Posted on Thursday, 15 May 2008

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, had, as a son, been a great disappointment to his parents. He had eschewed the Elliot way and chosen to follow his own, which, it being the late Sixties of the last century, had led him to grow out his hair and imbibe in certain mind-expanding substances.

While the years moved on and the world changed, Sir Walter did not. When he inherited Kellynch upon the deaths of his parents, he turned it into a free-spirit nudist community. Among those who, like him, remained loyal to the ideals of their youth, Kellynch soon became a place of pilgrimage, a safe haven in a world that ridiculed them or looked upon them in disgust. Men and women flocked to Kellynch to revel in their right to go as unclothed as they wanted.

Sir Walter fathered several children. His eldest daughter, Eternity Elliot, came into being one day, springing fully developed from his drug-abused mind, not unlike a Hippie-Athena. Nobody ever managed to convince Sir Walter that Eternity was merely a figment of his imagination. In time, people gave up trying and learned to live with the fact that the man occasionally had conversations with someone who had never been.

His second eldest or, in fact, eldest daughter had been born to a rather level-headed woman who had insisted on giving the child a normal name. As much as Sir Walter railed against it, the woman had her mind set on a ‘real’ name and could not be swayed. Thus it came that Anne Elliot was the only child born in the community that was never embarrassed when she was asked to identify herself in the outside world. Her father, dissatisfied with the choice of such a common name, gave her one that suited his preferences better and insisted on calling her Moonshine until he and everyone else in the community had quite forgot that she was actually named Anne.

Sir Walter’s next child was born a few years after Anne. Her mother had not been so clear-minded as to insist on a normal name. Thus, on the birth certificate, the youngest Elliot’s name read as Stardancer. A name that the girl hated with as much passion as she hated the free-spirit lifestyle her father advocated. The moment she turned twenty-one, she left the community. She moved in with her boyfriend, donned clothes and changed her name to Mary.

The fact that Mary actually had a steady boyfriend was a matter of continued discord between her and her father. It was against his principles of free love to be shackled to only one person and he never failed to tell Mary so, while the young woman never failed to counter with harrowing tales of venereal diseases.

Eternity usually took her father’s side in these disputes although her sisters had to rely on their father’s say-so for that.

Anne preferred to keep her opinion to herself unless she was specifically appealed to, which Mary did, sooner or later, in any of the debates. Her father never asked for her opinion, as he knew it well enough.

Anne saw nothing wrong with having a boyfriend and being faithful to him. Worse! She had even wanted to get married herself at one time. When her wish had become known in the community, a huge uproar had gone through Kellynch. That such a bourgeois step should be taken by one raised here! One of their children who had been taught to value the freedom of body and mind! It was horrible. Karma, also known as Lady Samantha Russell, a member of the community since its founding day, had dissuaded Anne from following through on this scheme. Though the young man in question had left and not come back, her father had never quite forgiven Anne her one misstep.

Sir Walter’s aversion to marriage had led Anne to counsel her sister on hiding the fact that she had actually tied the knot with her boyfriend a few years ago. “Should he find out one day ... well, we will deal with it then. But do not ever tell him that you took Charles’ name.”

“What do you take me for?” had answered her sister. “I will never tell him. I am not fond of being subjected to lengthy lectures on feminism and how taking his name has made me his slave and you know that he will then go off on a tangent about doors.”

Every year, when the weather grew too cold and unfriendly, the community as a whole chartered a plane and flew to India. There, on the sunny island of Goa, they passed the winter in another hippie community. Anne usually stayed behind to see to the closing of the house and the grounds. When all last minute details had been taken care of, she would visit her sister for a few weeks and later follow her father to Goa.

It was on a cold, grey day in October when Anne closed the gates to Kellynch. After securing her scarf in place, she gathered her coat closer around her against the biting wind. She had two shopping bags in her arms, filled with goodies for Mary and her nephews. Her suitcase was already in the car. Hefting the two bags on her hip, she angled with her free arm for the car keys in her coat pocket. When the bags started to slip, she quickly extracted her arm from the pocket to steady the heavy load again. In the process of this she dislodged the keys and they clattered on the street. She glared at them in consternation.

“Allow me.” A man hurried over and retrieved the keys. When he saw that she had her hands full, he quickly opened the car door for her and gave them back.

“Thanks,” she croaked with a voice that sounded hardly like her own.

“You are welcome,” he answered and, with a friendly parting smile, continued on his way.

Surprised, she watched him walk down the street. Was it possible that he had not recognised her when she had known him immediately? Was it probable that Frederick Wentworth had not recognised his erstwhile fiancée? Granted, the years had not been kind to her. Not exactly. Yet, she did not think herself so much changed that she was unrecognisable.

With a puzzled frown, she started the motor of her car. Turning onto the road to Uppercross, she shook her head. She should not think of him. Maybe it had not been him anyway. It could have been someone who only looked like him. The short encounter shook her to the core. It was unsettling that she still reacted to him so badly. After all, it had been eight years ... Sighing as she rolled into the drive to Mary’s house, she decided not to think of him again.

