The next morning, as Frederick worked his neck cloth into an appropriate knot, he reflected on the need for perfection in everything from his appearance to his attitude for the coming interview with Sir Walter.

Much of the previous night had been spent remembering bits and pieces of the disastrous first encounter with the Anne's father. Cold and studied apathy had been the Baronet's weapon of choice. There had never been an outright denial of permission. It was not necessary to plunge a knife into a dying man when you could simply walk away, assured that the natural order of things would make death inevitable. I suspect you are little changed over the years, Sir Walter. But I certainly am, he thought, tucking the ends of his neck cloth away.

"You have finished then, sir." Harkness had quietly joined him, and held open the captain's best waistcoat.

Wentworth shrugged it on and fastened the buttons. "I've finished this. Is my coat ready?" Harkness left him again.

 He marvelled at the calm of the man in reflected back to him in the mirror. But why not? The fit of the clothing was flawless. The colours woven into the waistcoat suited him well. Just then Harkness returned with his blue coat. As expected, slid easily over his shoulders and fit him in the waist and in length perfectly. He would meet Sir Walter Elliot, if not as a social equal, at least as an equal in externals, which the baronet so highly prized.

Sir Walter had been all smiles and polite grace when Frederick had presented himself at Kellynch Hall in the summer of 1806. "Captain, please, have a seat. How may I help you?" He was the model of a gentleman more than willing to aid a brilliant young officer, rising quickly in the King's navy. Once he was found to be a young man not given to meddling with their daughters, much of the gentry of Somerset had been quite impress with Commander Frederick Wentworth. Frederick was certain the Baronet, instead of forming his own opinions, had unthinkingly fastened upon those of his peers. And when the Commander asked that he might marry the baronet's second daughter, the country gentleman lost his desire to be a part of the throng, seeing the proposal as an insult to him and his family's honour.

"If it was your hope to collect a tidy settlement, may I remind you that Anne is not of age? She cannot marry without my consent, and there is no dowry without a marriage." The statement was nearly a lifetime in the past and it still had the power to anger him.

Today, Wentworth would meet Sir Walter face-to-face, man-to-man, and Wentworth would be the victor. He was no longer a young man cowed by any theoretical superiority; Captain Wentworth was a superior man who would claim his bride. 

"Your coat, sir. There was a small bit of seaming that the tailor neglected. Abigail did a wonderful job of it," Harkness said, brushing Wentworth's shoulders. He stood back, taking one last swipe at a speck of lint.

Wentworth carefully judged the effect of the suit. Not bad for an overreaching, non-connected stiver with no prospects for the future, he thought, echoing back some of the words that came to mind from that dreadful summer. The words had been his own. He had known them to reflect the opinion held by her family, and, to his shame, he'd assumed them to be her thoughts as well. He had thrown back against her every protest she made. He twisted her words, making her say things he knew now to be the opposite of her true feelings.

Thankfully, all of that was in the past. His dear Anne had forgiven his foolishness, and he had made great strides in putting aside his own pride and arrogance to see her again as the lovely, intelligent woman he had always known her to be.

"I think I'm finished, Harkness."

"One last thing, sir." Harkness took a brush to his hair. "It needs to be cut, sir. If I'd had more notice, I'd have done it today."

There would always be something to keep him from perfection. Apart from of his hair, he deemed himself well-armed and prepared for battle.

Entering the dining room, he found Sophia and the Admiral dawdling after breakfast. The Admiral had finished eating, but lingered over his coffee. Sophia had gone through the mail, and they were now discussing pressing errands.

"Good morning. Sophia. Admiral." The goal was to eat and leave without being questioned about his attire or plans for the day. His hope was foundered immediately on the rocks of brotherly curiosity.

"My, my, Frederick. You look to fit to be married or buried." The Admiral leant back to take in more of the sight of his brother-in-law.

"I've neither of those planned for the day, I assure you, sir. I am meeting a fellow and wish to make a good impression. You know these city types, all rigged out formally just in case the meet someone of importance while walking the dog.  I should hate to reflect badly on the House of Croft."

