Chapter Text
To rise in the ranks of the King's Royal Navy, the greatest navy in the world, with neither the security of great wealth nor the assistance of lofty connections, Captain Frederick Wentworth knew he could not be a timid man. He could not afford to be given that his daring and at times irrational confidence was the only way for him to attain any degree of consequence. Indeed, in the young captain's estimation, there was nothing as detrimental to one's success in life than a wavering spirit.
Naturally, he never had much patience for such dispositions. Not in his fellow comrades aboard his ships, not in the friends he had made over the years, and certainly not in himself. When set before a crossroads, Frederick did not like to linger in doubt or uncertainty. He would much rather make a decision and bluster ahead with that singular purpose in mind. And if it later transpired that he had chosen wrong, he would not spend his time wallowing in his misfortunes. Instead, he would quickly brush himself off, perhaps let out a curse or two as was a sailor's wont, and then move on. After all, there was nothing more useless to him than brooding over past regrets.
For the better part of the last ten years, Frederick had lived his life just so. In fact, he prided himself on it: the firmness of character that led to his highly successful career, the resilience to move past the not insignificant number of setbacks he had encountered, and the assertiveness with which he approached each and every challenge he had ever faced.
At the present moment, however, all traces of firmness, resilience, and assertiveness of his character seemed to have taken their leave of him just outside the current abode of the very reason he prized those traits in the first place. In fact, Frederick found himself on the ground outside said abode, bleeding from the head, dazed, and very much brooding over his current predicament.
He had been engaged to meet with Charles Musgrove that morning for an early hunting excursion and was nearly at the man's home when his head suddenly collided with a low tree branch he failed to see. He was then unceremoniously sent toppling off his horse into one of the garden beds below. Now this was not the worst blow Frederick had ever received (he was a man of war after all), but it was significant enough to leave him feeling terribly dizzy. So much so that the world around him felt like it was spinning, making even the short distance that remained to his destination seem impossible to traverse (much less the distance back to his own current lodgings.)
Thus was the usually decisive man left entirely unsure as to what to do. Normally, Frederick was not afflicted like so many of his own sex with the desire to keep any pain or discomfort to himself. In fact, he had always made it clear to the men aboard his ships never to make light of any injuries, no matter how minor they might seem at the time. He had seen it happen before where one moment a fellow midshipman was laughing off the bump on his head only to have his corpse thrown into the sea a few hours later.
Even so, the thought of someone from the nearby cottage discovering him in his current state was absolutely abhorrent to him. Though, even with the somewhat addled state of his brain, Frederick knew he was not concerned about being discovered by just anyone from that house.
In truth, the reason he had failed to see the offending branch that caused this entire mess was his distraction with thoughts of the exact person he was currently desperate to avoid. In fact, he was in the midst of congratulating himself on having been wholly unaffected by her since his arrival to the county, able to countenance once again being in the same circles as she, even able to ride over to her current residence without scruple, when he was unexpectedly knocked off his horse.
And as he sat in the dirt, trying to convince himself that maybe it was not actually a terrible idea for him to attempt the trek all the way back to Kellynch, Frederick was obliged to acknowledge that perhaps he was not totally unaffected by one Miss Anne Elliot after all.
The only comfort he could draw from this begrudging admission was that he was also fairly confident that she was not unaffected by him either.
Of course, they were perfectly civil. They acknowledged each other with all the necessary courtesies and pleasantries and yet, the polite detachment that had defined their interactions thus far was a distinct barrier neither party seemed willing to cross.
Indeed, in a room full of people, Frederick was hardly seeking out Anne’s company, and neither was she for his. More often than not they would find themselves on opposite sides of the room and there were several occasions when Frederick was convinced that he had observed her purposely removing herself thither.
He had also seen her reactions to certain things he said or did, minute though they often were. He recalled that Anne had always been more staid with her emotions (especially compared to his own hot-headed self), even in her youth. A result, he assumed, of living with a family that failed to value her as they should. It was a pattern that appeared to have continued to the present day as no one else seemed to notice those brief moments when she strayed from her usual calm and serene composure.
But he certainly did.
