I hope you enjoyed Plymouth and are ready to move on to Shropshire. In the writing of A Brother is Born for Adversity, I took care to stay faithful to Jane Austen's characterization of Captain Wentworth and to the chronology of Persuasion. I am happy to say, I think I did succeeded in this, and, was still able to branch out a bit and create some original characters. While Edward Wentworth is named in the novel, the denizens of Crown Hill Parish are solely mine.

A Brother Is Born For Adversity is the story of Captain Frederick Wentworth and his brother, Rector Edward Wentworth. I took the liberty of making Edward much older than Frederick, a man who had spent time at sea and the man who raised Frederick after their parents died.

As Frederick turned onto the lane pointed to by the herder, he readied himself for the chastising that was to come. Edward would not be pleased that he had taken an extra two days from Plymouth. The weather had been too cold and he had felt no need for haste. An express could not have traveled faster so that had not been done.

His trip from there had been unremarkable. Horseback in mid December was something most prudent people do not do, but given the alternative it seemed the best course. The thought of being cramped in a coach of strangers made the cold wind and rain preferable. The rain and winds had been manageable, but the freezing of the rain had forced him to lay up extra days, hence the lateness. He would place his delay at the feet of Divine Providence. He did not think Edward would argue against that.

As the rectory came into view, Frederick could see even in the winter dormancy that the lawns and grounds would be beautiful in spring. This did not necessarily reflect credit to the new Mrs. Wentworth. Edward was known to put a spade to the earth now and again. Perhaps it was a collaboration.

Before Frederick had opportunity to dismount, the front door opened and Edward appeared. This was unusual since his brother's habit was to await his announcement inside. As he looked closer, this was not the brother to which the Captain was accustomed. The first thing to catch his eye was a beard.

Frederick and Edward looked a great deal alike, with the captain being slightly taller and a shade or two lighter. Edward being darker had fought his beard with all the precision of a military campaign. It seemed that he had tendered a surrender. He also had not seen Edward without his suit coat in years. There were times Frederick fancied it must be a comfortable sleep, for surly he never removed it.

This Edward had no coat. He was in shirt sleeves, rolled to the bend no less, and appeared to have what looked like a kitchen cloth over one shoulder. Frederick was quite astonished.

"Frederick! You are come at last. I had begun to think you shanghaied!" he said, with a rather self-satisfied smile.

Edward Wentworth joking! Frederick remained mounted, looking down at his brother in amazement. This was not the staid and severe brother with whom he had grown up. Not the brother he had left in Glencoe nearly two years ago. This was a brother little known to him.

"So, do you intend on dismounting or shall I bring the stew out to you . . . Oh Lord! The stew! Take the horse round back, you'll see where to stable her. There is a rear door to the kitchen. Come in when you're finished," Edward called as he ran to the house.

As Frederick walked the horse to find the stable, he talked to her as he had on the road for the last six days. "Apart from the beard, this man looks and sounds just as Edward always has. But he has no suit jacket on. Though this proves nothing since there has always been the possibility of its being removed. I think it to be the genuine Edward, girl. But I think we shall have to observe closely nonetheless."

The stable was small. When built, it was not imagined that a cleric would have need of much stable space. Frederick stripped the horse of her bridle and saddle, placed feed in the manger and felt glad of a place they would not be leaving in the morning. The last days travel, while not too difficult, had been tiring -- for both man and horse.

He ducked through the door, closing and latching it for the night. The dusk had darkened and the light breeze of the afternoon was strengthening to a wind. The sky was clear and the stars shone as only possible on a freezing December night.

He stood enjoying the quiet. The house, while smallish, looked on this dark night, to be homey and warm. Frederick could see Edward through the kitchen window. While the sight seemed odd, to see a man in the kitchen, it seemed to fit exactly into all that he had experienced since arriving.

Entering the kitchen, Frederick looked for a rack upon which to hang his coat. On finding it, one peg held an apron and bonnet with grey ribbons. This evinced a Mrs. Wentworth, though not in sight.

"Come and warm yourself. I am sure you are quite cold," Edward said as he stirred a pot on the fire. "This is just ready. I have a tray to take into the study. No fine dining tonight I am afraid. I find with Catherine gone, my study and our bed chamber are the only places I seem to go,"

"And of course, the kitchen," Frederick said with a sweep of his hand to indicate the room in which they stood.

"And the kitchen," Edward nodded.

"You keep no servants?" Frederick questioned.

"No, much of the house is unused and needs no care, and Catherine is quite clear that she wants no one gliding silently about the house to care for all that we are capable of doing ourselves. It is very much a scandal in the parish. I have had some come to me, lamenting the desperate financial situation of the Parish. Not so blunt as that, but the feeling is there," said Edward guiding through the rabbit warren of hallways leading to his study.

"It is a particularly guilty pleasure to eat in my study. Catherine is intractable when it comes to me consuming more than a glass of wine here. I can hardly wait until she finds evidence of this meal," he said as he passed the bowl of stew and a bread plate to Frederick.

These he accepted with a quizzical look, asking, "You enjoy plaguing your wife in such a way?"

"Not plaguing exactly, it is rather a game. When she finds I have broken the rules, we will begin to negotiate my punishment. Which will undoubtedly include a long ride out with a picnic to be had at any locale she chooses," Edward said with a smile.

"This punishment will need to wait for better weather, I dare say. That is if she catches you at all," Frederick said, beginning to enjoy the spirit of the game.

"She will find out. I will track about enough crumbs to guarantee. As for the time of year, our last ride out was two days before she left," he said, as he accidentally dropped his bread, butter side down to the floor. "See?"

It seemed to Frederick that Mrs. Wentworth must partake of many picnics."

"Since I know not when she left, would you be good enough to tell?"

"Oh, you must think me dotty, I forgot to say. She has gone to town with her mother and father. They left Tuesday last and shall return day after tomorrow. He now has enough sons by birth and marriage to care well for his properties, so he has taken up breeding horses. They have traveled to a large auction of some sort. As I was told, his eye was on a brood mare and possibly a stud or two. My admiration and knowledge of horse flesh extend to that poor beast in the stable. You can tell that whatever he brings back, I shall praise and say 'Well done!' to. Mrs. Keye would not attend without company for herself and so Mr. Keye cajoled Catherine into a time away. It has been a long fortnight I have to admit to you," Edward said as he placed his plate and bowl on the tray. "How was the stew?"

"I am rather startled to find among your talents is cooking. It was very good. The bread was somewhat dry though," Frederick said teasingly.

"I did not bake the bread, it was bought in town," Edward answered with full as much jest.

