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It was a fortnight before either Anne Elliot or Captain Wentworth thought to speak of their renewed attachment to any others. It was not a deliberate campaign, but Anne saw little reason to hasten her family's involvement, and he saw little reason to speak to anyone at all save Anne. Amid the to and fro of Bath, it was an easy feat to be frequently in each other's company, and if it is to be wondered that those around them did not perceive any alteration, then perhaps it may be noted that eight years of keeping a painful secret is good preparation for keeping a much happier one.
And so it was that the sight of Anne sitting alone at the piano-forte grew less frequent, and her sister Mary observed that Captain Wentworth was very good to help her out by turning pages so often.
"I have been recollecting the past," Captain Wentworth said on one of these occasions, "and I feel that I have been shortchanged in the exchange of information."
Anne smiled as she played; their shared past no longer held any fears for her. They had long since talked over all that was unpleasant, and Frederick's tone bespoke a more teasing reminiscence. She allowed a brief slide of her eyes to his face to confirm his disposition before returning her attention to the music in front of her, confident he needed no other response from her to continue.
"As I recall," he said, "we spent many an hour talking about my life on the sea, and yet I don't remember hearing anything much of your past."
"My past?" Anne said with surprise. "Have you forgotten that I was but nineteen when we met? I knew little of the world outside Kellynch."
"You knew little, but you had learned much," Captain Wentworth said. "It was only until I had spent more time in the world myself that I realised how uncommon were your intelligence and achievements." He paused, pleased to see he had made her blush, and overrode her demurrals. "Music, for instance," he said. "How came you to play so well, when neither of your sisters favors the instrument?"
Anne had received little enough praise from her family for her skill on the piano-forte and so to hear Frederick speak of her playing in this way caused her heart to swell and she reached out to brush her fingers against his as he leaned in to turn the page. She could hear him catch his breath before he pulled away. She played on a bit longer, thinking of how to best to answer the question. It was not in her nature to claim any special talent for herself, and to give credit to one party risked slighting the other.
"I know not whether to ascribe it to my mother or Mrs. Smith," Anne said. "For it is to the first that I owe my early instruction, but I own that had she lived I would likely now play as ill as Elizabeth."
"Impossible."
"Oh, I assure you," Anne said, "I loved my mother dearly, but I fear I was quite an indifferent student. What I learned, I learned to please her, not because I had any real feeling for the instrument." She played in silence for a minute, remembering. "Then she died and I was sent to school in Bath, and this part you know, there I met Mrs. Smith, or Miss Hamilton as she was."
"Does Mrs. Smith play, then?" Captain Wentworth was both surprised at this intelligence and ashamed to be so.
"Ah, no," Anne said. "I did not mean that she was my tutor in this area as she was in so many others. But what she gave me was far greater, in many ways." She paused again, waiting for the page to be turned, and then resumed. "Mrs. Smith was the first to suggest to me that playing music might be a way to escape, and it was a time when I desperately needed one. I do not know whether I indeed believed her at first, but she was soon proven correct. The school had one piano-forte, a gift of a recently wed former student, and it was to there that I could repair to for hours at a time, with no fear of being disturbed."
Captain Wentworth looked at Anne's face, bent over the piano, and forced himself to remain calm. He vowed again to take her far away from this family that never appreciated her and reached down to touch her hand briefly before clearing his throat and turning another page. Anne looked up at him in surprise and he realised he had acted in advance of the music, but she just smiled at him and played on.
It was not until two days later that Anne had occasion to return the inquiry, when Mrs. Croft sent the two of them to Milsom Street to collect a particular package. (Mrs. Croft didn't really need the package, but she had observed Anne's new coolness to her cousin Mr. Elliot and had hopes of what this might mean for her brother. "Sometimes these things need a bit of a push," she told the Admiral.)
"Tell me more about your past," Anne said, pausing to admire the fabrics in a shop window.
Captain Wentworth groaned. "I have been talking of war all week. Sometimes I think there are more admirals in Bath than in Portsmouth." He looked up at the sky. "And it is such a fine day, surely we can talk of something sunnier."
Anne laughed. "Indeed, and I would remind you that I only requested stories from your past. You do have one that predates the Navy, you know."
He nodded, thinking, and the two of them proceeded down the street for a few minutes before stopping in at Molland's. Captain Wentworth guided Anne to a corner table and sat down across from her.
"I have thought of a story from my childhood," he said, "but it requires I reveal to you my last big secret."
Anne tried to suppress a smile. What dire act had Frederick committed at the tender age of six? Trampling his mother's garden, perhaps?
"I am not the first Captain Wentworth."
Anne laughed, then held one gloved hand to her mouth. Frederick was trying to look grave, but she could tell he was near to laughing himself.
"Oh dear," she said, "is this where I hear about the mysterious older brother who ran away to the West Indies to become a privateer?"
At this, Captain Wentworth did laugh. "No, I'm afraid not. I have heard rumors along similar lines about a distant cousin John some years back, but I fear I know no more than that." Anne smiled but did not interrupt. "My case is far less sensational, yet still one I'd be loathe to have spread far and wide."
"The truth is," he said, pausing for the most impact, "it was my sister who first pronounced herself Captain Wentworth."
"Mrs. Croft?" Anne was delighted at the idea.
"Indeed," said the present captain. "There was a small lake on the edge of an estate near our village. It had long since been depleted of fish, and so the squire tolerated the village children to play there in the summer. Somehow, perhaps from that same squire, Sophy obtained a skiff. It could barely float, but that mattered little. Edward and I, as the younger brothers, were pressed into service as midshipmen and made to call her Captain."
Anne could contain her laughter no more. "This is a wonderful story indeed. No wonder Mrs. Croft would rather be on ship than on shore."
Captain Wentworth looked up to the ceiling and sighed. "Yes, though now it is the admiral who must deal with her, thank my lucky stars."
"Ah, yes," Anne said, more serious. "You do not believe in women on board ships." Captain Wentworth opened his mouth to object. "No, no," she said. "Your position is quite clear. I must stay on dry land at all times."
Frederick saw suddenly that his earlier hasty statements were painting him a hypocrite. But surely Anne was teasing him? She couldn't possibly be planning to leave him for months at a time?
"Anne," he said, reaching out to touch her hand. The pleasure of her name on his tongue was still a newly rediscovered one, and he paused to savor it. "Anne," he said. "Of course you're coming on board. We've been apart for eight long years -- I don't want to lose any more time."
Anne let her expression relax. "No, neither do I. Which is why Mrs. Croft is teaching me all about mending sailcloth."
They smiled at each other, once again unaware of the outside world. Shoppers came in and out of Molland's, and the busy throng of Bath passed by outside the shop.
But as for Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth, they were hundreds of miles away, on an open sea, with the wind at their backs.