"But Sir, Mrs Croft specifically asked that you remain here until she and the Admiral return from Crewkerne," looking at his watch, Harkness continued, "Which should be any time now." The man continued to brush the Captain's blue coat, paying particular attention to the lace and buttons.

"Yes, Harkness, I heard you the first time you told me. And while I do not wish to disappoint my sister, I have future in-laws to satisfy, which in the grand scheme of things, trumps a sister. If you must, tell her that you had me locked up and I knocked you on the head and managed to escape," he said as he leaned into the mirror and arranged his stock. Standing back and looking at the effect, he pulled his shirt cuffs and waistcoat straight. Taking a look at Harkness in the mirror, he could see that man's slight smile at his jest.

Handing the Captain his sword, he said, "I think I shall forgo the embellishment and merely say that you were expected at Uppercross earlier than formerly thought."

Fastening the buckle, Frederick said, "Thank you, Harkness. I think we understand one another."

The Captain was in a hurry to be off, not that he was looking forward to the coming evening. A simple family gathering with the Musgroves would be difficult, a quiet dinner and then sitting about making polite conversation. Then there would be Louisa to face . . . He was grateful that Benwick and Harville were with him, as they knew the Musgrove family in their own right, they would be useful in carrying some of the evening's weight. He also desired to be out of the house when his sister arrived home. There had always been the expectation that she may attend the wedding regardless of his letter, but was not yet prepared to discuss the matter with her. While the thought of entering a battle with guns blazing and the smell of powder in the air was exciting, the thought of entering into a match with his sister did nothing but cause a roiling in his stomach and a desire to flee. "Is the carriage ready, Harkness?"

"Yessir. It is out front as we speak."

"Good, please tell the other gentlemen that it is time to leave and that I shall meet them at the door" Snatching up his hat from the bed, he went out to the hallway.

"Sir, the gentlemen are downstairs awaiting you. They have been ready for a while now."

"Well, perhaps I am more a peacock than I know. Thank you, Harkness. We shan't be too late, it's just a small party," he called as he went down the stairs.

Harkness stood at the top of the stairs, resigning their care to the footmen. "A small party? The Musgroves? Mmm . . . "

The party from Lyme called at Uppercross Hall expecting a 'simple family party,' as Mrs. Musgrove's note of invitation had termed it; this was not what they found. Before they had even reached the Great House, they heard the sound of a large crowd of people talking and laughing, the shrieks of children playing outdoors, and parents hollering to call them in. Someone was playing a piano, glassware was clattering, a lone dog was barking. Every window in the big house was lit; the main door was open; a cluster of gentlemen smoking cigars stood on the steps.

Captains Wentworth, Harville, and Benwick exchanged startled looks. Dismounting the carriage and leaving it to a groom, they elbowed their way into the main hall through a swarm of well-wishers; everyone around them was gaily chatting, eating, and drinking; Weaving through the rooms and adjoining hallways were running, giggling children, all in a holiday mood. Mrs. Musgrove's pre-wedding dinner was to be held tomorrow, which was Friday. Wasn't this Thursday?

Charles Musgrove hurried over to greet them, pleased to see Frederick Wentworth and anxious to usher them into the center of the festivities. He took their overcoats and hats, depositing them in the cloakroom, among a great many others.

"A simple family party? Oh, lord, Mama's in high gig!" laughed Charles. "Besides, can't remember when we have had a 'simple family party,' ever. Never been done, if you ask me."

He took Captain Wentworth's elbow and brought him into the main room. "The thing is, they are all family, well, most of 'em, anyway. Not all of 'em are here. There's more coming in tomorrow, and a few stragglers Saturday morning, and ..."

He led the way through the throng to the refreshment table. "Never seen such a fuss in all my life; food enough to feed the whole district for a month, kegs of ale and wine and such coming in by the cartload; every servant and seamstress for miles around hired in ... Mary!" He motioned to his wife. "Mary, look who's here!" He turned back to Wentworth. " How about something to drink? Benwick? Harville? Here we are ..."

"Charles ..." Captain Wentworth was in shock. "This is ... I didn't mean ... This was supposed to be simple ..."

