The sun was beginning to rise and I could see him more clearly. As he slept, his face was the most unperturbed I had observed in these past days. To know I had brought him peace was as satisfying as anything I had ever known.

The first time, when we had made love at my request, it was all wonder, amazement, curiosity and light. The second time was a sort of madness on his part. There was nothing violent about it, but he was making love to her. He was pouring into me all the pent-up desire of his years with her. In one act, I think he was hoping to give her all the love she would not, or more likely could not receive from him. I could not be angry with him. I did not feel it a betrayal. But I knew that night she was in his blood and whether I was ever removed from this place and time, or remained until death parted us, she would always, somehow, be present.

I found myself waking again. This time he was nowhere near. It was disappointing but his scent was all around me. The sheets, the pillows and the blankets were full of Frederick. For a moment I took my ease in the warmth of the bed, the softness of the linens, and the contentment of my new place in his life and thoughts. I gradually noticed the room was bright with the early morning sunlight and that all the curtains stood fully open. Everything was prepared for a new day to begin.

I stretched reluctantly and sat up to leave the bed. As I reached for the sheet, my wedding ring caught my eye.

It seemed odd that I had never noticed it before; it was much larger and thicker than the one I had taken when marrying William. On the outside was what I thought to be a vine twining around and meeting in a knot. Examining it more closely, I realised it was a rope and that it was actually three cords that eventually met and formed one strand. I took it off, curious to see if there were any other interesting things about it. I was not disappointed.

"For you alone ~~ From FW to AW ~~ December 25, 1817"

I replaced the ring, and held it to my lips for a moment. The inscription was to another Anne, in another time. But as I had proof from last night, even in Frederick's mind, I was taking precedence. I was quickly becoming the Anne he loved the most.

"Well, it is nice to see you finally awake." The sound of a watch snapping shut punctuated the comment. I raised enough to see Frederick, again leaning against the sill of the window. This time however, he was bright, and alert, and looking at me with a very merry grin. The elegant blue coat and black trousers he wore were a striking sight. It was obvious that the master of the house was familiar with the finest tailors in London. As silly as it might sound, I could have looked upon him all day, had he been willing to pose for me. I realised then one bare leg was poised to get out of the bed and that I was still dressed only in my shift from the night before.

Pulling my leg back under the sheet, I covered myself respectfully and said, "You are up early. And look very handsome this morning. Is it for me?" This did nothing to change the roguish look in his eye, and he seemed to take it as an invitation.

He made a gesture with his fingers. "A little. You look awfully handsome yourself on this lovely summer morn." As he spoke, he made an elaborate show of straightening the bedclothes so that he might take a seat next to me.

A sudden, ridiculous shyness compelled me to pull the sheet closer. "I have nearly nothing on. Such a state can not be considered handsome, surely."

He smirked. "I think we differ quite a lot on the definition of 'handsome,' you and me."

Next to him, so exposed, I felt small and vulnerable.  Soon his tender looks and sweet morning kiss made me snug and at ease. I was still at a loss to explain how this kind and wonderful man could be at such odds with my present counterpart. The night before was a wonder as he had taken great pleasure in anticipating my every desire. He knew her so well, and yet they were greatly estranged.

"Anne, are you all right?"

"Certainly. What did you ask?"

"I asked, how is our girl?" He obviously meant the baby as his hand lay on my stomach.

"How do you know it is a girl? Don't all men wish a son first?"

His expression did not change, but something shifted in the depths of his eyes. Leaning forward, he said, "This is a girl child, and I am quite content with that."

"By what sort of magic do you know this, sir?"

He leant back, gazing at the baby. "Since she told me, I have thought of this child as 'she.' As it is either one or the other, and I detest the practice of calling an unborn, 'it,' I go with, 'she.'"

"But what if you are wrong?"

"Then it is a boy."

"A son and heir."

"Yes."

A perverse part of me hoped this child was a boy so that I might tease him. I was sure that Frederick was rarely wrong and was in need of a good tease.

"But, all that shall be revealed in time. Today, we must be off."

"To where?"

"The Lodge."

