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Captain Frederick Wentworth simultaneously loved and hated the sound of a pianoforte. In his mind, it was the soundtrack to all the ups and downs of his relationship with Miss Anne Elliot.

The first time he met her, the soft tones played in the background as she shyly blushed, bowed her head and bobbed a curtsy as his brother Edward made the introduction. 

While courting Anne, when it was her turn to play, Frederick delighted in sitting beside her on the bench, turning the pages of her song book as her fingers danced along the keyboard. He would often ‘accidentally’ brush her shoulder with his fingertips, as he reached to turn the page.

After the disastrous events of 1806, a brokenhearted and demoralized Frederick came to detest the sound. He would often leave an event before the dancing began to avoid the memories it invoked. The softer sound of the leather covered hammers striking the keys reminded him too much of Anne's soft voice, soft hands, soft lips… 

Upon his return to Somersetshire to visit his sister and brother-in-law, Admiral and Mrs. Croft, Frederick often found himself once again in Miss Anne's company and became resigned to hearing her play again; which unfortunately, had only improved in the eight years since he had seen her last. 

Once, he had asked Louisa Musgrove why Anne never danced while in company. Her blasé response of "she has quite given up dancing. She had rather play. She is never tired of playing." struck Frederick as rather odd; the Anne he remembered loved to dance. Anne only played the pianoforte once her feet became too sore to continue.

The comment by Louisa became a catalyst to Frederick reconsidering his feelings for Anne and his recollections of the year 06. What had happened to her in the time since? Why had she given up dancing? Why was she still unmarried? Why was she a shadow of her former self? He pondered these questions relentlessly; but it was another careless statement by Louisa Musgrove that led Frederick to believe he had made a grave mistake in leaving the area so abruptly after their separation.

Louisa told Frederick in confidence one day, that the Musgrove family wished Charles had married Anne instead of Mary; he had asked, she said, but Anne had rejected his offer. Louisa went on to say that Mary had too much of the Elliot pride. 

Why, a shocked Frederick thought, would Anne reject an offer from a man whose future was set? An oldest son, an heir! Charles could provide for Anne, give her a home of her own, a family; everything her family…and her godmother wanted for her. Frederick was mystified.

Over the following weeks Frederick and Anne were often in company, and Frederick observed Anne without the prejudice of his broken heart. Her kindness, her beauty, her good sense was obvious to everyone; and Frederick soon realized the love he had felt for her in the year 06, was still there. But was he too late, and if he was not, how to tell her?

The occasion came quite by chance, and not in a manner that Frederick would have expected. An encounter at the White Hart afforded Frederick the time to put pen to paper and share with Anne what was in his heart. As he eavesdropped on Anne and Captain Harville speak of love and who loved longest when all hope was gone, he was sure he heard the faint sound of Chopin being played on a pianoforte. Whether it was true or only in his imagination, the music compelled him to declare himself as he had eight and a half years ago.

❤️

He knew it was foolish, he knew it was expensive, but he could not stop himself either. During the retooling of the Laconia, Frederick was asked how he wanted his quarters refurbished to best accommodate his new wife; Frederick had one request in addition to the normal needs of a woman living aboard a warship. 

He asked that an area of the captain's dining room be rearranged to allow space for a small pianoforte that he had purchased. Granted, there would be no dancing on board; however, Frederick would happily sit on the bench with Anne and turn the pages of her songbook while she played.

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Colonel and Mrs. Brandon watched from the doorway as their three young children romped on the grounds of the estate under the watchful eyes of the nursemaids. As much as they wanted to join the melee, Marianne’s confinement was just a few weeks away, and her energy was not what it once was. Brandon remained by her side in solidarity. They turned, as the doorman discreetly cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Yes, Smith?”

“My apologies, Sir, Ma'am. There is a courier at the door who insists on speaking to Mrs. Brandon.” Marianne lifted an eyebrow in question. “Says he has a package that he has been tasked to give to you directly.”

“Thank you Smith, have him brought to my office, and we will join him there presently.”

