"Landing in Halifax . . . establish my bank . . . then onto, where? Ha! Fredericton! It's not Nova Scotia, but how different could New Brunswick be?" The Captain spoke quietly under his breath, not wishing to disturb Captain Hunston. Studying the map of the North American station, he had already plotted several different courses.

"Would this be your first time to North America, sir?" Captain Hunston asked with interest.

Frederick had not heard the man come to stand nearby. "Yes. . . I have spent most of my time in the tropics and other than a time in the Western Islands, this would be my first cold-weather experience. Have you any direct knowledge of this area?" Frederick could see by his swabs that Captain Hunston was a newly made captain, but might have more background in North America than himself.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did a long turn with a Captain Jonathan Hooker, he was a protégé of Baron von Humboldt. What Humboldt did for the Pacific currents off of South America, Hooker did for the currents in the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. I was with him for . . . oh, nearly two years, circumnavigating and taking soundings to make new charts. We sailed out of Channel-Port aux Basques . . . here off Newfoundland," he said, pointing to the western coast. "But we occasionally got to Halifax for dispatches and mail. My best advice would be, become very used to the feel of wool against your skin, it will be your constant companion most of the year . . . " Before the Captain could continue, both men stopped to listen to the calls which came with a weighing anchor. Both felt the heightened emotions at the beginning of a sail and the deep sense of anticipation connected to it. At the same time, a regulator clock chimed the three quarter hour.

At the conclusion of the ritual, both men returned to their conversation. "As I was about to say, I have just received a new commission, I wish with all my heart it were back to that station, but alas, that is not to be. The country is wondrous. Around the Gulf is beautiful, but to sail into Quebec is truly a spectacle, the mountains are amazingly high and jagged as broken glass." With a smile, he added, "But the winters are as cold as an angry wife!"

Frederick smiled, "I hear there is much opportunity to make a good living if one is willing to work?"

"Oh! To be sure. Even a modest purse can be a good beginning there. The hard work is the key. I have known officers thrown ashore who have taken their half pay and done near miracles with it . . . of course, there are those who have also been fooled by any of a multitude of lurchers, quacks and speculators that line the streets. If one keeps their purse close to their heart and a brain in their head, there is much to be made of themselves. Have you any definite plans?" the captain asked.

"No, none at all. Just doing a bit of 'speculating' myself. Thank you for the information, I appreciate your time." Frederick turned away from the map and took a seat.

A door opened and a tall, thinnish man wearing glasses and holding an arm load of files looked in and informed them both, "The Admiral is dreadfully late this morning; Captain Wentworth, it will be another half an hour at least. Captain Hunston, I am telling him of your presence now." The man disappeared through another door, closing it with a bit of a slam.

"Darwin! Come in here . . . now!" Admiral Locke bellowed. Brushing ashes from his uniform and relighting the cheroot, he leaned back in his chair as he looked at the list of appointments for the day. The first should be easily dealt with, I'll have Darwin do the deed, the Admiral thought casually. Mr Darwin entered the office with a mass of files pertaining to the appointments. Laying them on the Admiral's desk, he began to sort them in their order corresponding to the morning appointments.

"Yes sir. What was it you needed of me?" While Mr Darwin sounded and looked the part, he was not a particularly timid man, but Admiral Locke had a reputation for savagery. When at sea, it was a bloody sabre that he would wield, when ashore, it was his vicious tongue which did his work. Continuing with the files, he tensely awaited the Admiral's orders.

"I want you to tell Captain Hunston that he will not be getting the Galaxy. It will be going to Captain Reginald Grant. Have the orders rewritten to include the change and then send them off with a marine," he said in a dismissive tone. As he had spoken, he had used the hand in which he held the cheroot. Waving Darwin towards the door, ashes had fallen from its end and scattered over the top of the desk.

Upon hearing the order, Mr Darwin paled. He was to tell Captain Hunston! The man in question was waiting just outside! He had arrived early, wanting to thank the Admiral personally for the step up; he had told Darwin of bringing his family from Shelmerston and how grateful he was to have another ship, how languishing on shore had nearly ruined him. And now this . . . He stood motionless for a moment and then the Admiral's growling about the ashes automatically sent Mr Darwin's hand to his breast pocket for a handkerchief to dust off the desk.