I conjured up the face of my godmother. "I have thought nothing of her, except in passing, over the past few days."

He put out his hands and helped me sit up. "You have had many other things on your mind. I have ordered your breakfast and your maid will be up as well. You can have an hour, but then we must be off." He rose and went to the door. Just before he left me, he said, "Were we not expected, I would do my best to give the servants plenty to gossip about."

I was rather disappointed as he disappeared through the door. I knew, without a doubt, he meant that we would stay in bed all day were we not engaged otherwise. It was a shocking idea. But, if in the future I am ever faced with the proposition, I shall endeavour to bear up cheerfully.

"Now I am no sailor, but I remember you explaining years ago, the concept of dead reckoning. And I would reckon that we are nearly three miles from the Lodge now. And when one considers it is only a half a mile from the front step of Kellynch to the front step of the Lodge, I think we may be late for our appointment." We continued along the road, silent. It was easy to tell that Frederick wanted to be out of the house. I suspected that he again wished to be away from the ears of servants who would find peculiar his explanations of common things. He would say his piece in his own time; so, I sat back and enjoyed the balmy morning air and speculated on the warmth of the day ahead.

A rabbit broke suddenly out of the bushes at the side of the road, and the horses shied. He pulled them gently back into step. "It was just a week after we buried old Mr Musgrove. Word came that Amanda had an attack of sorts. We went straight to her, and by the time we arrived, she was well over it. But a week later she had a stroke. She's not been out of her bed since."

I was shocked. But I was equally puzzled by Frederick's delivery of the news. That he dared call her by her Christian name was shocking. Considering their history, such intimacy was not to be expected. But in the overall, it was the quality of pain in his voice that made me wonder even more. The words were blunt and measured, but there was distinct emotion behind them.

"Does she improve at all?"

"Not so I notice. From week to week she seems just the same." He still had not looked at me. I was beginning to think perhaps I was mistaken, and that he was not pained, but annoyed that the woman who had overseen the breaking of our first engagement was now such a bother. "Longwell continues in his devotion. Poor man. It must be a living hell to see the woman you love struck down in such a cruel fashion."

This was the most shocking thing he'd said yet! Surely I had misunderstood his actual meaning, for on the face of it, the observation was ridiculous. I knew Longwell to be a dutiful servant, and he might have grown properly fond of her over the years, as happens when people live in such close proximity, but surely the man would never allow himself—

"Mutual affection is difficult enough to find in this hard world, but to see two people kept apart by their positions, and now this illness… It makes me seriously contemplate what is really important in my life." Finally, he looked at me. His eyes were soft and he had a sad smile on his lips.

I leaned against his shoulder. Either my godmother had changed much over the time I had lost, or, perhaps I had never known her as well as I had thought. "How do they manage? With just the two of them, I mean."

"Her maid is still with her, and sees to her physical needs. Longwell does the rest. She has always relied on him great deal more than most would think proper. But that has been a God send you see, he knows all her business, and he understands her perfectly when she is able to speak. And I seem to be able to smoke out her meaning as well. Odd, don't you think?"

"Uh, yes. I suppose it is." It occurred to me that Frederick's feelings were tenderer than I had thought. I liked it that the two people I cared for most in the world, aside from my son, were close now. That meant the past was behind us all and there would be no choosing whom to love.

It was then I noticed we were turning into the drive of the Lodge. Our conversation had begun only a few minutes earlier. This lay to rest the notion that I had any talent for navigation. My dead reckoning skills were as wanting as my understanding of the relationship between my godmother and her butler.

The door opened and a cadaverous Longwell greeted us. The toll Lady Russell's stroke had taken on him was shocking. But the warm greeting he gave my husband fascinated me even more.

Handing him his hat, Frederick said, "And how is our lady today?"

Setting the hat precisely on the side table, Longwell reached for my bonnet. "Madam has a great surprise for you and Mrs Wentworth." Frederick was obviously curious, and while the statement was accompanied by a smile, it was not enough to bring Longwell's features anywhere near the face I remembered.