The Admiral laughed heartily.

"So, no marriages and no burials." He hoped to preclude further questions by making a great show of attacking a plate of eggs and tongue. He kept a close watch on them and could not help but notice Sophia's pencil hovered over her list, but did not move otherwise.

She studied him closely and he willed himself to look innocent. In general, it took a heroic effort to thwart Sophia's curiosity. Frederick was determined to keep his destination and mission completely secret.

To his relief, Sophia suddenly tapped her pencil and turned her attention from him to the Admiral.

"My dear, have you noticed Frederick seems to be in better spirits since Friday last, but most especially since Saturday?" His relief flagged. It was clear his sister was in the mood to bait and tease. Unluckier still, the Admiral's smirk told Wentworth his brother-in-law was of the same mind.

"Well, when a man quite unexpectedly meets up with an old mate, and good friends like the Musgroves, it is more than enough to bring his spirits to the full. Besides," he said pouring another cup of coffee, "Sir Walter's rout the other evening was much pleasanter than I could have ever imagined, why should he not be in a fine humour?" The Admiral looked to his wife.

The baton passed, Frederick braced for Sophia's turn at him.

"While these are indeed things which I think may contribute to his . . . upturn, I thought I noticed a great change on Saturday. He was in an absolute passion to be dressed and ready for the party." She looked directly at Wentworth, who was finishing with his coffee, preparing to make a hasty exit. "Well, brother, dear. Am I mistaken or has something of consequence happened which is the source of this changed demeanour?"

Sophia had once told him she learned the value of silence, and that people would fill the space it created rather than endure it. He too had learnt the same lesson and would normally wait her out, but he was in a rush.

To keep Sophy off his trail, he must give her something else to occupy her thinking. "Actually, yes. I was able to gain some information on Saturday, which will, in fact, change my life markedly. After my meeting today, I am hoping to have very good news for you both." This interesting bit of intelligence, taken correctly, should keep his sister busy for a time. Frederick rose from the table, signalling an end to the discussion.

Sophia was not to be daunted by this obvious ploy, "Might this have to do with a certain young woman?"

Frederick had already started out of the room when his sister had aimed this shot directly across his departing bow. He stopped and turned to address his sister and brother. "There is a good possibility this, indeed, has to do with a certain young woman." He smiled faintly, and continued, "But then again, it could have to do with finding a new manager who promises me four and three-quarters, per annum." He returned to Sophia, bussed her one the cheek and said, "I leave you to decide which has raised my spirits, dear." Straightening, he touched his forehead in salute to the Admiral and left them to think over his mixed reply.

Anne rose and sorted through the flowers in one of the side table vases. When she handed the spoiled blooms to the footman, Elizabeth looked up from the book she was attempting to read and glared at her sister for a second time in just a few minutes. Mrs. Clay looked up from her sewing as well and gave Anne one of her more genuine, practised smiles. With time, Anne thought, the woman's show of fake sincerity will be unassailable.

As Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay had no trouble seeing she was unsettled, Anne reasoned she must find some occupation before her father took notice. She would normally go to another part of the house, but with Frederick's promise of coming to speak to her father, she abhorred the idea of missing him. The previous day, spent with the Musgroves, was wonderful. Though they were kept apart by propriety and the large number of people visiting their friends, she felt sure no one suspected them engaged. The secret, and revelling in it under the noses of people who knew them both so well, was a rare delight in her usually dull world.

The clock chiming sweetly another quarter hour interrupted her thoughts. He had said he would call on her father this morning, as soon as would be proper. But here it was, nearly eleven o'clock, the morning almost gone and still no Frederick.

Anne took a seat—even this warranted another glare from her sister—and took up some embroidery. She began to work a simple chain stitch while listening for the door. After another quarter of an hour her patience was rewarded when she heard the knocker rap three times. Elizabeth and Mrs. Clay exchanged looks and in a short discussion, guessed that it was Mr. Elliot. Sir Walter was convinced that Colonel Wallis was come to call, and that, perhaps, Mr. Elliot was with him.

