Persuasion doesn't belong to me.

A Marvellous Summer

Frederick Wentworth shook his head in disgust. It was just his luck. He'd been distracted… he hadn't been watching the road and he'd run over the broken glass. He hit the steering wheel and reached for his phone. He remembered belatedly that he hadn't charged his phone and his battery was down.

He opened the door and got out to assess the damage – he'd lost two tyres. The guy at the rent-a-car service had assured him that the car was in prime condition and he'd been especially proud of the new tyres. Frederick kicked the flat tyres, so much for new tyres. Granted, the rent-a-car guy hadn't factored in there being broken glass on the road.

Sophy and her husband, Rick, would be wondering where he was. He was supposed to have arrived at their home an hour ago but Frederick had stopped in Taunton for a while. He wasn't so keen on returning to Bishops Lydeard and he'd told his sister repeatedly. In fact, if it had been up to him he'd never have returned to Somerset again. To make it worse, Sophy and Rick were staying at the Elliot cottages – one of the grand cottages that were part of the Elliot houses that they owned and run in the county – and the place he'd met Anne Elliot.

He'd been mad about Anne and he'd thought that she was mad about him too, she'd certainly acted like she'd been, they'd spent hours together and she had agreed to marry him, only to break it off the next morning because he wasn't good enough for her family. And to make it worse she hadn't had the guts to do it herself, instead she'd had her mother-figure do it, and Mrs. Russell had done a very good job of making him feel like the worst form of scum. She'd hinted that he was gold-digger and a thief.

'Stop it,' Frederick told himself, 'don't go back there.' He didn't need to let her mess up his life again, he had moved on, he was now a successful writer and frankly he was too good for her. Not that it mattered; Anne Elliot was probably married, with a life of her own and not wasting any time thinking about him. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he forget Anne Elliot and move on with his life?

He was so taken up with his thoughts; he didn't know that there was anyone else on the road until he heard a voice call out cheerfully, "need any help?"

000

Anne Elliot was in her office, going over the weekend programme, when her older sister, Elizabeth, burst into the room. The Elliots run a semi-successful property chain and Anne was the business head of the family. They had been going through a rough patch a few years ago but they were now getting back on their feet – Anne had taken over the running from the company from her father and Elizabeth.

"There was some sort of accident on the road," Elizabeth said, "some of the glass swans fell out of the decorators' van, you have to go and check it out."

"I'm busy," Anne said.

"The road has to be cleared," Elizabeth told her, "we have important guests coming here today."

"Call Billy," Anne said. Billy was one of the maintenance guys who worked at the Elliot house.

"I already sent him to town," Elizabeth said, "I have run out of water and other things I can't live without."

"Frances just brought you water the other day," Anne reminded her. Frances was Elizabeth's assistant. "And what do you need all that imported water for?"

"You know I can't drink the water here," Elizabeth complained.

Anne shook her head. She didn't have time to deal with this right now. She thought of getting Charles, Mary's husband, to go out and sort it out but he and Mary, her younger sister, were in charge of the kitchen and she didn't want to disturb them, the house was hosting two important weddings that afternoon. "Have you at least seen to the arrangements in the gardens?" she asked her sister.

"Frances will see to them," Elizabeth said, "I'm going to have my hair done."

Anne shut down her computer and stood up. It would be no use asking her father to take care of it either, he was worse than Elizabeth. She would do it herself.

She got the old land rover out of the garage and drove to the road. She had hoped that no one had been out on the road yet but she was dismayed to see that a car had already had trouble. She could see the driver – male – inspecting the damage to his car. Even from the distance, Anne, could see that he'd punctured two tyres and wasn't happy at all.

000

Frederick turned towards the voice, a voice he'd been thinking of for years, a voice he'd both hoped to hear or never hear again. He was probably imagining it. She wasn't here, he had made her up. "Anne," he whispered.

Anne stared at him in shock. She must be dreaming. It couldn't be Frederick Wentworth and yet it was, she knew it was, she'd known for weeks, ever since his sister and her husband had rented one of the cottages that were part of the Elliot houses but when his arrival kept being postponed she had decided that he probably wasn't going to show up. But here he was.

"Frederick." She said.

"I'm surprised you still remember my name," he said.

"You remember mine," she told him, "why would I forget yours?"

"You said something about help," he reminded her. He knew he was being rude but he couldn't help himself.

"Yeah," she nodded, "let's get you out of here."

"What about the car?" Frederick asked. "I can't just leave it here."

"I'll call Henry at the rent-a-car," Anne said, "he'll pick it up."

"What about the glass on the road?"

"I'll sort it out," Anne told him. "I'll sort everything out."

"You were always good at sorting things out," Frederick said.

"Everyone has to be good at something, right?" she shrugged.

"I meant that as a compliment," Frederick said, and he had. Anne was very good at sorting things out.

They drove in silence to Sophy and Rick's cottage.

"I see you've met Anne," Sophy said. She had wanted her brother to meet Anne, Anne was one of the most sensible young women Sophy had ever met and she thought she'd be good for her brother.

"Yes," Frederick replied, "she picked me up."

"Good," Sophy said, "we're having drinks with them later tonight. Then you'll really get a chance to know her."

"Why?"

"I think it would be good for you to get your head of your books, much as I enjoy them, and meet real people."

"I meet real people," Frederick told her. He met real people all the time.

"She means eligible, marriageable women," Rick said.

'She's not married,' Frederick hadn't known that he'd said that aloud until his sister turned to him smiling. "She's single." She turned to her husband, "see Rick, you said he wouldn't be interested and I'm happy to see that you were wrong."

Frederick couldn't believe it. Anne Elliot was single. What does it matter? He asked himself. It wasn't as if Anne had seemed interested in him at all, and she had rejected him once.

000