"Madam is waiting for you in the sitting room." We were following and when he said this, Frederick stopped. "She is anxious to see you, Captain," Longwell urged.

"Certainly, I was just surprised to hear she is out of bed," he said to me, "This is the first time she's been up since the stroke," he whispered to me.

We entered the sitting room and Frederick took my elbow as I felt my knees buckle a little at the sight.

Amanda was not a large woman, but still a little taller than myself. Now she seemed tiny and barely filled any space in the chair. She was, in fact, surrounded by pillows to help her keep upright. Her hair was still dark and glossy, and had been dressed for the occasion, but again she seemed small under it all. The room was uncomfortably warm and her cheeks were dots of red because of it, but other than that, her complexion was the translucent, unhealthy white of the infirmed. Her face was parted in the middle and one side looked as though it had melted. The one eye was bright and intelligent while the other barely open.  It was when I examined her mouth I was sickened. One side sloped in a gash, completely wasted, the other side endeavouring to smile for me. Frederick's hand on my arm tightened and I was grateful for his support. 

The low, guttural noise she made was awful. But before she was finished, both Frederick and Longwell were about her bidding.

Seeing me into a chair, Frederick said to her, "You are right, she looks very tired. It will be another warm day and she does need a seat." To me he said, "You will grow accustomed to it. She has lost none of her personality." He smiled and patted my hand. Leaving me, he went to her and kissed her on the cheek still plump and alive. She closed her eyes at his touch. A crumpled claw lay useless in her lap, while the other animated hand touched his cheek. It was clear they were on the best of terms and that he cared for her as much as she cared for him.

He straightened and took her good hand. "You are looking wonderful. And it is a real treat to see you up and wearing out some of your other furniture. That bed will be a wreck soon."

She cackled and said something.

"Amanda, really. Anne is far to delicate to hear such things." They both laughed.

Longwell rejoined us with a tray. A packet was gently placed in Amanda's lap, and I was asked to pour. After the cups were passed, and small talk—translated for me by my husband—concluded, Longwell took the packet and handed it to Frederick.

"Madam has prepared this for you, sir." Taking papers from his coat, he opened it. "And I am to read this to you both."

"This is the surprise, eh?" Frederick said to Amanda. She smiled and nodded vigorously.

Opening the packet, Frederick took out some papers, looked them over and passed one to me. "Please, Longwell, begin."

"To Anne Elliot Wentworth, and Captain Frederick Wentworth, my dearest Children. I am astonished how much time I have been granted, both generally in life, and particularly since this confinement began. In saying that, I am admitting how neglectful I have been concerning my affairs. I have known for some time how I wished things to be settled upon my death, but have proven myself to be a coward by putting those duties aside. Shame on me."

The entire business was uncomfortable, and the closed up room made it no easier, but it was something that must be done. The little jest was a surprise, and when I looked at her, my godmother's eyes sparkled. She was looking at Longwell as he read. He stood close enough to her chair that she stroked the tail of his coat with a finger of her good hand. Suddenly my discomfort was nothing to the dreadful ache I felt for their tender feelings, which would find no fulfilment in this life.

"—and there is so much of your dear mother in you, that I have treasured the gift of your friendship as much as I did hers. I know that you have admired much of the art I have collected over the years, and while we have disagreed on books at times, I know that we both appreciate beauty when we see it. This is why all the paintings, porcelains and brass work are yours upon my death. And while you have never admired greatly my jewellery, I wish you to have it as well. There are some small pieces that were your mother's, and your sisters will each receive one of them, but the rest is yours. Your sisters will also receive a small token of money, but I wish you to have the portion I brought into my marriage to Henry. The amount is not substantial, but it will be something to pass on to a daughter when she is ready to wed—"

Now she watched me as Longwell read. Though she was trapped by her failing body, she was happy to be passing on to me some of the things she cherished.