As he worked to remove the ashes without smudging the documents, the clerk stuttered, "B-but sir. Hunston is next. The orders were from Whitehall! I can't change them!" As the words left his mouth, Mr Darwin knew he had placed his head squarely on the chopping block.

"What do you mean, you can't change them? The rescission was also from Whitehall and will be carried out! Now, I have told you what to do and it will be done! Get Hunston's name off those orders and put Grant's on them! Hunston needs to learn to speak nicely to certain young gentlemen. He was too rough with Lord -----'s favourite son and is now to pay for it. Am I understood?" The Admiral glared at his secretary while puffing angrily on the cigar.

Mr Darwin thought how his superior looked vaguely like a steam engine, but cleared that directly out of his mind. It was time to be very careful, not careless. "Yes sir. I shall have done in a thrice." He turned and went out, dreading to face the ecstatic Captain Hunston.

Meanwhile, after Darwin had left them, Captain Hunston hitched his sword forward and settled into the seat next to Frederick. "I hope you don't think me impertinent, but would I have the pleasure of meeting Captain Frederick Wentworth?"

The Captain looked into the gentleman's eager face, and while there was a vague familiarity, having no perfect recognition of him, answered with a cautious, "Yes, I am he. But I think I am not acquainted with you, sir."

Standing and extending his hand, Captain Hunston introduced himself, "Captain Thomas Hunston, newly of the 32-gun Galaxy. I am here to thank the Admiral for the step up. I have been ashore for much too long and now I have settled my family here and am to have a fine cruise to the Adriatic." The fellow smiled as he realised his rudeness, 'I am sorry, I force myself upon you and then don't even explain as to how I know you. I was your first midshipman on the Asp."

The names which came to him, the names of his mids on the Asp were nothing like Hunston and so as he took the man's hand, he said, "I do not recall you being aboard the Asp, and it being a rather close fit, I think I would recall."

As they shook, Captain Hunston laughed. "I don't wonder that you do not remember, I was put off the ship before we even weighed anchor . . . mumps you know."

Looking into Hunston's smiling, open face, the memory of a younger, swollen, spotted face, with a wool sock tied about the chin came to him. The nineteen-year-old with a voice barely broken had begged to remain in the sick-bay until he was well, but on the advice of a one-eyed, half-drunken surgeon's mate, he had been put ashore and the Asp had sailed with her new captain short one midshipman.

Shaking Hunston's hand with more vigour, Frederick said, "Hunston! I am glad to see that the mumps were not your undoing." He quickly added, "You were obviously able to find another ship." He smiled to himself, musing that the mumps had not only left the fellow's career undamaged, but seeing as he mentioned a family, they had spared other things near and dear to any man.

"Thank you, sir. Yes, I was aboard the Cranston, a 20-gun frigate within two months time. While I would like to fancy it was the skill I had shown with Captain Gilson, your predecessor, I think it had more to do with all the ships of the time were starving for hands. I was sad to hear when she had sunk, the Asp I mean, but the Great Nation, . . . what a thumping great prize, sir!"

"Yes, Providence was smiling on us when taking her. I give you joy in the Galaxy. I have seen her moored at the west end. By her lines, she looks to be a sweet sailer."

"Thank you , sir. Aye, that she is. . . I hope to do some deep water sailing with her . . . but that will be in the future and who is able to tell where that may go?"

As they were about continue in the conversation of two captains, the Admiral's secretary entered again. "Captain Hunston, may I take you through here," he said, indicating yet another door. "Captain Wentworth, when I return, the Admiral should be ready to meet with you."

After Mr Darwin had left him, Admiral Locke began to paw through the files that he had taken such care to arrange. He saw that his next appointment of the day was that of Frederick Wentworth. He knew that Wentworth had been put ashore in September along with a few hundred others, and was most likely in want of a ship. It was universally known that sailors on land were happy only as long as it took them to get into some sort of trouble, and then they wanted back to the safety that numerous fathoms below could afford. While Wentworth had a starched reputation with women, perhaps a speculator had charmed open his purse and much of that walloping lot of prize he had won was now in another's pocket. Whatever the case, Admiral Locke was in a heady position.