Anne was amused that Mr. Elliot was so much anticipated by her family. When the door opened and Captain Wentworth was announced, the effect was quite fascinating.

As he entered the room, ach party was still convinced they were to see their preferred visitor walk through the door. When that was not the case, each maintained the appropriate, half-surprised smiles and expressions of happy regard. Only her own expression was genuine—my, how good it felt to smile—when she laid eyes on him. When the others realised the visitor was not of each one's choosing, they responded with various expressions of suppressed disappointment and spur-of-the-moment greetings.

Anne was happy to see that either Frederick did not notice the slights of her family, or chose to ignore them. As he received their less-than-enthusiastic greetings, he smiled warmly and looked her way often. While they were settling into their seats, Anne was shocked to see Elizabeth's expression had manifestly changed. (Or, perhaps her sister had never been as downcast as Anne had supposed.) Miss Elliot and her father were terribly solicitous to the captain, offering him the best of seats.

"Captain Wentworth! I am so happy to see you. This is quite an unexpected pleasure. Come, come and have a chair," Sir Walter said, his arms offering up all the furniture for his comfort. Elizabeth called for refreshments and took pains to make sure the footman repeated special instructions for the kitchen. They were straining to make themselves quite at his service.

Frederick was taking the fussiness in stride. In fact, he looked as if he was rather enjoying all the unsolicited attention.

After Wentworth had chosen a seat, Elizabeth of course took her place next to their father while Anne took her normal place in a side chair just a little out of the sphere of conversation. Mrs. Clay was relegated to being a satellite left in a distant orbit. It was amusing to think that, just for this little while, Fredrick Wentworth was the centre of the Elliot galaxy.

Anne knew her cheeks were flushed. Her breath was short and the sound of her heart pounded in her ears. The embroidery she'd been working earlier was at hand and she picked it up. It was a useless gesture. To try and do even the simplest of stitches would be impossible with her hands shaking so violently. Such a response to him being in her home was puzzling. He'd been there on Saturday evening, and while she was excited and nervous she'd at least been in control of herself. She supposed it was the fact that he was here to propose that made her tenser. Why, she couldn't guess. There was no risk now. He'd made it clear that he intended on making her his wife despite her father's answer.

The very thoughts of Frederick's intentions warmed her further, and she could not resist smiling. She looked up and was surprised to find him smiling at her. Anne could hear the baronet's voice, but it seemed very far off. The whole scene was a dream. He was actually in her home, to ask her father for permission to marry. A fortnight ago, she could not have dared to hope, but now—

"I believe this will be to your liking," said Miss Elliot, as she offered him a cup of tea. This forced Wentworth to look away from Anne. He accepted the cup, took a drink and despite its lack of flavour, complimented the hostess. At this juncture, he decided he wished to use the advantage of surprise over the baronet's advantage of home turf.

"Sir, I wish you to know that I enjoyed myself exceedingly Saturday evening. I thank you again for the invitation." Quickly taking a drink, he continued before the gentleman had an opportunity to reply, "Such kindness towards me makes me think you the perfect man to render me a particularly great favour. A favour for which I would be most assuredly in your debt." He took another drink and enjoyed watching Anne's sweet expression shift to one of perplexity over the rim. He winked, hoping she did not think him too unctuous in his beginning of the negotiations.

Sir Walter too was mystified, but Wentworth could see the wheels turning; the idea of the captain being indebted to him intrigued Sir Walter exceedingly. This was precisely where Frederick wanted him.  Soon, the baronet suggested they adjourn to the library.

On entering the room, Wentworth noticed the want of books. There was a single volume on the desk with only other common desk clutter to keep it company. A moment later he noticed one of the lower shelves contained several books on sailing he recognised. He made his way over and read the titles of several other books of poetry and some noted essayists.