Edward gathered the plates and bowls to the tray. With a cloth, took a swipe at the butter he had spilled on the carpet. As Frederick suspected it would be, the attempt was rather half-hearted. He had left much evidence behind. "I will wash these up and be right back to you," he said as he disappeared down the hall.

Frederick rose from his chair and began to look about the room. It was larger than his last -- the difference between a curate living where he could and a rector of a parish he supposed. He was not sure what the fortunes of a country vicar might be. He knew they were better than that of a curate. There had been a tacit agreement between the brothers over the years. Edward would not ask for any money from Frederick, and Frederick would send it regardless. It was never returned. He knew that any pride subject to hurt by these gifts was over ruled by common sense and need. It was only right that the younger should, now and again, enrich the older. When Frederick was just beginning his career, when postings were not plentiful and he had no place to hang a hat, Edward had welcomed him. Sophy and the Admiral would have gladly taken him, but they were posted in the East Indies.

He had always been welcomed, but there was that nagging feeling of disapproval. That Frederick could never be pursuing the correct thing or in the correct manner. Yet, his brother had kept him for a little time in almost every place he had been in residence. Even Monkford. The compensation was so poor, Edward had been forced to accommodate a circuit. At one time he had been assisting four parishes. Over the summer, the brothers had spent little time together consequently. When Edward had tried to speak to Frederick of growing suspicions about the attachment to Anne, it whad been met with harsh words and accusations of disloyalty and even jealousy. Edward had returned them with resignation and warnings for caution. "Had I only listened to him then ..."

Edward's desk caught his eye. One can tell much by the place a man works. A large blotter, several pens lying in a small basket. A bible, certainly one of those. Correspondence, some opened and some not. Reference books, Greek texts. A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections by Jonathan Edwards "It is good to see you engage, now and then, is some light reading, brother," Frederick murmured, with sarcasm under his breath. His attention was further gained by a picture. It was an unstudied rendering of a woman. Mrs. Wentworth no doubt. He moved closer to a light for further perusal. She was not terribly handsome, but not plain either. She had one of those faces which defied description. A face which had to be analyzed in person as it was not likely to be caught on paper. His brother's change, and now this curiosity, made meeting Catherine Wentworth something to anticipate.

"She will be the first to tell you she is not pretty," Edward said, re-entering the room. "When she takes the time to be, she says she is passable. I stopped fighting her on the point. I keep my opinion that she is the most entrancing woman I have ever met, quite to myself. "No sonnets of love and passion will be penned in my honor, but I can at least go from home without a two-hour notice." What she does not suspect is that when I watch her, it is her entire presence that captivates me. There is wine here, but if you prefer, I can make tea or coffee," he offered.

"No, the wine will do nicely, thank you," Frederick said, replacing the picture.

The wine poured, they seated themselves before the fire. "I had begun to suspect you were never coming. We had been put off so many times in favor of Uppercross. Are the Musgroves well?" he inquired. Edward's voice had taken on a more serious tone for he knew that Uppercross being close to Kellynch brought them near to the subject of Anne Elliot.

"Well, there is much to tell on that account. But I am really not up to it tonight. I wish to hear more of you and this new parish," Frederick said with a little too much interest.

"Too near the mark," Edward thought to himself. "There is nothing extraordinary about it. The people are much the same as any where else. I would like you to go on my rounds with me tomorrow. It will help you know the lay of the land. I do not have many visits to make, but I think you will enjoy them. Most are farmers, though there are a few in trade. We will leave a little early . . ."

Edward stopped as he realized Frederick had fallen asleep.

"It has been quite a long few weeks for you, has it not, my boy?" he said. Going to the sofa, Edward took a lap robe from the arm and draped it about Frederick's shoulders. He stirred the fire and stoked it. Before leaving the room, he looked on his brother's face. His brother was fully a man, but yet to him there were ever traces of that little boy he had raised. Lightly stroking Frederick's cheek, Edward retired to the kitchen.

Chapter 2

"There is no surprise more magical than the surprise of being loved. It is the finger of God on a man's shoulder." Charles Morgan

Frederick opened his eyes to a room that was not familiar. He sat quietly for a moment, stretching his neck and shoulders. He looked down to his chest and saw he was covered with a smallish quilt. A clock chimed the half hour and he knew precisely where he was. The clock was older than he and one of the few things kept by Edward after clearing out the family house, some twelve years ago. Other than small things personal to him or Sophy, it had been decided that Edward would keep the items of furniture and glass since he was not intent on a return to the sea.

He had not thought of the old house for a very long time. His entire childhood had been spent there and now his life was marked by having no fixed home. After the summer their father and mother had died, Edward had returned from the West Indies to care for he and Sophy. Frederick had only turned ten years and Sophy was eighteen. As a child he had taken Edward coming home very much for granted. It seemed only normal that his older brother would take the place his father had left vacant. As an adult, Frederick had realized that there had been other avenues open to his brother. Why had he not taken them? Again he flexed his shoulders. Riding for many days had stiffened him.

"Are you awake, Frederick?" Edward called from the corridor. He entered the room bearing a tray of cider and sandwiches. "It was only seven and a quarter when I put you to sleep with my itinerary for tomorrow. I thought I would bring you something in case the stew had not been enough," he said, placing the tray between them. "I see you are still able to sleep at any time or any place."

"Yes, and it has continued to serve me well on land or at sea, I heard the chime at half past, half past what?" Frederick asked as he folded the quilt.

"Ten. Not terribly late unless you have spent the better part of a week in the saddle. Eat something and be off to bed. I have a sermon to finish. Your trunk arrived three days ago and is in your room. I will show you." Edward handed him a plate and then seated himself. Frederick accepted the sandwich though not hungry. They both became very quiet, lost in private thoughts. The fire was still up and there was a calm that enveloped the room. Each man alone in reverie. One looking forward to the return of his wife. One, with surprise, contemplating the promise of a pleasant time with his brother.

"I am pleased to see you so happy, Edward," Frederick said, pulling himself to converse.

"Thank you. I am happy. It has been told to me that I am more prone to smile than before Catherine. It makes me think I must have a reputation for being rather staid and humorless," he chuckled.

The reference stung Frederick, for that was exactly as he saw his brother. Though that seemed to be in the past. This Edward was light and guileless. There was none of the disapproval and obstruction of the past. Could a marriage make this much difference in such a short time? It would seem.

"So how you came you to meet Mrs. Wentworth? A long acquaintance or one that is new?" Frederick asked.

"I have known Catherine since I took the curacy in Glencoe three years ago. Her family resides there. Rather the Charles Musgrove Senior of the area. When we would come together in social settings, she would take pity on a poor, hapless man who dances poorly and rescue me by engaging in deep theological discussions. Those about us must have mused that Miss Catherine Keye had a dark and morbid spiritual life for what else would require so much time from a man of the cloth?"

