

I was unsettled to learn that Anne and I were to be thrust into closer acquaintance, for over breakfast my sister informed me that Anne would shortly be leaving her sister’s house and staying at Kellynch Lodge with Lady Russell.

‘The news is all around Uppercross. Lady Russell will soon be returning from an engagement that has kept her absent for several weeks,’ said Sophia. ‘I hear very good things of her. An intelligent, sensible woman, by all accounts. Did you meet her when you were here before?’

‘I believe so.’

‘And was she as amiable as the reports would have her be?’

‘I saw very little of her,’ was all I would say.

‘It will be good to see some new faces about the place, at church and so forth,’ said Benjamin. ‘Lady Russell and Miss Elliot will add variety to our evening gatherings. Living in our neighbourhood as they will be, we must have them to dine with us.’

I was not sure whether I liked the idea or not. To see Anne again, to be with her, was a strange kind of torment. Why did she turn down Charles Musgrove? Was it for me? The thought plagued me. Yes, she was cold with me. Yes, she avoided me, but could that not be through awkwardness? I wished I knew.

A letter was brought in and I seized it, eager to distract my thoughts from the unanswerable problem of Anne. As I began to read, I found it to be from Harville.

‘Capital!’ I said, as my eyes went down the page.

Sophia looked at me enquiringly.

‘At last, Harville has found a bigger house, in Lyme. He and Harriet are to stay there for the winter. This is a stroke of luck, for it is not twenty miles away! I will ride over there today.’

‘Splendid,’ said Benjamin. ‘You can see how that poor fellow—what was his name?’

‘Benwick.’

‘That’s it, Benwick, you can see how he goes on. Poor man, to return home, only to find his fiancée dead. It is not the way a man expects it to happen. That he might not return he knows, but that the ones on shore should die is a sad blow.’

‘It was a bad business,’ said Sophia.

‘If I can render him or Harville any assistance, I will be happy to do so, for you know that Harville is now lame, wounded badly two years ago. A visit will give me a good opportunity to learn all their news.’

‘You might have some news of your own to give him before long,’ said Sophia.

‘Ay, it is about time,’ said Benjamin. ‘You are lagging behind. Harville unfurled his sails years ago and has outraced you, Frederick. He has three children now, has he not?’

‘He has, fine children all of them.’

But whilst he continued to tease me, I refused to be drawn. I set out soon afterwards and rode to Lyme. As I saw the sea, I reined in my horse and feasted my eyes upon it. I let my gaze wander over the pleasant little bay and the line of cliffs stretching out beyond it. I let my eyes drop to the Cobb and thought how useful it was, for it formed an excellent sea wall and provided a place for fishing boats to be tied up.

At last I rode on, going down into the town. I followed the main street as it went down to the sea, until I came to Harville’s house. It was small and dilapidated but it had a splendid location, for it was in a sheltered spot near the foot of the pier and had an unrivalled view of the sea.

I was made very welcome, with Harville and his wife greeting me warmly and the children running round my feet. They had grown since last I saw them, the baby most of all, for he was not a baby anymore, rather a fine lad of three years old who ran along behind the older children, eager for his share of the fun.

‘Well, what do you think of our new home?’ asked Harville.

‘It is almost like being on a ship,’ I said appreciatively.

‘We chose it for that reason,’ he said.

We went in and I saw Benwick sitting by the fire. He welcomed me cordially, but his spirits were low. They brightened a little as the three of us reminisced about out experiences on the Laconia, however.

‘That was a fine ship,’ said Benwick.

‘And with three of the Navy’s finest officers aboard!’ I said.

But as Harville and I relived one adventure after another, Benwick became quiet, and he retired early. Harville and I sat up talking and, as we did so, Benwick’s past became a subject for us.

‘I am forever grateful to you for breaking the news to him,’ said Harville. ‘Nobody else could have saved poor James. I am only thankful you stayed aboard with him for a week, helping him over the worst of it.’

‘I was glad to do it, though it was little enough.’

I fell silent, thinking of Harville’s sister, the girl I had met back in the year six, and Harville’s hints that he would like us to marry. A pretty girl, with a superior mind, the sort of girl that is not met with every day. I thought sorrowfully of her early death.

‘Do you mean to keep Benwick with you?’ I asked at last.

‘Yes. He has no family, and his health being poor it is difficult for him to set up a home by himself. Besides, Fanny’s memory unites us.’

Tuesday 8 November

The children woke us early and we were soon out of doors, for the morning was fine and the winter sunshine beckoned. We walked down to the Cobb.

‘It is much busier in the summer months,’ said Harville, as the gulls cried above us. ‘The town is full of visitors, and the boarding houses are full. The assembly rooms are open, and there is plenty to do. It is rather quiet over winter, but it suits us.’

I looked at the bathing machines drawn up on the beach and imagined them full of people in the summer.

We reached the Cobb and the two eldest children pleaded to be allowed to go on to the high part.

‘Please, Papa, there is no wind today to blow us off.’

‘Very well,’ said their father. ‘But you must take my hands.’

They did as they were bid. Harriet held little Thomas’s hand, and we all went up together. The air was still and the sun warmed our faces. Benwick quoted poetry, and I thought how much Anne would have enjoyed walking along the Cobb, with such a view, quoting Byron. I thought of the house we had planned to have by the sea, and I was angry with her again for rejecting me. We could have been happy, as Harville and Harriet were happy.

We came to the end of the Cobb and turned back. A breeze sprang up and I could see why Harville would not let the children walk there without holding his hand, for a sudden gust of wind could have blown them over. We reached the end of the Cobb and went down the steps, then returned to Harville’s house in time for an early luncheon.

I set out soon afterwards, for I had a long ride ahead of me, and I wanted to be home before dark. This I almost achieved, and I found that I was ready for my meal.

Sophia and Benjamin were eager to hear about my day, and I, in turn, was eager to hear about theirs. They had spent it exploring the countryside to the north, and Sophia was delighted that they had taken only one tumble!