Amanda Grange - Captain Wentworth’s Diary

‘You are going to see Anne?’ he asked.

‘I am.’

‘Then I wish you luck.’

‘Thank you. I will need it. I scarcely dare see her, for in her looks, her words, will be comprised my future happiness.’

‘You have never lacked courage, Frederick. You will bear it, whatever the answer is, but I hope for your sake it is a happy one,’ he said.

I thanked him for his good wishes, and told him that I meant to set out first thing tomorrow morning.

I spent the rest of the day thinking of what I would say to her when I saw her again.

And so here I am, in Bath, ready to face the future.

I called on Sophia and Benjamin this morning. They were surprised to see me, but made me very welcome, and insisted I remove from the inn where I had taken a room, saying I must stay with them. I could not stand out against such kindness and I did as they suggested. I was pleased to find that their house was comfortable, and in a good part of town.

After giving them Edward’s compliments, I asked them, casually, if they had seen the Elliots.

‘No, we have not yet found out where they are living, but as soon as we discover their address we mean to call on them,’ said Sophia.

I could not rest, and making business my excuse, I left the house soon afterwards with the intention of discovering where Anne was living for myself. I had not gone far before I fell in with another party of my acquaintance just before Milsom Street. They suggested we should walk on together and I agreed.

‘My brother is renting the estate of Sir Walter Elliot,’ I said. ‘He is in Bath at present. Do you happen to know him?’

‘Yes, we have been introduced. He is here with his daughter, Miss Elliot,’ said Mr Lytham.

‘His other daughter is here as well. She has newly joined them. A Miss Anne Elliot,’ remarked Mrs Lytham.

I asked if they knew where Sir Walter was living, and, as we turned into Milsom Street, Mrs Lytham informed me that the Elliots were renting a house in Camden Place.

It began to rain, and I was glad of the umbrella I had purchased. I was about to open it to shelter the ladies when Mrs Lytham remarked that she would like to buy some ribbon. We agreed to go to the shop together, in an effort to avoid the rain. We had only just entered when I saw ... Anne, right there in front of me!

I started, and felt the colour flood my face. After rehearsing our first meeting so many times, I had never imagined it like this, for I had not foreseen an unexpected encounter. All my practised speeches went out of my head and I could do nothing but stand and stare at her, as a range of emotions flooded over me: surprise on seeing her, relief that I had found her, pleasure on seeing her and chagrin that she was not alone.

She, on the other hand, seemed perfectly composed. Was I nothing to her, then, that she could see me unexpectedly with such equanimity? Had she forgotten me, and forgotten what we once were to each other? Had those feelings died in her breast? Had she come to regard me as nothing more than an old acquaintance?

I had thought ... hoped ... that her rejection of Charles Musgrove meant that there was a chance for me, but what if it meant only that she did not like him, or that she did not think him good enough, or that, as Miss Musgrove suspected, Lady Russell had not liked him?

‘Miss Anne,’ I said, embarrassed, and suddenly tongue-tied. ‘It is an honour and a pleasure to see you again.’

She smiled and made me a curtsey.

The smile gave me hope that my presence was not entirely unwelcome, and I wanted to say more, but as one of my party happened to speak to me at that moment, I had to go to the counter. As soon as I was free, however, I approached Anne and spoke again, scarcely knowing what I said, but determined to say something. I asked her about her father, I believe, and spoke about the weather, but I was not comfortable, I was not easy, I could not assume that manner which we had had before, of perfect understanding, because there was not a perfect understanding between us.

I saw her sister; her sister saw me; I was ready to speak; but Miss Elliot turned away. So different from Anne!

‘Where is the carriage?’ Miss Elliot asked. ‘Lady Dalrymple’s carriage should be here by now. Mrs Clay, go to the window and see if you can see it.’

I recognized in Mrs Clay, the daughter of Mr Shepherd, now married and widowed, as I had heard. She went over to the window as commanded, and I was seized with a fear that Anne was about to leave. I turned to speak to her, eager to make the most of my opportunity, but I was too late! Lady Dalrymple’s carriage was announced. Miss Elliot and Mrs Clay immediately made for the door, and I took what opportunity I could, by offering my arm to Anne. I hoped that we might be able to continue our conversation as I escorted her to the carriage.

