Thankfully, Mrs. Wentworth stepped forward and reclaimed Alfred. She wrapped the blanket around him and held him close, murmuring soothing words, mindless of whatever indignity her own gown might suffer in consequence.
Miss Elliot looked down at the damp spot on her dress. The black fabric helped diminish its conspicuousness, but it was obvious nonetheless. “Where is Mrs. Logan? What sort of a nurse is she, who cannot even properly apply a napkin?”
“She is in our rooms at the Three Cups,” Sir Walter said. “Where else would she be—here, sipping lemonade with her betters? The inn is mere steps away; I told her I would send Alfred to her if she were needed.”
Anne’s face was incredulous. “Alfred has not fed nor had a fresh napkin since before church?”
“That was but a few hours ago,” Sir Walter said.
“It is little wonder he is so irritable.” Mary shook her head with an air of superiority. “Honestly,” she said to her eldest sister, “one would think you knew nothing about children.”
“That is because I do not have any. Yet somehow I have been saddled with responsibility for a small creature that does nothing but cry and ruin my clothes. Perhaps, Mary, since you possess so much more experience with children, you should take Alfred home to live with you.”
“At Uppercross Cottage? I am sure our father wants to keep his new heir closer to him than that.”
“As a matter of fact,” Sir Walter said, “that idea holds merit. We are quite cramped in our rooms here, and even when we return to Bath, a town house offers nothing compared to a country home in space for a growing boy.”
Mary suddenly had the look of a chased fox. “The cottage is already too small for our comfort—it is not as if we live in the Great House yet. Our own two boys—”
“Will be perfect companions for Alfred,” Miss Elliot said.
“… consume all my time as it is,” Mary finished. “You have
“I thought you employ a nursery maid.”
“Of course we do.”
“Well, then, with Mrs. Logan’s assistance, the addition of Alfred will hardly be noticeable,” Miss Elliot declared.
Now Mary had the look of a cornered fox. She glanced at her other sister, hopeful of sympathy from that quarter, but Anne spoke only sibilant whispers as she swayed in a gentle rhythm that abated but could not eradicate the hungry infant’s distress. Mary turned an imploring look upon her father. “Anne has stayed with us at Uppercross. She can tell you how—”
Mary stopped. She glanced once more at Anne, longer this time, her gaze shrewdly contemplative.
“She can tell you how much better it would be for Alfred to live with her.”
Anne’s rocking and murmurs ceased as she regarded Mary in astonishment.
“Alfred, live with Anne?” Sir Walter sounded even more surprised than Anne appeared.
Miss Elliot seized upon the suggestion. “Yes, of course—Anne! Who better? She is married now, which makes her far more suitable than I to oversee his care.”
“Yet she has no children of her own to demand her attention,” Mary hastened to add. “She can devote herself fully to Alfred.”
“That is true…” mused Sir Walter.
“She is his
“Indeed, I believe you have something there,” Sir Walter said. “Very well, Anne. I grant you permission to take Alfred home with you. I shall send his things to you, including Mrs. Logan, directly after this celebration concludes.”
At last, Anne found her voice. “Captain Wentworth and I are to raise Alfred? Are you quite certain, sir?”
“Yes, quite. Think you that I do not know my own mind? I shall have him for visits in Bath when he is old enough, to ensure he is prepared to take his proper place in society. But until then— Oh! Lady Dalrymple is departing. I must go see her off.”
“And I must return to the inn to change my gown,” Miss Elliot said.
Elizabeth noticed that she did not offer to take Alfred with her, so that his clothes could be changed, too. Sir Walter and Miss Elliot hurried away, the latter smiling smugly (as smugly as possible for a lady so unceremoniously perfumed) at this turn of events. Mary, realizing how narrowly she had escaped the addition of a third noisy boy to her household, found reason to scuttle off, as well.
Elizabeth was stunned. There was no doubt in her mind that the outcome of the discussion she had just witnessed was the best possible result for Alfred; of all the Elliot family, Captain and Mrs. Wentworth appeared the most capable, most conscientious, and most caring guardians Alfred could have. Yet Anne had acquiesced to a life-altering commitment without so much as a single word of dissent. At a minimum, one would expect her to consult her husband before agreeing to raise someone else’s child in their home. Whatever would Captain Wentworth say when she told him?
“Well, that went better than you ever could have anticipated,” Mrs. Smith said to Anne. “Your entire family thinks it was their idea.”
“I dared not speak much for fear they would change their minds.” Anne’s rocking of Alfred grew more pronounced. The baby was doing a remarkable job of containing himself, given the overstimulation, lack of nourishment, and wet clothes, but it could not be long before his fussing escalated to full-scale wailing.
“Oh, I believe there is little danger of that. They are all congratulating themselves at having dodged unwanted responsibility by foisting it onto you. Captain Wentworth will be impressed.”
“I must find him and tell him I am taking Alfred to Mrs. Logan to be fed.”
“Allow me to find him for you,” Elizabeth offered. “You have your hands full.”
Anne smiled. “I do indeed. And, I suppose, shall for some time.” She paused. “May I ask you something, Mrs. Darcy?”
“Certainly.”
“I understand you accompanied Mr. Shepherd to interview Mrs. Logan. What was your impression of her? I have heard only complaints from my father and sister.”
Elizabeth chose her words carefully, not wanting to insult Mrs. Wentworth’s family, but wishing to be fair to the wet nurse. “I believe she has a good heart and wants very much to do well by Alfred. At the same time, she is young and inexperienced. I suspect, therefore, that she lacks the confidence to question orders given by equally inexperienced persons of higher social rank, whereas a veteran nurse might manage matters with more authority.”
“I thought as much. My own experience with infants is limited to assisting Mary during her lyings-in.”
“You also appear to have sound instincts and a good deal of common sense, which is all I had when my daughter was born. Between you and Mrs. Logan, I believe you will get along fine.”
“With Mrs. Smith as our houseguest, we also have her nurse in residence.”
“Then Alfred is in excellent hands, not that I ever doubted. He is extremely fortunate to have you and Captain Wentworth as his godparents. So many occupy the role in name only.”
“I have been blessed with a good example,” Anne said. “Lady Russell has been an attentive godmother to me, taking her duty seriously and fulfilling it to the best of her capabilities. I lost my own mother at age fourteen, and I do not know what I would have done without her constancy and friendship.” Elizabeth followed Mrs. Wentworth’s gaze to the lady herself, who was disengaging from a conversation and looked to be headed their way.
“When my father asked her to stand for Alfred, she recognized that my new brother would be even more in need of steady direction as he grew up and prepared to assume the responsibilities of a baronet,” Mrs. Wentworth said. “However, she also recognized that she is considerably older now than when she stood for me and my sisters. So she wrote to me and Captain Wentworth, and asked permission to suggest to my father that we be named godparents, as well, in hopes that by virtue of the office we might exert more influence over decisions regarding Alfred than we otherwise would as mere sister and brother-in-law. We readily agreed, and afterward discussed between us offering to raise Alfred ourselves, so that our guidance might be constant and not occasional, and that we would have more power to execute decisions. Captain Wentworth and I had reached an understanding, but had
