MM: Persuasion – It is You I Have Loved (Dana Glover)

PUBLISHED TO YOUTUBE BY KAVI P ON APRIL 26, 2011.

I selected this video to pair with a chapter of His Irreplaceable Belle, which publishes tomorrow, because that Touches of Austen story contains touches of Jane Austen’s Persuasion.

You can preorder His Irreplaceable Belle here.

His Irreplaceable Belle, Chapter 3

The late afternoon sun felt wonderful and warming as Fritz turned his face towards it. The brightness that filtered through his eyelids was restorative. It had always drawn him forward from his often deep ponderings with a cheerfulness that was unparalleled by anything else, save for the smile of a particular lady.

However, he was not sitting in the garden to think about Belle. He was here to clear his mind and turn it towards the task at hand – finding a wife who was not Belle.

He drew a deep breath and released it. But neither the freshness of the spring air nor the intensity of the sun could chase away the dark shadow of sadness that passed across his heart at the thought.

“Mr. Norman.”

Fritz straightened himself and opened his eyes. “Mrs. Blakesley.” He stood.

“Please call me Grace. I think we will be good enough friends for such familiarity.” Grace Blakesley took a seat on the bench next to where Fritz had been leaning backward and enjoying the sunshine. “My husband does not mind if you call me by my Christian name, do you, Walter?”

Walter Blakesley chuckled as he shook his head. Was there a happier man in all of Bath? Fritz was certain he had not seen one – not even Mr. Clayton and Mr. Shelton, who were each, without a doubt, happily and contentedly married and awaiting the arrival of a child, shone quite like Blakesley did. Joy effused every part of Blakesley’s person.

“You may call my wife whatever she wishes for you to call her.”

“I hate to disappoint your wife, but I may have to insist upon Mrs. Blakesley,” Fritz said. “I assume you will not be discharging me as your physician, Blakesley, will you be?”

Blakesley guffawed. “And give up the best physician in Bath? I think not!”

A rather grumbly part of Fritz’s mind wished that people would stop referring to him as the best physician.

“Then, I assume you will also call on me if Mrs. Blakesley should ever be in need of care?”

“Of course.” The answer was given without a moment’s pause.

“In that case, Mrs. Blakesley, I will have to insist upon calling you Mrs. Blakesley. It would be too improper for us to be on friendlier terms.”

Mrs. Blakesley scowled. “I do not see why it should be considered improper.”

“There are many strictures which might seem ridiculous and yet we must abide by them. I would not wish to be thought of as unprofessional or lacking in decorum in any fashion.”

Mrs. Blakesley’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, yes, right. I completely understand.” She paused to peek at her husband who had finally taken a seat next to her rather than standing and surveying their surroundings.

The man was incurably curious.

“Mrs. Blakesley is a lovely name,” his friend’s wife said happily. “I quite like it.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Blakesley said.

“As am I,” Fritz inserted before the two with him forgot he was there.

Mrs. Blakesley turned back to him with a very serious look on her face. “I must apologize to you.”

Fritz’s brow furrowed. She needed to apologize to him? For what?

“Have you done something to me of which I do not know?”

She shook her head. “No, you know about it. In fact, you were agreeable to it, but I should not have asked you to take part if I had known.”

He was thankful that the lady next to him was his friend’s wife and not his. Such partial revelations were excellent at trying his patience.

Mrs. Blakesley leaned a fraction of an inch closer to him and lowered her voice. “My husband,” she whispered, “has told me about what happened to bring you to Bath.”

Fritz looked from her to Blakesley.

“I would never speak a word of it to anyone other than Grace,” Blakesley assure him.

Fritz breathed a sigh of relief.

“Unless, of course, it was necessary to see you happy.”

And the uneasiness Fritz had felt at Mrs. Blakesley’s confession returned.

“We would never harm you,” Mrs. Blakesley assured him, and without hesitation he trusted her words to be true.

It startled him how easily he believed her, but then she had such an open nature about her.

“And that is why I must apologize. I should not have asked you to play the part of my suitor – not even if the reason was an excellent one.”

“I do not see a need to apologize for my agreeing to take part in your scheme.”

