September 2, 1814

My dear brother,

I hope your time at Portsmouth has gone as well as can be expected. Poor Captain Benwick has been in my thoughts since your last letter about the death of Miss Harville. The brief happiness the two of them shared together is a blessing that I am sure Captain Benwick shall always remember.

Admiral Croft and I have been unsuccessful in our endeavor to locate a suitable house near Taunton. We travelled down last week to look at advertised places in the immediate neighbourhood, but none suited us. We believe the current timing is not in our favour, as the peace has brought all the officers back to England and landowners are looking to enjoy the upcoming hunting season in the country.

The Admiral wishes to remain in his home country of Somersetshire, so we have determined to settle in Bath through the autumn and winter. If you have the opportunity, we would be delighted for you to visit and stay with us. We are settled at 25 Gay Street. It is well situated, near the shops and less than a mile from the theatre and concert buildings. In just the few days we have been here, we have met with many naval friends and have formed a happy little society, with more social engagements than I would have imagined! I am sure you would find much to enjoy here. I hope to have the delight of seeing you in person soon.

Your affectionate sister,

Sophia

~~OOO~~

Captain Frederick Wentworth read his sister's letter as he finished a quick breakfast. The past month had drained him emotionally, and the allure of fun and lighthearted society in Bath appealed to him. However, he had just written to his brother, Edward, the previous day confirming a stay in Shropshire to visit him and his new wife. Therefore, Sophia would have to wait.

Frederick finished his coffee, then refolded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. Donning his hat and gloves, he exited his lodgings and steeled himself for the grueling day ahead. He did not have to walk far. After passing only a few buildings, he stopped at one and knocked on the door. A well-dressed man greeted him.

"Good morning, Captain Wentworth."

"Good morning, Pinney. How is he today?"

"About the same as yesterday and the day before, sir."

"And the day before that," Frederick said grimly. "At least it is better than last week."

"Indeed, sir. If he does not worsen, it is a good sign. Please come in. He is expecting you."

Frederick walked into the drawing room and took in the same sight that had greeted him every morning for the past fortnight - his friend, Captain James Benwick, sitting at a table with an open book of Lord Byron's melancholic poems in front of him, dressed in all black and weeping into a handkerchief. Frederick grimaced at the overly sentimental display, but admitted it was better than when he had first arrived from Plymouth early last month. After giving Benwick the dreadful news about his beloved Fanny Harville's sudden bout with illness and subsequent death, Frederick watched as his former first lieutenant, an excellent and courageous officer, was reduced to a near-comatose state, lying in bed all day and vehemently refusing to leave the room. Had it not been for Frederick's steadfast persistence, Benwick would probably not have bathed or shaved those first two weeks. He had already lost too much weight by refusing to eat more than a few pieces of toast each day. At Pinney's wise suggestion, the liquor bottles had been hidden.

Hearing Frederick's footsteps, Captain Benwick slowed his weeping and looked up. His eyes and nose were swollen red and the rest of his face wet with tears.

"Hello, Benwick."

Frederick had quickly learned to avoid saying "good morning" or "good day", for those phrases only prompted a fresh round of weeping as Benwick proclaimed that nothing would ever be good in the world again.

Once Benwick regained enough of his composure, he replied shakily, "Hello, Captain Wentworth. Has… has Captain Harville arrived yet?"

"No. He should arrive around two o'clock."

Frederick had written to his friend, Captain Harville, soon after arriving at Portsmouth, telling him that Benwick could not stay there and could not be left alone. Benwick had courted and proposed to Captain Harville's sister in Portsmouth, and Frederick had cursed the peace, for it gave Benwick nothing to do and nowhere to go.

Frederick had brought him outside a few times, thinking the fresh air would be beneficial for his friend, but each venture had ended in disaster. Every little thing seemed to remind Benwick of dear, sweet Fanny. A woman passing them on the street had the same hair colour as Fanny; another woman's bonnet looked almost the same as Fanny's favourite; a street was one that Benwick and Fanny had walked along before. It was too overwhelming, and for the past fortnight, Frederick had kept Benwick indoors.

Captain Harville was arriving today to take Benwick with him to Lyme. The former had made arrangements to take a small house for the winter with his wife and three children. Though all views of alliance between the two men were now gone, Captain Harville felt a responsibility towards Benwick during this difficult time as both men mourned Fanny. Captain Harville and Frederick both agreed that the location of Lyme by the sea, the grandeur of the surrounding country, and the retirement of the town in the autumn and winter were exactly suited to Captain Benwick's state of mind. As Benwick had not protested against the scheme, it was all arranged.

"Thank you for everything, Captain Wentworth."

Frederick shifted his feet. What thanks was needed when he only did what any friend would do? "Think nothing of it, Benwick. You must write to me when you are settled at Lyme."

"Where will you be heading next?"

"I have decided to visit my brother in Shropshire for two or three months, then join my sister in Bath."

Benwick nodded solemnly. "Mr. Wentworth is newly married, is he not?" His voice broke as he did not add the unspoken words on both men's minds - had Miss Harville lived, Benwick might have been newly married by now too.

"Yes, he is."

"Please send him my best. And I hope with the peace upon us, you too will meet that one special woman who awakens your soul. I am all too aware that, having found that happiness briefly, I shall never find it again. But you… I so wish it for you."

Frederick had not the heart to tell Benwick to rally himself, that he would one day be happy with another. Miss Harville would not have wanted him to waste away his days so pathetically. Knowing that Benwick needed time to process his grief, Frederick murmured his thanks and dutifully stayed by his friend, speaking on whatever subjects Benwick wished or remaining a quiet, comforting presence until Captain Harville arrived a few hours later.

The three men had dinner together and the next morning, Frederick watched Harville and Benwick set off in a carriage. Frederick then penned a quick letter to Sophia and prepared for his own departure to Shropshire, with Benwick's words echoing in his head. That one special woman who awakens your soul. Poetic language aside, Frederick knew exactly what Benwick meant, for eight years ago, he had been engaged to the only woman whom he had ever wanted to marry. Most would consider his loss more fortunate than Benwick's, as his betrothed had not succumbed to death. But Frederick thought it might be easier to overcome a loss arising from uncontrollable circumstances than one that could have been prevented but for a weak and timid mind.

Though Frederick had no information about Anne Elliot, nor did he care to obtain any, he was certain of her still being alive. Whether she was still single was another matter. In a hidden corner of his heart, a small voice in favour of her constancy whispered that she was unmarried. But his more rational mind said that, after so many years, she must be married by now. Her father, Sir Walter Elliot, had no heir and her godmother, Lady Russell, would have persuaded her into a good match - just as she had persuaded her to relinquish Frederick.

A pain tore through Frederick at the thought of Anne with another man, sharing his bed and bearing his children. Frederick reminded himself, as he did whenever tender feelings towards her threatened to resurface, that she had deserted him, and he had no desire of meeting her ever again. Benwick shall be happy with another, and so shall I.

~~END OF CHAPTER~~

Author's note: Jane Austen briefly lived at 25 Gay Street in Bath.