“What do you think this is about?” Marianne queried 

“I do not know, Dearest. Perhaps one of your sisters has sent something for your lying in.”

“Then why the need to give it to me directly? This will be our fourth child. We no longer have any secrets in that regard.” She replied with a smirk.

“All the better for us to find out what this is all about. Shall we?” Brandon stated, as he placed a hand on Marianne’s lower back and accompanied her to his office. The peevish looking courier stood with his back to the roaring fireplace, a large brownish envelope tucked under his arm. 

“Miss Marianne Dashwood?” he asked.

Glancing at her husband, Marianne replied “Well I was, until ten years ago.”

Brandon stepped forward “what is this all about?”

The courier handed the large envelope to Marianne and replied “do you know how hard it was to find you? I was told to deliver this to a ‘Miss Marianne Dashwood’ at Barton Cottage. When I got there, no one was living at the cottage, it was deserted! So I had to go back to the village to find out where you'd gone, but no one wanted to talk to me. It wasn't until I happened upon one of the servants from Barton Park that I knew to come here!”

“What is this?” Marianne asked.

“Don't know. Someone at Combe Magna wanted you to have this.”

The couple startled at the mention of the estate, but quickly recovered and thanked the courier for his persistence. Brandon slipped him a shilling for his trouble as Smith escorted him to the door.

Marianne turned the envelope over in her hands then held it flat as if to weigh it; looking at Brandon she asked softly “what do you think it is? Could it be from…” she could not even bring herself to say the name.

“I suppose there is only one way to find out.” Taking the envelope from Marianne, Brandon ripped it open and drew out the contents. Two letters, both addressed to Marianne, although one had the return address of a prominent law firm in London. “I suppose you should start with this one, Dearest.”

Marianne opened the envelope, and perused the inclosed letter. “It says that this package” she tilted her head towards the second letter, still in Brandon’s hand “was found when the new owners took up residence at Combe Magna. They apologize for the delay in returning it to me.”

The couple looked at each other, then the package with apprehension. “Dearest, if you'd like some privacy while you read it, I can go join the children on the lawn.”

“Nonsense, whatever he wanted to say to me, can be said to you as well.”

It was no secret who the 'he’ was, and why Combe Magna was under new ownership. Mr. Willoughby's scandal and subsequent downfall had been whispered about in parlors, ballrooms and country estates for months.

Marianne broke the seal and opened the envelope and drew out the contents: three sheets of paper and a lock of hair that she knew was hers. “Oh” she exclaimed “I thought he had returned these to me years ago. How strange, why would he send some back and not everything? Why keep a lock of my hair?” She perused the three letters, and blushed, “there is nothing unusual about these, just a reiteration of what I said in the other letters. I don't understand why he kept them.”

“Do you not Dearest?” Brandon mused, kissing her on the temple. “I think he kept these things to remember a time when he was truly happy and in love. I thank God everyday that Willoughby was not a better man. If he was, if he had valued love over money, he would have proposed that morning and you would have been lost to me.”

Marianne smiled up at him, lifted herself up onto her toes and placed a soft kiss on Brandon’s lips “and I also thank God everyday that he was not a better man too; because you are right, I probably would have been foolish enough to accept him.”

Brandon held out his arm for  Marianne, and whispered in her ear, “well, that is all water under the bridge, he was not a better man and you and I are all the better for it. Let us return to the grounds and see what mischief the children have gotten into.”

Marianne happily took Brandon's arm, the contents of the envelope quickly forgotten, silently agreeing with his sentiment. They were very fortunate indeed.

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Miss Elizabeth Bennett looked as though she’d forged a stream when she presented herself to Mr. Bingley and his guests at Netherfield Park. She was in such a rush to get to an ill Jane that she had not realized the weather from the previous day had soaked all the land between Netherfield Park and Longbourne.

Her dress boasted six inches of mud at the bottom, and her pelisse and bonnet had wilted to her frame from the exertion of her hike through three miles of fields.