"Er, I'm, er, sorry about the circus, Frederick. Papa did mention to Mama that you wanted a small, 'family only' wedding. Er, the thing is, you know, it's hard to keep Mama in bounds, and our family breeds like rabbits, you know; so many of 'em. And anyway," Charles laughed, "we can't expect Mama to quietly celebrate the most important marriage alliance our family has ever had! er ..." He encountered a look from Mary.

"You mean the second most important one, after ours," she put in, "which is the alliance with the Elliots. Good evening, Captain Wentworth."

"Oh, er, of course, after ours." He grinned at Captain Wentworth. "Devilish glad to have you in the family, though," he pounded Frederick on the back, "even if you're not an Elliot! Come an' meet the rest of us!" Charles was in 'high gig' this evening, too.

"Oh, Captain," Mary interrupted; " we are all so pleased to learn of your plans to honeymoon at Kellynch Hall! Such an elegant, romantic setting! We hear that Mrs. Croft has been making special preparations to the front apartment." She gave him a knowing smile.

Wentworth stared at her in horror, a polite smile frozen on his lips. What was this? "Harville," he muttered, casting an agonized look over his shoulder at his friend. "Get me a good, stiff drink. Please. Now!" Charles had him by the elbow again, pulling him along, calling out, "Toby! Edward! I say, come and meet the bridegroom ..." They were swallowed by the throng. Captain Harville went off in search of the drink.

Captain Benwick stood by the refreshment table, as if rooted to the spot, wondering what to do. Run! was his first impulse. Then he became aware that Mary Musgrove had been speaking to him.

"... must be exhausted from your journey, Captain Benwick. I'm sure you are. Let me fix you a plate of food. Do you care for pickled eggs and ham?" She held out the plate. Benwick took it automatically. He despised pickled eggs, but knew better than to tangle with Mary Musgrove. He began eyeing the distant corners of the room, looking for a place to hide himself, while Mary chatted on; "... and we have been in such a tizzy, with all the preparations and so many guests!" Captain Benwick turned back to her, listening politely. She obviously enjoyed 'being in a tizzy'.

" And my poor nerves, for everything has been going wrong! Only just this evening my eldest upset the inkwell on Charles' desk, simply drenching himself and his shirt! Can you imagine? Anne has stayed home to cut and baste together another, which he will need for the wedding ... Oh! Juliana! Did you find the -- excuse me, Captain," She smiled at him and hurried off. Captain Benwick watched her go, frowning over her last remark.

Anne? Her sister, Anne Elliot? Here? No, 'at home'... wherever that is. He set down the plate containing the eggs and looked around the room. Where has Charles Musgrove got to? Ah! Captain Benwick threaded his way through the mob to get more information from him.

A few minutes later he had escaped the Great House and was headed in the direction of Uppercross Cottage, in search of Miss Elliot. He smiled to himself as he strode down the stone walkway. Here was something completely unexpected! He had wanted to speak with her for some time, to thank her for the reading material she had recommended last November.

There was enough moonlight to show him the way; soon he reached the graveled road which would lead him to the cottage. It was growing colder. Captain Benwick dug his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat, listening to the rhythmic crunch of his boots on the gravel; his thoughts focused on her.

He had meant to come to Uppercross a month or so ago, to visit Charles Musgrove and to see Miss Elliot. Most especially to see Miss Elliot, for he had some questions he wanted to ask her about some of those treatises and writings on suffering. How had she known to choose the ones which had spoken so directly to his pain? He wished he had those books with him now, for he had marked specific passages ---

Captain Benwick stopped in his tracks. Of what was he thinking? To have them now would mean he would have brought books along to the Musgrove's this evening. He smiled. Books to a wedding party. No they are on the shelves at Harville's in Lyme, where they belong. He looked up at the starry sky. Oh Fanny, I am improving, am I not? He used to bring a book (or two) with him wherever he went, until Fanny had cured him of it.

He sighed and resumed walking, more slowly now. Fanny. Even the smallest thought of her brought back the dull ache of disappointment and regret. This was unfortunate, for Fanny herself was a cheerful, friendly girl, and hardly ever sad. And she chose to love me, of all men! I shall never understand it! Benwick heaved another sigh, reminding himself to focus his thoughts on being thankful for her love and for the time they had together. He had been making progress by doing this; his presence at this wedding, his first since her death, showed it. Well, at least I have not brought a book! He kicked at a rock lying on the road.