Admiral Benjamin Locke had, at one time, been a fine captain. He had begun his career with a certain respect for the regular seaman. He had allowed his junior officers to start the men with very little cursing and nothing more than a short length of knotted rope; in the captain's younger days, he had felt that the example of Jesus clearing out the temple with a small whip of cords was an excellent example to use. In the succeeding years, he had continued to allow it only because most officers became too zealous with the harsher punishments, (cane, hands or feet, and the cobbing-board), and put too many able men into the sick-bay, thus hampering the efficiency of the crew. As time had gone on, his ideas about starting had not changed, but the grating had to be rigged for flogging first two and then three times a week; eventually it became a daily event. Only Sundays were the men spared standing to witness punishment. Locke had always been fortunate, each commission had ended just as the men were beginning to murmur about mutiny. The Kestral's crew had gotten to rolling cannonballs across the quarterdeck on the middle watch, but the weather had blessed and the commission had ended sooner than expected, sparing Captain Locke what would have been an undoubtedly violent death.

When Captain Locke had been promoted to Admiral and hoisted his flag, a marvelous change had come over him. He no longer felt the constraints of good-will toward the average sea-going man, he no longer felt that his officers were to be given certain condescension due their rank and standing in the Navy. Admiral Benjamin Locke suddenly saw all those beneath him for what they were, merely hand and foot holds in the cliff he must climb to become the First Lord. It was not a passion he spoke of to anyone. And in reality, there was little hope of it ever coming about as Locke was not a very well connected man. He was neither terribly wealthy, nor prone to obliging others with an engaging personality, but the dream was alive and made itself known in every decision he weighed.

His decisions about Captain Frederick Wentworth were not disinterested. While they would have little effect upon his ascension to the Admiralty, they did have to do with a nasty bit of family embarrassment.

While on a Mediterranean station, his middle daughter had begun a relationship with a young local man. The fellow was the son of a talented, local artisan, not unprosperous, not unconnected by his people's standards and not ungallant, but also not acceptable to the Locke family. After all their efforts to end the ridiculous matter had failed, and her indiscretion had become evident after about four months, to save the Admiral's reputation, a plan had been formulated. The girl was to be taken back to England and put away with a maiden aunt in Cornwall. At the time, Locke had not the ability to change a ship's entire commission and send it home simply to provide passage for his daughter, so . . . the only recourse was to take into his confidence the only captain in his grasp who was genuinly headed that way, and that had been Captain Frederick Wentworth.

When the Admiral had given a cursory explanation to him, the Captain had visibly hesitated. It was obvious that the thought of taking an unmarried, pregnant seventeen-year-old girl on his ship was not to Wentworth's liking. Her father had seen this and being a very clever man, rather than cajoling, begging or outright ordering, he had appealed to the part of the Captain which felt a duty to protect those in peril. It mattered not to Admiral Locke that the story he had woven was a lie from beginning to end. His daughter had not been sullied by anything but her own willfulness. She was in danger of nothing but her own gross stubbornness, and they all lamented nothing but the pall this might cast upon the otherwise unbrilliant career of her father.

Admiral Locke moved aside a file and found what he was looking for. "Ah . . . there you are." Taking the waxed sailcloth packet, he broke the official Admiralty seal and glanced over the papers within. "Well, Captain Wentworth, you should do very well in carrying out this commission. My daughter most certainly could not have been an easy passenger and I would think that Admiral Wellingshire will be not much better."

Being alone in the office, Frederick stood and walked to the window, watching the Allenham, which had just weighed anchor, towing out to the channel. The wind was still that morning and there was no amount of skill which could take the ship from a dead stand out to the chops without the aid of strong backs to the oars. He watched until she reached the mouth and was able to take the current.

Turning back and taking his seat again, he looked at his scraper. It was not his number one, but the other was at Kellynch and this did well enough keeping the rain off. The lace was loose again. Perhaps, if I am fortunate, in a few weeks I will have a steward again to care for these matters. Until such time, I suppose an evening with a needle and thread are in my future, he thought as he nudged the gold braid back into position. Looking at his watch, the Captain wondered where the secretary had taken Captain Hunston and when this Darwin fellow would return so that he could announce him to Admiral Locke.

Absently looking back to the docks, he said quietly to himself, "Best to be done with this before I go dashing off more letters to Anne." On Saturday evening, after a wretched supper in the bar-parlour, and far too much brandy, he had tottered back to his room; determined to write to Anne, revealing all his thoughts and agonisings. Upon waking in the morning, he had viewed the carnage that was the writing desk in his room and had begun to read some of the attempted letters. It was clear that his condition had more than loosened his thoughts, but also had dampened his writing skills. The letters that were understandable, were rambling affairs that made little sense, but showed a man lost and quite capable of breaching every trust he had forged.