"And so you fell in love over theology?" asked Frederick with smiling skepticism.

"No. We were merely acquaintances. She had almost decided that it was not her lot in life to marry. In an unguarded moment, she showed me a cap and said she might buy it for it was not too ugly to begin with. After that I began to contemplate our separate situations and found that a solution would be for she and I to marry," Edward said, matter-of-factly.

"I can scarcely believe such happiness as you portray is from convenience alone," Frederick said, frowning at such an absurd notion.

"We were saved that fate. I think God's sense of humor was evident in our situation. I proposed and she accepted. There were smiles all 'round, handshakes of congratulation. All the while, everyone looking at me as Catherine's gallant knight come to save her from spinsterhood. Though the truth be known, she has saved me. The short of it is, everybody knew what we were about. Then things took the humorous turn. The wedding was but four days away and I awoke one morning with a knot in my stomach. It was the size of a small but weighty pumpkin." Frederick smiled at this. "My hands were sweating and my mouth had gone dry. I thought I had been seized by the influenza. I had no fever or any other symptom though. I was to dine with the Keyes that afternoon and the thought of it sickened me straight up," he said with mock horror. "The very idea of it terrorized me!"

"The idea of dinner terrorized you, dear brother?" Frederick said, not being able to resist the jest.

"Please, Frederick. Put that brilliant wit of yours away for a moment," replied Edward. "So, I dined with them. I was perfectly senseless the entire meal. Hands shaking, cutlery dropping to the floor. I mutilated a perfectly good chop to look as if I had eaten. We adjourned to the sitting room. Catherine's brother was to read ... something. I would normally have enjoyed a reading, but not that time. He began and I quitted the room with as much aplomb as I could manage. All this while, the entire duration, Catherine is standing and sitting nearby and her very presence is maddening," he said rising to face the mantle. He did not choose to allow Frederick a view of his face. "I stood in the vestibule. It was cooler there, it seemed the heat in the sitting room excessive. Dusk was falling and the candles had not yet been lit," he paused to poke at the fire. He breathed deeply and began, "Catherine came to me. She thought me ill or some such," he paused again. "I am ashamed to say Frederick, the only thing I could think to do was kiss her. I will not bore you with how long it had been prior to that, I had engaged in such things. Suffice to say ....long enough,"

"You had not even kissed her after you engaged her?" asked Frederick with a smile.

"Other than a few very proper, hello, good-bye pecks, no," was his reply. "I was astonished at it all. I had not engaged her in love, but then there I was. The greater surprise came when I realized that she fully returned my ... affection. I parted us and looking at her. All I could see was the most beautiful woman ever created. As I looked at her I realized we were becoming part of one other. It was like ...," his voice trailed away.

"It was like your own reflection, looking back at you in a mirror. It is not your face, not even your sex. But, it is you," Frederick said quietly as he stared past Edward into the fire. Breaking his gaze, he looked up to see Edward nodding in agreement as he moved from the fireplace back to his chair.

"That is what you had with Anne, is it not?" he asked in a hushed tone. He regretted the mention of her now, but there was something that needed saying.

Frederick stood and went to the small table where the wine was kept. Pouring himself a glass and downing half, he said, "Yes. Yes it is." It was no mistake he spoke in the present, but he dared not say more. What he knew of himself and his part in the break threatened to make itself known and now was not the time.

They were quiet a few more moments. Edward broke the silence. "I know you have always thought my advice about your engagement to Anne was meant to wear it down, force it to wither on the vine. To kill it outright. It was never meant in that way. I did understand how you felt and what you wanted. I just knew that other forces would be stronger in their ability to persuade a young girl such as Anne. I thought if I could help you check your pride, perhaps things could end well. I think I began to lament again after I acknowledged how deeply I felt for Catherine. This time, not just understanding, but knowing the pain you would have felt at the break. I can see that it is not misplaced. You are not yet healed, are you?"

"No, and I do not know if I ever shall be," Frederick said, keeping tight on his voice.

Frederick looked at Edward and said, "There are some revelations of my own to share, but not tonight. I have been astride a horse for the better part of a day and am feeling it. And as for you my dear brother, your countenance tells me that pondering your wife's return and perhaps penning a sonnet are in order.

"I am glad you are come Frederick. I should not be surprised if this visit we find we are more alike than you know," Edward said with a smile.

"I would not be opposed to that at all, not at all," said Frederick.

Chapter 3

"We can do no great things, only small things with great love." Mother Teresa

Frederick rose before sunrise, the tiredness of the journey abated by deep and peaceful sleep. The first he had gotten in days. Public houses along major thoroughfares are not noted for much except keeping the weather off. Noise, dirt and bad food were the chief notables. It amused him that many thought travel to be an adventure, to him it was only a necessary evil. He unpacked his trunk and arranged things to his liking. He heard no stirring from the direction of Edward's room, so he sat and began to look through a newspaper left on the bed table for him. The news of the world was not very appealing just now. He folded it and replaced it. He looked at his watch and found it to be half past six. He would go to the kitchen and poke about for something to eat.

Light was beginning to tint the hills to the east. Frederick stopped part way through the sitting room to watch out a window. There were a few clouds, not many. Perhaps there will only be cold to contend with on their visits today. He had heard that much of Edward last night. The details had been lost in his dozing. As he began to turn, some greenery on a small sofa table caught his eye. Holly and some evergreen. He had forgotten it would be Christmas in three days. Edward and Catherine obviously did not make much ado of it. He had noticed no other sign of the celebration. That was a relief since it was not his favorite time of year.

His dislike for this season had grown steadily since breaking from Anne. The complete end had come in November, but had lingered long into the new year. The cold and gloom brought the walks and conversations to his mind and there was little relief from the memories. Being put to land, particularly this time of year, had not done him well in that regard. Possibly that was why everything within him had become so confused and he had needed a retreat to Plymouth. There had been much that was different from any other year, his arrival at Kellynch and Uppercross, being propelled back into society with Anne. Then there had been the trip to Lyme. Lyme. Another tidy bit of his life. The sun was beginning to crown. Frederick's stomach growled and he set off to the kitchen.

There was enough light to discern Edward's form, head down on the table. A candle gone cold nearby. He had evidently been reading and fell asleep. The Wentworth men seemed to have a difficult time sleeping in beds lately, Frederick reflected. He poked at the banked remains of the fire. Crouching to feed kindling into the flame, he watched as the fuel brought it to life. Just as he was doing with the flame in this kitchen, he knew he was doing with his love for Anne. Feeding it and kindling it to grow. But, whereas one flame was in a firebox, where it could do no damage, only be used to heat and cook, his love for Anne was not contained as that and he did not have any idea how it might spread.