Wait a minute! A sudden, unwelcome suspicion crossed his mind. Had he left all the books in Lyme? He felt for the inside breast pocket of his uniform. Oh no! He pulled out a slim volume. __________. Captain Benwick smiled in spite of himself. I am hopeless!

Ahead he saw the shadowy form of a large oak; he stopped here to get his bearings. According to Musgrove, once he passed this tree, to his right would be a footpath to the back door of the cottage. He should be able to see a light at the kitchen window. The main entrance was to the left, around the corner of the house, and could be reached by staying on the road; Charles was not sure whether this would be lit tonight since everyone would be at the Great House. Sure enough, Captain Benwick found the path and the kitchen light; looming above it was the dark silhouette of the house.

As he approached the door, Captain Benwick found himself thinking of Anne Elliot again. He smiled at the memory of her gentle smile, and warm brown eyes. There was comprehension in those eyes -- and intelligence. Here was someone he could talk with! She was educated, well-read, and insightful ... and she was kind. Yes, he would be delighted to see her again!

When he raised his hand to knock, Captain Benwick hesitated over Charles' directions. It might be a little awkward that he, a stranger, should come to the back door. Most of the house was dark; perhaps everyone had retired for the night. I'll just check the front entrance to be sure. He skirted the cottage to the left, rounded its corner, and promptly collided with an ancient rhododendron bush in the darkness! Blast! He was now covered with dust and last year's shriveled petal debris! But as he brushed himself off, he noticed that some of the ground floor windows on this side of the house were lit. He gingerly made his way over to them and peered inside.

He found he was looking into some sort of small parlor; a young woman was sitting near a branch of candles, sewing. Miss Elliot! She was bent closely over her work, as if she had to strain to see in the candlelight. Her hair shone chestnut in the rosy light, her complexion glowed. Why, she is lovely! Captain Benwick watched as if spellbound. Then she winced, for she had jabbed herself with the needle; she dropped the garment in her lap and, frowning, put her finger in her mouth. Captain Benwick stepped back from the window and began to make his way to the main door.

Captain Harville snorted in disgust. Hang that Benwick! Where on earth has he gone off to? He had searched the entire ground floor of this rabbit-warren of a house, kitchens and all, with no luck! He was counting on his friend's company tonight, as Frederick Wentworth was kept occupied and he was left on his own. And now he has disappeared! And there is nothing to be done about it!

But ... on the other hand, Captain Harville eyed the refreshment table, which was in the process of being replenished, these Musgroves certainly know how to serve up tasty provisions! He made his way over to the table and picked up another plate. I am just a bit hungry. After all, I need to keep my strength up, for Wentworth's sake. He speared several plump sausages, which were still steaming hot, deciding to make the best of a bad situation. He went on to add a thick slice of ham, two rolls, and a generous helping of pie. Maybe I'll just bide my time a bit before worrying about Benwick.

Anne drew back the bolt and opened the heavy front door herself; all of the household staff were working up at the Great House tonight and she had stayed behind with the sleeping children. She had carried a candle with her and had set it on the hall table; it lit the entryway only dimly. Who in the world would come ...? She blinked. Before her on the threshold stood a rather short, solidly built man with smiling brown eyes and a pleasant face. The front of his greatcoat was open, showing a naval officer's uniform. Anne hesitated. He looked familiar but she didn't know why.

"Good evening, Miss Elliot," the man said, a little shyly. He removed his hat, revealing dark curly hair. "Good heavens! Captain Benwick!" Anne gladly welcomed him in. Soon they were both sitting in the small parlor before the fire, reminiscing about their days in Lyme and speaking of Louisa's remarkable progress toward recovery.

Anne had forgotten what a comfortable, unpretentious fellow Captain Benwick was. When he learned that she had not yet had supper, he modestly suggested they "launch a boarding party and do a little raiding" in the kitchen. A few minutes later the "freebooters" were back in the parlor with a tray loaded with "plundered" food and the tea things.

