Is Captain Wentworth a Jerk? + An Excerpt!

The argument that indicts Captain Wentworth usually goes something like this: When he and Anne Elliot were first engaged and she broke it off, she was very young. He had nothing except a dangerous career in the Navy during a war. It might end in promotion but was more likely to end in death. Anne was being cautious and even reasonable to end the engagement, as marriage would have meant months alone at different ports, and possibly becoming a young widow who’d alienated her family. The argument continues that while we know he would become rich and successful, Anne couldn’t know that, and his subsequent anger with her is unjustified. His feeling that she didn’t live up to his ideal, that she’d compromised her heart and her soul to follow bad advice, is harsh and completely unfair.

(I’ve heard this lots of places, so I’m not calling out anyone in particular!) However, I disagree.

First, let’s take into account his experience with her family. We can infer that Sir Walter and Elizabeth were arrogant, unpleasant, and dismissive. For the most part, it seems, Wentworth could laugh that off. Particularly while he was madly in love with Anne and she with him. But that had to be at the back of his mind. He knew he was despised in that house, and that Lady Russel didn’t like his suit for Anne either. When Anne suddenly goes back on their engagement, that is forefront in his mind.

To him, it’s not just that she has cold feet about becoming a war widow, she’s choosing to side with her family (Lady Russel was almost family). Anne seemed to see through them so clearly, but now, all the sudden, she has given in to Lady Russel’s dislike of the Navy, Lady Russel’s dislike of his passionate temperament, and her family’s dismissive view of their attachment.

Now, I am far from blaming Anne–I’ll get to that in a second–but this felt like a major betrayal to him. Had Anne just pretended that she didn’t think like her family? How quickly she fell into line with their prejudices, even if she claimed otherwise!

Secondly, Captain Wentworth had a very different personality and education than Anne did. Wentworth was not easily persuadable, nor was he a woman, and he had no idea the influence a (stand-in) mother’s advice could have. This is both due to his naivete and the training he would’ve received as a boy and a man. Wentworth, and a lot of men, are taught that decisiveness and self-reliance are virtues. For them, giving into fearful advice is considered morally weak. On the other hand, women were (are?) taught to listen to wise counsel, not to be headstrong, and not to be hasty. With this contrary education, it would have taken a much older and more mature Wentworth (what we get later) to enter into Anne’s heart on this.

On the other hand, Anne was not to blame either. They were both very intelligent, but she was also cautious, humble, and yes, persuadable. She erred on the side of caution, but Wentworth could only see weakness. Once we have a mature Captain Wentworth, he is just as aware of that as we are.

He says, “….a question has suggested itself, whether there may not have been one person more my enemy even than that lady? My own self. Tell me if, when I returned to England in the year eight… if I had then written to you, would you have answered my letter? Would you, in short, have renewed the engagement then?”

“Would I!” was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough.

“Good God!” he cried, “you would! It is not that I did not think of it, or desire it, as what could alone crown all my other success; but I was proud, too proud to ask again. I did not understand you. I shut my eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice. This is a recollection which ought to make me forgive every one sooner than myself. Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared.” (Emphasis mine.)

In short, I think sometimes we give Austen’s young ladies an easier excuse for their mistakes–that they are young, badly trained, or naive–but not enough to some of Austen’s young men.

What do you say?

Thanks for reading!

Corrie Garrett

P.S. And here is an excerpt for Anne and Wentworth from my latest novel, Propriety and Piquet.

*** Chapter 19, Page 269

Mr. Elliot sipped his own tea. “I am trying not to be hurt that you have not turned to me as a source of help. Do I rank below Lady Russell and tea?”

Anne winced. “Of course not. But only consider, this story will be all over Bath by the end of the day. Our name will be worth nothing—”

“You seem to forget it is my name, too. I am already involved, and I can stand the shock. I would never abandon you.”

Anne sniffed, trying to will away yet more tears. “Thank you.”

“In fact… I have been presumptuous, but I have another offer for you.” From his coat pocket, he pulled out a folded paper. He unfolded it to show another marriage license, much like the one Wickham and Mary had been going to use. Only this one had her name, and Mr. Elliot’s.

Anne’s lips parted. To see their names in writing was so official, so uncompromising.

“I asked Wickham to procure this for me, and we have three months to use it, so there is no rush. But in light of present events, perhaps it would be prudent to use it sooner rather than later.”

Anne touched the inked letters carefully. She had not forgotten Captain Wentworth, but that sorrow was a distant grief compared to the disaster unfolding here and now. A disaster in which Mr. Elliot was her only support.

