Part II. September

Hello everyone! This is a continuation of the Persuasion-inspired short story I started last month. This time, we (and Elizabeth Elliot) get to meet the mystery man. 😀 Find Part I here

“Who exactly are the Peters?” Sir Walter Elliot demanded. “I do not recall ever meeting them.”

Elizabeth wished she could have attended the card party without her father, but he would not hear of them going to separate events. She looked out of the carriage’s window to avoid showing him that she was displeasured with his complaints. “But you have, Papa.”

“We ought to have gone with the Andersons.”

Through gritted teeth, Elizabeth said, “That would not have done.” Because the Anderson are your age, not mine, and their guests are all married. It would be a waste of a night. The Peterses’ party will be busier and have more young, single people. In the week since the concert and her unfortunate encounter with Sir Richard Strachan—odious man—Elizabeth had not met any gentlemen she would consider marrying.

“These Peterses cannot be anyone if I do not know them. What would Lady Dalrymple say, do you think? Would she approve of them? Do we go to give them consequence?”

What do I care? Lady Dalrymple’s opinion will not find me a husband!

For the remainder of the ride, Sir Walter continued along the same theme; Elizabeth ceased listening. Once they reached their destination—a pretty house in a respectable location—Mrs Peters greeted them and, to Elizabeth’s relief, took Sir Walter away with her after Elizabeth claimed to see a friend she wished to join. In actuality, she needed to see which single gentlemen were in attendance and decide where she would devote her attention. She bestowed smiles on various people as she walked around the room. The décor was rather pleasant, she thought, although not as elegant as she would have arranged. There was altogether too much blue and too much greenery, and the silver candleholders on the card tables were awful.

It does not matter! she reminded herself. I am not looking to purchase candleholders or plants; I am searching for a husband!

Elizabeth’s steps faltered when she saw the strange man from the concert. Their eyes met for an instant before she jerked her head to the side. The encounter left her feeling disoriented, which, she told herself, was the most ridiculous response to what amounted to nothing. I do not even know his name. I have no interest in knowing it. He is not handsome and cannot be anyone of significance. What is he doing here? The Peterses may not be highest people in Bath, but they are not without consequence.

An acquaintance pulled her from her reflections, and they exchanged the usual pleasantries before Elizabeth continued her examination of the guests. Very soon, her eyes lit on a blonde gentleman.

Mr Needham! I have been wondering when I would see him. He will do nicely. They had met in town two years earlier, although Elizabeth had shown him little consideration at the time. He was now seven and thirty, and had been widowed for over a year. His wife had left behind a child. A son, I believe. It does not signify. If anything, I am glad he has an heir already. It will make him less eager to have other children. She did not much like children, although her only real experience of them was Mary’s boys, and she saw them as little as possible. Young Needham would spend most of his time at school. Elizabeth would not have to play mother to the child for more than three or four weeks a year.

It took a little maneuvering, but Elizabeth found a seat next to Mr Needham when the time came to sit down to cards.

“Mr Needham, I did not know you were in Bath. How good it is to see you again.” She did know; someone or other had mentioned it to her the previous week, but it would be vulgar to show her interest in his affairs.

He returned the greeting, and they exchanged the usual pleasantries. When he turned to their other companions, she was annoyed, but knew it would not last; he was simply being polite. She let him talk to the four people at the table with them for two or three minutes before asking about his tastes in music; he had little knowledge of it and seldom attended concerts. She asked about books; he only read the newspapers. She asked how he liked Bath; he would only say, “Well enough.” It was frustrating, and she felt like grabbing by the lapel of his black coat, shaking him, and saying, ‘You stupid man, I am trying to make you see that you should marry me!’

They played loo, and Elizabeth soon realised that Mr Needham was not an adept. Knowing he would like her less if he realised she was better at the game than he was, she played poorly.

“Tell me, Mr Needham, what is Suffolk like? I have heard it talked about in such glowing terms that I long to see it. Is your estate near any towns I would have heard about? What does one do in Suffolk to amuse themselves?” she asked as she bungled a move.

Just at that moment, the strange man approached her. She followed him with her eyes, turning her neck only as much as necessary to see what he was doing, and saw him glance at the cards in her hand. He raised his eyes to hers and gave her a puzzled look.

