"Males are by nature barbaric. We might as well allow them to follow their inclination in a setting where neither they, nor we, shall be embarrassed." He glanced at the boys. The two smiling faces looked with anticipation at me, but were silent in hope.

Three sets of eyes followed my moves and examined me carefully for a decision. "I suppose it will do no harm. Though Captain, I do request that I be allowed to use a knife and fork. And that you would as well." He put on a great show of disappointment for the boys, and agreed. When the boys were finished eating, and their faces and hands cleaned, they were given the choice of resting for a period or to go on a hike with the groom. Naturally, they chose the hike.

Watching the trio disappear down a well-trod path, Frederick explained his wish for privacy as he cleared up. "I wanted us to be alone, so that no one could hear and possibly misunderstand." The ruin left by the boys was gathered in a thrice and things put to right. He then insisted I should lay down to rest. We would talk, but only when I was comfortable with pillows and a light coverlet.

"You treat me like I am a child." I was hard-pressed to explain why I sniped at him.

"I treat you like a woman who needs rest. The weather is warm and you are too pink for my liking."

I arranged the pillows, bunched the cover under my knees, and requested he speak his mind.

Frederick went to the driver's seat and brought back a battered satchel. He took some papers from it and placed them in my hands. "I shall not beat 'round the bush, whatever the cause, your loss of memory answers for the discrepancies I noticed yesterday. But it also presents … difficulties."

"Yes, I suppose it does. Though I'm sure it won't come up often, but how do I explain not knowing something that happened last week, or two years ago?"

How unreal for us to be sitting under this awning, on a hot and summer day, talking calmly about a five-year space of time that was a blank to me.  I tried, unenthusiastically, to imagine such a confidence with William. It was impossible. William had no imagination for anything that he could not see, or control. The whole of this affair would be nothing more than an opportunity for derision, and a fair amount of manipulation if it would benefit him.

"Exactly. And I want you to have confidence that what I tell you is the truth. That is why I have brought pertinent papers; so that you may know I can be trusted."

I had no idea what the papers were, but they were heavy in my hands. They would tell me about my missing life. They would confirm his word. I wished I could do without them, but I was glad he had brought them.

One of them I knew was the Certificate of Divorce. It was heavy paper, rolled and tied with a black ribbon. I opened it and found my instincts were right. After a time, I allowed it to roll back up on itself and retied the ribbon.

"Humans are amazing creatures," I said.

"How so?"

"We make the proof of something so horrible as the breaking of holy vows, and fashion it in such a way as to be as beautiful as possible. The paper is fine, the writing is lovely and the seal is handsome. And yet it is the representation of complete betrayal and such utter failure."

"It was not your fault."

"I chose him."

"You must have loved him."

"I did not love him. I never loved him. He was the best choice for many reasons. Several different people were quite anxious to inform me of the practicalities of marrying him."

"People marry for practical reasons all the time. And are happy. William Elliot being the sort of man he is made that impossible."

"But to my regret, I have found that too much practicality can lead one astray."

"But, the divorce is still not your fault."

"I never loved him. And I never stopped loving you." There, I had said it. I only hoped he did not take it as some sort of accusation.

"Had I only come to Kellynch when Sophia first invited me, none of this would have happened. I would have taken one look at you, dropped to my knees and begged your forgiveness."

He had taken it badly, but his statement was partially true; had he come when first the rumour surfaced, surely we would have put things right immediately. But, there was enough doubt in my mind having to do with all good fortune for me to say, "I think divining the past might be as dangerous as trying to divine our future. We cannot know precisely how we would have responded all those years ago. Let us just be grateful this odd circumstance has put us together now."

"As you wish, Annie."

His saying my name in such a way was thrilling. I could not help but be as thankful as I hoped he was.

"The other set of papers has to do with Kellynch Hall. As it stands, as it has been explained to me, the Hall and all properties of the Kellynch family are held in trust for Will until he reaches one and twenty. You are the guardian of the trust—"

"Mr Shepherd drew up this document."

He paused. "Yes, he is your father's solicitor and it was thought he would watch over the interest of the family with the most care."

"I don't understand why this was done in the first place."