She only realized what a ridiculous appearance she must make as she stood in front of Misters Bingley and Darcy, and observed the horrified expressions of Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. Lizzie was unconcerned how she looked, especially given the circumstances. The hat and coat were not her favorite; they hung on the peg near the rear door, and she normally would only wear them when walking on the Longbourne grounds. The pelisse was an ill fitting, out of style, hand-me-down from Aunt Gardner and Kitty and Lydia had dressed the bonnet with ribbon from an old gown, and lace found in a sales bin at the dry goods store in Meryton.

Bingley quickly called for a maid to escort Miss Elizabeth to Jane's sick chamber, eliciting a promise from Lizzy to tell him personally if she or Jane required anything.

Lizzy had scarcely exited the room with the maid, when Caroline gasped to Louisa “can you imagine traipsing through the neighborhood dressed like that?”

Bingley defensively replied “it only proves the affection between the sisters that Miss Elizabeth would venture out so early to nurse Jane back to health.”

Not deterred by her brother’s comments, Caroline cattily continued “what say you Mr. Darcy? Would you be comfortable with Georgianna appearing in company as such? I believe you commented on her 'fine eyes’ in the past, are they still so captivating after that display?”

Mr. Darcy, in a set down that would be lamented between Caroline and Louisa for days, responded, “I agree Miss Elizabeth's outward appearance this morning is regrettable…that bonnet looks as though it was decorated by a child. However the sentiment behind her journey here is admirable. I should be lucky to have Georgi love me half as much. And yes, while her cheeks are pink from exercise, they do nothing to detract from the sparkle of her eyes.”

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It was laughable really. If anyone saw the heroic Captain Frederick Wentworth holding a small white glove to his cheek, then smelling it before carefully securing it in his left breast pocket; they would have wondered what was happening to his Majesty's Royal Navy.

Frederick came to have the glove quite by accident. He had drawn it off Miss Anne Elliot's hand to kiss the inside of her wrist when she accepted his proposal. He intended to return it to her the following day; it was in his pocket when he rode over to see her that morning. However when Miss Elliot rescinded her acceptance, trying to explain how she did not want to impede his career, Frederick left Kellynch Hall quite abruptly, the glove forgotten.

It wasn't until he arrived back in Portsmouth later that week that he found the glove still in his uniform pocket. He quickly stowed it in his sea chest where it remained, eventually shuffling to the bottom of the chest, until several months later.

It was in preparation for his first battle back at sea, that Frederick found the glove. Sailors often carried objects on their person during battles. Whether it was for luck or fear that the object would be lost in the melee was based on the sailor’s personal ethos; Frederick was no exception to this naval superstition.

Before his time in Somersetshire, Frederick carried a miniature of Sophia and a small Bible gifted to him by Edward. Digging through his chest for those objects on the eve of a battle, Frederick happened upon the lone glove. 

Surreptitiously looking around to ensure no one was observing him, Frederick brought the glove to his face and inhaled deeply. He was surprised to discover that it still smelled slightly of honeysuckle, as Anne always did. A loud noise from above deck spurred him into action. Frederick shoved the glove in his left breast pocket, quickly collected the other objects, slammed the chest closed and reported to his duty station.

The battle was hard won, and Frederick's actions were called both distinguished and heroic when reported in the papers several weeks later. Frederick himself, was only glad that he had not faltered in front of his Captain, and publicly attributed the success to the crew that surrounded him.

Many battles and exploits later, Frederick was promoted from Commander to Captain and assigned his own ship. The Asp was not a top ship of the line, but Frederick was still thrilled for the opportunity. Moving his chest into his own cabin, he carefully extracted and placed three objects from the chest into his desk drawer: a miniature, a bible, and a lone glove. He wanted to ensure they were always at hand when he needed them.

He did not remember how it happened, but Frederick eventually realized that he still harbored feelings for Anne Elliot. As heartbroken and as angry as he had been by her rejection; in hindsight he began to understand what she had been trying to tell him that horrible morning. Frederick would never know how much of her rejection had spurred him on to make reckless decisions during his career in the hopes that she would somehow hear about his exploits. 

