A/N: I honestly have no idea where this came from; I have never even tried to write Austen fic before. I blame it entirely on the fact that I have been immersed in the lives of Aubrey/Maturin books for the past couple of weeks, and thus have captains in the Royal Navy on the brain ...

Captain Wentworth stared at Benwick's letter in an astonishment so complete, as to deprive him for some minutes of the power of speech.

James Benwick, engaged to Louisa Musgrove! It could not be! – and yet the thing was certainly true; he had read the letter through three times, and there was no doubting its import, though Benwick in his overflowing enthusiasm might err on the side of poetical language rather than of good, clear, seamanlike prose.

Yet … Benwick, whom they had so lately despaired of in his grief for Fanny Harville – the clever and well-read and courageous Fanny Harville – Benwick, a man of such depth of thought and feeling – to attach himself to Louisa Musgrove? Captain Wentworth could as easily imagine such a thing, as imagine himself so attached.

It seemed, in short, a thing impossible to be believed.

Captain Wentworth had not attained his present state of comparative prosperity, however, by scrupling to seize his chance where it was offered. And though he could not but fear that Benwick had (as Admiral Croft might have put it) spread altogether too much canvas in this affair, had engaged his honour before giving sober thought to the consequences, nor could he deny that it was not concern for his friend's happiness that dominated his thoughts at this moment: no – the thought now uppermost in his mind wore quite another aspect.

Anne.

"I will be at Bath on Wednesday," he said aloud, to no one in particular, his mind already racing through the necessary arrangements to be made. A horse – or the post-chaise? – lodgings in Bath – he must write to Sophia directly – clothes and effects to be packed—

"I beg your pardon, Frederick?" said Edward, looking up from his newspaper; and his wife likewise raised her eyes from the letter she had been perusing, and smiled at him inquiringly.

"I – I have received news from Somersetshire," he said, conscious that his face had changed colour. "-it is good news," he added at once: for the others had begun to look alarmed; "only quite – quite astonishing. I find that I must go to Bath; – Sophia and the Admiral are there now, Edward, are not they? – may I convey anything to them for you, or to anyone else in Bath?"

"I have a letter half finished, indeed, which I shall commit to your charge, when I have finished it," said Edward; there was that in his expression, which told his brother that he was not entirely deceived. "Are you quite sure, Frederick, that there is nothing in that letter to distress you?"

"No! No, indeed, Edward; I am only very much surprised by the news which my friend conveys. I have – I believe I am offered a very great opportunity thereby; and so you see I must be off at once, or as soon as may be."

If Edward should be led to think the opportunity a professional, or a financial one, so much the better; Captain Wentworth could not bear to have even his brother know of his hopes, for if Anne should refuse him …

But he would not dwell on such an evil supposition. Had he not some reason to hope? It was not unpardonable, surely, to go to her, now that he might honourably do so – now that this miraculous event had freed him to do so. Anne remained single, despite having received, to his certain knowledge, at least one very advantageous offer of marriage; might this have been for his sake? He had thought he discerned, latterly, signs that her affection for him was not altogether extinguished – that, like himself, she might retain the feelings of the past – though his ill-judged behaviour toward the Musgrove girls – Oh! how he regretted what he had allowed angry pride to lead him to do! – might certainly disgust her. Yet so unfailingly kind to him, so quick to see the properest thing to be done, so stalwart in supporting them all in their distress – was there such another woman anywhere?

Her grave, exquisite face – weary, pale, fixed in an expression of the tenderest compassion, as he had last beheld it on leaving her at Uppercross – had been constantly before him these many weeks; had grown ever dearer while ever more remote. Since coming into Shropshire he had been increasingly miserable – had even been mean enough to cloak his evident distress under the pretext of concern for Louisa's health, though knowing her to be recovering apace – constrained to wait the event, for good or ill.

But now! Bless Benwick – bless Louisa – for now he might bestir himself, might act – should act – to pursue this greatest of all prizes – and at once, by God! –

"Yes," he repeated, "I shall be at Bath on Wednesday; and then we shall see."