‘Yes, I did,’ I told her. ‘Benwick, Jenson and Harville. Benwick was younger than the rest of us, joining the academy later, in 1797, but somehow he became one of us. Not that we stayed in the academy all the time. We were put on board ships to gain experience, and very valuable it was.’
‘It sounds exciting,’ said Anne. ‘Very different from my own schooldays.’
She asked me about my training, and about my time as a midshipman, and then she told me about her times at schooclass="underline" her lessons, her masters, her friends—Miss Vance, who had returned to Cornwall to live with her parents; Miss Hamilton, who had married a Mr Smith and gone to live a life of gaiety in London; and Miss Donner, who had married a country squire.
At last we reached the village. I made my bow and left the ladies, returning home to lunch.
Tuesday 22 July
I set out early and arrived at Harville’s this afternoon. Harville greeted me warmly, and could not wait to introduce me to Harriet.
I found her to be a taking young thing, without the intelligence of Miss Anne Elliot, perhaps, and without her dark eyes, but pretty all the same. She seemed to be a degree or two less polished than Harville, but she was evidently very much in love with him, and I was glad to wish him all the happiness the occasion demanded.
I had little chance to talk to him of anything else, for when we returned to his lodgings, he would do nothing but sing Harriet’s praises. In vain did I try to talk to him about our adventures, past and future, for after answering a question sensibly, he would then sigh, and say that Harriet had the prettiest eyes or the tiniest feet or the tenderest heart, and I spoke about battles in vain. I laughed at him for it, but he only bade me wait until I was in love, whereupon I remarked that if love made such fools of men, I would sooner not succumb. He smiled, and said he pitied me, and then said that Harriet’s smile was brighter than the sun.
‘You have missed your vocation. You should have been a poet,’ I told him.
‘Perhaps I will become one yet!’ he said. ‘I am sure poets have an easier time of it than sailors.’
‘Though the pay is even worse,’ I said.
He laughed, and said that, on consideration, he would remain with the Navy.
I tried to go to bed three times, but he would not stop talking, and it was late before I returned to my chamber. I fear I will have little rational conversation over the next few days!
Wednesday 23 July
Harville took great delight in seeing me with his friends and family, and I took no less delight in their company. I had not seen them for three years, and, with regard to his sister Fanny, it was longer, for she was at school the last time I visited. Her appearance was a surprise, for she was no longer a child but a young woman, and a very superior young woman at that. Her mind was cultivated and her wits quick. Her face and figure were such that I knew she would soon have many admirers, and I said as much to Harville.
He seemed much pleased, and to begin with I took it as nothing more than brotherly pride, but as the day wore on, I began to think it might have something more at its root, for when we went out for a stroll, Harville and his family gradually fell behind until I was walking ahead with Fanny alone.
Again, when we returned to the house, there were occasions when we found ourselves sitting alone, on account of the others moving to the far end of the room. In short, they were giving us an opportunity to get to know each other, and the reason was not difficult to find. Harville and I being great friends, and Fanny being seventeen, it was in their minds that we might, one day, marry. But, despite her superior mind and her undoubted beauty, she awakened nothing more in me than brotherly sensations, and I am persuaded that I awakened nothing more than sisterly feelings in her. Harville was sensible enough to see it, and, as we took a turn out of doors together after dinner, he soon gave up hinting at anything between us and returned to his favourite topic of conversation, Harriet.
I let him talk, and I did not begrudge him his happiness, for we have always been the best of friends, but I am glad the visit will be over tomorrow. A man so newly engaged is not good company for anyone except the object of his affections!
Thursday 24 July
I spent the morning with Harville, Harriet and Fanny, and the three of us walked out into the country together. The sun was hot, and the ladies twirled their parasols over their heads as they went along. Harville and I teased them, saying that we had had no such shelter as we toiled under the strong sun of the Bahamas. We regaled them with tales of our water running low on board ship, saying that we often had to sail with parched throats, and by the time we returned to the house, we were all ready for a cooling drink.
I set out for Monkford late in the afternoon, leaving Harville and Harriet making plans for their wedding breakfast. The ride was enjoyable to begin with, as my way took me through varied countryside, but it was marred by a sudden downpour when I was three miles out of Monkford and I was glad to get indoors.
Edward was curious to know about Harville’s chosen bride, and I satisfied him as to her character and habits as soon as I had changed out of my wet clothes.
When I had done, he remarked that, in my absence, we had been invited to a picnic, and that he had accepted on both our behalfs.
Saturday 26 July
I am getting to know the neighbouring countryside very well, and already I feel quite at home here. I had my ride this morning before breakfast, as usual, and, later on, I paid some morning calls. After lunch I went into town for a new hat. I had a faint hope that I might see Miss Anne Elliot. I have seen little of her recently, for she has not attended any gatherings at which Edward and I have been present—they have not been smart enough for the Elliots—but I did not have the good fortune to come across her.
Tuesday 29 July
I saw Miss Anne this evening and I was surprised to discover how much I had missed her company.
I was about to ask her if I could escort her in to dinner when, unluckily, my hostess asked me to escort Miss Barnstaple instead. I bowed, and declared myself delighted, but although Miss Barnstaple was an engaging companion, my eyes were constantly drawn to Miss Anne.
She was seated next to a young man who looked to be a perfect fool, the sort who would not know a mast from a yard-arm. I thought she looked bored, but to my surprise, Miss Barnstaple said, ‘Anne seems to be finding her partner amusing. He is much liked by the ladies, not surprisingly, for he is very handsome.’
I was not struck by his looks myself, for they seemed too soft to me, and his conversation, snatches of which reached me in quiet moments, did not seem to be anything very remarkable. But I could not say so, for Miss Barnstaple might have construed my remarks—quite wrongly—as jealousy.
I could not help my eyes being drawn to his group from time to time, though, and I was gratified to find that Miss Anne’s gaze sought me out on more than one occasion. This small circumstance raised my spirits and allowed me to flatter myself that she would rather be talking to me.
As soon as supper was over, dancing was announced, and I went over to her and asked for the pleasure. She smiled, declared herself delighted, and put her hand in mine. I felt a sense of pride as I led her towards the set that was then forming. It was small, for the room only had space enough for five couples, but I was glad of the opportunity it gave me to talk to her.
‘I have not seen you for ...’ I was going to give an exact number of days, when I thought it might seem too particular, so I said, ‘... a while. Have you been mistaken for Napoleon again in the meantime?’