Benwick carefully balanced his plate on his lap while watching Miss Elliot pour out. This room was cozy and warm, with firelight dancing off the walls and ceiling; a welcome change from the cold outside. And the company was delightful! She seemed truly happy to see him; the little frown she had worn while he had seen her through the window had disappeared. He searched for a way to tell her of his gratitude.

"Miss Elliot, I am so pleased to see you, to be able to thank you for those readings you recommended. They have helped me far more than you will know." Having begun, he found the words tumbling out. "I wish I had the time, which I don't, for it's late and I shouldn't stay long, but I wish I could talk about them in detail with you. Please permit me to thank you, most sincerely."

" You are very welcome! It does me good to see you so much recovered." Anne smiled and handed him his tea. "I, too, am sorry we cannot discuss them in detail. I enjoy this subject and ... there are not many who share my interest." She blushed a little.

"Would you? Well, it just so happens that I ... " Captain Benwick paused to set his plate and teacup on a low table nearby; "I have an odd little habit, which I really should overcome ..." he confessed, reaching into the inside chest pocket of his coat. "You see, I often carry a book with me, and I do have this one, which you recommended." He smiled bashfully as he drew out the small volume, "Would you like to read a few passages together?"

Captain Harville closed the lid of his timepiece with a snap. Two hours! This is absurd! There was still no sign of James Benwick. He had checked and rechecked every place he could think of, even the privy. He figured that his friend might have holed himself up in there, with a book! But surely not for two hours!

He wearily searched the crowded room again. It was getting late; would none of these people ever go? Mr. Musgrove, Sr. now had charge of Captain Wentworth; he was obviously proud of his new son-in-law-to-be, but was failing to notice his exhaustion.. Blast it all! The Captain looks done in! We need to get him out of here! Seeing Charles Musgrove's face in the crowd, he made his way directly to him.

"I say, Musgrove, have you seen Benwick anywhere?" His tone was urgent.

Charles knit his brows. "Come to think of it, no, I haven't. Um, have you looked in the library? Never could figure what he sees in those books, but ..."

"I checked it first thing." Harville interrupted, annoyed at such an obvious suggestion, and at what he had found in there. "It was full of squealing children, jumping on the furniture and tossing books and pillows! Spilled food everywhere! I, ah, marched them right out of there and mentioned it to your mother. The door is now locked, I believe. Is there anywhere else he might go?"

"Hmmm. I don't think I ... say!" Charles' eyes began to dance and he put down his tankard of ale. "Maybe ... !" He grabbed Harville's arm. "Come on!" He pulled him along, elbowing his way through the crowd of chatting guests, and a maze of a back hallway, finally ending in the cloak room. "Quick, man! Are his overcoat and hat here?" Charles grinned mischievously. "No? Aha! Caught and cornered, Benwick! Hounds to the hunter! Now we give chase!"

Charles began pulling on his own coat. "Get yours, Harville." He stepped out the door, calling to a passing servant. "Rodgers! I say, Rodgers! Bring a lantern, right away, will you? To the main door." Charles ducked back in to grab his own hat, emerging with a sputtering Captain Harville in tow.

A few minutes later they were on their way down the gravel road; Charles was swinging the lantern, laughing at Captain Harville's bewilderment. "Plain as the nose on my face, Harville! When did you get in from Lyme, late this afternoon? Your friend Benwick doesn't waste any time!"

They passed the large oak. " Uh, this way!" Charles grabbed his elbow, yanking him sharply onto the narrow footpath which was invisible in the darkness. "Shortcut," he explained, without slowing his pace. Charles was enjoying himself hugely, completely oblivious to the fact that his friend was tripping and stumbling over ruts in the uneven path. At last they reached the kitchen door. "Here." Charles handed him the lantern and dug in his pocket for the house key.

"You see, Harville," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Benwick came to me asking about Anne Elliot, must've been shortly after you arrived tonight. I gave him directions here, to my house, where she's staying, and no one's seen him since. I'll lay you ten to one this is where he is." Charles got the door open and they stumbled into the deserted kitchen.

"Now we have a little fun. I wonder ... do you suppose I should get my hunting rifle, for effect?" Chuckling to himself, he looked Captain Harville over, particularly eyeing his left hip under his open greatcoat. "He, uh, wouldn't be wearing his, uh, dress sword tonight, would he?" Charles took the lantern and began to lead the way out of the kitchen and through the darkened house.