He continued calmly. “I know it seems cold-blooded, but it would help with all of Sir Walter’s affairs if I was at hand to answer for the family. I hope that he comes back home tomorrow, and that this is all a terrible mistake, but he may not be able to. Either way, I would be honored to support you through it all.”

Anne took a deep breath. “From my own limited understanding, I fear my father may not be released right away. I don’t believe he premeditated anything, but I fear he was involved.”

“I’m so sorry, Anne.”

Waiting would not make this easier. What if she was called to testify about her father? What if his legal fees sucked the rest of Kellynch dry? What would happen to Mary if she was expecting? Anne broke. “If—If you are certain, I will marry you.”

“I have never been more certain. We can do it today, if you wish.”

“Today? No, I can’t.” Anne shrank inside, but if she was going to marry him, would delay help? She did not believe him to be a perfect gentleman, and she was certainly not in love with him, but he had shown true character today. She could trust that.

Anne set down her teacup. “On second thought, we could do it today.”

Anne and Mr. Elliot left Camden Place when they were sure the other three ladies were resting.

He pulled his gloves on against the chill afternoon air. “I’ll hail another carriage. It is too cold and fatiguing for you to walk anywhere at present.”

Anne could only agree. She was in the throes of self-doubt, but she had agreed to marry him. It was no lofty thing to marry a man out of fear of the future, but Anne’s spirit had taken the blows along with her family today.

Mr. Elliot placed her into the forward-facing seat of the carriage and took the one across from her. Anne looked out the window. Mr. Elliot respected her silence.

They reached the chapel too quickly for her. It was the Octagon Chapel on Milsom Street. Very elite. She had been several times with her father and Elizabeth. The pews were rented the way one would rent a house, and it was a popular place to see and be seen. Anne had not liked it for that reason.

“Definitely not the Abbey for us,” Mr. Elliot had agreed. “It’s possible we would receive unpleasant attention.”

Anne balked at the door, even though it had begun to rain. “I’m sorry—I just need a moment of air.”

“Of course.” He opened an umbrella, and they shared it while Anne leaned against the rectangular stones of the outer wall. It was midafternoon, and Milsom Street was bustling. All these people were going about their lives, unknowing that her father had been arrested. Ladies brushed past her, their skirts catching at hers. Gentlemen with umbrellas hurried past, occasionally jostling Mr. Elliot’s umbrella with theirs.

He was being very patient with her, very considerate. Anne squared her shoulders and turned to him. She was on the brink of saying, “I am ready,” when another gentleman came up the pavement toward them.

Over Mr. Elliot’s shoulder she saw that he was a tall man in the dark blue coat and traditional bicorne hat of the navy. He must have forgotten to provide himself with an umbrella, for he walked quickly without protection. His shoulders were hunched against the rain.

She knew that figure, she knew those strong shoulders. He was nearly upon them when he looked up and met her eyes.

Captain Wentworth’s blue eyes flashed in recognition and surprise. He faltered, looked away, looked back.

Mr. Elliot did not understand her frozen stare. He took hold of her arm. “Are you feeling faint?” He turned to follow her gaze. “Anne? Who is this?”

Captain Wentworth stepped back as if he would turn and retreat, but his eyes locked onto Mr. Elliot’s hand clutching her wrist. He hesitated.

Anne felt her body growing distant again. “This is—er—Captain Frederick Wentworth. Captain Wentworth, my cousin, Mr. Elliot.”

Fred was much as she remembered him, and the intervening years had only increased his appeal. He was tall and strong, and his eyes were lively and quick. His mouth was made for passionate arguments and laughter, although just now it was pressed into a firm line. “How do you do, sir? I’m afraid I must not stay; I wasn’t prepared for the Bath rain.”

“Of course, don’t let us keep you,” Mr. Elliot said.

Still, Fred hesitated, his eyes flitting from Mr. Elliot’s hand to Anne’s pale face. “Attending the chapel?” he asked. “My sister has a pew here.”

Mr. Elliot smiled briefly. “As a matter of fact, no. We are here to get married. Isn’t that right, Anne?”

Anne tried to breathe but she could not. She was living out a nightmare, a thing too strange and horrible to happen to one in real life. She tried again to breathe, but there had been too many blows today, too much exhaustion and fear.

Her vision narrowed to a dot, and that dot was centered around Fred’s face. Then she fainted.

{ 20 }

Fred’s heart throbbed with dismay as she fell. It was nothing to do with Anne in particular, he told himself. If his sister Sophie or any of his female acquaintances had reacted in such a way, he would have been deeply concerned.