‘I am much obliged to you, but I am not going with them,’ she said. ‘The carriage would not accommodate so many. I walk: I prefer walking.’

‘But it rains,’ I said.

‘Oh! very little. Nothing that I regard,’ she returned.

An inspiration hit me, and I offered her my umbrella. Then I thought of a better suggestion, and begged to be allowed to get her a chair.

‘I am very much obliged to you, but the rain will come to nothing, I am sure,’ she said.

I was about to offer her my arm as well as my umbrella and walk her home, thanking Providence for the opportunity that had been thrown in my way, when she dashed my hopes by saying that she was waiting for her cousin, Mr Elliot, who had just gone on an errand and would be returning at any minute.

So Elliot was in Bath, and she preferred walking with him to walking with me. I was downcast. What had he been saying to her whilst they had been in Bath? Had he been making love to her? Winning her affections?

At that moment, I saw him walking down the street, and I felt my spirits sink. He would not have any difficulty in winning her family’s approval, if he wanted her for his wife. Her sister might be jealous, it was true, and this might distress Anne for a while. But other than that, in age, appearance, birth and fortune he was an excellent match.

Was that how she would see it? I asked myself, glancing at her profile. I could not believe it. No, not Anne, who had a heart as deep as mine, and who would not marry without love, I was sure.

But perhaps she loved him. Perhaps she could see in him everything she had seen in me eight years before.

At that moment, Elliot walked in. I recollected him perfectly. There was no difference between him and the man who had stood on the steps at Lyme, admiring Anne as she passed, except in his air, because, whereas before he had looked at her as an admiring stranger, now he looked at her in the manner of a privileged friend. He appeared to see and think only of her, apologized for his stay, and was grieved to have kept her waiting. He was anxious to get her away without further loss of time, and before the rain increased; and in another moment they walked off together, her arm under his, saying only a ‘Good morning to you!’ before they left.

As soon as they were out of sight, the ladies in my own party began talking of them, saying that Mr Elliot appeared to like Miss Anne very much. Mrs Lytham said that her friend Mrs Veer had told her that Mr Elliot was always with her family, and that it was easy to see how it would end.

I was devastated. To lose Anne to a man like Elliot, when I had been so close to speaking to her myself!

‘She is pretty, I think, Anne Elliot; very pretty when one comes to look at her. It is not the fashion to say so, but I confess I admire her more than her sister,’ said Mrs Lytham.

‘Oh! so do I,’ replied Miss Stanhope.

‘And so do I,’ replied another. ‘No comparison. But the men are all wild after Miss Elliot. Anne is too delicate for them. What do you think, Captain Wentworth? Do you not think her the handsomer of the two?’

I was about to reply truthfully, and to say that indeed I did, when I recollected my manners and said that I thought both ladies extremely beautiful.

‘Very politic!’ said Lytham with a laugh.

‘Ay,’ said Mr Runcorne. ‘Never be drawn on the relative beauty of ladies, for you may be sure it will come to their ears, and though you will have the smiles of one for ever more, you will have the other’s frowns.’

The men laughed heartily, and the women continued to talk of Anne.

‘A pretty woman, and not as proud as her father and sister,’ said Miss Stanhope. ‘She has an old school friend, a Mrs Smith, you know, who lives in poverty in Westgate Buildings. Many people would drop such an acquaintance, for it is not a nice neighbourhood, but Miss Anne visits her friend assiduously.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Mrs Lytham.

‘I am, for I have seen her there myself as my carriage was driving through the neighbourhood.’

‘Then that is another thing in her favour. Mr Elliot will be getting a good, as well as a pretty, wife,’ said Lytham.

‘A spring wedding, I think,’ said Mrs Lytham.

A spring wedding! I could not bear to think of it! To lose Anne, so soon, to another man?

‘Impossible!’ I broke out.

The whole party looked at me, startled, and I felt myself redden with embarrassment. I sought around for an explanation for my outburst, and luckily, one was to hand.

‘He was wearing crêpe around his hat. He is in mourning,’ I said.