“Nothing one does not do elsewhere,” Mr Needham said. “I say, Thompson, about that new horse of yours…”

Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face despite the heat in the room. The strange man’s gaze flickered to Mr Needham then back to her. His eyebrows arched in question, and she was sure he knew it all—her attempts to attract Mr Needham’s attention and her purposely poor card playing. Fortunately, he moved on, and she could forget him.

When they rose to have supper, Elizabeth attempted to attach herself to Mr Needham. He might have been less-than-receptive to her overtures thus far, but eating supper together was different than sitting at a card table. But, like Sir Richard at the concert, Mr Needham abandoned her. He said he saw a friend he had to have an urgent word with and hastened away, leaving her standing there alone.

A voice in her left ear said, “Needham is in a hurry. There is nothing amiss, I trust?”

Elizabeth turned to see the strange man. His deep blue eyes were full of laughter.

He said, “He did not seem to enjoy your game very much.”

Elizabeth arched her eyebrows as high as she could get them to go and pursed her lips. She opened her silk fan, which displayed the lovely image of colourful bouquets of flowers, and used it to conceal her face as she stepped away from him. They had not been introduced; it was the perfect excuse to ignore his rude comment.

The rest of the evening was no more satisfying. Mr Needham, the odious man, avoided her, and the only other likely gentleman in the room was too busy flirting with a girl who was barely out of the schoolroom. Elizabeth thought she was quite ugly, had no elegance, and sounded like a crow when she laugh.

In the carriage on the way home, Sir Walter said, “That was quite a good way to spend the evening, although I still do not remember meeting Peters. He has an odd way of knotting his cravat. His wife was a pleasant young thing; very attentive to my comfort. I recommended a few creams to her. She already shows signs of wrinkles around her eyes, and I do not believe she is more than five and twenty. She was very appreciative, as she should be. Did you enjoyed yourself?”

Elizabeth thought, Not at all but said, “Well enough.” She was exhausted and closed her eyes as she rested her head against the back of the seat. She remained silent as her father commented on the looks and manner of every person he had met that night.

***

Over the next ten days, Elizabeth saw the stranger twice, although they did not speak. The first time, he was shopping on Milsom Street accompanied by a young lady. She looked to be two or three and twenty, and was pretty, Elizabeth supposed, if one liked the fair, blonde sort of girl. For her part, she had always preferred darker hair, like her own. He saw her, and just as he nodded and touched his hat, she looked away. The second time had been in the Upper Rooms, which were particularly crowded at the time. Despite there being so many other people around both times, Elizabeth found her eye drawn to him, almost as if he were calling to her. He stood out somehow, although she could not imagine why. There was nothing noteworthy about him. If I were being generous, I suppose I would say there is something about his air. Intelligence? I would have to converse with him to know, and I shall not put myself to the trouble. Observant, certainly, and I wish he would stop observing me since he seems to take pleasure in mocking people. A moment later, she thought that it might show that he was good humoured.

Eleven days after the Peterses’ card party, Elizabeth was in the Pump Room. He was there, too, talking to several people. Elizabeth was sitting with Mrs Thornton, who was a miserable old gossip. She was also remarkably well-informed, and that morning, Elizabeth was glad of it.

“Who are you looking at, my dear Miss Elliot?” Mrs Thornton answered the question a second later. “Oh, Mr Payne.”

Elizabeth’s heart began to beat harder. “Mr Payne?”

“The gentleman in the blue coat over that way. With the Reynoldses.” Mrs Thornton nodded in the proper direction. “That is who you were looking at, is it not?”

Elizabeth clasped her hands together. “I did not know his name. I believe I have seen him here or there.” She willed the old woman to tell her everything she knew about him.

“Oh? Well, his name is Frank Payne. He is a second son, but had the good fortune to inherit the family estate in Herefordshire ten months ago when his older brother died.”

Good fortune? I suppose it depends on whether he liked his brother. Elizabeth wondered what she would feel if one of her sisters died. She ought to feel sad, but would she? Perhaps when I am properly, advantageously settled, I would. I would be Abel to devote my attention to mourning them rather than securing my future.