A jolt when he first mentioned the year ‘06. The flush in her cheeks when he handed her into his sister’s gig. Their complete pallor when he shared the tale of his near sinking aboard that French frigate. These were hardly the same bursts of feeling that he was once able to draw out of her (that he was once thrilled to draw out of her), but such passion and warmth must have long since withered away. Left in its place, he could only presume, was simply mortification.
Yes, he could clearly read the sentiment upon her delicate features, as easily as he could the stars of the night sky that had long guided his way. And there was a less than gallant part of him that positively relished in seeing her behave so. After all, Frederick had made a name for himself. He attained the wealth and status he promised her he would, the things she had so unjustly doubted of him, all while her family had fallen into such hardship as to have to give up their own home. His pride had been vindicated and it had allowed him to show himself before her again with his head held high.
But it was also that same pride that prevented him from having the courage to face her now. It was one thing to face the woman who rejected him as a handsome and capable naval captain, not to mention a highly eligible and wealthy gentleman to boot. It was quite another to do it as a clumsy fool who could not ride three miles without falling off his horse.
Alas his wish to avoid attention from Uppercross cottage was made null when a servant eventually emerged from within. He was soon discovered and after a small commotion that certainly did not help his aching head, the master of the house was summoned. With his help and another able-bodied servant, Frederick was carefully ushered inside.
He tried to be lighthearted as he explained what had happened, undermined though his efforts likely were by his frequent wincing and groaning during the short walk. Unsurprisingly, his friend was not convinced.
“This is terrible luck, Wentworth,” Musgrove was saying as he assisted him into a chair in the sitting room. “Falls from horses can be serious business. I’ll send for the doctor straightaway.”
“I assure you, there is no need for that,” Frederick insisted, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. All the recent movement left him feeling even more unsteady, the sunlight streaming in from the window falling harshly on his vision. But he had no idea how long it would take for the doctor to arrive and he had no desire to wait around in this house to find out.
“I merely require a few moments to regain my bearings and then I shall be on my way… It appears our sport will have to be put off for another day.”
Waving off the apologetic look sent his way, Charles continued to be uneasy.
“I can hardly send you off in such a state. If you won’t see a doctor, then at least allow someone to tend to that gash on your head. My wife has never been one for nursing, but luckily we have Anne staying with us- ”
“No!” he exclaimed, eyes shooting open, his prior dizziness and the brightness of the room suddenly not as bothersome. “That is to say- you need not disturb any of the ladies. If I could only trouble your staff for a bowl of water and a few rags, I can tend to it myself. I've done it before, you see.”
The other man eyed him dubiously for a few moments before nodding to one of the maids to carry out the request. Soon enough the items were procured and Frederick set about cleaning his wound. It was a bit of a struggle without a looking glass, not to mention the pounding headache that robbed him of his usual dexterity. His impatience to be done as quickly as possible also made it so that Frederick was not as gentle with the task as he likely should have been.
He hissed in pain when he pressed a little too firmly on his cut, subsequently leading to a few mumbled curses under his breath when his eye caught a movement at the entrance to the sitting room.
Now the two had been enough in each other's company over the last several weeks for them to no longer be all that surprised by it. They had even developed a pattern of sorts. Frederick would bow and she would curtsy. There would be an exchanging of placid greetings before one of them found an excuse to move away and did so with scarcely another look back.
Despite the unusualness of the circumstances, Frederick had expected (or rather, was desperately hoping) that this arrangement they had settled upon would continue for the present occasion as well. His hopes were soundly dashed, however, when not only did Anne forgo a curtsy and a greeting altogether when she first saw him, but her gaze had also lingered on him for far longer than the few seconds it usually did.
She had also closed the distance between them in rather quick fashion, her stride purposeful, brows furrowed with something he could not immediately discern. Without preamble, she reached up to gently touch the tender area on his forehead.
“What happened?” she demanded, as if she had done it thousands of times before.
Frederick preferred to think that his inability to immediately answer her was because his brain had in fact suffered a grave injury and not for any other reason. The real cause of his current speechlessness notwithstanding, he was saved from continuing to appear like an idiot by Charles, who quickly related the events of the morning.
His cheeks burned as he listened to the other man’s account, his eyes unable to meet Anne’s even as he felt them rove over his person. Frederick had no idea what she was looking for and would have far preferred it if she ceased her scrutiny when he was again asked a question he could not answer.