"As I was saying, you are the guardian of the trust. You felt that William's betrayal of you might lead to a betrayal of the family as a whole. With the wedding gift, he would be free to dispose of the property without any consideration of his son. It was your wish that that not happen. Hence, part of the terms of the divorce were the signing over of the lands to the trust, which will be faithful to turn them over to their rightful heir when he reaches his majority."

"There is an awful lot of money in the trust. I know father had no such amount when William and I married. It was a source of great irritation that Father paid so little in settlement to him."

Frederick shifted, sitting up and rearranging the pillow. "That is my doing. Knowing your feelings about your family's home, I have never made much noise about establishing a home of our own, one of my providing. I am a patient man and I know that Will, one day, shall take over the Hall and the running of things. Then you and I shall have the luxury of making a home of our own. But until then, I feel that I should do something useful. The daily expense of the house, the wages of the servants, food and upkeep of things is born by me. I insist on it, and all that is generated by the property, and not used in maintaining the land structures, goes to the trust. I would do no less for my own child and can see no reason not to do so for Will."

"You are very generous," was all I could say. And it was generous, to a fault. I watched a small yellow butterfly flit from the blanket to a bunch of tall grass. But there was something about the whole of the trust, which seemed incongruent. "And so was William, as far as I can understand from the documents.

"Yes. And would he not be?"

"I do not understand why he would have turned over the property in the first place. It was his to do with as he wished. My father relinquished all claims at our marriage. At first I thought it terribly generous, but then I realised that by turning over the property to William, it relieved him of all the monetary responsibilities. The ongoing expenses were eliminated, and without those burdens, what little income he had was put to his debt. My marriage served a good purpose for him. That aside, why, when William was so willing to admit his adulteries and abuses in open court, why would he suddenly be so willing to please me in this matter?"

"I have no idea. What motivates William Walter Elliot is a mystery to me."

The conversation at the picnic was cut short with the return of the boys. Frederick seemed glad to leave off the uncomfortable topic of my past. I am certain he took no pleasure in any discussion concerning William Walter. Declaring I was still too pink, he did allow me to fold a blanket while he and the groom saw to the awning. Will was to search out any loose utensils and place them in the hampers, while Matthew was to find his crutch. It was missing and everyone seemed to remember seeing it in a different spot.

Finally, all the hampers, bedding, the awning, and Matthew's hidden crutch were loaded on the wagon. The boys were settled on the hay, quietly conjecturing on my astounding behaviour earlier in the day, when, as we were leaving the clearing, Frederick asked if I knew the place we had just left.

"No, not particularly. Though I feel I should know it. There is a familiarity about it." We passed just then through the shade of a large, stately oak.

He was silent for a time. His jaw was tense, and his brow was furrowed in thought.

"Will you tell me about it?" I knew that such thoughtfulness on his part must mean the site was important to him.

"That clearing is where I asked you to marry me. In the year '06, not my last proposal."

I felt awe that he even contemplated our engagement all those years ago. It had not occurred to me that our first meeting would hold any value in this time of our lives. "Of course. I do remember now. There was a downed tree where we would sit. But the stream was dry that summer and the only sounds were birds."

His face relaxed. "So you do remember."

"Yes, though everything is grown. Now that you have told me, I remember the original prospect very well."

"The tree was taken and used by a furniture maker." Something sad passed over his face, but he continued, "I had decided several days ago to bring the boys here and had a crew out clearing it yesterday. This is where I came in the evening when I left the house."

Looking back at the boys, they were all asleep. We had freedom to speak openly. "It is a lovely spot now, as it was then. And, I remember that you kissed me when I accepted." A smile came over his face, and he looked down. My hand was resting on his leg. Making no apology, in due course I removed it. With pleasure I realised we were becoming less inhibited with one another. Such liberty was sweet and I desired it should continue, and even increase.

"Yes, and you were shocked. And a little afraid as I recall."

I thought about that kiss. It was of course my first. The passion of it made me think the same could not be said for him. There was a presumption about it that put me off at first.  My fear was that he expected more, but he explained later that he would never take what was not his by covenant and marital right, and that he would work to control his natural enthusiasm until it could be properly displayed. I was reassured with that promise. In the passing years after the break up, I would think about his kisses and, sparingly, consider what we might have had were we married.