"Ou ah aout reherick. I hough ou wou see haher," Edward said through a yawn.

"Could you please translate? I always depended on Benwick to do the task for me and since he is not here, you must speak for yourself," He said with a bemused look in his eyes.

"Pardon, please Captain. I said that I thought you would sleep longer. Was the bed not to your liking or something else we may be able to amend?" said Edward rising to slice some bread and place a pot of jam on the table.

"The bed was excellent and all else is well. I came to visit with you, my brother, not languish in the country. I remember you saying we would be about early for morning calls. All else, I am afraid, escaped me."

"Using the word "escape" would denote that the information was in your possession at one time. As I recall, you fell to sleep during the details. No matter. There shall only be four visits. They are some of the flock that is rather self sufficient and more likely to buoy my heart than need a great deal of counsel. I shall change and meet you in the stable," Edward said as he took a slice of bread and jam with him.

"I wonder how intractable Mrs. Wentworth is about him eating in the bed chamber?" Frederick said softly to himself as he took two slices of bread, buttered them and turned to leave. Stopping, he turned 'round and covered the bread, placing it back on the shelf. "I do not plan to break the rules and see what Mrs. Wentworth does to strangers."

The frost was thick and the air snappish with cold. As Frederick made his way to the stable, he pulled on his gloves, flexing the fingers to fit. He enjoyed the idea of a ride out, albeit in a gig with his brother to make parish visits. It would prove to be an interesting morning for he had never seen his brother perform this particular obligation. He had seen him sermonize from the pulpit. He had watched as Edward helped baptized a child or two, but had never seen him actually talk to anyone on an informal basis about-- Frederick realized he knew nothing about what vicars say individually to their people. He had supposed that it would be much like the sermon. Edward would tell them to obey God and they would seriously contemplate their sin. If that be the case, it was to be a long morning.

"You look as if you are puzzling something, my brother," Edward said after spying Frederick's countenance. The horse was pacing nicely and Edward felt like conversing.

They had visited two of the four homes. The third visit would have to be put off as the greater part of the Lumley family had suddenly taken ill and wanted no one infected. Frederick had watched his brother the better part of the morning and was indeed puzzling things in his mind.

"I have watched you counsel these past," looking to his watch," three and a half hours. You have spoken to the Tedlow boy about his schooling and how he must obey his teacher. You talked of the potato harvest with Mr. Tedlow. Mrs. Tedlow received a sympathetic ear as she talked of chilblains. Then we adjourned to the Mannington home. Mrs. Mannington regaled us with tales of her insolent daughter-in-law. Mr. Mannington merely glowered at you from across the sitting room. I saw no spiritual ministrations or teaching at all. I do not think I saw your bible opened once," Frederick said with a perplexed tone.

Edward looked to his brother with droll grin. "You have rather the tone of Bishop Bates who administered my examination for orders. Were you expecting I should require written responses or would verbal do?" he said suppressing a laugh.

"I did not mean you should examine anyone. It merely looked as though you have spent the morning in visits which seem to serve no greater purpose than any other social call. That is all I am trying to say," Frederick said in his own defense.

"I am sure to you it looks as though nothing of significance was performed by us riding out. I am not so immodest to think that I have done any miracles this morning. I listened to some problems and help bear what burdens they will allow me. I am called a Sheppard, Frederick. That means I am no different from any herdsman you might see in any of the fields about," he said pointing widely. "Neither one of us, to move the sheep to a safe hold for the night, drags each struggling creature individually. All I can do is to guide where necessary, to prod the unruly or allow a little nip of the heels now and again. The sheep will go if the pen is inviting. Most people require nothing more than someone to listen to them. For example, that is my third conversation about potatoes with Mr. Tedlow. Prices were bad last year, this year they are better. He is glad and it has improved his humor, that is when I point out that thankfulness may be in order. Mr. Mannington does nothing but glower. I continue to come, I am as kind as he will allow and I hope one day he will actually speak to me. Mrs. Mannington and her daughter are at odds because they refuse to relinquish precedence. The elder refuses to admit the other has abilities in the home. So I point out that younger Mrs. Mannington has given her grandchildren and makes her husband very happy, which she does. That usually brings her back to sense. Mundane compared to the sea, I know but it is what I have given my life to," he said with a far away look.

"I did not mean that my life at sea was more meritorious than this you do. I did not realize how you . . . how what you do is important even in small . . . m-m-m-m. I fear I am creating a great offense to you before your very eyes, am I not?" Said Frederick with more embarrassment than he had felt in some time. To make a man's career to seem so negligible was insulting.

"I am not offended. If I may withstand Mr. Mannington's imperious glares, your blundering tongue will not do me harm. And you seem to forget, I too have been to sea. The reference was not to your career, but mine. There are times, I would dearly love to see a typhoon brewing on the horizon, or perhaps my gig be boarded by cutthroats, he said smiling. There are other times, you could not give me enough to leave. These are the people put in my care and they need me. I suppose the truth be known, I need them. Which brings us to the last call. I always keep Junkins to the last," Edward said as his tone lightened.

"Who is Junkins?" Frederick asked, glad to be freed and forgiven for his haughty misconstruction.

"Joshua Junkins is a recluse who lives about three miles from here. He was horribly scarred in a fire at thirteen. It has been about thirty years ago. He sees no one. Excepting the doctor in extreme occasions. All his communication is by letter. He leaves notes under a rock by the road. Covers it with red cloth for a signal and anyone passing by knows to deliver it to town. Whatever he needs is left at the head of the lane leading to his farm. There's a man in town who pays his accounts and all are satisfied. It struck me as a strange way, but everyone seems to abide by it.

"That is awfully eccentric. So how came you to be allowed out?" Frederick asked with a great deal of curiosity.

"When I became rector, I read through the parish register to get an idea of family names and who was connected how. His name was on the records and in the quarterly tithe accounting. I could not put a face to the name so I began to cast about for information. Of course, no one could tell me anything recent. Only what I have already related. I think I became somewhat puffed up and decided he needed spiritual feeding as everyone else. A visit was out of the question, so I wrote. Nothing elegant, just little bits about myself and my upcoming marriage to Catherine. Things that would engage him in unthreatening ways. I wrote for some time with no reply. Then after the wedding, he sent a congratulation. After that we corresponded weekly."

" He decided he wanted me to visit. I suddenly realized what I had done. In some ways I never expected to have a sight of him, his being reclusive and all. I went to the doctor and asked him to give me a description of him, to prepare myself. The doctor drew me a sketch. Besides his face, his upper body was involved so he cannot lift one arm very high and he had a fall that left his hip damaged so he has a pronounced gait," Edward related.