"Those are Anne's. She was quite set on bringing them from Kellynch, why I haven't the foggiest."

Wentworth wasn't sure the accusatory tone was towards books in general or the content of them. Either way, the Baronet had little regard for the interests of his middle daughter. He touched the spine of "The Seaman's Life." He was touched that she'd searched it out on her own.

"Captain Wentworth, whatever aid I might lend you, I assure you will be a pleasure." As he spoke, the man examined Wentworth without the smallest amount of hesitation or tact.

"Thank you, Sir Walter. Thank you very much for such kindness. To be honest, it is not so much a favour I need, as it is your blessing." He observed the baronet as he absorbed this. The man's expression went from one of puzzlement, to deep thought, and then to one of elation.

"May I presume you have come to ask for the hand of my daughter?" He beamed and cocked his head. In his pleasure he let out a little burst of tittering.

Wentworth was put off, but thought of Anne and continued. "Yes, sir. You may presume such."

Sir Walter rose from his chair and came alongside Wentworth. "I must tell you, I did not suspect your interest until just the moment you asked. But now that I understand you, and might reflect on it, all the evidence has been there all along. Though, she has kept exceedingly quiet about it."

Wentworth was surprised that the baronet would have observed Anne enough over any period of time to notice anything pertaining to her.

"When did you propose?"

"Saturday."

"You see, I do remember having a passing suspicion when I saw you together at the White Hart on Friday." He smiled wider and clapped his hands together. "Love blooming under my very nose, and I failed to notice! The pair of you are too clever by half."

The baronet's jollity was disturbing, but the man's change in fortune had perhaps done a work that Wentworth had failed to see until now. Though, Patrick didn't seem to think—

"So Saturday evening the two of you were playing at charades, eh? Letting us all believe you were indifferent to one another. Though, I did notice you taking refreshments together now and then. I thought she presented a beautiful tableau, her dark beauty and your handsome features. Your uniform was particularly striking against her red dress, was it not? You certainly could not have asked Saturday night, and I suppose you didn't think it proper to come to me on the Sabbath. I'm not sure, is a proposal akin to work? Your brother is a clergyman, is he not? Perhaps he could advise you. Though, you'll not really need to know as it is Monday and I am giving my consent."

He nodded to Wentworth and opened his hands. "Well, there it is Captain. You have my consent to marry my daughter."

Wentworth thanked him, though still making his way through Sir Walter's ramble.

The baronet took his seat again. He pulled the single volume to him and opened it. He looked at Wentworth. "Do you know what this is, Captain Wentworth?"

"I have not a clue, sir."

"This is the Baronetage. Do you know what the Baronetage is?"

"Yes, sir. I have heard of it. In the Navy we have something similar: The Navy List. It discloses each man's rank and where he stands compared with his superiors and inferiors."

"Ah, the navy is more enlightened than I would have suspected," he murmured as to himself as he perused the pages.  For a few minutes, the man seemed to be lost in the book. Wentworth was about to speak when Sir Walter closed the book, rose and approached him. With hand extended, he said, "I would be most honoured to have our families allied by such a match, Captain." The Baronet shook his hand and even made an attempt at patting him on the back. Both were rather weak, and strangely brought to mind images of small girls in pretty sprigged frocks.

Frederick allowed the Baronet to continue prating on and shaking his hand, but there was something not quite right about it all. Perhaps he was just over prepared, spoiling for a fight when there was none to be had. This was good, he thought. There was no sense in starting his relationship with the head of the Elliot family with a scrap.

He continued to smile and endeavoured to attend to the Baronet.

The man made no sense. He was jabbering on about Mr. Elliot being a part of the family soon. Didn't the silly rooster know that everyone in Bath had paired Anne with Elliot? Was he hoping that Elliot would so easily shift his affections to—

"—her dark beauty and your handsome features. Your uniform was particularly striking against her red dress, was it not?"

Anne's dress was blue. Pale blue at that.

Good God, Wentworth thought, he thinks I want Elizabeth!