Longwell cleared his throat and excused himself as he took a drink of tea. "The previous owner of this property never understood its worth and sold it to me for a price far less than its true value. I too counted cheaply something, which I have discovered is one of my chiefest sources of pleasure. I regret, Frederick that it took me so long to understand you and how much you meant to my goddaughter. I shall always regret my interference in your lives. But I am grateful when you returned to her you did not hold those well-deserved grievances against me. You have become the son I could not have, and this is why I am leaving you the Lodge, all contents excluding those previously mentioned and the bulk of my comfortable fortune." She snorted with Longwell's exaggerated pronunciation of "fortune." Frederick laughed out loud. There was something between them concerning her estate and I could only add my puzzlement to a growing list of things about which I would enquire.

When the letter was finished, Frederick went to Amanda and knelt. He took her wizened hand and spoke quietly to her. She looked on him with a fondness I had seen directed to myself. With her good hand, she stroked his hair. In the year '06, after our engagement was broken, the strong words he had hurled my way concerning Lady Russell and her meddling gave the impression that there would never pass a long enough period of time by which the breech could be mended. Their feelings had taken many years to soften, but time had done its work well.

Again Frederick was quiet as the carriage squeaked and jostled its way home. "What are you thinking?" I finally asked. I imagined his reply would be something about the estate. Perhaps he thought about how the world would finally consider him a proper gentleman when he held the title to some land. The Lodge was by no means a huge parcel, but it is an elegant bit of property.

He looked at me blankly, and then smiled. "Sorry. I was lost for a moment. I was thinking about her apology."

This answer surprised me. "Her speaking about her interference our lives."

"Yes. She has never apologised for her part in helping to break our first engagement. Not once in all these years. And there has never been a repentant word about persuading you to marry Elliot. Until today."

"This means a lot to you I think?"

"Yes, it does. It is a vindication of sorts. Even though, I must admit, I think I am much better for you now than I would have been at the tender age of twenty-three." Again he smiled and urged the horses to a trot.

I liked the fact that her apology meant more to him than the inheritance. This reinforced my impressions from our first meeting that he was, regardless of some things he said about wealth and his desire for it, a man motivated as much by the intangibles of life as the material. "I must say I was surprised that Amanda referred to my father only as 'the previous owner' of the Lodge and nothing more. Are there ill feelings between them?"

"Very much so. Your father has not made a visit to her since the stroke, and his letters are perfunctory at best, and only come when one of the family travels to Bath and he might return one to her with no expense to himself. She is very hurt by this."

"That is despicable. But why am I not surprised?" Frederick wisely made no reply. Such behaviour was perfectly within reason when it came to my father. Soon after my marriage to William, I had laid down little hints that all was not perfectly blissful. Father's advice had been that men are a difficult breed, and it was a woman's obligation to make the environment for them as comfortable as possible. In his mind it was a woman's responsibility to domesticate a man. It was clear that mutual felicity in marriage was not something my father thought necessary, or even considered at all.

"And how do you and my father get on?"

"We do not."

The warmth of the day was not enough to thaw these words. The day was too pretty and the gift Amanda had given us to was too precious to be ruined by talk of my father. Still, I could not help myself. "What was his reaction to the divorce?"

Frederick was silent. The smile was gone and replaced with a scowl.

"I take this to mean he was angry."

He stayed silent and suddenly urged the horses down a small path that cut through a tall stand of bushes. Pulling me close so that errant branches did not strike me as we passed, he said, "I hesitate to say, what might be remembered and all."

We came into the clearing where we'd picnicked days earlier. As he helped me down, he continued, "There is little good and a great deal of unpleasantness in Anne's past that makes her depressed. I question how much I may say without causing you to fall into the same, disagreeable situation." His hands were on my waist and did not leave as he continued. "As we have spoken about before. I fear what too much information and the strong emotions might bring on." I took this to mean that he was growing happy with things as they now stood, and was anxious to prevent a reversal.

"I too wish things to remain as they are, but we must be honest with one another. Perhaps Anne's despondency is due to a lack of honesty. Her own mostly. I know I am prone to being too private, and I am sure she carried that to the extreme. Particularly concerning William and the divorce." His expression changed gradually. It went from a wistful sort of hope to a profound shade of brown. I took this as a confirmation of what I had said, and I again felt anger towards Anne. The woman was constantly salting her own fields and I was frustrated that, under certain circumstances, I could be so stupid and headstrong. "We shall be honest with one another. We shall open up the dark corners that have made her low."

