James Benwick was walking along the main road towards the Harville's small home when he saw Miss Anne gracefully stepping into a coach in the lane. Frederick's hand guided her efficiently before turning to Miss Henrietta Musgrove, whom required a notable degree more help in embarking.
His heart lurched as the coach door closed on his most trusted friend and newest ally.
The pain was recognizable - a distinct sense of loss, which echoed his less recent wound. It was weak in comparison, and yet had the strength to propel him into a new fit of melancholy. Not a week ago James would have indulged himself in at least a solid hour of pondering this new reaction, but the somber knowledge that Miss Louisa Musgrove now lay still like death in his friends' home weighed him back down to earth.
James trudged on to the house, preparing to gather his things for transport to the inn. In the light of the distressing incident he would give his lodgings for Charles and Mary Musgrove, though the reasoning would not become clear with any affordance of time. Mary Musgrove was the single most disruptive and selfish creature he had met since landing the Laconia, and that she should replace the soft and steady Anne was offensive to him.
The front door swung open easily, as though moved by the momentum of Anne & Frederick's hasty departure. Up the stairs, silent as a ghost down the hallway to the chamber where Miss Louisa lay unmoving. James shuffled around the figures of Mary & Charles, whom sat alongside Louisa's bed not murmuring sweet nothings, but bickering over minutiae regarding their children left at home. 'How disquieting,' he thought to himself as he spread open the mouth of his retired rucksack and filled it with his basic needs for a few nights at the inn.
'Night shirts, spare trousers, two vests, soap,' he recited to himself, mumbling barely above a wheeze. Lastly he gathered a pair of reading glasses & the candle off his nightstand. Finding that he had gathered all the necessaries, James straightened to pay a brief farewell to the couple.
"I shall see you sooner than later, I think." James began, attempting to smile comfortingly as Mary finally met his eyes a good four seconds later.
"Oh, oh-! Do you depart so soon? We had assumed that you'd be rather present, to assist in Louisa's care. You must see how distressed I am, I am by no means able to bear both the sorrow of her injury and the resilience of ongoing nursing with only Charles here to support me-" James bowed abruptly, cutting off her speech.
"Madam, I am only removing myself to the inn to allow yourself and Charles the comfort of proximity to the young lady. I assure you, I will not desert you in your -" he struggled to find an appropriate term, " -hour of need." With that he exited sparing no backward glances to ensure that Mrs. Musgrove would have no opportunity to continue. James trudged back to the main floor, stopping only once more at the library.
Inside the musty room sat Captain Harville and his wife, seated by a large bookshelf in two very comfortable chairs. The Captain held a nightcap, as his wife spoke to him in hushed tones. James interjected, understanding that Mrs. Harville was ruminating on some of the behaviours of her house guests.
"Harville, I take my leave of you." Captain Harville met his gaze, somewhat bewildered.
"Already, Benwick? I do say you've prepared to leave us with the speed of one leaving on a journey, I did not expect it at all from you." His dark features enhanced the look of wounded concern.
Benwick grasped his friends' upper arm with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Now, I am only to the inn, and only for a few nights. You cannot think that I will be shaken off so easily. I will be considered family, no matter what providence designs." 'Ah,' he thought to himself, 'no, I must keep our shared melancholy to the back of thoughts today.' "Good luck with the Musgroves - I dare say they will need as much care as poor Miss Louisa by and by."
After the three shared a small chuckle at their guests expense, Benwick was off.
The few days of exile Benwick expected turned into weeks, and he took to dreaming of days when company would no longer include Mary Musgrove. His one respite was that Wentworth was returned from the panicked journeying with Miss Anne & Miss Henrietta. Sadly Frederick did not bring Miss Anne back with him.
He confessed this disappointment as they walked along the Cobb together. The weather was very nearly foul, but still yet preferable to the formality of the inn and the morbid silence of the Harville's home. "Miss Anne," James began, "has truly and profoundly comforted me, Wentworth. How can I thank you for bringing her here to Lyme?"
Wentworth did not turn to look at him, instead determinedly staring out at the roiling sea. "With her came misfortune, Benwick. Surely you cannot thank me for both?" Benwick sighed forcefully, feeling the question as a philosopher.
"You ask if I can appreciate a blessing, which came with a price. I say in return -" James stared at the his feet, allowing the silence to stretch. Silence often allowed a certain feeling to creep in as though into one ear, diffusing his mind and then out through the mouth to profess truth. "I say that price must be much steeper than a displacement from my home and a knock on a delicate head for me to regret meeting Anne Elliot."
Wentworth stopped walking. He turned to stare at James fiercely in a manner entirely similar to when Captain Wentworth of the Laconia had demanded to know whom had neglected their duties while on watch. "You speak of her in a way almost too familiar Benwick. What would Fanny say?" Benwick was taken aback, and then felt fury rise quickly. His ears burned with it.
"You would dare to speak of my Fanny as though I have committed a misconduct? Miss Anne and I are kindred spirits in mourning, Wentworth. She and I have experienced irredeemable loss - I can hear it in every word she speaks and I will not endure your censure on the subject." Benwick had progressed from his casual posture to at first a stern attention, until at the end he had emphasized his words with brutal pokes to Wentworth's shoulder.
Wentworth grabbed the offending hand and forced Benwick back a pace - easily done, as Benwick even in the prime of his Captaincy had never matched Wentworth's athleticism. "What right have you to claim any kinship through her loss?" Wentworth glared at him, and Benwick could see the emotions play across his friends face. Benwick held his tongue in check, waiting for silence to do as it often did - force truth to the surface. Wentworth, as usual, was not so patient and chose instead to whirl around, stalking determinedly away from the Cobb and his companion.