"Captain, I must tell you that I know your taking my daughter as a wife will prove to be not only a charming choice but an advantageous one as well. Elizabeth has been mistress of Kellynch all these years, since the passing of her mother, and I dare say will do you proud as your position and rank require more of you in society. Yes, she will do you quite proud—"

As the Baronet clacked on, Frederick thought not how well Miss Elliot could entertain his society, but how she might react when taken into it. The idea of Elizabeth Elliot joining the Harville's for a homey, family dinner in their crowded little house under the dock in Lyme nearly made him laugh aloud. If Anne was not a factor, it might be interesting to see—no, viewing such an incongruity would never be worth marriage to Miss Elliot!

"Sir Walter, I am sorry, but I believe that you and I have crossed our signals dreadfully. I have indeed proposed to your daughter, but it is Anne that I have asked to marry me, not Miss Elliot." As the words diffused the Baronet's pleasure, Wentworth was nearly struck with pity for the silly old windbag. Though he was silly, the man could be unpleasant as well and therefore he allowed no such kindness.

"But surely, Captain, . . . I am surprised that you would endeavour to renew—Anne! You have asked Anne to marry you? I must say, I am amazed." He sound more angry than amazed as he made his way back to the desk, then collapsed into the chair.

"Yes sir, I have asked Anne to be my wife and, happily she has accepted. That is why I have come, to ask for your blessing over our marriage." Wentworth would take care from here on out to present this as a courtesy to him as Anne's father, not as a desire on their part for his permission.

The man said nothing as he continued to study Wentworth. The tide of the baronet's mood was definitely turning. The open look was steadily darkening; the eyes were losing their glow. The muscles in Sir Walter's jaw were working at an alarming rate. The overbearing arrogance of the years past was steadily reasserting itself. His glee in adding the captain to the Baronetage had completely evaporated. 

It didn't matter to Wentworth. The respite from the Baronet's usual vanity and idiocy had been pleasant enough, but the return of the old man was nothing to him. He'd faced worse for mere money, and was more than prepared to inform the baronet that this was merely a courtesy call. If it came to it, he would gladly inform Sir Walter that he and Anne had their own plans, which did not require her father's approval.

 "If you are determined to marry Anne, I suppose we have some business to discuss, Captain." Sir Walter's tone confirmed the captain was no better than he had been in '06. But, this time around, the baronet knew he was powerless.

"Yes, sir. I suppose we do." Captain Wentworth moved to a chair alongside the desk. Unfortunately, he felt the negotiations would have all the charm of bargaining for stores in a foreign port, and not an affectionate father seeing his daughter safe into the safekeeping of a loving husband.

The Baronet stood, and went to the window. "We must speak of you and my daughter—of Anne. I am surprised that you have renewed the acquaintance, sir. As I recall, there was a rather unfortunate ending the last time." He kept his back to Wentworth.

Frederick wondered why the subject of the first engagement was being raised. The incident was between him and Anne, and was, to his way of thinking, best left unmentioned. "Yes, sir, that was a very unfortunate time for both of us, but we are in agreement about our future together. I hope you will not think me impertinent in saying so, but I fail to see what our past engagement has to do with our present desire to marry."

The Baronet took a seat. "I was just remembering how there was nothing I could do for my daughter in the way of her settlement at that time; I always wondered if that was possibly the reason you decided to leave so suddenly?" He perched a bland look on his face.

Fie! You old bugger! So this is how you will play me. It struck Wentworth how easily and economically the baronet could rewrite the past. With the change of just one word—"would" was now changed to "could"—and the entire scene was new. At this, Sir Walter ceased being a cold and indifferent parent and was transformed into nothing worse than an ordinary man, fallen prey to bad monetary circumstance.