Unbidden, I felt a rush of warmth and began to look forward to the time when we might have such closeness again. Telling him this now would be awfully embarrassing; in many ways we were in the same circumstance. Well, I was anyhow.

"I was afraid to bring you here." He didn't look at me; instead he wrapped and unwrapped the reins around his hand.

"Why ever for?" His expression was still tense and I longed to touch his cheek and brow and try to sooth the anxiety. With my feelings being so tender, and his emotions being uncertain, touching him again might not be the most prudent thing.

"I am not sure that such things will not cause you to remember these past years." He did look at me now. There was so much dread in his eyes I could not help myself; I laid my hand lightly to his cheek. He closed his eyes, pulling the reins and the halting the horses. Laying his larger hand over mine, he then kissed my palm.

He'd not shaved closely that morning and his beard was course on my hand. I relished the rough intensity of it. Where my first husband had reminded me of a cool marble statue both in his appearance, and his heart, Frederick was warm flesh and blood. This reminded me that I too was made of this baser stuff.

At some point, he released my hand and stared at me. I could see the same desire, and confusion I felt. Whatever had brought me to this place, back to him. The circumstances were driving us to one another, and I was being forced to accept this place and circumstance. And it would seem that Frederick was being forced to accept me and let me take her place. I was as reluctant as he to recall the past years with William Walter. At the same time, it seemed that for us to continue on, the risk of those memories being revealed was always facing us. Before I could point this out, we were coming into the drive of the Hall, and he was rousing the boys while calling for the groom.

That evening, after a light dinner, Frederick asked if I would play the piano for a short while. I said I would, but could only manage to play for three-quarters of an hour. He was delighted with the demi-concert and thanked me with a kiss. Sending me to my room, he insisted I should have a hot bath and an early night.

His manner after our return and dinner made me think he might look in, just to see how I fared, but he did not. I was well rested and I wished that he would. I was more deeply content than I had been in several days—nay, years—but I was also restless, and anxious for the company of my husband.

I tried to lie in my bed. I tried a turn about the room, then another. I moved a chair before the window and endeavoured to read. But, prose was arduous, and poetry was provoking. No matter whom I read, they were anxious to exalt love between man and woman in the most evocative of terms. I snapped shut the last one in utter frustration and placed it on the sill. I promptly knocked off when leaning out to catch a bit of the breeze stirring. I watched it pitch and twirl as it fell, and lamented what its condition would be once the damps fell.

The scent of the air was magnificent, and I dared to leave the window open despite all the dire warnings of putrid diseases that lurk in the moist darkness of nighttime. The sharp sound of the crickets, and the soft whisper of the leaves in the light wind was refreshing, though did nothing to ease my loneliness for him. Remembering the events of the afternoon several times made me more restless, and desirous of his company. The only resolution was for me to tell him I could not rest. And why.

It was approximately eight steps to the door, four more across the bathing room, another few and I would be standing next to him. I had the courage to defy the greatest medical minds of our time and breath in the night air, but did I have the nerve to make the short visit to my husband's room?

In six short steps I revolved a plan, turned back to the dresser and hoped that Frederick was at least a little romantic, and prone to sentimentality.

Once prepared, the steps from my window to his door felt like miles, but here I stood. Knocking, as I opened the door, I casually spoke his name.

He was bent over, shirtless, just having a wash in the basin. My calling out startled him. He looked to me, and then began to straighten just as he splashed himself with water. For just a moment he looked annoyed, but when he found a towel, his expression lightened. "I hadn't planned on a bath," he said. He turned away and it was my turn to be startled. His back was marked with several scars. Most were nothing more than discoloured lines, but one across his lower back was vicious. They quickly disappeared under a green silk robe he took from the bed.

"I'm sorry. I had no idea-" I'm not sure if I was apologising for the condition of his back, or for barging into his chamber. For the first I was sorry. For the second I had planned.

