Jane Austen Made Me Do It by Laurel Ann Nattress

and life as they’d rapidly and deeply fallen in love. Such joy and felicity when Frederick proposed Anne had never known before, and such pain and heartache when she’d withdrawn were emotions she recalled with aching clarity. Persuaded by Sir Walter and Lady Russell that to become involved with a young man who had no money and no connections would be an action of folly had been the reason and their undoing. Anne had broken off the engagement. Acting with a sense of duty and obedience to her friend and father, nevertheless, Anne consequently believed that she’d been right to fall in love with Frederick Wentworth and wrong to deny their future together. When her friend Charles Musgrove proposed later on, she refused him, and when he turned to her younger sister Mary, she knew her instincts and her feelings had been right. Anne was sure she would never have found happiness with Charles. She had only ever loved Frederick Wentworth.
    Waiting. Anne considered the years of waiting. For almost nine years she had waited, believing all hope was gone. Anne heard the creak of the door, saw the handle turning, and there at last stood her very own Captain. The sounds that greeted her ears were amicable enough. At least her father was addressing Frederick civilly, but she supposed that would be inevitable whatever the outcome. Anne came forward, but Sir Walter did not. A vividflash of burgundy sleeve, a crisply starched stock, and the discomposed face above it, florid and severe, did not reassure her. Her father withdrew and the door shut fast. Again, Anne had not expected congratulation. No doubt, her father’s pride had suffered during the interview, for even he would have recognised the reversal in their fortunes as Captain Wentworth divulged all the particulars of his newly acquired wealth that now gave him the undoubted right to offer for Anne’s hand.
    But there was something more. Captain Wentworth looked quite as grave as her father had done. His cheeks were suffused with pink. Frederick wore an expression Anne would never forget; the very same countenance she had witnessed when her father had given the young lieutenant short shrift all those years ago. Perhaps all was now lost, after all. Had the Captain changed his mind? Anne’s heartbeat quickened, she felt the threat of tears prick behind her eyelids. Waiting to hear the worst, a million thoughts rushed through her mind.
    Captain Wentworth tried his best to compose himself. He had known exactly how Sir Walter would react, so why did he feel so upset? Anne’s father was hardly going to welcome him or his proposal with open arms, but his manner had still been very condescending. Frederick Wentworth had repressed every nerve in his body, had concealed every urge to behave in a manner unbecoming to a gentleman in order to maintain the equilibrium. He did not know how he’d managed it under the provocation, but he’d maintained a calm and collected disposition.
    Anne could bear it no longer. Rushing forward, instinctively clasping her hands together as if in silent prayer, her eyes beseeched him to speak even if she could not utter a word.
    â€œI am in need of fresh air and a change of scene.” Miss Elliot heard the clipped tones, his voice strained with emotion. Captain Wentworth gestured towards the staircase. Anne descended,each step feeling more uncertain. By the time she’d fetched her bonnet and pelisse she dreaded knowing her fate. At the front door he snapped open his umbrella and led Anne out onto the wide pavement. Only conscious of the thundering water dripping off the umbrella and gurgling in the gutters, she struggled with thoughts too unpleasant to bear. As they walked towards Belmont, where they began the descent into town, Anne observed the Captain’s struggle expressed in every feature.
    They walked in silence amid Bath’s noisy din of rumbling carts, roaring tradesmen, and the clink of pattens on wet