"Musgrove, what are you talking about?" Captain Harville demanded, torn between amusement and exasperation. He followed along in Charles' wake as best he could, dodging pieces of furniture.

Charles could barely keep from laughing. He struggled to keep his voice low. "Harville, when I told him that she was here, I forgot that the entire staff would be working up at the Great House tonight. That means Anne is alone here in the house! With Benwick! For, what, two hours? So, I get to play the part of the Outraged Brother-in-Law! Shall we make it a double wedding on Saturday? Anne needs a good husband!"

"Stow it, Musgrove!" Captain Harville whispered, but choking a little, for Charles' laughter was infectious. "This is James Benwick we're talking about, not some rakehell! Hey!" He had nearly stepped on a child's wooden horse, left in the doorway to the entry hall. He used his cane to push it under a nearby chair. "He has no romantic interest in any woman, especially Anne Elliot! At Lyme they did nothing but talk about books, Musgrove, books!" He rolled his eyes at the thought. "For hours at a time! Poetry, literature, sermons ..."

"Aha!" Charles cut him short, nodding significantly at a greatcoat and hat laying on a chair in the entry hall. "Here's our man! No romantic interest? Humph!" He held up a corner of the coat and shot an impish look at his friend. "He's been, ah, disrobing, wouldn't you say?" Captain Harville stared at the coat, obviously Benwick's, feeling an overwhelming urge to snicker. Benwick, a seducer? Benwick?!!

Charles turned and tiptoed down an inner hallway. "And look here," he smirked, pointing to the parlor door, which was barely ajar. Light showed through the opening; from within came the low murmur of voices. He set the lantern on the hallway floor. "Shall we join them?"

"Musgrove ... no! What if ...!" Captain Harville fought to keep a straight face, but could not. Both men burst out in a fit of muffled laughter and struggled desperately to maintain absolute silence. At last, Charles got control. He pulled himself up to his full height, put his hand on the doorknob, and gave his friend a wink. He pushed, and the door swung inward, noiselessly.

A sweet domestic scene met their eyes. Miss Elliot and Captain Benwick were sitting side by side, their chairs pulled close together in front of the fire. Between them they held Captain Benwick's small volume of __________, reading; their heads were almost touching. The remains of their supper were spread on a low table nearby. They were intent on their discussion; neither had heard the door open.

"Well, well! Good evening. What have we here?" Charles sauntered into the room, grinning from ear to ear, with Captain Harville at his heels. Anne and Captain Benwick jumped, and looked up, taken aback. The two men burst out laughing.

"Good heavens, Charles!" Anne exclaimed. "You startled me! I didn't know you were home! Is Mary with you?"

"No, we came alone ... and have found you out!"

She chose to ignore this remark and got up from her seat. "Has the party ended?" She began to stack the supper dishes on a tray. "It must be later than I thought ... thank you." Captain Benwick had handed her his teacup. "Oh, good evening, Captain Harville."

"Good evening, Miss Elliot. We, uh, missed you up at the Great House, Benwick. Musgrove thought you might be here." He elbowed Charles.

Captain Benwick came to stand beside Anne, a wary expression on his face. Charles clearly meant to twit her about the awkward situation they were in; he had seen him bait Mary like this during their visit at Lyme.

Charles cleared his throat and attempted to look stern. "Miss Anne," he began impressively, "I think you owe me an explanation. Ahem!" He gestured dramatically; this was his big moment. "What have you been doing here, for all this time, alone with this man?!"

Anne looked at him blankly. "Why, talking, Charles. When you came in we were reading from a book ..."

He and Harville exchanged glances and exploded into loud guffaws. "Reading a book !!" "What did I tell you?" "For two hours?!!" "Naw!"

Captain Benwick folded his arms across his chest, eyeing the rollicking men with growing hostility. "And what did you think I might be doing, Harville?" he asked quietly.

"No, no, James! Nothing ... untoward!" he gasped. "That was Musgrove! I thought -- I only thought -- you were locked in the privy -- reading a book -- for two hours!"

Charles doubled over at that, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. "In the privy! Oh no!"

"If you thought I was 'reading a book,' why didn't you check the library?" Captain Benwick replied, acidly.