He caressed my hair and then my cheek. Suddenly, he took me in his arms. The embrace was severe and frightening in its intensity. The kiss that followed was the same. (45)

Frederick's embrace eased a bit as I surrendered to it. His thoughts were a mystery to me, and as curious as I was about them, I was equally afraid he would share them. This closeness was too precious to be ruined with my idle curiosity.

He had little to say as we made our way back to the hall. I finally worked up the courage to ask how he and Lady Russell had come to be on such good terms that she would make him her heir. Surprisingly, his expression lightened and he smiled as he thought.

"I was determined to stay away from you after I read that the divorce was finally over with. I heard that Elliot had given you permission to take Will and that you were living at Kellynch. Knowing how the man felt about me, I was loath to give him any cause to stir up more trouble for you. I convinced myself we could be distant and indifferent friends, and that would suffice." His tone and look said that even he did not believe it at the time. "But, my good intentions soon dissolved. I set up in an inn at Crewkherne, to plan my campaign. I first sent a note, saying I was staying nearby and would very much enjoy a visit. Your reply thanked me, but said that a visit at the present was impossible. I sent another note and that one was returned unopened. So, I came in person and was allowed in the entryway, but eventually told that the lady was not receiving."

He spoke blandly about these rejections. I suppose that his eventual success had taken the sting from them.

"The next time I showed up at the door, I was told that the lady would not be receiving for the foreseeable future. I went back to the inn and began to plot how I might accidentally meet you, perhaps at a social gathering. But that would mean settling myself in the area somewhat permanently, and making some acquaintances. I got so desperate as to consider waylaying you on the open road." He smiled at me, a little flushed with embarrassment at such an outrageous plan. I liked the idea personally, and wondered how it might feel to be pursued by such a handsome, but benevolent knight of the road.

"I was beginning to feel the situation hopeless when I was summoned to the inn's snug one morning, by a woman the keep described as 'very quality.'"

I felt a rush of optimism that perhaps my other self had come to her senses, and was taking steps to avoid sabotaging her own happiness. Frederick continued. "I was elated and quite proud that you would take such a bold step. I was so flustered by the idea of you coming to me, that I dithered for a minute or two about changing into my best suit, and then make a splendid presentation, or rush to your presence and impress you with my speed. I chose the latter. Imagine my surprise when I flew into the room and was faced with Lady Russell and not you."

"Lady Russell?"

"Yes, Amanda herself."

"I should like to have seen the look on both your faces."

"Hers was indomitable as always. Mine, I'm sure, was red and shocked. To make matters worse, I was out of breath. The only room I could have was in the back on the top floor," he explained

I couldn't help smiling at this. "So, go on. What did she want of you?"

"She said she had heard I was in the area and wanted to see it for herself. I was sure I was in for some sort of reprimand, but she made it quickly clear that she was glad Anne had a few friends willing to remain by her side. Elliot was standing back and allowing you to bear the brunt of society's animosity, and be pilloried in the finest salons of your circle. She could not help hearing it, and was shocked. I admit that I still am amazed at his cheek."

"I am not. I can well believe that he would confess to adultery and then find a way to blame me. 'Cheek' is the reason he is such a good lawyer."

"At any rate, I was stunned that she approved of me having anything to do with you more than a courteous nod on the street."

"And how did it feel for the two of you to be allies?"

A wide smile brightened his eyes. "Strange indeed. She went on to say she was grieved to hear that you were being stubborn and not allowing me to make a visit."

"I am surprised she thought so highly of your lack of decorum."

He smiled and ignored my goading. "Even more surprising was a plan she presented me—"

"A plan of hers? I have never thought of my godmother as a clever woman who would plan much more than a card party or picnic."

"Lady Russell is quite a strategist, when it suits her. The plan was to issue you an invitation to the Lodge for the afternoon, then ask if your carriage might be used for an errand. This would leave you without transport, and out of the blue, I would then make an appearance."