Mrs Thornton went on. “It is not a large estate, but quite respectable—about two thousand a year. He is in Bath with his sister-in-law, who was quite done in when her husband died. It was an infection or accident; I cannot remember the details, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. She is young and will marry again. There are no children to bother a future husband, which is always best in these circumstances. Some say she already has her eyes on a particular gentleman, which is a good thing and very reasonable of her. After all, why should Mr Payne be burdened with caring for his brother’s widow? He is just at an age when a man wants to get married himself. Now, shall I introduce you, my dear?”

The offered startled Elizabeth. “Me? Good heavens, no!” The idea did have a certain allure, but she knew she would hate him, and he would be a distraction from her quest to find a husband. As it was, she had wasted these last minutes of conversation with Mrs Thornton. Elizabeth’s purpose in sitting with the older woman was to seek information on marriageable gentlemen.

A moment later, the man himself walked across the room, bowed to Mrs Thornton, and asked if she would introduce him to her companion. When Elizabeth saw him approaching, she ran her hands, which had become moist, down the skirts of her coral gown, schooled her features, and reminded herself that she was Miss Elliot of Kellynch, eldest daughter of Sir Walter.

“Miss Elliot, it is my pleasure to meet you at last.”

“At last?” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. She trusted he would not mistake them for flirting.

“What a kind things to say, Mr Payne.” Mrs Thornton used her walking stick to pull herself to her feet. “Now that you are here, I have no qualms about leaving Miss Elliot. You will excuse me, my dear.”

Neither Elizabeth nor Mr Payne spoke as the lady hobbled away. It was only once she was out of sight, swallowed by the growing number of people in the room, that Mr Payne turned to Elizabeth.

“Did Mrs Thornton tell you all about me?” He chuckled. “She is a kind woman, but what a gossip!”

Elizabeth huffed but did not speak.

He chuckled again. “How do you find Bath, Miss Elliot? Is the society to your taste?”

She gave him a sharp look meant to tell him that his society did not suit her.

“Oh, such looks mean nothing to me. I am sure you have had great success using them against others, but as I said, they will not work on me. I assume that good lady told you I was in bath with my sister-in-law. It was her wish to come, and I obliged her. She has no one I could have sent with her in my place, and I could not have let her come alone.”

That was kind of him, Elizabeth supposed.

“I have no objection to Bath,” he went on. “I rather like it, although at this time of year, I prefer to be in the country. These last months have been difficult for Jenny, so…” He shrugged.

“I am sure she appreciates your solicitude.” The words sounded harsher than Elizabeth had meant them. What did it matter to her if he were fond of his brother’s widow?

He lifted his hands as if to say that he did not know if he would agree. “She needs someone to take care of her. Her mother is in ill health, and her only sibling is married to a lady whose company I would not wish on my worst enemy. But enough about her. Do you miss being in the country? Somerset, is it not?”

At times, she did miss Kellynch and being the mistress of an estate. Her thoughts went to her favourite places in the house, the quietness which was a welcomed antidote to the busyness of time spent in town, and her gardens and the natural beauty of the countryside. Her shoulders fell, and she felt her irritation with Mr Payne fade away. “Yes. Somerset. Kellynch is in Somersetshire.”

“You do not return soon?”

Elizabeth shook her head. There were times she expected to never see Kellynch again, unless she happened to be staying with Mary or Lady Russell and went to call on the Crofts or whoever took it should they leave. And it is unlikely I would ever go to stay with either of them. When she had believed Mr Elliot was courting her, she had dreamt of demanding the Crofts give up the estate and making a triumphant return to the neighbourhood. If she found a rich wife for her father, he might be persuaded to return to Kellynch, but she suspected he would prefer to remain in Bath or go to town.

“I am sorry to hear that, Miss Elliot.”

Her head snapped up. “I do not see why it matters to you.”

He lowered his chin. “I beg your pardon. My question seemed to distress you, and that was not my intention. Do you go to the Wilsons next week?”

Elizabeth answered in the affirmative as she stood and gathered her things. With a perfunctory goodbye, she left him.

I hope you enjoyed the continuation of my little story. One more part to go! Elizabeth and Payne interact much more in it.