"I did! I did!" Captain Harville wailed. "Oh lord, it was full of screaming children, James! They were jumping from the sofa onto the desk and back again! And throwing things! One boy was tearing pages from a book and sailing them in the air! What a bunch of Bedlamites!"

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, Harville!" Captain Benwick muttered, but his eyes begun to twinkle as he recalled that fiasco of a party. And this was just the beginning of the festivities ... the 'simple' part!

"So, my dear sister, what do you have to say for yourself?" Charles broke in, smirking at her.

"Nothing whatsoever!" Anne had finished clearing up. "Charles, you are such a tease! Be a gentleman and take this to the kitchen for me." She held the tray out to him and he took it automatically. She led the way out the door.

"But, Anne! Come back here, Anne! You haven't answered my question!" Charles followed her down the hall, rather deflated.

Captain Benwick smiled in admiration; it seemed Miss Elliot knew how to handle her brother-in-law's teasing rather better than his wife. He gave his friend a cuff on the arm and went out to retrieve his hat and greatcoat.

Anne had taken the lantern from the hallway floor; the two men slowly and cautiously made their way through the dark, unfamiliar house. They could hear Charles in the kitchen, trying to lecture her in his bantering way, but without success.

"But Anne, you must admit, it had a very irregular appearance ..."

"Did it, Charles? I was not aware of anything wrong ." She calmly emptied the tray of the items she had borrowed and began wiping it with a cloth. "We were only talking."

"But Anne, you cannot spend all that time alone with an unmarried man without people thinking things ..."

"We used to do so at Lyme and no one thought anything."

"But we were all together, in a large company!"

"Not always. Besides," she laid her hand on his arm; " think, Charles! Captain Benwick has a broken heart. Nothing improper would happen. He would not wish it to."

"Humph!" Charles thought that Benwick did not look as though his heart was so very broken anymore, but kept this to himself.

Anne began folding up the cloth she had used. "We were discussing a book of his and simply forgot the time. You and I used to talk together, years ago, do you remember? At those parties and assemblies?" She smiled. "No one thought it improper."

"Of course I remember!" His smile faded. "But it was improper, Anne, because ..." his eyes had lost their sparkle, his voice now became quiet. "Don't you see, I ... that's when I began to fall ..." He broke off, aghast at what he was about to say. He looked down at his hands. "Ahem! Well, I believe you, you know that, Anne, but ..."

He looked up; his two friends had found their way to the kitchen. "But please be more careful, sister-dear." He gave her a lopsided smile and turned away, taking a deep breath as he did.

"Very well, gentlemen. We'd best get back to the Great House," Charles said in a forceful, hearty voice. "Goodnight, Anne." He picked up the lantern, preparing to depart. "And please, no more gentlemen visitors tonight, eh?" He smiled in spite of himself, for this warning was clearly ridiculous.

"Musgrove, leave be!" Captain Benwick gave him an exasperated look.

"Very well, Benwick!" Charles replied, looking him over thoughtfully. This man would make a much better husband for Anne than tubby old Cousin Harry! Charles attempted to sound stern. "I'll let you off tonight! But -- the next time I catch the two of you like this, be forewarned, sir," his eyes were twinkling again, "you'll face the alter -- or -- the firing squad!"

Charles began to chuckle at his own joke, then caught himself. "Wait a minute; that's Army. You're Navy. Uh ... what's Navy ... " He thought for a minute, then flashed a triumphant smile at Benwick and opened the door to the outside. "I'll have you keelhauled off the yardarm!"

The 'Navy' men gave a shout of laughter. "No, no, Musgrove!" Harville scolded, "You can't do that! That's the top and bottom of the ship!" They followed him out the door.

Captain Benwick turned and looked back over his shoulder at Anne. Their eyes met and his hand touched his hat in salute; then he was gone.

Captain Harville's voice came drifting back as he followed Charles Musgrove up the path. "Musgrove, that's like trying to, uh, milk the cow and ride it at the same time! Don't you know what a keel is?"