"Well, feeling as if I were some what prepared, off I went. I found though that Joshua had quite lost heart. He would not allow me in. So I sat at the door talking as best I could for three quarters of an hour. His speech and voice were badly affected and trying to understand him took weeks of time to master. I left that day feeling I had been futile in my efforts and had possibly damaged any hope of gaining his trust. I received a note the next day, thanking me for the visit. He promised if I would come the next week he would allow me in. And he did. It was uncomfortable for a while. Now I think I visit more for myself than any spiritual care I may give him," Edward said with a note of pleasure in his voice. "I think Joshua is very nearly my best friend.

"If you are the only one he will see, why did you include me this morning?" asked Frederick.

"That is something I wish to ask you. Joshua loves the sea. He, of course, has never seen it. He has many books with pictures which he loves. He was in heaven when he found I had spent some years afloat. After he had depleted all my stories, I began to tell of you. He had every list and looked up your entire career. It pleased him very much to know someone, who had such distinguished connections to the list. Distinguished was his word for you by the way" Edward said smiling. "When I told him you would be coming some day to visit, he asked to meet you. Will you meet with him?"

The question hung there, daring an answer. Edward was not sure it had even been proper to ask Frederick such a thing. Frederick did not know that he could meet this man without fouling things.

"I am afraid he would not think me all that distinguished upon a meeting," he said flatly.

"I realize I have painted a rather grotesque picture, but Joshua's personality and manner will put you to ease quickly. He is not very sensitive and does not take offense easily if that is worrying you. But if you would rather not, he will understand," Edward said sincerely.

Frederick decided that he would meet with Joshua Junkins. After all, he had seen the dead, the near dead. He had fought in war. Then there were the occasional tavern brawls he had "witnessed." Could Mr. Junkins be so much worse?

Chapter 4

". . .for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart." I Samuel 16:7

They dismounted the gig, heading toward the front door. Edward was firing bits of information about Joshua at him so quickly, Frederick was beginning to regret his agreement to come.

"We will have tea, he feels tea is very civilising and so he is sure to have it. He actually sets a better tray than some of the ladies in the parish. It will be some what messy for him. If he chooses to partake at all.Sometimes . . ,"

"Edward! Please, I am not ten again. I have learned to comport myself in a civilised fashion over the years," Frederick said as he turned his brother around and took him by the shoulders. "Take hold of yourself. You are acting as if Joshua is a king instead of your friend. I shall behave well. Have a little faith, Brother."

"I am sorry, of course you will behave. I just know how long it took me to feel at ease. There were small things that took weeks of visits to discover. I want the two of you to like one another. The two of you being the finest men I know and all," Edward said as he turned quickly from Frederick.

The statement set Frederick back a bit, but he had no time to think on it for Edward was already to the door knocking and calling Joshua's name. "Joshua, I am here. I have brought Frederick."

"Will this not be unsettling for him, having no notice of me?" Frederick asked.

"No, I sent him a note Friday saying you would arrive soon and that I was bringing you for today's visit. I was certain you would come," he said with hesitation.

"You know me much better than I think. What would you be doing this moment had I not agreed to meet Joshua?"

"I would be in the gig with you, begging you to reconsider, that is what I would be doing," Edward said smiling.

"Joshua, are you about anywhere? " he called louder. If Joshua were out with the animals, he might hear Edward calling. "I just thought of something, perhaps he has cold feet again. We had talked of his meeting you and he appeared to be at ease with the idea. It is possible that I am pushing the poor man too much . . . ," he said almost to himself.

"Edward, is that Joshua?" Frederick asked. He had moved from near the door, down the walk a bit and was pointing to a man coming up a hill in the near pasture. He was leading a pony that seemed to be a little lame.

"Yes, that is him. Wonder what he was doing down there," Edward replied as he began to walk toward his friend. "What are you doing with Arthur? Is the cart stuck again?"

The man began to nod vigorously. Frederick remembered that his speech was affected in the fire, hence no reply to Edward's inquiries. As he and Edward walked down to meet Joshua, Frederick studied the man. He was short and slight. His gait was indeed noticeable. It was quite pronounced as he was coming up the hill. One arm seemed in a permanent bend and the hand in a fist. He wore no hat and a shock of white-grey hair could be plainly seen. As he came more fully into view, Frederick could put details to the fact to which Edward had alluded. It was not as alarming as Frederick had portrayed in his own mind or perhaps he had been enough forewarned.

The visage was indeed marred, quite enough to send someone to seclusion. Not enough though to be completely repulsive. A reddish crescent covered the entire left side of his face. It began over his right eyebrow and managed to slide around, involving little of his nose, but making up for it by taking much of his mouth. The red line then moved down his chin and neck, disappearing into his shirt collar.

Edward neared him first, taking the horse's lead from him. He put his hand on Joshua's shoulder and leaned to speak to him in a whisper. The sound Joshua made was quite strange to Frederick's ears. It had the qualities of a whispered donkey bray and a high wheeze. He had known men who were employed working close to fire, breathing it in constantly, they too developed that pitch from the burning of the lungs. Frederick was not sure what the sound meant, but soon could see that it was laughter. Edward was nervous and meant to begin things on a light note.

"Captain Frederick Wentworth, I am very pleased to introduce you to Mr. Joshua Junkins, a good friend and a better man you will never know," Edward said to introduce them. Joshua extended his good hand and Frederick took it, meaning to be gentle, but the grip of this small, ravaged man was equal to any he had encountered before.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Junkins. My brother has been very forward with your praises," Frederick said, bowing.

"No matter what your brother has said, it is likely to be a gross exaggeration of me. For good or ill," Edward said for him. They politely laughed, the nervousness of the situation was beginning to catch them.

"Frederick, you and I and our strong backs are required of just now. Joshua has a cart stuck in the mud down below the crest of the hill. He was digging roots when the pony lamed and now the cart is sunk. It should not take long to free it and drag roots and all up the hill. Joshua, you see to Arthur, he looks as though he will survive the sprain. We shall be back straight away," said Edward heading down the hill."Well, what do you think? He said he likes your face. You have a strong chin. He feels that shows character." Edward was walking quickly down causing Frederick step faster than he cared to.

"These conversations are taking on a dervish like quality to them, Edward. What I have seen of the man so far is quite fine, but now you are whisking me dig a cart from the mud and he is tending his pony. Have I done something that leads you to believe that he and I should be kept apart?" Frederick said, warmly.