"And the assumption was that I would sit still for this?" While it was an audacious plan, I did not see myself surrendering to them so easily.

"Not willingly, no. But your choices would be to either make the half-mile trudge back to Kellynch, in knee-deep mud, or a find a way to endure my presence. We were counting on your persuadable nature to do the latter." He smiled, and remained irritatingly silent.

"Obviously this, or another of your plans brought us together. But I should like to hear my reaction to this first meeting. Was I indeed 'persuadable?'"

"You made lots of noise about finding your boots and leaving, but Amanda scolded you for being a goose, and that you might just as well sit and drink your tea. The mud would still be there if you preferred to leave us later. You stayed all day, I was told."

"But you did not?"

"No, I drank my tea, thanked my hostess and her guest, and then left. We thought it best not to overreach on the first try."

"The two of you rival the Borgias."

"Oh no," he said, touching my chin lightly. "We wanted you very much alive."

"Thankfully. I want to hear more …" Activity in the drive caught my attention. "There is someone visiting. Their carriage is very fine." A barouche with full livery sat in front of the hall, and oddly, a man stood next to it holding a coat and a man's hat. I glanced at Frederick, expecting he could tell me who the visitor might be. I was disturbed to find his face grown taut and his eyes cold. He urged the horses to quicken their pace. Looking back to the carriage, I searched for something familiar and then saw the crest on the door. Before I thought, I stood. "It is William!"

Frederick grabbed my arm and pulled me down. "Please, sit, else you'll fall." He pulled us to a stop and pointed to the wide expanse of lawn where William played with his son and his nephew. We sat for a few moments and watched the scene. Suddenly, unreasonably, I became fearful.

"What if he decides to take our son?" I thought nothing of saying it, though it was obviously not the strict truth. The true father and son were on the lawn together. And though William showed no sign of plans to take the boy, I made a move to get down and go to them. Again Frederick stopped me.

"Look around, Anne. Have you ever seen so many industrious male servants on the grounds before?" I looked about us and was surprised to see not only servants who normally worked out of doors—grooms and gardeners—but footmen as well. Even Harkness seemed to be walking a slow but steady circuit around the carriage. Once I noticed the men, it was impossible not to notice that many were equipped with tools that were either sharp or heavy.  "There are standing orders that if he shows up the men are to be suddenly very occupied in plain sight." He laughed and urged the horses forward. "Even the young boys get in the act." He nodded towards William's carriage, where three boys from different parts of the house were playing tag at the feet of the man holding the coat, and blocking the stairs to the carriage as a part of their game. It seemed that all avenues of escape were considered.

"Despite the trust and all the fine words, the boy is legally his and can be taken at any time." Frederick's tone was unexpectedly mild, and he looked at me with an unreadable expression. "He doesn't want him though."

"How do you know that? Has William said something to you?"

He shook his head. "No. It's just that William Walter Elliot is the sort of man who likes the idea of having a son so that he might prove to the world his manhood, and to carry on the family name. But, the real work of it puts him off. He likes the momentary adulation, but the genuine responsibility is too demanding. It is too cumbersome."

I knew not whether Frederick had ever spoken with William, but it was clear he knew my first husband's character precisely.

We drew up next to the carriage. Will waved and shouted from the lawn, and they began to approach us. "I can take you in now and you need not see him," Frederick said.

The closer William came to us the more I was tempted to accept this offer of escape. Within a few strides, they were close enough that my disappearance would be understood as a snub, or retreat, and my pride would not allow that I should succumb to fear when it came to William. I was free of him now and he could not hurt me in the least. (48)

William didn't look at me directly. He approached his man and shrugged on his coat, then waved the man off. The boys hopped around, gushing with excited chatter until Frederick asked that one of the footmen take them inside for some lemonade. I was hurt to see the relief on William's face when the boys left us.

As all the civilities were accomplished, I studied William. To me, we had just parted a few days earlier, and to see him now I was shocked at what were to me, sudden changes.

At first, I thought him to be flushed with the heat and the physical play, but then I suspected that being red-faced was perhaps his state most of the time.  He had gained some weight and it made him soft looking. He was by no means gross, but any disadvantages his youth and slenderness hid were now particularly noticeable. He become aware of my examination and stared at me full on, though said nothing.

