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Uppercross Cottage
23rd December 1832
Dearest Elizabeth,
I rec’d yours of 12th December and was Interested to hear of the new pastrycook’s shop in Milsom Street. If Charles can be prevayled upon to take me to Bath this winter (for my Health has been wretched since Michelmas) I hope to sample some of the Delights.
Once more this Year we are bidden to Kellynch Hall for a small evening party at Christmas. One’s Home and Family take Precedence at such a time but Mrs. Croft so depends upon my presence at such occazions, that one can hardly decline her Invitations. She and the Admiral were deeply disappointed to learn that your Engagements in Bath put it out of your power to join us once more this year. You and dear Papa will be missed by All.
The rest of the Party at Kellynch will be as always, with Anne and and Sir Frederick—as I daresay we shall Learn to call him— Mrs. Croft’s elder brother (the parson), and his tiresome Wife and unrulie children, Lady Russell, the Harvilles, and sundry neighbours. As you know, Admiral Croft’s liberality and ease of manner lead one to find any number of unexpected guests taking their ease at Kellynch!
Luisa and Benwick remain fixed in Portsmouth at this Season as she is in an Interesting Condition once again. Although Henrietta has assured me that Parish Duties will keep her and her husband from joining the party, I live in agony lest the entire Brood of Hayters arrive in time to sit down at table.
The One guest at Kellynch I am pining to see is my own darling Eliza. She has been staying with the Wentworths these two months and more and will be most anxious to be reunited with her doting Mother. Alas, she will never be as Handsome as her namesake, dearest Elizabeth, but she has made herself Useful as a companion to her cousin and a Mother can ask for no more.
Please write by return of post with all the news of Bath. Will you and Papa dine with the Dalrymples? Say all that is proper to Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret from
Yr. Loving Sister,
Mary
***
Mary Musgrove pulled the fur rug more snugly about her plump form and sighed discontentedly. While the hot brick at her feet made the interior of the coach tolerably warm, she still detested being forced to sit forward while her parents-in-law sat in comfort across from her. She tried to derive some consolation from having the seat all to herself, but reflecting that her sisters-in-law--despite their unfortunate marriages--each had a carriage of her own, Mary's irritation grew.
She had taxed Charles again, as he finished dressing for the evening, with the idea of purchasing a landaulet for her. "Whatever for?" had been his response. "We go on perfectly well without me setting up my own carriage. The expense, Mary!"
It was well for Charles, she thought wrathfully. He rode alongside the carriage with young Charles and Walter -- all three of them astride fine hunters new-purchased for the season. There had been no talk of expense when it came to satisfying the sporting demands of her sons and their father! No indeed. Even her daughter Eliza had been given a new filly for hacking the lanes about Uppercross. Clerics and farmers and sailors might set up their carriages, and young girls be given mounts of their own, but a baronet's daughter must sit forward in a musty, ill-sprung, old-fashioned rattler.
"I suppose Sir Walter and Miss Elliot will be arrived from Bath at this hour," said Mrs. Musgrove, rousing from a light doze.
“Do not you remember me telling you, ma’am? They are fixed at Bath for Christmas.”
"Did you, my dear?" Mrs. Musgrove chuckled. "I declare I would forget my own name if Mr. Musgrove were to fall dumb as well as deaf!"
Mr. Musgrove, catching the sound of his own name and his wife's hearty laugh, nodded his agreement and said, "Yes, indeed!" trusting to Providence that he had not agreed to something unpleasant.
Anne, and for that matter Elizabeth, thought Mary, had no notion how fortunate they were to be without parents-in-law. Between Mrs. Musgrove's forgetfulness and Mr. Musgrove's deafness, Mary found conversation with them extremely tiresome.
"How strange it will be," remarked Mrs. Musgrove, “to be calling Captain Wentworth 'Sir Frederick!'"
"I am sure that Admiral Wentworth," Mary replied tartly, "finds it just as unlikely as we do." Mary sighed again and gazed out the window at the snow-covered fields. "Mind you, I don't think much of your new creations. Admiral Sir Frederick indeed!"
Mr. Musgrove was demanding she repeat herself for the third time when the coachman checked the horses and turned into the sweep before Kellynch Hall.