After Harville and Benwick returned to the Great House and with not a little difficulty, extricated their friend from the "Simple Family Party" as it would hereafter be known, the three rode back to Kellynch Hall with little conversation. Having been given the reins, James did his best to drive in a decent manner, but as he was not very skilled, the ride had an effect of a heaving sea. The Captain was lying in the back, hat on chest and one foot extended over the seat arm. While not a dignified position, one he felt justified in taking as it was dark, these were particular friends and he was tired to the bone, so much so that the idea of holding himself upright was too taxing.

"James, I must say," Frederick said in a steady, but weary voice, "You are managing to do something that has not been done since I was a lad."

Benwick frowned, not being able to judge the Captain's frame of mind, he was not certain what was coming. He answered with great care, "And what might that be, sir?"

"I think I am becoming sea sick!" Taking hold of his hat, he sat up and asked, "For all love, where did you learn to drive?" From the tone and the subject, both Harville and Benwick breathed a sigh of relief, they could tell that the Captain was teasing. The spirits had flowed freely at Uppercross, and while all met the naval definition of sober, none were quite in the condition for drawing room conversation. "I shudder to think that I trusted the Laconia and all those poor souls to your skill when you drive like this!"

"Yessir. Well, I never really learned to drive. When I was a child, we had no cart and I have never had reason otherwise to learn . . ."

"James! Watch out!" Harville yelled as he took the reins from his friend.

As James had spoken to Frederick, he had turned to face the Captain and with that had begun to steer the horse into a ditch on the right-hand side of the road. Not that Timothy Harville was a better driver, but he proved more proficient that James Benwick. They continued on their lurching way, the night was cold and dark, the only sound was that of the horse huffing its way along and cart jostling with each step.

Pulling into the drive of Kellynch, Frederick could see a light burning in the library. While on the journey home, he had taken a respite from all his mental agitations, the light told him that it was time to begin again, for either Sophia was waiting up or the Admiral was reading. After the evening he had just spent, he was certain that it must be his sister.

As they entered the Hall, a footman began to help the gentlemen out of their coats. Harkness stepped up to the Captain and in his ear said, "Shortly after your leaving, a man of the Marines rode up asking specifically for you, sir. He says he has a packet for you and that he must have your signature. The Crofts had not returned and so I installed him in your sitting room. I have been feeding him and so he has been quite content to wait."

Looking at the servant, the Captain smiled as he removed his greatcoat, "You are very clever, Harkness. For a Marine, after fighting, the next best thing is to eat. I shall see him directly." Handing Harkness his greatcoat he said, "You put him in my . . .? "

"Frederick? Is that you?"

They all turned at the sound of his sister's voice, the news of the Marine had quite driven his thoughts about Sophie out of his head. She stood in the doorway of the sitting room. Frederick thought to himself that her look was not quite sisterly.

Harville and Benwick made their way to her and did the civil, thanking her for allowing them to stay in her lovely home. Sophia was cordial, but all could tell that it was Frederick she wanted and she wanted him now.

Thanking them for accompanying him to the party, he bid his friends goodnight. Turning to his sister, approached her with hands out and the warmest of smiles. "Sophia, I am glad to see you. I told you there was no need to come. I had no intention of disrupting your time in Bath, but since you are, and have waited up to see me, I shall be right back down after I go upstairs and conduct a bit of business." Bussing her cheek, he hurried up the stairs and to the Marine. As he went, Sophie was certain she heard him humming with great energy. And if she was not mistaken, it was "Heart of Oak."

Harkness had prepared the marine for the Captain's arrival and when all the proper papers were signed, took the corporal down the back stairs and out the kitchen, but not without a final few provisions for his journey back to Plymouth.

Holding the packet, Frederick stared at it intently. The seal was that of Admiral Locke. The waxed sailcloth packet held his entire future and its importance to him was not lost. With these orders, he was set on a course that was irrevocable; his life and that of Louisa Musgrove would move in a direction he had not seen a month ago, a direction he did not wish to move, but now was forced by his own hand.

Not wishing to be disturbed, nor found out, he took the packet into his room. Closing the door quietly, but deliberately, he broke the seal and slowly unfolded the sheets. The first was a formal letter of congratulation from the Admiral, wishing him the joy of a new command. The second was the official order. He stared for a moment, not certain that he was seeing clearly what they said. After the second reading, he knew that he had not misread anything. Aloud, but just barely, he said, "Good G-d! How could this have happened!?"

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