While reading what seemed to be the last one, the most ill-written and blotted of the pile, he had read some indiscriminate scraps of rambling which had chilled him. It had begun with the same salutation of, "Dearest Anne," as had all the others. There had been much the same apology for his treatment of her that past autumn, a meandering explanation of his anger and hurt and the ever present plea for her to forgive him and could they begin again? In none of the letters had he ever mentioned the prior claim of Miss Musgrove, nor his proposal to her. What had set this letter apart was the ominous tone taken at the end. He had rattled on, seemingly to no end, when the words, "oblivion" and "cease to torment me," had appeared. In the end, he had threatened to do himself a harm if she were to refuse him.

At that, he had hastened to the rooms occupied by the keep, hoping that he had not attempted to post any other such letters. He had not, and by the warning given him by the keep, it would be in the Captain's best interest to, henceforth, keep well away from the brandy. Returning to the room, he had gathered all the letters and hoved them into the fire. As he had watched them burn away, he had realised with some amusement that while he would, in these ridiculous letters pour out all that he felt of Anne, he would not speak to her when she had been in his presence. He had spoken to all others, save the woman he had come to love again. As he had considered further, he had realised that she had not spoken to him either. She had tried once; she had attempted to thank him when he had, one morning, pulled her nephew, Walter, away from her as the little devil had teased and tormented. But, other than politely civil, social intercourse, there had been no other efforts on her part. Not even a smile now and then to hint of a possible feeling other than apathy. All of his roilings in Shropshire had been the product of wishes and stifled desires, nothing more. The last of the letters had burned away and so had his notions of Anne Elliot caring for him with anything other than indifference.

That realisation had made his coming to Admiral Locke much simpler. There had been little anxiety as he had dressed for the interview, no lamenting his choice to offer for Louisa, marry her and then return to sea if possible; nothing aside from dressing and preparing his mind to meet with the Admiral.

"Captain Wentworth, give me one moment and I shall be right with you. I must file these and then I shall be yours." Mr Darwin's words had been punctuated by his actions and by the time he was finished speaking, he was done with the files. "This way if you please, sir." Mr Darwin motioned to one of the doors he had come through earlier. As the Captain passed, he noticed that the man looked paler and more drawn that previous. I hope he is not ill, I have no need of that above all else, he thought idly.

The two men stood in an antechamber for a moment as Mr Darwin straightened his coat and took a deep breath. Frederick thought to himself, Good God, has the Admiral changed so much for the worse? Before he could speculate further, Darwin opened the door and announced him.

Admiral Locke stood and extended his hand and said, "Captain Wentworth, I am glad to see you well after all these years! Please, be seated. Darwin, bring us some tea." Turning to Wentworth, he said, "Too early and not hot enough for sham, is it not, Captain?"

It heartened Frederick that he would remember their first meeting so well that even what they had drunk was noted. "Yes, sir. Champagne would be a bit out of place just now, I do believe." Having taken the chair the Admiral had indicated, he sat and waited for the Admiral's attention to be focused on the interview.

Taking heed to keep from creasing his coat tails, Admiral Locke sat with great care. He, for a time, sat and rearranged papers on his desk. When things were to his satisfaction, he looked up and smiled, "Well, Captain, how have you been these past years? I must say that I am still most grateful for the service rendered by you. I cannot tell you how that one act helped us so."

Frederick took it to be a good sign that Locke was not embarrassed by his presence nor was attempting to disavow their connection. It would make calling upon the favour cleaner and neater than if the Admiral were endeavoring to distance himself. "I am quite well, sir. I have kept from harm, for the most part." As he said these things, the look upon Locke's face bespoke a genuine interest in the Captain's welfare, another good sign.

"Capital! I am pleased to hear that you are so well. I am glad to know that being put ashore has not made you run mad as some seem to. It is a dreadful business, being put ashore, but it gives a man an opportunity to clear his head and realise how good the sea is to him. Rather like being away from family, gives you the chance to miss them and appreciate their company when you do have it." As the Admiral reeled off his fine speech, he hoped that his eyes didn't give away his true feelings on the matter of family. While absence made some more devoted to family, for Locke it was necessary to the sanity of all concerned! "But, I would not imagine that you have come to give me a report of how well you like being ashore, now have you Captain?"