Keep your head, boy. It will not do to murder him just yet. Get his consent first. "No sir. I left because Anne made it clear she would not marry me. I assure you, the lack of settlement money had nothing to do with my quitting the field. And may I say that money has nothing to do with my seeking to regain her favour now." He was suddenly curious as to why the baronet would be taking him down this particular road. There was no reason to think sir Walter could have any cunning schemes in the offing. This left only an opportunity to cry poor to be the reason the broken engagement was mentioned.

"Ah! A romantic marrying for love! I suppose those who possess an independent fortune are able to indulge such quaint sentiments," Sir Walter said. For once, the accusation of "romantic" did not nettle him as it did when coming from some others. Anything that placed him opposite this man was deemed first-rate by the captain. Whatever the baronet's beliefs about such "quaint sentiments" was beside the point. The look in his eye was that of a cynic, and not one concerned with tender feelings whatever.

"Your situation is much the same as mine when I married my Elizabeth. We married for love, and though I thought them childish, we participated in the traditions that were all the rage at the time. Parties could only be hosted by the families and attended by only the proper people, only certain foods were eaten by the couple, I think I remember—"

Wentworth listened with interest to the litany of marriage customs the baronet found silly. Most were still in place as far as he knew. What was the fellow up to—

"—and the dowry was expected immediately. Within just days of the announcement."

There it was. There was the pearl in the oyster of this convoluted exchange.

"I was fortunate that Miss Stevenson's father was well-able to manage. He lectured me long on this being his daughter's stake in the marriage and that it would provide a stake for daughters to follow. All utter rubbish," he muttered. "People from Gloucester are rarely so scrupulous about their debts. It was of little matter to me, I could well-afford to forego the dowry completely. I only took it to satisfy the man's old fashioned notions of honour and their outmoded country ways." It seemed for all Sir Walter's foolishness, he too had learnt the value of silence along the way and sat quietly while the captain absorbed his little speech.

Ah! An oyster with two pearls! How fortunate for me, thought Wentworth. Of course the man hadn't the money to pay off the settlement. And of course he would do whatever he must to squirm out from under the obligation, even if that included making Wentworth look like a peasant if he made any sort of fuss about the dowry.

In the grand scheme, the money meant nothing, and the opinion of Sir Walter even less. But the money had come through the mother and was intended for her daughters. Lady Elliot had wished Anne to have a stake in her marriage and this imbecile— 

"So, Captain, shall we as men of the world put aside these superstitions and—"

Wentworth decided to extend the silence. The man had the temerity to insult his late wife, her people, her dearest daughter and himself. The man would learn a lesson about what it was to truly be a man of the world.

When Sir Walter began to toy with his sleeves, Wentworth deemed it time to speak.

"Sir, as a man of the world you will agree that gentlemen do not always see eye-to-eye." The older man's expression shifted in a flash from one of hope to one of aversion. No doubt, Wentworth elevating himself to the station of a gentleman was repellent. "That being the case, I must say that I have a great fondness for our good solid English traditions. And as a sailor, well I know of no other group of men so steeped in superstitions. A few of which have saved my life." He rose. "So, if you have no objections to Anne and I being married—" He had not long to wait for Sir Walter's affirmative. "And so there is no shadow over the announcement, we shall speak no more of the settlement."

The Baronet smiled broadly, rose and extended his hand in agreement.

Wentworth made no move to receive it. "Until the next quarter day when I shall return and expect us to discuss the payment of my wife's dowry."   

The cool air was refreshing to the spirits of the lovers as they made their way to Rivers Street. They departed Camden Place quickly, reasoning it was only right Anne be the one to tell her godmother before word travelled to her by some other means. One would not suspect they had just received the congratulations of Anne's closest family on the announcement of their engagement.

The Baronet's bland declaration was followed a brief and indifferent kiss to his daughter's cheek, and a handshake for the groom which could be outdone by any of a dozen old ladies of delicate health seeking relief in the hot baths. Miss Elizabeth's languid, "best wishes, Sister," was nothing unexpected. To the couple's surprise, it was Mrs. Clay who gave them the warmest, "many happy returns to you both," and whose expression showed any genuine kindness.

