A/N:

1) To the guest review who finds this story very high angst, I apologize and hang in there! You'll notice from my other stories that I speed along to our happy ending, and this story is pushing it for me too, but it is still brisk and short (~18,000 words total) compared to almost every P&P fanfic I've read.

2) Leigh - thank you for the review! Frederick's suffering is almost done, and everything will be clear by the end. :)

3) We move on to some quick interaction between Frederick and Edward. I hope you like my brief sketch of a sympathetic, lightly teasing older brother.

~~START OF CHAPTER~~

The fire danced and crackled, casting warm light and moody shadows about the room. Having sworn off that traitorous brandy, Frederick now nursed his second glass of port as he leaned back in a chair. His older brother, Edward, sat close by, his own glass barely touched.

"All right, Frederick, out with it."

After Edward's wife retired to bed that evening, the two brothers made their way to the parlour. Although Frederick's foul mood had not improved much, Edward decided he needed to broach the subject and find out what was on Frederick's mind.

Frederick groaned, turning his body away from Edward and towards the fire. Staring silently at the flickering orange flames, he hoped his brother would take the hint and leave him alone. Unfortunately for him, Edward sensed the matter was too important to be dropped.

As he watched Frederick's face - a mixture of anger, sadness, and hopelessness - it dawned on Edward that he had seen that pained expression before. He recalled the year six, when Frederick's heart was almost broken after Anne ended their engagement.

"Who is she?" Edward asked gently.

Frederick quickly sat forward and whipped his head around; Edward knew from the haunted countenance that he had hit the mark.

"What?"

"I can tell it is a matter of the heart. Perhaps you have forgotten that I was present when your engagement to Miss Elliot ended. You stalked my house in Monkford with the same grim expression before storming off and almost killing yourself on that broken up sloop."

"Ah! Dear old Asp."

Frederick slumped back into the chair. He had indeed courted death by sailing the Asp, a sloop hardly fit for home service, all the way to the West Indies. It had been an opportunity to prove his worth to all who had doubted him. Sir Walter. Lady Russell. Though he did not say their names aloud, he tasted the bitterness on his tongue.

Anne. Anne.

The memory of their conversation in the shepherd's hut flooded back.

"I thought about you and prayed for your safe return every day. My affection is yours for ever."

How happy he had been to hear those words! If he had not been so reckless, they could have been engaged - nay, married even - by now. Trying to chase away this painful realisation, he swallowed another mouthful of port.

"So, Frederick, what is her name?"

Frederick's lips tightened. Why should he not tell Edward? Had not his brother been a source of comfort in the year six?

"It is Anne."

"Anne? You seem to be drawn to women named Anne," Edward lightly teased.

"It is…" Frederick closed his eyes and then gave a short, bitter laugh. Oh, the irony of it all! "It is… the same Anne."

A silence followed as this admission slowly sank in. Not quite believing what he had heard, Edward leaned forward with raised eyebrows. "The same… Anne Elliot? Sir Walter's daughter?"

Frederick drained his glass and set it down quietly on the table, no slamming or cursing this time. Strangely, once he started talking about Anne, his anger began to dissipate, leaving him with an overwhelming emptiness in his heart.

"Yes. Anne Elliot."

Edward sucked in a breath, stunned. Sophia had sent letters mentioning Frederick's time at Kellynch, and had written about meeting Anne and her family, but said nothing about Frederick and Anne together. In fact, his sister had indicated that Frederick was forming an attachment with Louisa Musgrove. Edward remembered the Musgroves from his time at Somersetshire. The parents were kind and friendly while Louisa, though only fourteen when Edward left, was good-humoured and lively.

And yet Frederick still longed for Anne all these years later! The situation was more serious than Edward had anticipated. Pouring another generous amount of port into Frederick's glass, Edward sat back and adopted his gentle voice and sympathetic demeanor that was so effective at soothing his parishioners as they confessed their sins.

"Tell me all about her, Frederick."

~~END OF CHAPTER~~