Admiral Croft tapped on his wife's dressing room door and peeped round the doorframe. Meeting his eyes in her dressing table mirror, Sophy Croft smiled and thought he looked every bit as handsome as the day she first saw him. He still had the upright bearing of a sailor and his eyes still seemed to reflect the blue seas of the East Indies. He moved -- just a trifle more slowly these days -- into the room and, with a wink at Sophy's maid, slid an arm around his wife's shoulder and kissed her cheek.
"Admiral! Please!" Sophy protested. Although the Crofts stood on very little ceremony in their household, Sophy's maid was looking keenly embarrassed at this mild expression of the Admiral's affection for his wife.
"Thank you, Maria, I shall do. Please see if Lady Wentworth and Miss Wentworth have all they need.”
"Very good, madam." With a hasty curtsey, Maria fled this scene of public debauchery, wondering would she ever become used to the free and easy ways of the Quality.
"Now, my love," said the Admiral, taking a seat on a gilt-edged chair, "I am pleased to report that this brother of yours has fulfilled a commission for his Admiral!"
"Indeed, sir?" Sophy turned to study the scarf Maria had selected for her. "I had thought Frederick was no longer under your command." Sophy sighed at the delicate gauze-and-spangle creation – it would never withstand the Kellynch draughts on a night like this when the wind was nor'eastering.
In her six months at Kellynch, Maria had tried earnestly to turn Sophy out in a manner befitting her position as mistress of Kellynch Hall (and as a lady of her advanced years), but Sophy was a poor student: choosing comfort over style, impatient with curling tongs, and refusing outright to repair the deficiencies of her complexion with cosmetics. Not for the first time, Sophy regretted the elopement of her formerly reliable and unimaginative tirewoman with the Admiral's formerly reliable valet.
Admiral Croft smiled, "A young brother-in-law who was once under my command is always under my command, my dear, however much he may be a fresh-minted baronet!"
“Admiral Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth!” Sophy grinned, tossing the filmy scarf aside. “It does sound very well, but I thank heaven that you declined a similar honour, my love. The very idea of being ‘Lady Croft’ puts me in fidgets!”
“Aye, and so you told me when you made me disclaim a baronetcy.” The Admiral picked up the scarf and laid it across the back of a chair. “Now, have you no curiosity about your brother’s errand for me?”
“I have no doubt you are about to enlighten me, sir!” As Sophy turned from the mirror, the Admiral handed her a soft parcel tied up in cloth. “But wait, let me guess. Has Frederick fetched you a fashionable waistcoat from town?”
“Of course!” The Admiral grinned. “It’s about time I learned to cut as fine a figure as our landlord.”
Sophy pulled back the wrappings and unfurled a fringed Indian shawl woven from the softest wool imaginable in jewel-toned paisley with gold thread. Feather-light, it would repel the worst draughts Kellynch could muster. “My dear!” She pressed his hand to her cheek. “This is beyond wonderful! For once the only gooseflesh in the Great Hall will be on the goose itself!”
Miss Eliza Musgrove ran to the window and twitched aside the heavy brocade curtain. The night was clear, and a full moon cast shadows across the snow-covered lawn below. “Oh Freddy! I see a coach turning into the sweep!” She turned to her cousin. “Who might it be?”
Miss Frederica Wentworth’s large grey eyes grew larger still. “Already? But it’s barely half-past!” She turned away from the gilded mirror in the corner. “And I’m not ready!”
Still peering out the window, Eliza sighed. “It is only my family in Grandmama’s coach. And there are Papa and the boys going around to the stables.”
Relieved, Freddy turned back to the mirror. “I wish I was a boy. Then I wouldn’t have to be paraded like a thoroughbred awaiting the highest bidder!”
“Freddy!” Eliza squeaked, genuinely shocked. “You shouldn’t say such things!”
“No, indeed she should not,” agreed Lady Wentworth, having caught the end of the conversation as she entered the room. “You know, Freddy, that your Papa wishes you always to be precise in your speech. This is merely a small evening party, not an auction.”
Frederica twirled away from the mirror to face her mother. The heavy skirts of her gown, embroidered and beaded satin in a dusty pink, swished around her as she turned. “If I am to be precise, Mama, may I say that my gown is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…even if I do feel as trussed up as a Christmas goose. And Eliza looks like a fairy princess awaiting her Lochinvar!”