Anne suspected Frederick was not bothered by her family's response. The moment they left the house, he had offered his arm and when she took it, he placed his hand protectively over hers. She was happy to notice when they met anyone with which he was acquainted, he his hand remained and would merely nod his greeting. He possessed her emotions and by his actions, he made it clear she was his in body as well. Such care was foreign to her, but she was sure she could grow used to it.

"I shall hail us a carriage. The wind is picking up, and those clouds are darkening." He slowed to look up the street.

"It's not all that far now. Besides, it is a pleasure to walk when I have such a delightful companion." She didn't look at him, but grasped his arm more tightly and leaned into him.

"As you wish, Anne." There was a smile in his voice. She regretted the chill weather and the gloves they wore.

Making their way steadily through the crowded streets, she wondered if anyone was half so happy as she and Frederick. She tried to imagine how Lady Russell would take the news of their engagement. This led her to think of Mr. Elliot and the news she had to tell concerning him. Why her father was so angry underneath his cold indifference was also a concern. "Frederick, what did Father say when you told him we were getting married?"

It took some time for him to answer. "He wished us well. He was surprised that we had reunited, but raised no objections."

"He seemed put out about something."

"Why should he be?"

"I cannot say. There was an air of anger about him." She laughed and leaned into him again. "I should think that you taking on my expenses would be very welcome for a man in financial difficulty."

"Well, to be honest, I may have made him a bit angry. At one point in the conversation I spoke of myself as his equal. I called myself a gentleman. I saw his displeasure at that."

"Oh yes. That would do it. But he must learn that the word is broadening in scope. Though you own no land, you are in every other way a gentleman."

"I think he cherished hopes for you and your cousin."

"That was never very likely. And now a friend has informed me of some very deep shades in his character. I hesitate to speak, not that I wish anything kept from you, but because I have yet to tell even my godmother what I have discovered about him."

"While I have no objections to the world knowing what sort of reprobate the man is, I do think it will be quite enough for Lady Russell to contend with us appearing, unannounced with the news we are to marry. Casting a blight on her favourite may be too much for her."

"You are probably right," she said, "so, I shall tell you of his grave misdeeds another time."

Rivers Street was quite the most crowded street they had walk yet that morning. It took a little time to work their way to Lady Russell's building. When they finally reached her door, a die came shooting from behind them, clicking as it spun and skittered against the steps to the house. "Hey, toss it up, will ya?"

He picked it up and looked around to the voice. The driver of a fine new carriage held out an expectant hand. "Up here, fella." The toss was perfect and the driver caught it, turned back to his game and his companion without a word of thanks.

Anne knocked on the door while Frederick examined the carriage.

"Miss Anne. Captain Wentworth." Longwell's expression and tone were all politeness for her, but she noted something disdainful when he spoke Frederick's name. "Madam was not expecting so many for tea," he said, careful not to look at Wentworth.

"Are there others, Longwell? My godmother did not mention anyone else being invited."

The butler was at a loss for something to say. Finally, "Madam had only the family in mind, Miss Anne." Just as he handed their cloaks to the footman, there was a muted crash originating from down the hall. He directed the footman to investigate. "I will show you to the Sun Room."

"Is my godmother indisposed? Or have I misunderstood and come on the wrong day?"

"Of course not, Miss. But Madam asked that I tell her when you arrived. I shall return directly."

Before she could answer, the footman returned and whispered something to the butler. He grew red in the face. "Please Miss, allow me to see you comfortable in the Sun Room."

As they passed by a set of closed doors, Anne paused. "Is my cousin, William Elliot, with Lady Russell?" For the second time in several minutes, Longwell went red. Again, he took his time in speaking. He looked from Anne to the Captain and back

"I can hear his voice in the sitting room," Anne prodded.

"Uh, yes, Miss. Mr. Elliot arrived some time ago."

She turned and faced the door. "As you said earlier, Longwell, this tea is for the family. There is no reason for us all not to be together. Please announce us."