“Did you hit your head on the ground when you fell?”
Frederick mindlessly lifted a hand to the back of his head, genuinely not knowing. It had happened so quickly. One moment he was on his horse, the next he was on the ground looking up at the sky. He truly did not know if he had hit his head a second time when he landed there.
Anne seemed to read the uncertainty on his face for she only continued on without waiting for his response.
“Well, I suppose we should err on the side of being overly cautious and proceed as if you had. Charles, will Dr. Clarkson be here soon?”
“No, I have not sent for him yet... The captain insisted that there was no need.”
Now Frederick had faced his fair share of hostile creatures over the years. At one time during the war, he encountered them near every day, hundreds of unnamed enemies whose sole objective was killing him and his fellow men. But even at home, even among his own admiralty, he had come across those who, to say the least, did not wish him well.
And yet, none of them had ever caused him to cower like a certain daughter of a baronet and the blazing look she was currently sending his way.
“Of course, you must see a doctor! Injuries to the head must never be taken lightly.”
“I -”
“You yourself said that,” Anne persisted. “I remember- you told a story once… about a fellow midshipman who…”
Frederick could only blink at her in response as she trailed off. He did indeed tell her about his comrade who had perished at sea after that seemingly innocuous bump to his head.
He also recalled what had happened after he related that tragic event to her.
“You must promise me!” she had implored, eyes shining with tears as she took his much larger hands in her own. “You must promise to look after yourself. I do not care if it does not seem significant to you. Promise me you will take every bump or bruise seriously. Oh, I could not bear it if something were to happen to you!”
Frederick had given her all the reassurances he could and then not a week later he was quitting the neighborhood with a broken heart. He did not think she remembered that conversation all these years later, that she would care to remember it or any of their conversations at all.
But evidently she did, and for the second time that morning, his world felt entirely knocked off axis.
While he tried to make sense of his racing thoughts, Anne had apparently taken command of the situation. She directed Charles to fetch the doctor while she drew the curtains shut, the resulting darkness bringing immense relief to his headache almost immediately. She then instructed the servants to have the boys sent to the Great House when they woke and for her to be alerted upon her sister’s waking as well. She also ordered that a tea be brewed with lavender before finally plucking the damp cloth from his hand and began ministering to his wound herself.
Given the rather sluggish state of his faculties, it took Frederick several moments to realize that, for the first time in over eight years, the two were left alone together. Once he had become aware of the occasion, however, he fully intended to bring it to an end at once.
He was going to put some distance between them. He was going to take the cloth she was pressing oh so tenderly to his head and insist that he could do it himself. He was going to tell her that it was entirely inappropriate for them to be alone like this, she who was now nothing to him. He was going to remind her that she had no right to act as if she cared for him, not after the decision she made all those years ago.
Frederick was going to do and say all this and more, but before he could muster his body to actually carry out his intentions, a soft voice cut through the raging storm that was his thoughts.
“Humor me this one time,” Anne murmured, eyes averted as she dipped the cloth into the bowl. “Allow me this and then we can go back as we were before.” She proceeded to wring out the excess water from the rag, but instead of bringing it to his forehead again, she held still and slowly brought her gaze toward his.
Their eyes locked and Frederick knew, if he asked it of her, she would stop. She would leave the room, leave the county if she thought it would make him more comfortable. After all, that was what she had always done: put everyone else’s comfort ahead of her own.
And perhaps he should have asked those things of her and only a few seconds ago, he would have. But instead he found himself nodding his head slightly, all the bluster, ire, and resentment that had burned within him during the last few moments (and arguably the last few years) reduced to nothing but smoke at the smile he received in return.
“Thank you,” she whispered before quietly resuming her work. And though the room fell into silence, Frederick’s mind had not.
Why on earth would she be thanking him ? What could she possibly be grateful to him for? For the opportunity to tend to him? He, who though not unkind, had not exactly been kind to her either. Indeed, he had been quite stiff towards her, inflexible and petty. What sort of noble creature could bear such ill-treatment and yet still manage to show such grace in return?
(And what sort of foul beast could behave so deplorably toward such a sweet soul in the first place?)