"When you were here last, you assured us that in future you would give us ample notice before your visits," Frederick said, suddenly.

William turned to face him, but his eyes lingered a moment. "Yes, well, but this impromptu visit it couldn't be helped. I was in the neighbourhood and had some spare time." He turned back to me. "Time is a precious thing and should not be wasted. By-the-bye," he said, as he took something from his breast pocket. He handed me a letter, addressed with nothing more than, 'AE,' and continued, "I will want an answer as soon as possible."

As I took the packet, I could feel Frederick stiffen and shift with this ill-mannered bit of familiarity.  I was about to say that a truly dutiful father would wish to make his son a proper visit next time rather than a whimsical pop round when I saw his eyes drop down to my waist. His left brow went up and a thin smile came over his face. He turned back to Frederick and said, "I see that congratulations are in order."

I dared not look at Frederick. I was mortified. I could feel the flush crawling up my neck to my face, compounding the already hot sun. His words were simple and reeked of indecency. I felt as though I were the one caught in flagrant impropriety.

"Thank you. We are very happy," was all Frederick said.

"It is good to see that the two of you carry on as if everything is normal and right."

Suddenly, I felt the heat of the day terribly. The back of my neck and forehead prickled with perspiration, nevertheless, I began to feel faint and a chill all over. I turned to Frederick and could see him responding to William's cryptic statement, though the sound of the words followed a bit behind. Everything began to slide to one side, and then all went black.

When I woke, Frederick was helping me up the stairs inside the house.

I paused for a moment when we reached the top, and said, "I think I am better now. There is no need for me to lay down." The truth be known, I did not wish to leave William's presence in such a state. I wanted to face him side-by-side with Frederick and wave him away from our home.

"I really don't care what you think, Annie. You need to be abed as soon as possible." With that, he picked me up as though I were one of the little boys and carried me to my room. My maid was tidying up and surprised by our sudden entrance. He set me on the bed, and said, "Look at yourself in the mirror if you don't think you need a rest." He kissed me on the forehead and gave orders that I be put to bed.

On waking, a blinding headache split my head and my stomach roiled. My only bit of comfort was the bedclothes were light and my gown as well. I presumed I was still Mrs. Wentworth.

"How is she?" The voice was Frederick’s. I silently thanked God. Tears slipped from my eyes and through my hair.

"She sleeps quietly, sir," the maid answered.

"I will sit with her. You may leave and I shall call when she wakes." The sound of a chair scraped as he brought it close to the bed. I wiped my face, hoping he did not notice my movement. Hearing his voice was all the relief I needed. He took my hand and kissed it.

I reached up and lightly brushed his cheek. "I am awake."

He took both hands and smiled. "You look much better, my girl."

"And you have a lot of experience with swooning females?"

He raised his brow, amused with my jest. "I have just enough experience with swooning females to say as much." His expression faded into his own thoughts.

"And what of our visitor?" This brought him to full attention. His face hardening as I had never seen before.

"He left soon after you came upstairs."

I did ask if William came around often.

"Too often to suit me." The answer did not satisfy and he added, "Only twice in the past year."

"You tried to warn me away. Does Anne not see him?"

"No. She makes herself scarce. I deal with him. As you no doubt observed, we are neither of us terribly concerned with good manners."

"I think you showed a great deal of restraint. He had no right to refer to our private lives in any way."

He finally found something to smile about. Leaning close enough for me to feel his breath on my face, he said. "I am not ashamed of his knowing what we've been up to." He touched my belly, sending a thrill through my limbs. "Is something the matter?" He pulled his hand away.

"No. Nothing." I found his hand and restored it. "I am just a bit surprised by your lack of shyness. Most husbands are discomfited by the whole business, or at least ignore it."

"Birth is a natural part of life." He stroked my swollen stomach and looked away. "To know you are willing to bear such pain for my sake, it humbles me." His normally strong voice was little more than a whisper. "There is something you must know." He looked tired.

"Tell me."