The Admiral had thought he would make Wentworth enquire about a ship, make him ask the nettling question, but now the Admiral thought that he would be the one to endow benefaction. With no trouble to himself, he would repay one debt and bring the Captain under obligation to him, all with the same set of orders. Orders decided upon and written weeks ago at Whitehall. "I must tell you , Captain, I was shocked to see you on my roster this morning."

"And why is that, sir?"

"I was just thinking of you this past week. I have a commission I think would do well for a man such as yourself. You came immediately to mind. Now, I tell you all this in the strictest of confidence, nothing is final as of yet and if word were to get out that I have said anything, the entire operation could be jeopardised. Might you be interested?"

Frederick Wentworth was not a man ordinarily given to great bursts of emotion, an even temper had served him well over the years, but on this day, he could barely speak so great was the swelling in his throat. Without so much as having to ask, a commission seemed to be coming to him and by the tone of the Admiral's voice, it might just prove to be a plum. "I can assure you, Admiral, I would be most interested. Would it be out of line to ask what the mission might be?"

The Admiral's countenance turned serious. His change in expression came not from any danger nor secrecy required, but that he had not reckoned how to make the assignment sound sufficiently grand when in actuality it would merely require the Captain to keep from doing harm to a very old, very stodgy, very meddlesome admiral being shipped off to Barbados to retire in the sun. Locke pondered how he might allude to Elba or some of the South American rumblings, thereby puffing the consequences of these orders, hoping to do so, sans out and out lying to the Captain.

Not that he had any compunction about lying, he just did not wish to misrepresent Admiralty orders in the event that Wentworth were not happy and began talking to some of those that Admiral Locke knew to be his friends. While Admiral George Croft, the Captain's brother-in-law, was ashore, he was still had the ear of a few highly placed persons in London. Then there was the Captain's particular friendship with Admiral Patrick McGillvary. While Admiral McGillvary himself carried little weight with the Admiralty, just having been made less than two years before, his family did have a pocket-borough outside of Bath. The Admiral did not sit the seat, but the vote was counted upon to help in naval matters when up for a vote in Parliament and it would not due for Locke be spoken of ill by the controller of the vote. Since blustering would not due, appealing to confidentiality would have to work.

"I am afraid, Captain Wentworth, that I must disappoint you. Until the orders are written and a dossier put together, I am not at liberty to say anything more; in fact, I have spoken a bit more freely than I ought, but I know you to be discreet and trustworthy. While I cannot give my word that you particularly will have this commission, please know that I shall do my utmost to see that it be given to you. Any sway that I may possess with those determining this commission's make up, I will use." Though they were alone, the Admiral leaned forward in a confidential manner, and his voice lowered while his face went stonily serious, "I will call up as many favours as necessary to see that you are the man on these orders." All the Admiral hoped was that he was not overplaying his hand; it was time to stop and he could feel it. Straightening, he brightened. "If this comes about as I believe it will, I am in hope that this might, in some small way, begin to repay the debt that my family and I owe you, Captain. I long to see you rewarded for the great service that you rendered us those years ago."

Both men sat for a moment, both counting their good fortune. The Admiral, using orders already written; just needing dates amended; would put an end to his naggings about owing Captain Wentworth any favours. Captain Wentworth, owing to Providence, thinking on the orders which had come to him out of the blue and for what seemed a rather important commission.

The Captain was the first to come out of his reverie and speak, "I must tell you, Admiral, I was not in any way expecting such good fortune today. I think you have cheered me more than I have a right to."

"Captain, I am always glad to see the deserving rewarded. And I think this will more than reward you. By the bye, what was it that you had exactly come to speak with me about? It seems you have had no chance to say, I have quite overtaken the entire conversation." Keeping a smile on his face, Admiral Locke touched the bell and looked sharply to the door; Darwin had never brought the tea and that was not pleasing to the Admiral.

Standing, Frederick extended his hand and said, "Sir, what we have talked of more than covers the concern which brought me here in the first place. I wish to thank you for allowing me your time." The gentlemen shook hands and the Captain, setting aside the insistence that Darwin show him out, was out of the Admiral's presence in a very short time.