“You and Eliza are both very pretty girls,” said Lady Wentworth, glancing over at Mary’s daughter. Even in the made-over gown of her mother’s that she had been given for the party, Eliza would put all the other beauties in the shade. “But there is no need to speak of Lochinvars for either of you until you have made your débuts.”
Lady Wentworth gently tugged her daughter toward the dressing-table. “Sit down, dear. Maria is coming in to repair the wreck you’ve made of your hair, and then we will all go downstairs together. Yes, you too, Eliza,” she said, as Eliza made to leave the room. “You are a guest in Mrs. Croft’s home and will be a member of her party tonight.”
The chamber door opened gently, revealing not only the expected maidservant, but a gentleman with a mischievous smile on his face. “All present and correct?” inquired Sir Frederick, entering the room.
The maid stalked to the dressing-table, her rigid back giving an indication of what she thought of gentlemen—admirals and baronets!—who knew no better than to visit ladies – howevermuch they might be their daughters, wives or nieces – in their own chambers.
Eyeing the terrifying ladies’ maid, Freddy made her father an elaborate curtsey. “Well, Admiral? Do I pass muster?”
“Hmm.” Sir Frederick frowned. He walked in a slow circle around his daughter, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “No, my dear, I’m sorry. It simply won’t do.”
“Pa-pa!” Freddy cried. “What can you mean, sir?” She turned anxiously to the mirror. “It’s my hair, isn’t it?”
With a glance at his wife’s smothered smile, Sir Frederick drew a small box from his pocket. “No, my dear, but I cannot, simply cannot have you appearing at your first evening party looking so sadly underdressed!”
“Underdressed?” Freddy drew herself up to her full height, a martial light in her eyes. “I take leave to tell you sir that I am everything that is elegant and entirely à la mode!”
Moving behind his daughter and turning her to face the mirror, Sir Frederick placed a delicate, double-strand of palest pink pearls about her throat and deftly fastened the catch. “Now,” he said, “you are entirely à la mode.”
Sir Frederick and his lady withstood Miss Wentworth’s transports as they had weathered many a storm at sea. When these passed, and Freddy was enduring Maria’s assault on her unruly coppery curls, he turned to his niece. “Now then, Miss Musgrove, I had a letter from your Papa before we left Town.”
Eliza turned from the fascinating proceedings at the dressing table. “From Papa, Uncle Frederick?”
“Yes, my girl. He gave me the office to acquire--by any means necessary--the proper accoutrement for his only daughter’s first evening party!” Drawing another small box from his pocket, he handed it to Eliza.
With trembling fingers, Eliza took the box and glanced at her aunt.
Anne smiled and nodded. “Open it, my dear.”
With a modest sapphire necklet fastened around her throat, Eliza peeped in the mirror. Although her smile remained fixed, her dark blue eyes betrayed disappointment. “It’s truly lovely, sir, only…”
“Only you cannot,” said Sir Frederick, “absolutely cannot wear sapphires with…what does one call that colour, my love?”
Anne smiled, “When Mary wore it, we called that particular shade Golden Rod. But you are quite right, sir, it is quite ineligible with sapphires. Whatever can Charles have been thinking?”
“Perhaps, my dear,” said Sir Frederick, “he was thinking of that charming cream-coloured gown with the blue sash I saw you lay on Miss Musgrove’s bed not half an hour ago?”
Further transports were endured and Maria bidden to accompany Miss Musgrove to her chamber to effect the necessary alterations to her appearance.
“Oh Papa!” Freddy sighed. “You are so kind! And so cruel to poor Eliza! Mama?” She turned slightly as Anne threaded a blush-coloured ribbon through her curls. “Has Papa always been such a jokester?”
Anne glanced sidelong at her husband. “I believe it is always thus with Naval officers, my dear. They cannot resist teasing!”
“Softly, my dear one!” Sir Frederick chided. “I was sober and deeply in earnest when I requested the pleasure of your company for the rest of my life. Both times!”
“Mama!” Freddy fired up, appalled. “Do you mean to tell me Papa had to propose to you more than once? How is this? How could you refuse him?”
“Now, Frederick…” Anne began.