"I cleaned up earlier, but I thought as it was cooling so nicely I would … you didn't come to hear an accounting of my ablutions," he said, tying the robe. "Is there something you need perhaps? Are your windows in good working order?" With a careless gesture, he tossed the towel to the washstand. Again the ease with which he moved fascinated me.

"Anne? Are you unwell? Should you be up?" It seemed he suddenly appeared at my side, taking my arm.

"No, I am fine. And my windows are very well, thank you." Again, the ordinary scent of soap, and his closeness caused me to hesitate. My deepest desire was before me, and if I was to have it, I must ask. "But I do have a request."

He smiled faintly, looking curious. "And what might that be?"

Saying nothing, I grasped his hands in mine and took a deep breath.

All my dramatics caused him concern. He put his hand to my cheek. "You are quite unwell, dear. Your hands are cold; your face is flush and hot. We must get a doctor—"

He moved away and I tugged at his sleeve. "No, Fredrick. I am very well. But I do want—"

Apprehension marked his face as he stopped to listen.

"I want you to make me your wife." The words seemed outlandish and rushed. All I could do was add to the muddle. "I want you to make love to me."

It took a long moment for him to fully understand my meaning. First, he breathed and his body relaxed. Then the look on his face changed from dread to a puzzled smile. Suddenly, he pulled me close and our bodies rocked together in one accord. In that moment I wondered if I was opening a Pandora's box I would later regret.

"Annie, Annie, you scared the life out of me. I thought we were going to go through it again—" He ceased swaying, then quickly kissed me on the cheek. "These last two days have been full of interesting surprises. I thought perhaps you had another for me. And you do. I'm not sure that such a thing—as wonderful as it would be—is a good idea. Considering your state of mind." He held me by the shoulders and smiled. His expression at best was conflicted. It was my hope that I might sway him, as he did not seem to be firmly convinced by his own argument.

For the longest time neither of us moved, and there was no sound in the room whatsoever. All I could feel was the hem of my shift brushing against my legs. There was a loose thread tickling my left ankle. Letting the silence go on, I could not help feeling elated that he was torn between his desire for me, and rational thoughts concerning the situation. Though I did not wish to manipulate him, I did wish to live this life as fully and completely in the time left to me.

I chaffed his arms. Beneath the silk I enjoyed the feel of his warm skin and taut muscles. "My state of mind may last for days, or weeks. Perhaps months or years. Maybe I shall never remember anything. If this be the case, are we to remain celibate?" He said nothing, but his look was thoughtful. It suddenly occurred to me that near-celibacy might be the condition of their strained relationship. If so, my coming to him, and asking for my rightful place, was quite a shock indeed.

He backed away. This would have been an agonising rejection had he not taken ages to release my hands. His fingertips gently caressed and entwined mine. "I would not want you to think I am taking advantage of you."

My courage was still intact and I matched his steps. "I am asking you. That cannot be construed as you taking advantage." I smoothed the lapel of his robe and he sighed quietly, but did not move away.  I embraced him and without hesitation, he did the same.

"Shall we go to your room?"

"No, let us remain here."

"But you hate this room; as do I."

"True. But if we make this place our very own, maybe it will lose the shadow of its former associations, and you will grow to like it." I could not help smiling. "Maybe we will grow to like it." 

Frederick's eyes flashed and he led me to the bed. He sat down and placed me before him. He untied my robe and opening it, a low murmur of appreciation escaped him. Gently he pushed it off my shoulders and the same came from me in response as fingertips scarcely brushed my bare skin.

I thanked Anne for his keen response. She had kept, perhaps more from frugality than sentimentality, a relic of our past.

Reaching up, he fingered the fraying picot edge of my shift's neck. "Are we in such dire straits that you must wear your oldest…" As he spoke, his hand drifted down my arm, touching the soft, worn material as it went. "…thinnest shift? Have I left you so destitute?" In his eyes was pure desire. It frightened me.

"No. She has drawers full of brand new things she never wears. I wear this because I remember it from a long time ago." My hands shook as I sought his, and then placed them on my waist. "I worked this lace edge when I was eighteen. I am certain I wore this shift the following summer."