It was a commendable decision and one she would have carried through easily, given a few weeks’ time. Yet, fate was not on her side.

Mary, though she did not follow in her father’s footsteps, could never fully rid herself of her hippie upbringing. A while ago, she had stopped fighting it and had opened an esoteric knickknack-shop. She sold everything from incense and tarot cards to big Buddha statues. She wanted to expand her assortment, she explained to Anne, and had decided on lava lamps. Wentworth’s Lava was a big name out there and she hoped to get a contract with him.

“I think that it is a good sign that the boss has come himself,” she told Anne. Her sister was not so sure of that but did not say anything. Mary continued, “It would be great to have Wentworth’s Lava as a partner. All the other manufacturers would be far easier to deal with.”

Anne smiled and thought that, maybe, she should move forward the date of her departure to Goa.

“I really, really want him as a business partner,” said Mary. “That is why I have invited him over for a family dinner tonight.” Seeing Anne’s mien darken, Mary added quickly, “I know you prefer to spend the first evening here with me and Charles and the boys and I would have chosen any other day but Wentworth said that he only had tonight for any such engagements. I have invited Charles’ sisters over, too. They will entertain the man, I am sure. Nobody will notice you if you do not want to.”

Anne sighed and smiled slightly, “I will be fine, Mary. I know that this business contact is important to you. And we have three more weeks for our family evening.”

Mary had been right. Frederick Wentworth’s eyes had widened slightly when Mary had said, “This is Anne Elliot, my sister,” but he ignored her for most of the evening. And why should he not? The Musgrove girls were young, lively and very pretty compared to Anne and they were hanging on his every word. What man would occupy himself with a mousy, silent woman when he could entertain and be entertained by two stunning ladies? At least, Anne told herself this while she took the tiramisu out of the fridge and put it on a tray. Mary was still fretting over the coffee machine, a temperamental thing that needed many words of encouragement to work properly, when Anne left the kitchen to bring dessert on the table.

She had her hand on the dining room door already when the words from inside stopped her short.

“Yes, I met Anne a couple of years ago,” said Wentworth.

“We did not know that!” exclaimed Louisa, the elder of the Musgrove girls. “And has she changed since you knew her?”

“Very much so,” answered Wentworth gravely. “I hardly would have known her, had her sister not introduced us.”

“Oh, Mr Wentworth,” giggled Henrietta, the younger sister. “You are too cruel on her.”

Wentworth immediately defended himself: “She is dressed! How am I to recognise someone dressed when I only know her naked?”

A short, embarrassed silence ensued in the room.

“Uhm ... that came out wrong,” mumbled Wentworth. “Let me explain.”

Her cheeks flaming, Anne retreated to the kitchen. Mary had, in the meantime, managed to talk the coffee machine into life and guarded it with an air of satisfaction, which changed when she saw Anne. “What is the matter?”

“Wentworth is telling the girls about father’s community,” said Anne apologetically.

“Oh no,” exclaimed Mary, horrified, and went on to explain what Anne already knew. (It was a habit of Mary’s that she reiterated unnecessary information whenever she was anxious or excited.) “I never told them that it is a nudist community. They only know that hippies have raised me. Charles’ parents are a bit old-fashioned. We both thought it better not to tell them the whole truth.”

“Well, I say, that is out of your hands now. You know Louisa and Henrietta better than I do. But even I know that they will tell their parents the moment they arrive at their home tonight.”

Mary buried her face in her hands and moaned.

Anne patted her shoulder. “Come, Mary,” she consoled. “Cheer up. You are already married to Charles. They cannot un-marry you or anything.”

“Yes, I know, but it will be so awkward for a while,” groaned Mary. Then she straightened, took a deep breath and said, “Dessert and coffee still need to be served.”

The rest of the evening passed without any other accidental revelations, which suited everyone except Louisa and Henrietta.

Wentworth had told Mary that he only had this one evening at his disposal, but he seemed to have gained a lot of free time suddenly, which he spent with the Musgrove girls. He seemed charmed with them.

The girls, knowing that Mary hoped for a business contract, came over to their brother and sister-in-law’s house every day. Everyone had some quality time with the much sought-after man and was the happier for it.

Only Anne thought that the time of her departure for Goa could not come soon enough. Wentworth treated her with cold civility as if they were but slightly acquainted and the Musgrove girls regarded her as if she was some kind of animal in a zoo because she lived in a nudist community. Louisa, especially, seemed to think that Anne would shed her clothes at any given moment and seldom left her out of sight.

Thus, she took to hiding in Mary’s shop. Working the till or sorting the merchandise into the shelves, she told herself how lucky she was to have a brief escape. In the end, she was glad when the day of her flight drew close.

“I wish you would not go so soon. I shall miss you,” said Mary the evening before her departure.