"Oh, no. No. The reason we are getting the cart has nothing to do with you. I found him a couple of months back, in the same place, cart in the mud and all, trying to dig it out himself. Almost killed him. His lungs are not very strong. The walk up the hill was nearly more than he could take. I finally convinced him not to use that plot he has down here, but there are still some roots from the summer to be had. Joshua wastes nothing. The idea is abhorrent. Even if it does harm to him. I am sorry Frederick, I am rather protective of him I suppose. Though that is silly, considering until ten months ago he did well enough without me," he said as he slowed a bit.

"You are merely concerned about a friend. An admirable quality. Just take hold of yourself. Once all the chores are completed, we shall sit and have some of that civilising tea and enjoy one another's company."

It touched Frederick that his brother was at once so concerned about his comfort being with Joshua and taking care of a task that in the ordinary would not be of his vocation. Though he had spoken of bearing burdens. This sounded to be a very large burden to Mr. Junkins.

The cart was indeed stuck. Though the cold proved to help in this instance. The mud was beginning to firm and so did not pull the wheels back into itself as it would have in a warmer season. Though Edward did manage to liberally soil his trousers. Joshua had left the harness on the cart, probably thinking to use it himself to get free of the mud. With Edward pulling and Frederick pushing, they easily brought the cart to the top of the hill and into the barn.

"Look at your suit, Edward. You present a picture of a dedicated shepard who has indeed laboured much among the flock!" Frederick laughed.

"I cannot wait to explain this to Catherine. Then the jesting will begin. I am sure that the two of you will never allow a family gathering to go by without this being told," he said wiping as much dirt from his great coat as was possible. "Let us find Joshua, and the tea."

The conversation had turned, Frederick could tell from Edward's share, to local matters. Things which neither concerned him or called for his attention. As Junkins and Edward talked, he walked about the room. As he had seen with Edward, the place a man spends his time reveals a great deal. The house itself was of an old cottage style, common to the area, which meant that the ceilings and beams were low. This gave the room either a closed, suffocating feel or a feeling of being held, one of warmth. He supposed that the emotions of the room at a given time could dictate that as well. The feelings now were light and convivial. He could see that these two men enjoyed a friendship much deeper and more meaningful than most will ever conceive. It occurred to Frederick, as Harville was to him, that Junkins was to Edward. He could hear the same shortcuts in conversation that good friends take. The tones of voice. Common jests, repeated and shared so many times that just a word in reference brings laughter. He continued to look about the room. For a man who had, by choice cut himself off from the world, he was by no means ignorant.

There were books of a wide variety of topics, there were decorative glass pieces set about. The furnishings were tasteful and comfortable, but not large and dark as one might expect from a man. The room almost had the feel of a woman's touch, but perhaps it was merely the reflections of a thoughtful man with much time to determine his own preferences.

As Frederick ambled about, there was one small occurrence that opened a much wider vision of Edward than any other encountered all day. They had been rather intent on some topic and Joshua ended his part. Then, taking a biscuit from the plate, took a bite. The biscuits were shortbread and crumbled easily. With the first bite, this is what had happened. As Edward spoke, Joshua brushed the crumbs from himself. As he was using his napkin under his chin for the tea, his misshapen mouth unable to contain all the liquid at a time, there was none upon his lap. Before he took another bite, Edward reached over and placed his own napkin in Joshua's lap. The conversation never slowed, in fact continued unabated. All of this was done without ceremony or even much thought. To most, the exchange would have been nothing. To Frederick it caused an idea that had been struggling to come to the fore.

Perhaps it was not Edward so much changed. Perhaps Edward was always this man he saw, not the picture presented to Frederick all these years. Edward was too confident in his dealings with his charges for this to be a new and different man. These were skills honed over time. The unstudied grace which accompanied his kindness to Joshua and that gave serious attention to chilblains and familial problems alike was not recently acquired. For some reason known only to Edward, he had kept Frederick away from this aspect of himself.

"Frederick, come and settle a difference of opinion for us," Edward called.

"I am always uneasy settling disagreements among friends. I find that eventually they come to one opinion and then both begin to disagree with me," he said with a slight laugh.

"No. That will not happen here. Joshua is convinced that rate of shot is the key to winning a naval battle, I on the other hand believe an excellent captain to be the key. Which be it, . . . Captain?" Edward asked, both looking at him with great expectation.

Frederick returned to his chair, seated himself and settled a serious expression upon his face. "That is a question which is debated much in the circles I must frequent. I do not think that my opinion would satisfy either one of you though, for I perceive you are hoping to founder my ship on a sandbar of self-aggrandisement."

"How is that, Frederick?" Edward said with shock and surprise.

"Well, if I say that relentless training of the gunners is the key, my being a commander of discipline and preparedness becomes the linchpin to victory. If I lay the laurels at my own feet, as a brilliant captain, I sound the braggart. And at last listen, your conversation had to do with harrow blades that need sharpening. Quite a leap from harrows to naval stratagem," Frederick replied with a raised eyebrow and a gaze that told Edward he had been found out.

"Joshua said that you were much too intelligent to be lead on by such a question. I, on the other hand, I had hoped a little more elaboration on the premise. I should have known better, your extreme modesty is admirable." Edward buried a smile in his tea cup.

"What is the chief draw to the sea for you, Captain?" Joshua asked. In the course of finding their way in conversation, Frederick had begun to think of Joshua as having his own voice. Edward added nothing to the questions he would ask and was quite content to merely play the role of interpreter.

"Much of it began with my brother. When I was younger, he came to care for my sister and I, our parents having died over the summer. To keep me occupied at times, he would tell me stories of some places he had been. Places it did not rain for months, which for an English child was unfathomable. To places where every day, in season, it would rain so hard as to nearly sweep you away. I wanted to see these kinds of places. So I went to sea. I had been sailing for nearly a year when I found that I loved the different locales, but that the sea herself had quite seduced me. To ride the swells, to just hear her lapping against the sides. There are times it is if you hear her heart beating. The look of her is never the same from one glance to the next. I fear if the Admiralty were to know that they have rewarded me so handsomely for keeping company with the one I love so well, they may be inclined to leave me ashore permanently." Frederick's own candor had surprised him. He hoped Joshua was not offended with the sentimental elaboration.

"I would love to look upon the sea. What you say of 'her'--that is how I feel about my home. When I go to the high places above the pastures, going to the very top, I can see nearly to the end of the world. And here, things change quickly too. The fogs come so fast that one moment, I can see out the window there to Fortune's Mount, four miles from here, the next, it is gone! Vanished! And I am the only one in the world then, here in my home. When the autumn comes, the look changes with each glance too. The trees first change colour and the change size when they lose the leaves. I know how you feel. My home holds that place in my heart," Joshua said looking at Frederick intently.

"It is good to meet a man of true passion, Joshua."

