Work Text:
Scene 1:
At one of the ever-occuring gatherings the Musgroves held in Bath, congratulations were flowing in for Captain Wentworth and Anne when Sophia Croft came over. ‘What is this I hear of you and Miss Elliot, Fred - you are to marry? You said not one word to myself or the Admiral. Were you afraid to tell us?’
‘You know I am more likely to want time than courage, Sophy, and it is only now a done thing. You are my sister, so I should have told you shortly.’
‘Frederick, I am not merely your sister, I am your elder sister. You should have made your wishes known to me beforetimes, for I do not like being as astonished at this news as those who refuse to look past their own noses.’
Anne was distressed for the Crofts, who were all that was welcoming and respectable; they were truly superior connections. ‘Mrs. Croft,’ she began, but got no further for that lady had crushed her into a joyful - if tight - embrace.
‘My dear! I cannot tell you how pleased the Admiral and I are to receive you into our family. Fred could not have chosen a better lady to assure him felicity in marriage. You were both very sly, not admitting to anything, but I might have known when Fred lifted you into the carriage with us.’
Wishing to disabuse her of this mistaken notion, Captain Wentworth and Anne made known to Sophia the embarrassing whole of their acquaintance, and she roundly abused her brother for being so foolish as to chase after a Louisa Musgrove when there was an Anne Elliot.
With a satisfied air, Sophia added, ‘You also refute your own words of lacking not courage but time. That retreat suggests a man fleeing from a dangerous enemy, and I have never found Miss Elliot ferocious.’
Although Anne smiled at Mrs. Croft’s words, she would not permit one on her face, for she thought Frederick would feel pricked by his sister’s reprimand. However, when she glanced at him, he looked more sad than irritated.
‘You are correct, sister. I have injured more than myself with my fit of temper. Anne, tell me, when I returned to England in the year eight with a few thousand pounds and was posted into the Laconia, would you have renewed the engagement then?’
‘Would I!’ was her answer.
He flinched as if struck. ‘You would! This suffering is of my own making; my own pride the source of pain. Sophia, I thank you for opening my eyes. I have believed myself meriting all good that came my way, but now I must learn to accept being happier than I deserve.’
Anne’s heart felt quite tender toward him, and she stood perhaps closer than was prudent; but they had weathered many years of division and estrangement and were now equal and willing to act for their own pleasure. She squeezed Sophia’s hands and earnestly said, ‘I am grateful for your care and your wisdom. You watched over Frederick, for whose happiness I have only ever wished, and at a time when I had thought all joy was lost. You will forever have my gratitude and my affection for your diligence.’
Scene 2:
Frederick’s profession was all that could ever make Anne’s friends wish her less tenderness of heart, the dread of a future war was all that could dim her sunshine. She gloried in being a sailor’s wife, but she must pay the tax of quick alarm for belonging to that profession. When, not long after their marriage, Captain Wentworth was called upon to join the blockade, Anne had a sympathetic and ready listener in Mrs. Croft who - having lived through fifteen years of marriage to a navy man - was plentiful in her advice.
After being asked her thoughts on Anne accompanying Captain Wentworth, Sophia answered, ‘There is much to consider. I can safely say, the happiest part of my life has been spent on board a ship. While the admiral and I were together, you know, there was nothing to be feared. Since Fred will be on one of the higher rates, you would be as comfortable as in your own home. When I stayed ashore was the only time I found myself unwell, imagining all sorts of complaints and frights. I do not know whether Frederick would wish you aboard, for all he is gallant about ladies, he is too fine in his view of their capableness. There are ladies who claim such idle refinement, but you have a steadiness and sturdiness about you, and I am convinced you would be perfectly happy.’
Mrs. Croft pursued further, ‘You would be in no one’s way, and could uplift the sailors’ morale. Some of them are still boys who could use mothering. My own first crossing with Captain Croft (as he was then) was not during a peace, and neither I nor the sailors suffered for that. But if you feel it best, if you are set on being here, you will have many women as friends and companions, the wives of Fred’s brother-officers. You will not encounter solitude unless you seek it, and I heartily discourage such for your own equanimity. Please remember you are our sister and are welcome in our home and at our table at any time.’
Anne was fairly overwhelmed with affection for her newest sister and embraced her with a full heart, feeling rather conscious and unpracticed in the action. She stepped back and said, ‘I would not want Frederick to suffer any pain or discomfort over this. My wishes are much like yours: to remain with my husband, whether on land or at sea, but I have no experience in the matter of feeling disordered when on water and am not certain it is wise to attempt a trial during a time of war. You have given me much to think on and I shall speak with my husband to discern what he thinks of this.’
In the end, although Captain Wentworth was not in favor of his beloved wife joining him, his disagreement was not strenuous (and he may have strongly preferred her company to her absence), so he permitted the joint efforts of the Admiral, Sophia, and Anne to convince him of the rightness of their plan. Anne found enjoyment in her time at sea, but was pleased when peace again reigned, and she and Frederick could retire to their cottage, which - to their great delight - gradually grew full of young Wentworths.