Sir Frederick drew a chair forward and took his daughter’s hand. “Yes, my child. Your mama does not wish you to know this…”
“Frederick!” Anne hissed.
“But your mama brutalized my poor sailor’s heart and sent me, incontinent, across the seas…to another continent!”
“But Mama!” Freddy turned to her mother. “You told me you fell in love with Papa on sight! You told me all about it, how you met first at a small evening party while Papa was visiting Uncle Edward at Monkford!”
Discovering that she was not, after all, past the age of blushing, Anne glared at her husband. “It is quite true, Freddy, that I lost my heart to your Papa from the first moment I saw him. Of course,” she smiled sweetly, “he was quite a handsome young Lieutenant and anyone might be pardoned for being carried away.”
Freddy bristled. “He is STILL the most handsome officer in the Navy! Delia Harville told me that her mama told her that young ladies were forever throwing themselves at my father’s feet!”
Sir Frederick stroked his chin and mused, “I only recall that happening on one occasion…”
Anne glared at her husband and suppressed a giggle. It was, she reflected, truly wonderful that time could smooth over a painful memory as an oyster smooths a rough grain of sand into a pearl. She straightened her daughter’s choker and schooled her countenance. “Well, dearest, it is true that I – regretfully – broke my first engagement with your Papa.”
“But,” Sir Frederick, his hands around his wife’s waist, pulled her gently to his knee, “your mama had good and sufficient reason for depressing my pretensions that first time.” He turned Anne’s face to look in her eyes and smiled. “I didn’t think so then, but I have learned (in my old age) that some things are better for the waiting.”
Anne submitted to his manhandling with good grace, quietly amused that her daughter was so inured to her father’s unconventional gestures of affection that she barely raised an eyebrow.
“But how did you reconcile?” Freddy demanded. “How long were you apart? Did Papa carry you away across his saddle bow? What did Grandpapa say? This is romance, Mama! I must know the whole.”
Anne kissed her husband’s cheek and disentangled herself from his embrace. “And so you shall, my love, but not now! Your Aunt Sophy is with the Musgroves already and we shall have the entire party upon us if we don’t spread a little canvas!”
Freddy sighed and gazed unseeing at her reflection in the mirror. "And it all started at a small evening party..."
***
Uppercross Cottage
7th January, 1833
My dear Elizabeth,
The festivities at Kellynch are over for another Year and how You and Papa were missed by All.
Kellynch Hall is charming as always and very warm. I hope that Admiral Croft does not bankrupt himself with Bills for feul and candles, although I confess that Charles is Himself having a new patent Furnas installed at Uppercross Cottage which he says will be a great improvement over open fires. I believe your home in Bath has patent stoves and I am sure it is Quite Warm without such expentiture being necessary.
Charles was excessively Shocked to find that very odd friend of Anne’s, Mrs. Smith, one of the party for Christmas. Mrs. Smith! who resided at Westgate Buildings all those years ago (although I am told she removed to Marlborough Buildings upon the settlement of her late husband’s property and is now quite Independent and is Everywhere received, despite her infirmity – perhaps you may have met her at the Rooms.)
Mrs. Croft and Mrs. Smith, you must know, are Bosum companions and visited the kitchens to make mince-pie and soused hog’s face for Christmas dinner which Anne and Sir Frederick thought delightful.
Quite at home she makes herself. Mrs. Smith of Westgate buildings, running tame about a baronet’s seat! I believe she has dined more frequently at Kellynch than its owners in recent years!
O how I wish Charles had gone to Sea and become a Nabob on the pattern of my brother-in-law (altho’ Charles says he is not a Nabob but merely a very Lucky sailor.) Charles certainly behaves as if he were rich as whomever one mentions to signify vast riches! Only fancy! He arranged with Anne and Sir Frederick to purchase a gown and sapphire necklace for dear Eliza in Town! She wore it to the party and was much admired, but I would like to be told what right anyone but a girl’s Mother has to rig her out in such style! The expense!
Sir Frederick was excessively pleased to be in company with me, as he always is. He Alone understands the Presedence due a Baronet’s Daughter over a mere Admiral’s Wife, even in such a Family Party as this was, and lent me his Arm to go in to our Dinner.
O how I long to see You both and Wish You had been at Kellynch for Christmas.
Yr loving Sister,
Mary