Her cousin caught her before Fred moved. In Mr. Elliot’s haste, he bobbled his umbrella and dropped it. He lifted Anne beneath her shoulders and knees, cradling her to himself. “Can you please grab that umbrella? She will be soaked.”

Fred did so, holding it more over Anne than Mr. Elliot. “Has she been ill?”

“No, but she has had a very difficult day. I didn’t realize she was so close to collapse. Would you please hail a carriage? I must get her out of this wet.”

“Yes, of course.” He waved a hand for a jarvey, but the conveyances on the street were all private at the moment. Fred spotted one coming and raised a hand again. “Ho, there! A ride?”

“Already got a fare, sir, sorry!”

Mr. Elliot shifted uncomfortably with her weight.

Fred twitched forward. “If you need help-”

“No, thank you. She is my fiancée, and I don’t know who you are.”

Fred flinched at the word fiancée. He had tried not to think of Anne for so long. He had raged against her. Resented her. Mourned her. He was not prepared to see her. If he’d had time to compose himself and prepare for their first meeting… but he had not.

Neither had she, poor girl.

He shook his head. He was not going to pity her right now. At least—not for that. It was not his fault they had to meet as strangers six years after they had almost married. If he’d had his way, she would have come here as his wife.

Captain Wentworth’s ship was wintered at Bristol and today he’d ridden the thirteen miles to Bath to visit his Sophie and her husband, Admiral Croft. What were the odds he would run into Anne on this of all days?

“Shouldn’t she have woken up by now?” Fred asked. “Don’t swoons only last a few minutes at most?”

“I don’t know.”

Fred hailed another hack, and this time the man acknowledged him and began to pull up.

“Thank you,” Mr. Elliot said stiffly. “I hope we will meet again under better circumstances.”

Fred doubted that. He held the door for them as Mr. Elliot maneuvered Anne inside. Fred even helped him lift her into the seat. His hand burned where it had touched her forearm. Yet still her face stayed white and still.

“I don’t feel right leaving her like this.”

Mr. Elliot reached for the carriage door. “She will be fine, sir. You’ve done enough.”

Fred grabbed the door to prevent him from shutting it. “Where are you taking her? What is her direction?”

“If she has not given you her address at Bath, it is hardly for me to do so.”

“Then you are taking her home?”

“Where else would I take her?”

Fred was on tenuous ground at best, but he could not let her limp body disappear in a carriage with another man. Fred could not even say what he suspected Mr. Elliot of; Fred was thinking with his heart rather than his brain. He swung up into the carriage, across from Mr. Elliot. “I’ll just see you back. I can help you if she is still unconscious when you arrive.”

Mr. Elliot stared at him. “Who the devil are you?”

“I’m an old friend of Anne’s.” Fred exhaled slow and long. “An idiotic old friend, apparently.”

Richard was startled when a job-carriage pulled up at Camden Place and Mr. Elliot hopped down. The man hadn’t fled after all? He must truly believe his ruse would work. To be sure, it was a very good ploy. Even now Sir Walter might go down for his crime.

Mr. Elliot stayed at the door of the coach, and when Richard drew close, he saw that another gentleman was helping to hand down Anne Elliot.

“What did you do?” Richard demanded.

Mr. Elliot looked seriously annoyed. “This is not my fault; my poor cousin fainted, and this fellow won’t leave well-enough alone.”

“Is it well-enough?” Richard asked. He waited until Anne was safely in Mr. Elliot’s arms, thus burdening him. “What were you doing?”

“Anne agreed to marry me,” he said simply. “She is dreadfully concerned over her father’s predicament, and I want nothing more than to help her through it.”

The Navy gentleman stood at the side and paid off the jarvey. “What predicament?” he asked.

“It is none of your business,” Mr. Elliot said. “Now do shove off, for she is coming around.”

Anne’s eyelids fluttered several times before she managed to keep them open. She groaned and touched her head. “Oh, I do feel so sick. Please set me down, Mr. Elliot.”

He did so gently, and she swayed but stayed upright. Her eyes still looked disoriented. “I am so sorry. I never faint. Are we back at Camden Place?”

Richard felt like a cad. The poor girl had lost her father today, at least for some time, and he was about to shatter her faith in her cousin as well. But what else could he do?

The Navy man looked to be reliable; he came to hold the umbrella over her. He had a face that Richard instinctively liked.

Richard took a moment to introduce himself. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, at your service.”

“Captain Frederick Wentworth, at yours, sir.”