“And I will miss you,” answered Anne quietly. “But I will be back in four months.”

“You will be too busy opening Kellynch and preparing it for the arrivals to pay me much heed.” Mary sighed the sigh of a long sufferer. “You always are.”

“You know that there is much to do. And I will spend a week or two with you before father comes back.”

“But it is so long until then,” whined Mary. “There is much to do here, too. My shop is taking up so much of my time. It is very selfish of you to go when I need you.”

At this point, Wentworth extracted himself from his conversation with Henrietta and Louisa and said, “How can you call it selfish when she spent the whole last week helping you out in the shop? No, no, Mary, I am sure there is no one as unselfish as Anne.”

Mary flustered at this. She wanted to disagree, wanted to say that she was more unselfish than Anne, but she could not and would not antagonise the man whom she hoped to win as a business partner. Louisa, calling upon her help in the discussion with Henrietta, saved her from the quandary and she quickly hurried to her sister-in-law’s side.

Wentworth seated himself by Anne. Smiling, he said, “You still do all the work around the community then.”

Anne was a bit flustered and only nodded.

“I remember that you were always called upon to sort this or that out.”

“I like to help,” she said earnestly.

“I know.” Wentworth’s smile gained a notch in warmth. “Say, is Eternity still there?”

Anne grinned, “What do you think?”

Frederick laughed. “I thought as much.”

Charles, who seated himself between the two and began an animated discussion with Wentworth about the world market prices, cut their conversation short. Anne did not know if she was glad he did so or not.

She was still undecided when she boarded the plane the next morning. She tried to come to a decision during the whole flight. When the plane landed, she decided to dismiss the man from her mind. He would be gone by the time she came back and she would never see him again.

She could not have been more in the wrong.

Barely a week had gone by when she saw him again. The whole Musgrove clan had decided to follow the Elliot example and retire to Goa for a while. They were curious to see for themselves what Mary had told them. (She had had to endure a veritable inquisition from her in-laws.) Frederick, seeing his chance, had latched unto them and accompanied them. He wanted to visit his sister, he said, who lived with her husband on the island.

Anne did not know that he was to come, too. She stood at the airport, expecting only the Musgrove family, when she suddenly saw him. He had his bag slung over his shoulder and was speaking to someone behind him. The shock made her draw back a bit. Then she took an involuntary step forward. Should she go to him? But she was waiting for the Musgroves. She should not … but she rather would …

Her decision was foregone when she saw that Frederick was actually speaking with Louisa and her mother. She hurried forwards and eagerly greeted them.

“But you are wearing a sari,” cried Louisa, disappointed. “Why are you not naked?”

Frederick quickly steadied himself with his hand against the wall upon hearing her words. Anne noted it with interest.

“When I am away from the beach or the enclave, I always wear clothes,” she explained to Louisa.

“Can we visit you in the enclave?” asked Henrietta eagerly.

“So you can gawk at them like the silly little girls that you are?” boomed their father. “Forget it, girls.”

Anne laughed. “If you visit me in the enclave, you would have to go naked as well. We ask that of our visitors.”

The girls blinked. “Uhm … maybe another time.”

“Come, I will show you the way to your hotel.” Anne helped Mrs Musgrove with her oversized bag and led the family to the airport exit.

Frederick caught up to her. He began hesitatingly, “I have never been here before. Can you tell me where this is?” and he thrust an envelope into her hand. An address was scrawled on it.

Anne raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I can. What do you want there?”

“It is where my sister and her husband live. I am here to visit them.”

For a moment, her mouth twitched. “Are you? Well, we are going to be neighbours then. That is in the enclave.”

Behind her, Henrietta and Louisa suddenly started to giggle. “Oh, he will have to go naked!” whispered Henrietta loudly. Louisa turned to her father and begged, “Please, can we go to the enclave? I want to see the enclave.”

Their father looked about to have an apoplexy. Their mother laughed openly and said, “I am sure you will cut a fine figure, young man.”

Frederick blushed furiously and tried to hide it unsuccessfully.

Anne grinned and winked at him, “She is right, you know? You will cut a fine figure.”

He stopped short and stared after her, slack-jawed.

Anne only noticed that he was not next to her anymore when they had left the building. She told the Musgroves to wait and hurried back.

Wentworth still stood where he had stopped. At least, he had closed his mouth now. A slow smile was trawling his face.

“Frederick!” she called. She stood in the door and now waved for him to come through. “Have you grown roots or what?”

He sauntered up to her. “I will cut a fine figure, you say?” he asked in a low, satisfied voice and smirked complacently.

She rolled her eyes. “Come, the others are waiting already.”

With these and other encouraging signs that they gave each other, it was only a matter of time until both declared themselves again. Not two weeks later, Anne and Frederick were back to the good understanding they had had eight years ago.

Consequently, when Anne asked him to marry her a couple of months later, he did not hesitate to say ‘Yes’.

They were married on Goa and it was the most natural ceremony that was ever held.

The End