His eyes wakened with understanding. He had taken me to a place important all those years ago, and now I think was happy to see that I honoured that time as well. "It is a witness to the beginning of our love. A love that I have never forgot."

He stood and pulled me close. "Neither have I. So let this dear old thing be a witness to hope. Even hope very much, and quite astonishingly delayed." The touch of his lips on mine was shocking and exciting. Drawing a bit away, he said, "You are so beautiful." I could feel the heat rising from the centre of my being.  Stroking my cheek, he said, "You blush so prettily."

"I feel like a bride. A bride standing before her groom on their first night together."

"And so you are."

His touch was familiar, and why should it not be? This body was his and it responded as an instrument under the hand of a master. Even so, in my deepest self, I wished to run.

My past experience of intimacy was not the bestowal of tender affection, but the extraction of pleasure at the cost of some pain on my part. His kiss was deep and insistent, not demanding and selfish like another man's. I would not punish Frederick for the hurts of my past. I would stay in his arms, and I would love him as his wife. The throaty sound of his appreciation was thrilling and I could feel my own excitement welling from a guarded place, a place deep and hidden and rarely shown.

Suddenly, a brilliant light flashed behind my closed eyes. I dared not open them for fear of what had just happened. My lip began to throb. Instinctively, I touched it.

 Even as my fingers gently explored the painful spot, my tongue seemed to have life and curiosity of its own. My heart pounded, and I could feel the back of my neck prickle with heat. There was no doubt that I would have to look, but I deeply dreaded what I knew I would see.

Reluctantly, I looked and found my hand covered with – nothing. There was nothing to see except five perfectly clean fingers. Still uncertain, and fearful, I expected, of course, to see William. But that was not the scene that met my eyes.

Frederick stood a few steps away. His breathing was heavy and his eyes glassy with desire and confusion.  I cannot think I looked any better, but I was his opposite, with my breath bursting in my lungs. When I came to myself I wanted nothing more than to rush back into his arms and continue our lovemaking. But I was rooted to the spot.

"I am sorry, Anne. I did not realise I was being so rough." Turning from me, he took a seat on the edge of the bed. "It has never been like this—mutual desire between us …" He leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms slowly. "I suppose your request caught me off guard. Again, I'm sorry."

Though I could not see his face, I ached from hearing the guilt thick in his voice.

Taking the place next to him, I settled close and entwined my arm with his, my fingers working their way between his hands. "It was nothing, and there is nothing to forgive. You bumped my lip and it reminded me of something from long ago." Resting my head on his shoulder, I continued, "Perhaps you're right and the situation is yet too volatile between us. Just say it and we will do this another time."

He grasped my hand tight, and raising it to his lips, kissed my fingers. A pleasant tingle ran up my arm. My hand still on his lips, I could feel him smile. Then he said, "Annie, I lie next to her every night, hoping that my presence will somehow open her eyes and she will love me again, but it never happens that way. Once a week she does her duty by me. If I were a better man I would likely not take my marital rights, but I do."

It was the first time he had separated the present Anne from me. I was coming into my own with him, and I couldn't help feeling delighted. But, the pitiful confession dampened my joy greatly.

"I should send you away with some palaver about not wishing you to be with me if that is not what you desire as well. But I can't." He finally looked at me. We were as close as we had ever been and I could see the pain warring with his need for me. "You answered my every prayer when you came in here and asked that I should love you. But with things so uncertain now, I fear if you walk out that door, everything will change and I shall be back in the black mire of a few days ago."

Clearly, a reversal of the circumstance was the greatest fear for each of us. He wanted me, and apart from that fear, I wanted him.

I stood, and he immediately released my hand. Hurrying to the spot we earlier occupied—lest Frederick think I was leaving—I turned to face him. Extending my hand, I said, "Come."

He gave me a quizzical look, but rose slowly even so. Asking nothing about my intentions, he reached for my hand and joined me.

"We were standing just here, were we not?"

Smiling a little, he glanced about and said, "I guess. Why?"

"We experienced a slight interruption." I deliberately touched a dark, thin ribbony scar that played across his chest. He drew away just slightly. "But make no mistake, Frederick, my desires have not changed since entering this room." I began to untie his robe.

