Autumn in Portsmouth, James decided, was by far the finest season to be had. The skies were bright and clear, the sun was still powerful enough to warm one's soul and the crocus' and sea spray had joined forces to produce the most invigorating scent on the breeze. The breeze, was by far the best aspect of Autumn, he thought as he looked down upon the creature huddled into his side.

Fanny had been spending many of her free days assisting in the small hospital that had been set up to support the increased number of sailors and their families currently residing in the area. James knew that this had been a point of contention between Fanny and her brother. While John had complete confidence in Fanny's ability to assist others in need, he knew that being a sailor did not automatically qualify a man to be a gentleman. It took his wife's, Margaret, pragmatic sensibility to help John realise that as the hospital was not on a battlefront and that each ship had its own surgeon the majority of the hospital patients Fanny would meet would be wives, children and the occasional off duty sailor. And so, John capitulated with a single demand -that Fanny condescend to having an escort on her way to and from her shifts at the hospital, to which, with a raised eyebrow and a resigned sigh, Fanny agreed.

When she had left home this morning it had been very still and so she had worn only a light blue pelisse as her protection from the elements. She would normally chastise herself for such an oversight, however with Captain Benwick as her guide, he encouraged her to lean in to him for warmth during their walk home- a strategy she delighted in.

"'The narrow bud opens her beauties to The sun," Fanny began as they strolled along the cobbled streets toward the Harville's home, "and love runs in her thrilling veins; Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,"**

"What do you suppose that means?" Challenged James.

"It can mean whatever you wish it to mean, Lieutenant. That is the beauty of poetry."

James huffed at this, " I beg your pardon, I don't think it could mean whatever I want it to mean," not having much time for the fluffery of new poets. "Can you imagine the look on the Captain's face if I started calling the Laconia the narrow bud? And instead of hoist the sails- we should call out hoist the bright cheeks!"

"Oh truly, Lieutenant, you are dry!" Laughed Fanny as she squeezed James' arm. " I simply mean the sentiment can be applied to anything. Let me see...

" the narrow river opens her beauties to the sea and adventure runs in her thrilling veins; Frigates hang round the brows of morning, and Flourish down the bright horizon of modest Eve... there. Better?"

"Frigates do not flourish down the horizon of ladies named Eve. What does that even mean?" Teased James.

"It is a play on words! Eve as in evening, not as in Adam and Eve." Fanny was becoming annoyed with the Lieutenant's refusal to enjoy the lyrical freedom of poetry until she looked up into his face to see a teasing glint in his eyes. "Oh you!", she exclaimed a she thwacked his arm and started to stomp forward.

"Wait! I'm sorry!" James laughed " Come back and I promise to enjoy every word you espouse-whether it makes sense or not".

Fanny turned around, eyes flashing and a dimple threatening to appear on her left cheek. "Oh no, Lieutenant, me thinks those terms are too mild for such a transgression as teasing me. I will come back but I will not espouse poetry to you"-

"No?"

"No. But you will espouse poetry to me! And I will listen and make sense of it as I want- whether or not it is close to your intended meaning because as I have said, poetry can mean whatever you wish it to mean."

Fanny remained several paces in front of James. He rubbed his face. Looked at the challenging gleam in her eye. Sighed toward the heavens. Fanny huffed and whirled around to continue her journey home, still at a stomp, James noticed.

"Wait! Okay, come back. I will try." He almost rolled his eyes at the triumphant manner in which Fanny skipped back to his side. He should have known he loved her when her little victory felt as exciting to him as his own promotion- but then he remembered very quickly that she was owed some espoused poetry from him. His smirk turned to a grimace. " how did you begin again?" He asked as they began walking toward home again.

" 'The narrow bud opens her beauties to The sun,"

"Ah yes," James puffed up his cheeks and blew out a long breath. "The narrow- ahem, no- the rose bud- gah!" Fanny chuckled as James rubbed his face in irritation.

Breathing deeply, he began again. "She opens her eyes to my face and love runs thrillingly through my veins," seemingly unknowingly James stopped walking and turning to face her, took hold of both of Fanny's hands. "Curls hang round her brow as a halo and Flourish down the bright cheek of her modest beauty. My clamouring soul breaks forth in silent singing, every glance a triumph, every touch a victory, I've been adrift unknowingly but in her I've found home."

Fanny's round face bloomed with a vivid blush as James softly finished speaking and tucked a curl behind her ear. Ever brave, she asked him, "what does it mean?"

"It means, I wish you would leave off with calling me Lieutenant and start calling me James." And leaning forward he lightly kissed her cheek.

And turning to the last street home, leaning into his warm arm ever so slightly more, Fanny whispered, "very well, James."

Yes, Autumn was definitely James' favourite season and while he did think romantic poetry to still be fairly ridiculous- coming from the mouth of Fanny Harville, he could indeed spend another afternoon like that again.

** The Autumn by William Blake