Captain Wentworth's Christmas Wish

By Meg Osborne

If wishes had potency at any time of the year, he might believe it to be now, when all the world seemed poised on the very edge of celebration…

 

Anne Elliot is glad to remain at Uppercross for Christmas, delaying the inevitable removal to Bath and embracing the festivities with her friends, even if that circle includes the man she has never stopped loving, even though they are little more than strangers now.

 

Captain Wentworth is spending Christmas in Somerset with his sister and her husband, and whilst he is enjoying being amongst friends and family for the festive season he can't help but think how different his life might have been if only he had repaired things with Anne Elliot when he had the chance. Late on Christmas Eve he makes a wish and is granted the opportunity to see what his life might have been life if he had done just that…

 

Captain Wentworth's Christmas Wish is a regency Persuasion variation novella – just in time for Christmas!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meg Osborne
• Release date: Nov 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386602798

Meg Osborne

Meg Osborne is an avid reader, tea drinker and unrepentant history nerd.  She writes sweet historical romance stories and Jane Austen fanfiction, and can usually be found knitting, dreaming up new stories, or adding more books to her tbr list than she'll get through in a lifetime.

Book preview

Chapter One

Somerset, 1814

Kellynch Hall seemed a quieter place that Christmas than it otherwise had a right to be. It was a nonsensical observation, Captain Frederick Wentworth realised, and one he taunted himself with. Both Louisa and Henrietta Musgrove resided at Uppercross, not Kellynch, and so he ought not to have noticed their absence at all. Yet notice it he did. For they had become, whether he welcomed it or not, permanent fixtures in the lives of all who lived at Kellynch. The fact that all included but three people: himself, his sister Sophia, and her husband, Admiral Croft meant that the absence of regular visits from two high-spirited young ladies was noticeable indeed, and he fell into a kind of melancholy without them.

Will you join us, Frederick?

It was Sophy’s voice that was sharp enough to break through his reverie that morning, although it took her repeating her question twice, and at last nudging his boot forcefully with her feminine foot before he would look at her and realise she had been addressing him.

I’m sorry, Sophy, he said, with the ghost of a smile. What did you say?

I merely asked if you would care to accompany the admiral and me on our outing this morning.

Is there room? He smiled at the humorous image conjured up of all three of them cramming into the small barouche favoured by Admiral Croft and his wife on their short jaunts around the local area. His brother-in-law was not an entirely trustworthy driver, favouring speed over safety. Sophia was even worse so it was a miracle neither one of them had sustained lasting injury from their adventures. Frederick had, as yet, avoided being inveigled into joining them and this time his size was as good an excuse as any. Such a small buggy will never seat three.

It seated three quite comfortably when we came upon your party the other week! Admiral Croft remarked, pausing to attack his egg with all force. Anne, Sophy. We must check on her, too. Add her to the list.

The list? If Frederick had only a passing interest in his sister and her husband’s plans for the day his attention was fully grasped by the deployment of one short, four-letter name. Anne. He had kept her from his thoughts by force of will, combined with his natural anxieties for Louisa. It was a particular form of punishment for him, for every time his thoughts strayed to either he was reminded of his foolishness. Had he not been so angry with Anne, he would not have encouraged Louisa’s attentions, for, innocent though her childish attempts at flirtation might have been, they had culminated in disaster when she plummeted from the Cobb at Lyme just a short time ago, and whilst she had somewhat recovered, her present condition was of a most delicate nature. It was this that had caused the absence of the two young Musgroves at Kellynch, and he could do nought but reproach himself for his foolish part in it. He blinked, forcing the familiar litany of his charges from his mind, and fixed his eyes on his sister. What list?

My husband speaks metaphorically, she said, with a tight smile. Only to remind me that, when we call at Uppercross this afternoon, we must ask specifically after Anne’s health. He - we, both of us - are somewhat concerned that this disaster of Louisa’s has had an undue effect on poor Anne. You know, it was she who was to stay and nurse her, and I fear she regrets not being able to be there in order to offer her help and support at such a time as this. Sophia’s features clouded. You have been to Uppercross at least as often as we, Frederick. What do you think of Anne? Does she rally? Are our concerns unwarranted?