As time went on, Frederick started to consistently carry the glove in the pocket next to his heart. This decision came about mostly due to the instability of the Asp; quite frankly Frederick was never sure that it would not sink in the midst of a battle, or on a regular sea voyage for that matter. He could always obtain another miniature and bible from his siblings if need be, but he could not imagine how he would ever obtain another glove from Miss Anne Elliot.

Frederick still held the glove to his cheek and smelled it before battle, as was his ritual; but the aroma of honeysuckle had long dissipated. Now it smelled of him, and gunpowder. When he moved on to a better ship, the Laconia, the three objects went with him. Even though the Laconia was less likely to sink, he continued to always carry the glove in his pocket. 

Miss Elliot would have no longer recognized it; replacing the pristine white silk glove, was an off-white, with brown and black stains, wrinkled piece of cloth (with fingers) that lived in Captain Wentworth's left breast pocket. When he changed uniforms, the glove was moved to the pocket of the new uniform. Over the years, it somehow became less of a good luck charm and more of a talisman for him.

As luck would have it, Frederick's talisman eventually led him back to Somersetshire, Kellynch Hall, and Miss Anne Elliot. With Napoleon defeated and exiled to Elba, many sailors (Frederick included) were given indefinite shore leave; and Frederick, at loose ends, arrived in the area for an extended visit with Admiral and Sophia Croft. 

As he had done the past eight and one half years, Frederick prepared for battle, this time for the heart of Miss Anne Elliot. Stowing the miniature of Sophie and bible in his pocket, he pulled the sodden glove out of his pocket, raised it to his nose, and inhaled deeply. However, contrary to every other time he had done this for the past several years, Frederick was sure he detected the slight aroma of honeysuckle. Was it true, an illusion, or a higher power directing him? Frederick was not sure, but what he did know was that he would not waste this encounter with Anne.

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Kitty Bennet wandered down the row of vegetables, stopping from time to time to pull ripe beans from their vines and adding them to the growing pile in her basket. This was Cook’s job, but Kitty relished the quiet of the garden as opposed to the chaos going on inside Longbourne right now.

Misters Darcy and Bingley were calling on Lizzy and Jane later this morning and Mrs. Bennet had been up since before dawn getting the house ready for the visit. Kitty was sure that her father would be forced to raise the staff’s wages in order to keep the household help until the wedding. Her sisters had only been engaged for a fortnight but the volume and work inside the house had increased exponentially already. The shouts of ‘Hill’ started before sunrise and continued well into the night. 

Kitty did not begrudge her sister's happiness, far from it, they both deserved a life well beyond Meryton. Jane and Mr Bingley were well matched; both kind, calm, and a most handsome couple. Lizzy: smart, charming, impertinent Lizzy, she would challenge Mr Darcy, and vice versa. Perhaps she would even be able to coax a smile out of him in public; that would be a miracle indeed.

Moving on to the cuttings garden, Kitty snipped some larkspur and sweet peas. She would arrange them in vases around the parlour; they might draw attention away from some of the shabbier aspects of the room. Kitty wondered how life at Longbourne would change after the weddings. With three daughters married, perhaps Mrs. Bennet would finally be content; snorting to herself, Kitty doubted that.

Making her way back into the house, Kitty left the vegetables with the kitchen staff and moved to the stillroom to collect some vases for the flowers. She was surprised to discover Lizzy already in the parlour, reading a book, when she started placing the containers along the mantle.

“Lizzy, what are you doing here? I thought Mama would insist you stay upstairs until Mr Darcy arrived.”

Lizzy chuckled “she tried, but I escaped when she decided that Jane's hair needed to be redone. However, you best change your dress before she sees you.”

Looking down at the front of her apron, Kitty grimaced “you are correct, however no one will be looking at me when Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley arrive.”

Lizzy smiled fondly at her, and placed her hand on Kitty's cheek “I would not be too sure of that Miss Kitty, Colonel Fitzwilliam will be joining us today, and he did ask especially if you would be home.”

“Oh” Kitty responded, “that is very kind of him, but I am sure I am too silly, as father would say, to be of interest to someone like him.”