She sighed. “But I told you that my mother would never approve of you and my sister would never attempt to steal you away because of your profession.” She winced as she finished her sentence. “It was poorly done.”

Ah, he understood now. “How could you have known I had been rejected for my profession?”

“You are too kind,” Mrs. Blakesley cried. “I am certain my mother is not so unique as to be the only lady in all of England to think a physician is below her daughters – not that both of her daughters agree with her,” she hastened to add in a flustered fashion. “I should have known it was a possibility that you had been treated shabbily before, and I should not have put you in a position to have to be reminded of that.”

“I knew what I was doing when I agreed to help you.” He smiled and nodded at his friend. “I could endure far worse for a friend.”

“You must let me help you in return.”

Uneasiness settled over him once again as he turned his full attention back to Mrs. Blakesley. “What do you mean? How do you plan to help me?”

“Why I shall help you find a wife, of course!” She said it as if it was the most natural and wonderful thing in the world.

“I am sure I do not need help.”

Blakesley laughed.

“I am quite certain of it,” Fritz retorted.

“Are you married and have not told me?” Mrs. Blakesley batted her lashes at him.

“No, I am not married.”

“Are you courting anyone?” Again, she batted her lashes and looked at him as if he were an utter simpleton.

“No, I am not.”

“Is there anyone you wish to court?” She held up a finger. “Allow me to rephrase that. Is there anyone other than the lady you love whom you wish to court?”

“I am not in love.”

“That was not the question,” Blakesley inserted.

What Fritz would not give to be able to rise, inform his companions that he had somewhere to be, and leave this discussion. It could not end well. It just could not.

“No, I have not found anyone to court.”

“Then, I fear you are wrong in this, Mr. Norman. You do, indeed, need help.”

“No, I am certain I do not,” Fritz repeated.

Mrs. Blakesley’s expression grew grieved. “Are you truly going to deny me both the opportunity to repay your kindness and allow me to pay for my sin?”

“You have not sinned, and I did not help you to receive any payment.”

“I told you he would say that,” Blakesley muttered. “He is a physician but not because he wishes for the accolades of those he helps.”

“Well, then, I shall not do it as a payment for services rendered. I shall give it to you as a gift.” Mrs. Blakesley pulled herself straight and gave him a look that dared him to disagree with her. “You cannot refuse a gift. It would be most impolite.”

“And, you would not wish to be thought of as unprofessional or lacking in decorum in any fashion,” her husband added.

Of all the rotten things to do! Of course, Blakesley would throw Fritz’s own words back at him. That was twice today that things he had said had been used against him. He shook his head. “I wish you would stop doing that,” he grumbled.

“Doing what?” Mrs. Blakesley asked with a none-too-convincing innocent smile.

“Twisting my words to force me to do what you wish.”

“I am certain I have not done something so vulgar as that!”

“Not you,” he hastened to assure her. “Your husband is adept at it.”

“He is rather clever, is he not?”

“I would rather not agree with that.”

“Agree or disagree, it matters not to me what you think,” Blakesley said with a taunting grin. “My wife thinks I am clever and that is all that matters.”

There was no use arguing against his own logic, for if he did, he would end up calling Mrs. Blakesley Grace since he would have to admit his argument about being more formal was wrong – which it was not! He must consider the particulars of the gift he was going to be obliged to accept. “If I agree to accept your gift, what will that entail?”

“Well,” Mrs. Blakesley angled herself closer to her husband so that she might look at Fritz more directly, “there will have to be an interview.” Her lips pursed. “Would you care to dine with us tonight or tomorrow? We could speak before we eat or during or, even, after.”

“What sort of interview?”

“I have not known you too very long, so I must, you see, ask you about what you would like in a wife. Tonight would be best.”

“Or we could just speak about it now,” Blakesley inserted. “And you could still dine with us. I am not attempting to put you off or anything like that.”

“I would not expect such treatment from you,” Fritz assured his friend. Blakesley was as loyal and caring a friend as any gentleman could ask for.

“Do you think we could discuss it now?” Mrs. Blakesley asked eagerly. “I had thought to suggest it, but then, I thought it might be too forward to expect you to answer my questions without any warning that I had questions.”