Leaning back in his chair, Admiral Locke pulled the sailcloth packet with the Frederick's orders from under a file. Taking out the orders again, he thought, Change the date from January to today . . . no, better yet, Wednesday. That will make it look as though I had some convincing to do. "Darwin! Darwin, come in here now!"

As soon as Darwin entered the office, the Admiral remembered that tea had not been brought. "Where was the tea, Darwin?"

"Sir, there is quite a lot of confusion in the mess area and I was not able to obtain any hot water, and then I had some documents to take round to other offices. I am sorry, sir. Shall I get it for you now?"

The Admiral's good mood did away with his desire to punish Mr Darwin. He would allow the fellow this one misstep, but Heaven help him if it happened again. "No, Darwin. I shall not take any now, perhaps later. Right now, you must take these orders to the copyist and have the dates changed to reflect Wednesday, not the dates in January. I will want that ready as soon as it can be accomplished. Then it is to be sealed again and sent, by marine, to Captain Wentworth. You know where he is? He told me no different, so I assume we can find him?"

Taking the orders and the packet, Darwin looked at the address, "Yes, sir. Somerset. A Kellynch Hall. I shall have done with that directly, sir." Leaving the Admiral's office, Darwin mused that he was merely changing the dates on Captain Wentworth's orders, though all the orders that morning made him exceedingly nervous; the Admiral's authority was rather limited since that last bout with Whitehall. All he could hope was that he would not be taken down were the Admiral found out. Perhaps his penchant for keeping a diary might just save him, should the need arise. Leaving Captain Wentworth's orders with the copyist, Mr Darwin walked slowly back to his office, all the while thinking about how badly Captain Hunston had taken his loss of the Galaxy.

As Mr Darwin mused about the Admiral's questionable actions, Frederick made his way back to the inn, musing that this was the first bit of business he had conducted in quite some time which had gone his way. Perhaps things in his life would be coming back to a more even keel.

Harkness opened the door for the Admiral and Mrs Croft. She had given him a quick nod as she passed; the monologue to her husband took no pause and she moved quickly to the sitting room. The Admiral moved with more deliberation and in handing his hat and cane to the man enquired as to the state of the house and the staff. He knew his reasons for chatting with Harkness had more to do with taking a rest from his wife than any genuine concern for the welfare of those to do with Kellynch.

He went on, they would take tea in the sitting room and would he take Captain Wentworth their compliments; would he pray come down at his earliest possible convenience. "Captain Wentworth is not here, sir. He has not been even in the district since Tuesday last and not expected back until Thursday." Harkness saw the Admiral's displeasure instantly.

"He has been gone since Tuesday?" The Admiral's tone of voice was reminiscent of Captain Wentworth's the previous Monday.

"Yes, sir. He arrived unexpectedly on Monday afternoon, he freshened from the road, wrote three letters to be posted and wanted only a modest dinner. He departed very early the next morning with word of his return this coming Thursday. He mentioned business in Plymouth, but no more. And he specified no particular time to look for him." There was much talk among the tradesmen and serving class about all the bustling at Uppercross because of the wedding. It had begun with a large breakfast the morning that the Captain had left, and there were two other large affairs in the offing, not to mention all the sewing that was being hired out, but Harkness determined that the Admiral need not hear all the local gossip.

"Well, please bring the tea." The Admiral turned and stalked into the sitting room. His wife was installed in her favourite chair, looking more relaxed than he had seen her in days. He inwardly winced to think how soon that was to end.

"I hope that you have asked that Frederick come down immediately. This nonsense must be taken care of before it goes any further." Sophy Croft smoothed the front of her gown as she again thought about how ridiculous it was that her brother should throw himself away on one of the Musgrove girls. A man of his mind must not waste himself so. Looking back up, she saw that the Admiral was pouring himself a brandy. "Surely the trip was not so bad that you need brandy this early, George?"

"This is not for me, my dear. This is for you. Frederick is not here. He is away. Harkness said he mentioned Plymouth." Croft walked over to his wife and handed her the brandy. She took it and held it for a moment.

"Has the boy taken a blow to the head and not told anyone? What is he doing? First he dallies about with a nice but silly farm girl, then he hares off when she is injured; for weeks, he closets himself with our brother, leaving me no word. Now he announces that he will marry the girl and when we arrive to talk sense to him, he is back at the beginning, run off again!" Sophy put by the brandy without so much as a sip. She rose and walked to the French doors which looked over the pleasure park. The weather was bright without being sunny, but it belied the mood of Kellynch Hall.

