Amanda Grange - Captain Wentworth’s Diary

‘Is he a young man?’ I asked.

‘I believe so. He is engaged in the study of law.’

‘Then he is young indeed. It is no wonder that he does not wish to saddle himself with responsibilities at so early an age— though perhaps it is strange that he means to fit himself for a profession when he is destined to inherit so much.’

‘It will not be for some time. Remember, he will not inherit anything until Sir Walter’s death, which will not be for many years, and even then, he might be robbed of everything at the last, for it is possible that Sir Walter will remarry and produce a son.’

‘Thereby depriving Mr Elliot of his inheritance,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘He is prudent then, Mr Elliot, and does not rely upon his expectations, but, rather, he wishes to secure a future for himself, irrespective of his claims. I like him.’

‘How can you say so? You have not even met him. He might be a scoundrel,’ said Edward.

‘My dear Edward, if he is training for the law, then of course he is a scoundrel, but he is not an idle scoundrel, at least!’ My eyes turned to Miss Elliot again. ‘Does Miss Elliot know he is studying for the law?’

‘Indubitably. But she expects him to give it up, no doubt, if he marries her. Perhaps we may see him in Uppercross yet.’

I wondered what such a marriage would mean for Miss Anne. Would she be more thought of by her father, if her sister was married, or less? I was tempted to ask her to dance again, but mindful of my brother’s caution, I danced with Miss Shepherd instead. I relinquished her to a Mr Clay, who was staying in the area, when the dance was over, and performed my duty by dancing with a number of other young ladies before it was time to go home.

I have kept my word to my brother, and I have not seen Miss Anne for a week. As the Elliots do not intend to go to the picnic, that will account for another few days out of her company, and after that, I believe I may safely speak to her again without arousing suspicion.

There was a heat haze shimmering over the fields when I rose this morning. It made me wish for the sea, for there is nothing better than a fresh ocean breeze on a hot summer’s day.

I rode out before breakfast and revelled in the feel of the wind on my face. It reminded me of the exhilaration of standing on the prow of a ship in the early morning, with the air rushing by, and I found myself wondering which ship I would be given to command. I felt myself growing restless for a return to the sea. My own ship! My own crew! A new life, and new challenges, with all the world before me, mine for the taking.

When I returned home, however, my restlessness vanished, for my brother remarked that the Elliots would be joining us on the picnic after all.

‘It seems they have heard a rumour that Mr William Walter Elliot will be in the neighbourhood of our beauty spot, and they wish to stage an accidental meeting, no doubt to invite him to Kellynch Hall again,’ he said.

‘Where do you hear such things?’ I asked him in surprise.

‘I have just come back from a visit to old Mrs Winters, who is bedridden, and who always enjoys my company. Her daughter is a maid at Kellynch Hall, and, it being her afternoon off yesterday, she told her mother all about it.’

‘Do servants know everything?’ I asked.

‘You have been too long at sea if you do not know the answer to that question!’ he said.

‘It will be interesting to see him, and to see how he behaves,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Will he welcome the meeting or will he be annoyed by it, do you think?’

‘He will be surprised, whatever the case, and surprises are always awkward things,’ said Edward. ‘I wish they had stood by their decision not to come.’

I could not agree with him, and so I kept my peace.

We set out, I riding my chestnut and my brother on a hired mount. I offered to buy him something better with the remains of my prize money, but he would not hear of it, saying he rode seldom and could not afford to keep a horse even if I gave one to him.

We joined the rest of the party in the centre of Uppercross, and set off in procession. I resisted the urge to ride beside Miss Anne’s carriage, though I was sorely tempted, for she was wearing the freshest gown of white muslin. I noticed her hands particularly, in their white gloves, and I thought how I could easily enfold both of them in one of mine. My eyes rose to her face, which was framed by her hat, and I thought I had never seen her look more enchanting.

When we arrived at the beauty spot, I could wait no longer and, having given my horse into the care of one of the grooms, I went over to her and asked her how she had liked the journey.