“Your concern does you credit, Mrs. Blakesley.” What did it matter if he answered questions now or later? “What do you wish to know?”

“Will you join us for dinner tonight?” she asked.

“Tomorrow would be better. My cook would not be pleased to know that the fish she is preparing will not be eaten.”

“You have a cook?”

“Yes. Does not every gentleman?”

Mrs. Blakesley smiled and lifted one shoulder. “I have never been intimately acquainted with a physician. We only had a surgeon and an apothecary in our village, though we did have a physician when we were in town. However, I have never considered how he lived. Truth be told, I only ever worried about whether he would make me drink some horrid tea or stay in bed when there were much better things to do.”

Fritz could not help but chuckle at her comments. “We are known for imposing unpleasant cures on our patients.”

“He has a cook, and a few other servants,” Walter inserted. “He is not without an ample income. He is, after all, the best physician in Bath and rather astute when it comes to finances.”

“Where do you live?” Mrs. Blakesley asked.

“Oh, not far from here,” Fritz pointed in the direction of his house. “Just down there a bit. Close enough to walk through the gardens daily.”

Her eyebrows had lifted. “And do you have a townhouse then?”

He nodded. “As would be expected, part of it is dedicated to my surgery, and I have two tenants for the season.”

She blinked. “You do?”

Again, he nodded.

“Two tenants? So then, your home is not diminutive?”

“Not overly so. It is perhaps a shade smaller than Blakesley’s.”

“Huh.” Her eyebrows were still lifted as she took in all of this startling information. “It is a good thing my mother did not know that, or she might not have been so opposed to you, for a townhouse is a good start. Huh,” she said one more time as if she was still finding it hard to believe he had a townhouse and was not poor. “I suppose I should have asked more about you when we were dancing rather than always asking about my husband. But he is very handsome.”

Fritz laughed. “Yes, I would have to agree that he is not a poor looking fellow.”

“Oh, most certainly,” she agreed. “Your living is comfortable?”

“Yes, very.”

“Is it enough for a family?”

“Yes. I would not consider marrying if I could not provide for a family.”

“That is very sensible,” she assured him. “Well, then, shall we walk, and you can describe the sort of lady who would be your ideal companion?”

Describing his perfect wife would be both difficult and dead easy, for all he needed to do was describe Belle – without allowing his heart to grow so heavy that his true desire and the pain of denying it would be visible to all. He rose, and the Blakesleys joined him.

“Please walk with Grace,” Blakesley offered. “It will make it easier for you to tell her what she wishes to know.”

Fritz obliged and offered Mrs. Blakesley his arm. “My future wife must be sensible and not flighty. I like to discuss my research at times. Therefore, she must not be squeamish or given to fits of the vapors,” he began.

“Oh, I would have never thought of that,” Mrs. Blakesley cried, “which is why this interview was necessary. I imagine, then, that you have a great many things to study, do you not?”

For all her exuberance, Mrs. Blakesley was not without a keen, deductive mind.

“Yes, there is always something new about which to learn regarding the human body or new methods of treating illness, and then there are my own writings about things I have observed which must be contemplated and compared to the things I have read.”

“Oh, my! You will want a wife to be quite intelligent then, will you not?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Must she know anything about medicine? I know some ladies are familiar with remedies. I myself have learned a few, though I admit to not having paid close enough attention to know many.”

“It would be a great boon if my wife knew some common remedies – especially for the children. I cannot always be home.” He looked off into the distance and attempted to not see Belle in his mind as he spoke.

“That is so sensible,” she said softly and then fell silent.

They walked a few steps in silence.

“Do you wish to know what I hope she looks like?” he asked, glancing at her.

She shook her head.

That was surprising!

“May I ask why?”

Her face pinched and sadness filled her eyes. “You do not need to tell me, for I know with what she must compare.”

He swallowed and turned his eyes away from her so that she would not see the sorrow he felt.

“That is the problem, is it not?” Blakesley said as he walked behind them.

Fritz nodded. That was, indeed, the seemingly unsolvable problem.

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Do you remember Mr. and Mrs. Blakesley from when their story, Her Secret Beau posted as a Sweet Tuesday story? That book is on sale right now for $0.99, but only until tomorrow, May 26, 2020.