Joshua asked a question and for the first time Edward hesitated to relay. "Are you sure you should ask that?" Edward questioned. Joshua nodded firmly.

"Is there anything you love more than the sea?"

In those few words lay a question he had often asked himself. The answer had changed and rearranged itself over the years. In the past few months, even the past days he was coming to believe that there were many things he loved more than the sea. The sea, for all she had given Frederick, never held out a promise of faithfulness, tender care or a return of his love. In Anne, he was hoping to find all those things and in his brother, he believed he had.

"Yes, I think there some things I am coming to realize, quite outstrip my love of her," came the simple answer.

"That is as it should be, Frederick. Men, as you and I, are in much the same position. Both of us are prone to allowing our exterior life to control our passion as you call it. The sea could draw you and ensnare you and make you to think yourself quite happy. My situation tries to convince me there is no reason to live. Both of those are untrue. Are they not?

"I think I see. You are saying that each of us could use these things to hide away from what is true and best in our lives?" "Yes, you do see. But there is still more, is there not?" Joshua asked.

Frederick was confused. He scowled, knowing that a man as Joshua had a direction he was taking the conversation. He had already come much too close to Frederick's weaknesses and the need to protect what lay further in was becoming acute. "I do not know what you are asking me."

"There is more. More than ourselves, more than our loves, more than what we can see. But perhaps you would like to ask me a question?"

The shift in the flow of conversation at once startled and relieved Frederick. He could now sent it away from himself in a direction more to his liking. "What persuaded you to allow Edward to come and visit you after so many years of not allowing anyone?" Frederick asked

Joshua took his time in composing his answer. Tea was refilled, biscuits passed. It was not that he had never wondered this himself, it was that he had never told anyone and therefore it had never been give sound. It had only been in his mind and now, everyone here would be able to know. Especially the man who had done this thing.

"I have allowed no one here in decades. I know there has always been talk and gossip. I thought that preferable to blatant rejection. My family had done that and I wanted no more. Edward was not the first vicar to try and come here. Three others at various times in my life had attempted visits. They all came with their conviction that I needed converting, they never asked the state of my soul, they felt that living as I do, I had to be some sort of wild heathen. Probably thought I ran half naked out here and grubbed roots and insects to eat.

They never asked if they could come. Each took it upon themselves to spring on me unexpected. I would come in the house and lock the door. They would pound and spout fire and brimstone through the door at me. They would go, eventually.

Frederick, your brother was the first man, not vicar, the first man ever to consider me worthy of conversation. First, he did it in letters. He told me about himself. He opened a door I so could see him coming to me. He persisted in writing for weeks with no answer. I believe he might have continued to this day had I not allowed him out."

Edward rose abruptly and made a move to leave the room. Joshua caught hold of his arm and began to talk directly to him. The only word of the exchange that Frederick need no interpretation for was, 'NO'!

Edward took his seat and talked for himself, "Joshua has pointed out that in bringing you here, I agreed to be his voice to you and that would be even in topics I was embarrassed to engage. Which this certainly is. Continue Joshua," Edward said stoicly.

"Your brother was the first to know me. Others had made show of wanting to see me, much like animals in a zoo. Edward was content to see me in messages placed under a rock and brought to him. His first visit, he sat on the ground, outside my door and struggled to understand me. He did not scream at me of Christ, he showed Him to me. He did not understand much, but humility as that, I could not ignore. I promised him he could come back and he did. He has struggled with me and laughed with me. He has now introduced me to his brother, whom I know he loves as his own son. I can only be grateful, that there are some in the church who truly do not count the outward, but only look at the heart."

Edward took his leave. He could not face such praise when it was he who felt grateful and honoured to have a friend as Joshua. He put on his coat and hat, "Frederick, I shall be outside for a moment."

Joshua crossed the room to the desk and began to write. Frederick knew that the visit was concluded, Edward was done in and there was really nothing left to say. He joined Joshua at the desk when motioned for. He put the paper in Frederick's hand.

"I have embarrassed him and he will not return inside. Go to him. I am pleased you came to visit with a foolish, sentimental old man. Thank you, Frederick."

"I think I have met a man I can only aspire to be as. Thank you for allowing me to come, Joshua," Frederick said. Without hesitation he offered his hand and clasping it with both of his own, said, "Thank you for my brother."

He fetched his gloves from the floor near his chair and walked to the door. He slowed as he came to quit the house. The room felt as if it were reluctantly allowing him from its warm embrace.

Chapter 5

" . . . she is home," Edward Wentworth

The three miles home had been silent. Not the silence that comes from anger or boredom, rather the silence that comes when deep thoughts must be given their way. A silence that does not notice time, place or fellowship.

Edward was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. The horse was so familiar with its course that holding the reins was more of habit than necessity. He stared far and away, only drawing himself back occasionally to check the progress home.

Frederick too was thinking. Thinking about the man sitting beside him. Such a contradiction in every way to him now. His new found idea about Edward holding himself back had been confirmed in what Joshua had told him. Staid, humorless, rigid men, do not suddenly throw themselves to the ground in an attempt at communication with nearly mute hermits. The question he could not satisfy by any means was why? Why would Edward hold himself aloof from someone he tells others, is as a son? The notion of feeling hurt did occur to Frederick, but the bigger puzzle of Edward's reasoning soon crowded it out

The gray of the clouds was darkening. Occasionally a cold mist played on their faces, promising another day near the fire and in pursuit of thought.

As they rounded the house, heading to the stable, Edward began "Frederick, I am sorry I was so rude at Joshua's. . . . she is home," he breathed. His voice trailed away. His countenance changed, his eyes became transfixed on something in the distance. A tall woman in a dark green pelisse was coming toward them from a walled area, near a small grove of fruit trees toward the back of the grounds. She wore no bonnet, so the closer they came to one another, Frederick could more easily make out the face of Catherine Wentworth. Worker of miracles perhaps, but certainly a woman who could bring about this dazed state in his brother.

When the gap had been closed sufficiently, Edward reined the horse to a stop and handed them to Frederick. Descending the gig, he covered the last few steps on foot and when coming face to face, just stopped. He looked at her as if he did not know what to do or say. The truth be known, he did not. Her arrival was a day early, therefore, Edward was caught off guard. This was their first reunion after a time apart and his nerves were nearly as ragged as the moment he first knew he loved her. She reached her hands for his and leaned to whisper something to him. He began to laugh. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed each. Then they turned to the gig, Frederick dismounted and came around to their side. The introductions began.

"Mrs. Edward Wentworth, Captain Frederick Wentworth," he said with a proper formality.

"Captain, it is a pleasure to meet you, I have looked forward to this for years now," Catherine said as she curtsied, smiling a wide and generous smile.