‘Was your carriage comfortable?’ I asked her.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she said with a smile.

‘You were not jolted over too many potholes? That is the worst of a dry summer, the roads are rutted and full of holes.’

She assured me she had not been thrown about.

‘Would you care for a walk?’ I asked her. ‘It is refreshing, after an hour spent in a carriage.’

‘Yes, I believe I would.’

I offered her my arm. She took it, and as her fingers closed about it, I found myself rejoicing in the day; so much so, that Lady Russell’s disapproving look did not pierce my glow of happiness.

‘You have been here before?’ I asked her, as we began to take a stroll, whilst the servants took the rugs out of the carriages and the grooms took the horses out of the shafts.

‘Yes, several times. The view from the top of the hill is renowned for its beauty. It draws people from miles around, particularly in the summer months when the fields are at their brightest.’

‘Then let us go and see it.’

I was hoping that the others would find the prospect of a walk up the remainder of the hill too much, but the Pooles and the Laynes fell in with us, saying that they felt the climb would be worthwhile in order to see the view. We set out together, whilst the rest of the party contented themselves with strolling beside the picnic spot.

Mrs Layne grew tired before we reached the top, and she and her daughter said that they would remain where they were and join us again on our way down. Miss Anne and I, together with Mr and Mrs Poole, went on to the summit. The view was indeed splendid, showing us the land for miles about, and, far off in the distance, we could just make out the shimmer of the sea.

‘It must be strange for you to find yourself on land after so long at sea. Do you miss it?’ Miss Anne asked me.

‘Yes, I do,’ I admitted. Then I turned to look at her. ‘But not at this moment.’

She flushed, and looked down, and I thought she had never looked prettier.

Mrs Poole quoted a few lines of poetry. Mr Poole said, ‘Quite, quite!’ and then, having looked our fill, we set off back down the hill again.

We were soon joined by the Laynes. They were refreshed by their rest but, as Mrs Poole was by this time growing fatigued, they walked slowly, so that they could indulge her with conversation. Miss Anne and I outstripped them. Having already talked of the countryside and the weather, we had a chance for something more interesting, and out conversation turned to other outings and visits we had experienced. This led to our speaking of London, where I had been many times.

‘I would like to see London,’ she said.

‘But you have been there, surely?’ I asked.

‘No, never.’

I was astonished.

‘But I thought you went there every spring?’

‘No. My sister and my father go, but not I,’ she replied.

‘This is monstrous! You must have your share of the pleasure as well as they. The next time they go, you must go with them.’

‘They will not wish it.’

‘And are their wishes the only ones to be consulted? You must tell them to take you.’

‘It would be impossible,’ she said.

‘Nonsense. There is nothing easier,’ I returned.

‘For you, perhaps, but not for me. I am not a naval commander. I am not used to giving orders, nor to having them obeyed.’

‘Then it is time you became used to it. You may start with me. Give me a command, and I will obey it. You will soon learn how easy it is.’

She smiled, but only shook her head and said nothing.

‘I am waiting,’ I told her playfully.

‘I cannot think of anything,’ she said.

We were nearing the picnic spot, where the food was already laid out. Our fellow picnickers were gathered together, sitting on rugs beneath a shady tree, and waiting only for our arrival so that the picnic could begin. Sir Walter and Miss Elliot were sharing a rug with Lady Russell, Mr and Miss Shepherd. Miss Scott was on a second rug with Mr and Mrs Oldham, whose three young children were playing nearby, and two further rugs were vacant.

I led Miss Anne to a vacant rug, where we were joined by the Laynes, whilst the Pooles went to sit with the Oldhams. There were the usual pleasantries as the rest of our party asked us how we had liked our walk, and what we thought of the view, then the gentlemen began to serve the ladies, giving me the perfect opportunity to continue with my theme.

‘Miss Anne, what would you command me to bring you?’

She smiled, and said, ‘A little chicken, if you please.’

‘Are you sure you would not rather have the artichoke pie? It looks very good.’

She hesitated, then caught my eye and said, ‘No, thank you. A little chicken.’