Frederick had thought the feeling of being off-kilter had only begun after he collided with that tree branch, but now he was realizing that his struggles began far earlier than that. It was not a mere quarter of an hour ago, but a full eight years, when he stalked away from the woman he loved without looking back. Since that fateful moment, he had been going through life aimless and lost and had been too blinded by pride and stupidity to realize it. If anything, the accident from that morning had only done him a service: it knocked him back onto the correct course, the one that led to where he was supposed to be all along.
And that was next to Anne.
Of course, it was Anne. How could it not be? Even in the height of his bitterness toward her, when he could never admit to it even to himself, all his thoughts, all his plans were for her. With each new commission, each new danger, every victory and narrow escape from death, her face would never fail to come to mind. And whenever his family pestered him about settling down or a friend teased him about his future wife, what she might look like or what patience she would need to spend a lifetime with him, there was only one woman in the world he could possibly imagine her being.
And as that woman set about applying a bandage to his head, gently brushing his hair aside with a tenderness he wondered if his own mother could have shown him, Frederick at last felt like he had regained his bearings. At last, the world had righted itself, his true north unmistakable and right before him.
“I am going to check the back of your head for any bruising,” she announced when she finished with the bandage, but made no moves to actually do so. Once again, Anne waited for his permission and with his first instinct no longer being to deny her, it was more readily granted.
Not for the first time that day, Frederick found himself struggling to keep his eyes open, though this time for a very different reason. Indeed, Anne only had her fingers threaded through his hair for a few moments while she felt the back of his skull, and yet, he was still left feeling quite bereft when she stepped back again after completing her examination.
“There does not appear to be any obvious sign of injury, though I will feel better once Dr. Clarkson sees you.”
Anne then became occupied with tidying up, arranging the dirty cloths and bandages more neatly on the tray before calling for a servant to take it away. Frederick, for his part, was glad for her momentary distraction. He was suddenly finding it somewhat difficult to breathe and did not wish for her to mistake it as some sort of deterioration of his health.
The same servant later brought in the prior requested tea before exiting, leaving the two alone once again. Anne poured a cup and offered it to him.
“I have heard that lavender can help with headaches, which I imagine is what yours is doing right now.”
Frederick cleared his throat a few times before wordlessly accepting the cup, not quite able to meet her eyes, too flustered as he still found himself from the earlier interaction.
“I don’t believe you are in any immediate danger, but still, you should not be left alone. If you prefer, I can have a servant come sit with you while we wait for the doctor to arrive.”
Frederick’s eyes then quickly snapped toward hers. She only looked expectantly at him in return, almost as if she were merely waiting for him to dismiss her.
Allow me this and then we can go back as we were before. That was what she had said.
Go back? To avoiding each other even when they were in the same room? To the charade of being indifferent to her? To pretending that the reason he returned to this neighborhood and stayed for as long as he had was for any other reason besides being able to see her again? To the delusion that he did not love her all along?
No. As it turned out, Frederick had no desire to go back to any of that…
… and he had no intention of doing so.
“Please, Miss Elliot. I would prefer it if you stayed.”
He knew he surprised her with his request (or perhaps that he had spoken so many words to her.) Her eyes widened, her mouth even fell open a bit, an audible gasp leaving her lips. Having once taken great pleasure in eliciting such reactions from her, Frederick found it all rather exciting.
That was until he realized that having the woman he loved be surprised that he was not actually opposed to her presence was hardly a favorable thing for him and, in fact, could only be a reflection of just how poorly he had been behaving toward her. Suddenly, he lamented that the tree branch did not hit him harder, for surely he deserved far worse a punishment for being such an ass.
Well, there was nothing for it then. He would simply have to change her opinion of his opinion of her. Although, judging from the guarded look on her face as she hesitantly took a seat in the chair next to him, it appeared that he had his work cut out for him. No thanks to his own ridiculous self.
But it hardly mattered. Frederick had his heading, and he cared not if the seas were choppy or tranquil ahead. There was a real prize on the line. The most important one. The only one that would ever matter. So for the good captain, as he turned to make conversation with the lady at his side (and hopefully secure a future with her), it was only full speed ahead.