Anne’s eyes finally focused on them, and her cheeks regained some color. “I’m so sorry, Fred—I mean, Captain Wentworth. I didn’t intend to involve you.”

“Not at all. I was on my way to visit Sophie; I’m not pressed for time.”

Richard broke in. “In that case, would you mind seeing Miss Anne safely into No. 18? I have an urgent matter to discuss with Mr. Elliot.”

Fred nodded. For the life of him, he could not guess what was going on here. There were far too many strange undercurrents and riptides for his liking.

However, before Fred could take her arm, Mr. Elliot grabbed Anne around the waist and began backing away from them. They both were unprotected from the rain, which was rapidly soaking them both. “I have nothing to discuss with you, Colonel. If you value Anne’s safety, you’ll let me walk away.”

Fred’s teeth clenched again. He should’ve trusted his hunch. He knew there was a reason not to trust him with Anne.

Mr. Elliot was heading toward the closer end of Camden Place, where an alley led to the mews and a maze of small streets behind the townhouses.

The colonel followed slowly. “What are you doing, Elliot? This is madness. You can’t escape from Bath. Will you frighten poor Miss Anne for a few more minutes of freedom?”

Fred stayed at the colonel’s side. Seeing Mr. Elliot’s hands on Anne and the growing fear in her eyes filled him with a shocking rage.

Anne was unsteady on her feet as Mr. Elliot pulled her backwards ever faster. “You have the wrong idea,” he said. “I simply want assurances that I won’t be packed off to the Tower before I have my say.”

“What?” Anne said. “Why would they arrest you?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam was grim. “He would have sold our information to the French and let thousands of soldiers die. When that didn’t work, he decided to frame your father for it.”

Fred clenched a fist as he began to grasp the severity of the situation. Being a naval man himself, he understood the responsibility of an officer for the lives of his men. Wentworth would no sooner give over a ship of the line than a regiment of the foot.

Fred leaned close to the colonel. “How dangerous is this man?”

“I’m fairly certain he murdered a lady last week. But to Anne? He loves her, I don’t think he’ll hurt her.” He didn’t keep his voice down.

Fred’s teeth clenched. Mr. Elliot loved her. Did she love him? What was the duration of their relationship? How could he betray her trust?

Anne stumbled badly, nearly knocking them both over. “What does he mean, you murdered a woman?”

“Nothing. Not every woman who dies young is my fault.”

Fred and Richard both surged forward at their near-fall, but Mr. Elliot bared his teeth. With his right hand, he shook out his penknife, freeing its larger blade. “Not any closer.”

The knife was one of the sort that had a small folding blade for trimming pens and sharpening pencils, and larger folding blade for fruit. Fred saw red as the blade sat against Anne’s sternum. Their distance increased again as Colonel Fitzwilliam held back. How dare this man threaten Anne? Even when Fred was furious with her, he still saw her as the gentlest and best of women.

Anne looked at the knife held in front of her as if it were a spoon or a comb. “Oh.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Mr. Elliot whispered. “I just need to get some time.”

They were now adjacent to the alley. Mr. Elliot released Anne suddenly. She stumbled backward while he sprinted into the alley.

Richard was after him, but Fred stopped at Anne. She’d fallen backwards and sat on the pavement in the rain. Her skirt and shirtwaist and green pelisse were quite sodden. “Anne, can you hear me? You’re safe now, we must get you up.”

She clutched at his hand as he pulled her up. Her eyes were far away and haunted. “I think he killed his wife,” she whispered.

Fred was non-plussed. “Who? Your cousin?” He gently tried to walk her toward her townhouse.

“He said, ‘Not every woman who dies young is my fault.’ Anne moaned. “I think he was referring to his first wife. She left him a fortune, or she was believed to do so. He once said some very bitter things…”

He was almost supporting her full weight as they made it back to No. 18. “And I thought I was having adventures this year.”

She looked up at him, and it was as if six years had not happened. “Oh, Fred, I am sorry.”

He had never thought to have this sort of conversation with her, but they had been shoved past civilities so fast his head was spinning. He knocked loudly at the door with his free hand. “It’s all right.”

“No, it is not. Perhaps I’ve only found my voice because my life has fallen apart, but I deeply regret sending you away. You never have to see me after today, but I wanted you to know.”

“Anne, I have to go.” He heard a footman descending the stairs.

“Oh. Of course.” She visibly withdrew. “I’ve already taken too much of your time—”

“No, it’s not that. I didn’t like the look of that knife. I want to make sure the colonel prevails…”

*** End of excerpt.

I really can’t get enough of Wentworth! Enjoy your day,

Corrie