Since when is concern for a friend ever unwarranted? Admiral Croft asked, admitting defeat and sliding his plate away from him. He shook his head. No, no, Sophy. It is right that we should think of Anne, for she is a sensitive soul and although her grief was not as marked as that of poor Henrietta or Mrs Musgrove, I dare say she feels things all the deeper, for nursing them close to her heart.

That this discerning speech should come from the weathered lips of Admiral Croft was surprising indeed, and Frederick fixed his brother-in-law with an admiring look.

Of course, what do I know of the sensitive natures of young ladies? The admiral coughed, reaching for his newspaper and appearing to lose himself in matters of war and business and anything that might circumvent his demonstration of such sympathy which might, in a lesser man, be construed as weakness.

Mrs Croft smiled, patiently, at her husband, before turning her gaze back to her brother.

You have not answered me, Frederick. Do you think Anne changed by the visit to Lyme?

Changed? Yes, how Anne had changed... Here, too was a subject he had done his best to avoid dwelling on. It had been impossible to deny how the years had changed Anne Elliot. Gone was the bright, cheerful face he recalled from his youth, leaving a quieter, delicate one in its place. She did not laugh the way she used to, but her words were still the same: rational, well-thought-out, generous, kind. She was still herself, still beautiful. More so than he cared to acknowledge, and certainly he had denied the charge when drawn to speak on it. The harshness with which he had said the words altered quite completely, I almost do not recognise her still haunted him, but it had been imperative at that moment that his true opinion not be discovered. That she was altered, yes, but, still, he would recognise her anywhere. And in Lyme...in Lyme, perhaps, more than in Somerset, he had realised how much her looks were improved over their years apart. She walked with grace now, a delicacy and quietness that caught one’s attention and held it. Certainly, he had not been the only gentleman to notice it, for at least one fellow’s eyes had landed on Anne and been taken by her, and it was this noticing by some stranger which had brought Frederick’s feelings home full-force. He wished to be the only man permitted to look at Anne that way, to move aside to allow her to pass, to win, for his sacrifice, that same smile she had bestowed on the stranger...and oh! How he tormented himself for his feelings, for the moment he realised the true depth of his love for Anne was the self-same moment he realised how fixed on him was Louisa’s heart. Not Anne’s, but her friend, the foolish young girl who had been engaged in a less-than-subtle campaign for his affections. And whom, if Captain Harville was to be believed, he had encouraged. Everyone thought them engaged, or as good as. He could no more break with Louisa than he could confess his true affection for Anne, and then, calamity upon calamity, Louisa’s accident!

I take, from your silence, that you think we are overreacting, Sophia said, sharply.

Frederick glanced up at her and saw irritation and concern resting momentarily on his sister’s face. Perhaps I ought to confer my worry on you, brother, for you do not seem at all yourself this morning, either. She reached a hand out to him, laying it on his forehead in the same motherly way she must have done countless times before when he was young, and Edward still at home, and she, Sophia, de-facto Mama to them both. Are you quite well?

Quite well, Frederick said, leaning back out of her reach. He cleared his throat and stood. But perhaps I will see my way to joining you at Uppercross. He grimaced. I’ll allow you to drive unaccompanied if you think yourselves equal to it, but I am well able to walk the distance. What time do you intend upon calling, so I may plan my course?

It would likely mean seeing Anne again, and yet it may not. How often had he called at Uppercross of late and found no trace of the one woman he cared most of all to see?

Good. Sophia seemed satisfied by his decision. And you must pay at least a passing attention to Anne, Frederick, so that we may know your opinion of her, and can work, all of us, to ensure she is well.

ANNE ELLIOT HAD BECOME nurse, teacher and substitute mother for her nephews since her