His hands were over mine in an instant." I would rather you didn't do that."

"What? Remove your robe?"

"Yes. I'd rather you didn't."

"I saw your scars earlier, they do not frighten me."

His gaze shifted then returned to meet mine. Desire intensified his hazel eyes. He gave my hands a squeeze, and then began to stroke my neck and twine his fingers through my hair. I took this as his permission, and an admission of his trust in me. I gently continued my agreeable task.

Pushing the silk over his shoulders, he shivered when I rested my hands fully on him. The fallen robe made a silken puddle of green about our feet. All I wanted was to look and touch. This was short-lived as he gently guided my mouth to his. There was still passion and insistence, but a new tenderness was evident. He pulled away slightly and said, "If this is a dream, it is surely mine, not yours." The warmth of his breath bathed my yearning lips. I was glad when he asked, "Shall we repair to the bed?"

"Lead me, sir," I begged.

I woke alone. I knew the feel of an empty bed and I wondered for a moment if the dreaded had happened. I heard Frederick clear his throat and relaxed somewhat. It was still dark, but when I opened my eyes, I could see him clearly standing by the window, leaning on the frame. His features were stark and brooding as revealed by the moonlight. He'd fetched his robe, and it flapped as breezes lifted its now moon-greyed silk. My arms ached for him, but he was a handsome study just as he was.

He didn't hear me as I approached, and he started when I touched his arm. "You cannot sleep?" His smile drove away the brooding expression and made him more handsome than ever.

"I've been asleep. But, when I woke I thought it best to spare you my tossing and turning." He made no move to touch me.

I reached out and touched the tie of his robe, but did not touch him directly. It was just as well. He flinched ever so slightly. "Are you thinking about me? What I've told you?" He might deny it, but I would know it was a lie if he said otherwise.

The breeze rose and his hair ruffled a bit and then settled back on his forehead. "Yes." The honesty of his tone was as refreshing as the night air.

"Yes. I have been trying to consider all the possibilities of the matter." He looked away over the moon-drenched lawn. An owl called in the distance. It struck me as ironic that an animal credited with wisdom would join Frederick in his nighttime deliberations.

I knew I should leave him to his thoughts, but I could not help myself. My fingertips lightly touched his hand. "There are many of those," I said. He faced me with an urgent look and took my hand with a grip not alarming, but firm.

"Have you thought about your friend's theory?"

"Insanity?"

I simply nodded.

Frederick touched my cheek and trailed fire along my jaw. "I have concluded that if it is madness, I shall reside in Bedlam alongside you." He then lifted my chin and kissed me. At first there was the promise of passion, but he quickly pulled back. Cool air touched my cheeks and he rested his forehead on mine. "I have never been loved so well." He straightened and slipped an arm around my waist. "I have never known such openness and eagerness to please me—and a readiness to be pleased by me."

I had no idea what to say to such a delicate confession. There was no need to consider a reply. "My wife has not been in this room above two or three times… only to make comment on paint colors or paper patterns. Never to seek my affections. Or to give any."

The admission was painful to hear. I began to stammer something I hoped would be comforting, but he silenced me. "Very soon after we married, I became convinced that William Elliot had harmed her. Certainly in her mind, perhaps her body as well. It has never been discussed. I am certain he used their marriage bed to humiliate her in ways I cannot imagine." He had not been looking at me directly, and now he looked out the window. "I have never spoken of this because if is true, my knowledge of it would heap embarrassment upon an already humiliated heart. So, I have lived quietly with the hope that one day she might take me into her confidence and allow me to help her."

I rested my head on his chest and listened to his even breathing, and his pounding heart. His hand moved up my back and neck to range through my hair. Suddenly, he drew slightly away, looked fiercely at me. "You are not afraid of me, are you?" His eyes moved quickly, searching my face for an answer.

At that moment, my only fear was losing him one day. "No, I am not afraid."

I was barely finished speaking when he kissed me hard. There was no hesitation and no tenderness about it. He tore his lips from mine, and said, "Let me love you again, Annie. Please." The ragged, desperate request was touching. And now I was a little frightened, but only because I desired him as deeply as he desired me.