Since the arrival of Frederick's letter on Thursday, there had been no other conversation with his wife. She had surprised him with her vehemence. Her disapproval of Louisa Musgrove had taken him unawares also. He had always found the two Musgrove girls to be lovely and quite suitable for any man of Frederick's 'standing.' His wife was most definitely not in agreement. As he stood musing, Sophy had begun to catalogue the girl's deficiencies. After such a long ride by post and his gout acting out, George Croft was determined not to allow any more.

"Sophia, this is enough. I have listened as you have taken this poor girl apart, stem to stern and it is enough." He walked over to his wife and drew her back to her chair. Sitting her down and drawing another seat close, he continued, "Now Louisa Musgrove may not be what you would choose for your brother, but he did . . . tut, tut, tut, . . . allow me to finish," he said as she opened her mouth the jump in. "The girl is not big enough to beat a proposal out of him, he did it of his own will." The Admiral looked down as he pondered going on. He had listened for days as she had gone over the matter, he telling her nothing of his thoughts, but now that they were nearing the date and would be seeing the Musgroves in person; she must know his mind. Taking her hand, he began, "My dear, I know that you have an idea of the kind of woman that Frederick needs. You felt the same way about Edward. Your first visit with Catherine was not what you had hoped, but now by writing, the two of you are very amiable. Frederick has asked Louisa Musgrove to be his wife, she has accepted him and I dare say that it will be a good match. She is but twenty and will grow to suit him, more so than if she were older." They looked at one another. He hoped she would take his words and be done with the matter. If he were to go on, anything he might say would be painful for her to remember.

"But George, she is so young and her accident shows how foolish she is . . . and . . . who knows what damage there may yet be? Things that may not make themselves known for quite some time. This is a bad business and I do not wish to see my brother . . . duped."

"Firstly, Sophia. I don't think the Musgroves to be that kind of people. Her parents are not the kind of people that would ensnare a man for their daughter, knowing her to be too hurt to function. Secondly, there were those in my family who felt the same way about you. Young and foolish were words we heard for years, do you not remember?"

Sophia had not been so young when they had married; twenty-three was not too young, but when your husband is a good twenty years older and his family is all much older than yourself, twenty-three is like a child. She had been welcomed by his mother, but few others and there had been spiteful whispers concerning her reasons for marrying a much older man. They had gone on for quite some time. Enduring such a thing had made them hold fast to one another, it had been part of the reason she had taken to going to sea with him. His family could not watch her with suspicious eyes and hope to catch her in a compromise. But the situation with Miss Musgrove was different.

"George, that does not signify in this. I do not question Louisa Musgrove's integrity, I just feel that she is not . . . " Sophia Croft was loath to say it, but she felt the girl was not good enough for Frederick. How pompous it sounded when given voice. It was not as if Frederick were a scholar of such superior mind that he would find no interest with her at all. "He should marry someone more his . . . temperament."

"Really, Sophia! Frederick is a rather high spirited man and if there is anyone about here of that kind it would be one of the Musgrove girls! While I am sure that he is able to converse about rather deep ideas, he is not a philosopher by trade and is more likely to ride and hunt than ponder the unponderable. In that, I think the Musgrove girl is well-suited to him." He could see that she was not accepting his arguments, and that his patience with the matter was drawing to an end. "The material point in all of this, my dear is . . . will you accept the girl or no? Will you divide the family by causing a fracas, or will you do the civil and accept Frederick's choice in a wife?"

She sat quietly, she knew him to be right. There was a helpless feel to the whole matter. "I just think that he might have chosen differently, he. . . had other choices." They exchanged knowing looks. Another old conversation which had come to nothing.

"Had there been interest there my dear, a signal would have been hoisted. He might have changed tack, but no such thing happened. Best leave that. When he does return, don't dun him. Let him live his life. Come, let's go up and change from these travelling clothes." He helped his wife to her feet. She put her arms around his neck and they stood quietly for a time.

"I only want him to be happy, George," she said into his lapel.

"I know, my dear. But that will be entirely up to him."

They parted and slipping his arm about her waist, the walked slowly up to their room.

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