“Nonsense” Lizzy responded, “Colonel Fitzwilliam would be lucky if you paid him any mind at all. You are smart, charming and beautiful. Perhaps after I am married, you will come visit us at Pemberley, and you will have the chance to find out who you are apart from just being one of the Bennet daughters. Now, why don't you go upstairs and change your gown, and I will cut some flowers from the garden that we can use to dress your hair.”

Kitty hugged Lizzy tightly, then scampered up the stairs to her bedroom. A trip to Pemberley! She never imagined she would be able to spend any time away from Meryton before she married…if then. Lydia would be so jealous…no, she would not think like that any longer. She was Kitty…no she was Catherine Bennett, good sister (to be) of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberly and Charles Bingley of Netherfield Park; and it was time she started to act that way!

Pulling a new gown over her head, Kitty brushed and braided her hair and made her way back down to the parlour. Standing with her back to Lizzy, who wove forget-me-nots into her braid, Kitty shyly asked “do you think if I visit Pemberley, Georgianna might let me play her pianoforte? I do so need to improve my playing, and as you know it is difficult to get Mary to share.”

Lizzy snorted “yes, I do know how difficult it is to practice playing here at Longbourne. WHEN you visit Pemberley, I am sure Georgianna would be thrilled to share with you. She so longs to have sisters, and I am happy to oblige her. She will teach you to be calm, and you will teach her to be lively.”

Kitty grabbed Lizzy's hands and squeezed them excitedly, “Oh Lizzy, that sounds delightful. I long to have a friend of my own, not one I must share with anyone. I will take your trust seriously, I will be a good friend to Georgianna, not one that will embarrass you or Mr Darcy.” She finished with a blush.

Lizzy smiled and wound her arm around Kitty's waist and led her to the front door “I know you will not. Come, let us go outside and wait for Mr Darcy in the garden. We can tell him about our wonderful plan for the future before he must endure an afternoon of flattery and compliments from Mama.”

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Margaret Dashwood stared at herself in the mirror. She wished her mother, or one of her sisters were there to support her; but Marianne's confinement had begun, and her mother, Eleanor and even Brandon were at Delaford waiting for the birth. That left only Edward to escort her to her debut.

Margaret preferred to be at Delaford too, but the family insisted she attend the ball and be introduced into society. Exiting the anteroom, Margaret found her good brother Edward waiting patiently.

“Are you prepared for this?” He quipped. “There is still time to make our escape, we could leave for Egypt tonight, and no one would find us for weeks.”

Margaret snorted inelegantly at Edward's jest, thinking fondly of when she was much younger and he would help her plan expeditions using her father’s atlas as a guide. Margaret realized Edward was trying to calm her nerves, and she appreciated his efforts given that he too disliked society. 

“I will keep that in mind, Edward, if this evening becomes too tedious. But I must make an effort given all the time and money Brandon and Mama invested in preparing me for tonight. I know my upbringing was unconventional, and my manners were, at times, beastly. But I want to make the entire Dashwood/Ferrars/Brandon family proud this evening.”

Edward smiled fondly at her “nonsense Margaret, you have been perfect from the moment I met you, and if these jumped up young bucks don't see that, they will answer to me!”

“What will you do, sermonize them into submission?” she joked.

“Hmm, perhaps your manners do leave something to be desired.” He quipped back quickly.

Margaret laughed merrily, her nerves calmed. Even if this evening did not go as planned, even if this season did not go well, she knew she would always have a loving home with one of her sister’s and their families. If that was her lot in life, she would be content.

A commotion at the door to the ballroom alerted them to the fact that it was time for the young ladies to be introduced. Edward and Margaret joined the line of debutantes and their escorts. The queue surged forward as introductions were announced.

Edward slipped a card with their names to the master of ceremonies, turned and offered his arm to Margaret. “Last chance to run” he joked. Margaret smiled, squeezed his bicep in response, then turned her eyes forward and settled her expression into a calm, slight smile.

“Miss Margaret Dashwood, escorted by her brother, the Reverend Edward Ferrars of Delaford.”