Captain Wentworth's Diary

Monday 1 August

A terrible day. A terrible, terrible day.

I arrived in Portsmouth in the early hours, having travelled night and day from Plymouth, and rowed out to the Grappler. Benwick was delighted to see me. He was all smiles as he congratulated me on my success, telling me it could not have happened to a more deserving fellow, then demanded my congratulations on his promotion and on his wealth. He was so full of good spirits that he did not notice my dejection, and he broke my heart by saying, ‘At last I will see Fanny. I cannot wait! That was the hardest part of being at sea, Wentworth, having to leave her behind. I have kept her waiting for two years whilst I made my fortune and earned my promotion, but now our engagement can come to an end and we will be married as soon as the banns can be read.’

I could have wept. I did not know how to tell him, I could not find the words. But at last my mood communicated itself to him and he looked at me uncertainly. I told him I had bad news and bade him lead me down below. Once in his cabin, I told him, and he crumpled. I have never seen a man brought so low. He sank down, for his legs would no longer support him, and he was like a man stunned. He neither moved nor spoke. And then, at last, it washed over him, in waves of despair, and I thought he would go mad. I never left his side, but sat with him all day and all night, and as I did so, I hoped I never had to live through such a terrible day, ever again.

Thursday 11 August

At last, Benwick is over the worst. He no longer raves, though I find his quietness sad almost beyond bearing. He is like a hollow man.

I cannot help thinking of him as he was at twelve years old, walking hesitantly into the Academy, looking around him nervously, a small lad for his age, but soon impressing us with his intelligence and his courage. I can see his confident step when he graduated from the Academy, and his interest when he first noticed Fanny at Harville’s wedding. I can remember him smiling when he told me that she had accepted his hand; his regret that he could not marry her until he had won his promotion; and his determination to succeed, for her sake.

And now the life has gone out of him, as though his heart died with Fanny.

Friday 12 August

I had a letter from Sophia this morning, but I hardly had time to glance at it before Harville arrived. I put it away as soon as I saw him, for I was glad of his company, and delighted to see that he had brought Harriet with him. Benwick’s spirits lifted a little as he saw them, and talking to them gave his heart some ease. They spoke of Fanny for hours, and then Harville said that Benwick must go and live with them. Benwick protested at first, saying they did not have room, but Harriet added her entreaties to Harville’s, and at last he agreed. It was a relief to me, for I would not like to think of him being by himself at such a time.

Harville and I had a chance for some conversation alone, as Harriet continued to talk to Benwick. He told me he means to look for a bigger house, one that will afford them more room, and spoke of his hopes to find something by the sea. I wished him luck, and he promised to write to me, to give me his direction, as soon as he was settled.

They set out together this afternoon, a sad party, and I watched them go with a heavy heart. They should have been going to arrange Benwick’s wedding, if fate had been kinder. Instead, they were going to share their grief.

It is my only consolation to know that, with such loving people around him, he will be well looked after, though I fear he is wounded too deep for a full recovery. Fanny Harville was a very superior young woman. He is unlikely to meet her equal, and without another such attachment, what will there be to restore him to life?

Monday 15 August

And so, I find myself in London, almost three weeks later than I expected. I met up with Jenson and told him how Benwick had taken the news. We were neither of us in the mood for company or celebration after that, and we had a quiet dinner at Fladong’s before arranging to meet tomorrow.

Tuesday 16 August

I dined with Jenson again this evening, and our talk naturally turned to Benwick.

‘The only mercy is that he might, in a year or two, recover his spirits,’ said Jenson. ‘If he does, he will still be young enough to look about him and find a wife.’

‘It will be hard for Harville if he does,’ I remarked.

‘But harder for Benwick if he does not.’

I agreed, and then we turned our attention, deliberately, to more cheerful things, for we did not want to dwell on something that could not be changed. Even so, our spirits were low for the rest of the evening, and we parted early, arranging, however, to meet again tomorrow.

Wednesday 17 August

When I arrived in London a few days ago, I was not in a mood for the celebrations that were going on in the city, but today I began to take more interest in them. Jenson and I walked out this morning, and the bustle lifted our spirits. Everywhere around us we saw smiling faces. There was a festival air, and an atmosphere of goodwill. After so many years at war, London was celebrating peace in style.

I turned my thoughts away from the past and thought of the future.

I must buy an estate, and find a woman I can respect, and set about making myself a life.

Saturday 20 August

I had a letter from Sophia this morning, and I was able to give it more attention than her last one, which still lay, half read, in my pocket. I was pleased to learn that she and Benjamin had found an estate to rent, and that they were delighted with it. I read all through her description of elegant furnishings, a fine park and splendid vistas ... and then her final line confounded me, for she told me its name, and I learnt that the estate she and Benjamin had fixed on was Kellynch Hall.

The name took me back. It reminded me of the summer of the year six, Sir Walter and Miss Elliot, and Anne ... Anne dancing with me; Anne walking by the river; Anne and I, talking of everything and nothing, lost in each other’s company ... Anne being persuaded to abandon me, and no doubt being married by now, to a baronet or higher, someone with the rank to satisfy her father’s pride and the fortune to satisfy Lady Russell’s avarice.

I am determined not to regret her, for I am sure she does not regret me. I put her behind me long ago, and her fate no longer concerns me. Apart from some natural curiosity, I have no desire to see her again. As the Elliots are to remove to Bath, it is unlikely that I will come across her, and if we do by any chance meet, it will be as strangers.

Her power with me is gone.