"Mrs. Wentworth, the pleasure is all mine," Frederick said bowing low and smiling as widely as his sister.

The face that he had seen in the rendering was the face he beheld now. Even in thinking that, Frederick knew there was so much more to the genuine. The eyes were the draw. Dark greyish-blue, nearly the colour the this day's sky. They greeted him quite apart from anything Catherine herself said. Her right eyebrow was arched in such a way to say she was studying him closely, though she more than likely knew as much about him as was possible. She had said she looked forward to their meeting for years. Her cheeks flushed with the cold, her lips bearing a welcoming smile, together they all made a lovely look. It was true, this face did not inspire sonnets, but it engendered trust. It was becoming clear why Edward acted as he did.

"Now for the family introductions. Please, call me Catherine. Mrs. Wentworth sounds to be a woman who would require excruciatingly proper etiquette and equal posture. Anyone who has known me for more than three-quarters of an hour will tell that I have neither. And as for you Captain, what do you prefer to be named? Captain. . . . Frederick. . . . perhaps . . . ," she said, pausing to give Edward time to interrupt. Which he did.

"Catherine!"

The mischief in Catherine's eye was fully matched by the pique in Edward's. There was a stand off and Frederick knew it was in his power to bring a peaceful resolution.

"So, my brother has told you about my early act of liberation from the name 'Freddy'," he said trying to match both mischief and pique.

"Yes, yes he did! And I must say I was very impressed with your sense of timing. Bashing him about the face and shoulders a mere three hours before he reported back to his ship. He has told that a wooden dog did the damage, and he still will not relate any of the comments when it was discovered that a six-year-old had administered the black eye!" she said with a mock admiration. Seeing that the jest was not well received by Edward, she was prepared to move along and count this finished.

"Yes, well I would know nothing of those comments either. I was never told of the black eye, but I do recall the dog," Frederick said looking at Edward pointedly.

"Now that the two of you have had a bit of entertainment at my expense, let us unhitch the gig and repair to the house. I am nearly frozen through and I dare say that Frederick cannot be much better. I am anxious to hear about your sojourn to town," Edward said. They all knew this was not likely to be true, but it was such a gentlemanly thing to say.

"I wonder that I may impose on you Captain. Could you possibly put the gig and horse away? I know this is quite rude, but I would like to speak to my husband of some things and I am rather an impatient person," she said smiling toward Frederick.

"Catherine, surely this can be done in the house where it is warm," Edward said wearily.

"No, I have things all worked in my mind as to how I want to talk to you and it is not in the house. Please, Edward. It will not take all that long, I promise. Frederick will see to the horse and I am sure he will not mind our absence for a short time?" she looked toward Frederick with imploring eyes.

"It would be my pleasure to see to the horse, though your absence will be felt acutely, Catherine," he said obliging her.

"Thank you, Frederick, it would seem that my wife has left her manners in town," he said glancing at her from the side, trying to play along, but lacking any true sense of mirth. He was actually pleased that they would have a few moments to themselves. He needed her to be his privately, to welcome her home properly. His hope in this was to bring the agitation he felt, under his own power.

Edward and Catherine had begun to walk back toward the grove and Frederick was leading the horse to the stable, when she turned and said, "Frederick, I do not know how long I shall detain your brother so when you go into the house, do not be alarmed by the rather stout woman with the cherubic face who will be in the kitchen. She is Mrs. Graham and she will gladly prepare you any type of refreshment you wish. I shall endeavor to be quick."

"So Mrs. Graham is with us again?" Edward asked.

"It is all part of a larger whole my dear, it will all be clear after we talk," she explained. "Again, thank you, Frederick."

As they walked away, he watched Edward remove one of his gloves while Catherine did the same. Joining their exposed hands, he slid them in his great coat pocket. Frederick shook his head, they seemed together in all things. The contradiction widened in his mind.

"How was your adventure in town?" Edward asked in a distracted tone.

"I shall tell of it later. I think I shall like your brother very much."

"How can you know that? You have not had a hundred words between the two of you," he said dully.

" I can say that because I see he is ever so much like you," she said brightly. "I can see that he is intelligent. He is handsome, though not as you. And he has a sense of humor, which you have in abundance." She brought them to a stop at the end of the property. The trees, now bare, were close together here and close to a broken stone fence. The trees and the fence screened the view from the rest of the property. It had a private feel whether alone or wishing to converse with one's husband. She leaned her shoulder against the fence, and drew him to do the same. She removed his hat and placed it above him on the wall.

"What is wrong? Now that I look closer, I think you are not well," she said as she turned to face him. With her ungloved hand, she felt of his face to check for fever. There was none. "What have you and Frederick been about? Looking at your great coat and trousers, I would say you have been frolicking in the mud." she asked teasing hesitantly.

"No. We were at Junkins' this morning. His pony lamed and Frederick and I pulled his cart from the mud for him. We went in and had tea, they got on very well. Frederick asked why Joshua had allowed me out. I had to sit and use my own voice to laud myself in speaking for him. His words were more than I could bear. I was rude and left with no farewell," he said, pushing the dead and rotting leaves about with the toe of his boot.

"That was very sweet of Junkins to tell Frederick wonderful things about you. I do not understand this gloom at being praised, Edward," she said. She was trying to look him in the eyes, but he would avert his gaze each time she came close to his.

He abruptly stood straight and walked away. He stopped and with his back toward her, he began, "All I could think was if Frederick knew wholly about me, he would have no choice except to call me hypocrite. He would laugh at my tender care for poor, 'mangled' Joshua Junkins. If he knew me truly, we would surely see his back." His tone of voice was filled with self -mocking.

"You do not know for certain this would be his response. Junkins did not reject you."said Catherine. She knew the tone of voice and the cause of it. This malevolent issue was rising again. It had preyed upon Edward several times in the last months. Especially since September, when he knew Frederick to be coming for a stay. The battles were becoming more frequent and claiming more of Edward each time. They both knew that his only possibility for relief was revealing everything to his brother.

She came to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He stiffened. She laid her cheek to the back of his coat. She prayed again, as she had countless times before, that he would be mindful God's forgiveness of his low past. She knew he had renounced his connexion with trading long ago. She knew the man he had since become. Though, Catherine understood his fear of Frederick's reaction, for she could not put out of her mind how it had plagued and revulsed her and that she had come close, very close to spurning him.

She herself had nearly broken their engagement. He had revealed his dissolute life, the drunkenness, women, moral decay. Though most men are not likely to tell the woman they plan to marry of such things, he had felt the need to begin their married life free of any encumbrances. These things she had forgiven because they had happened twenty long years before she had known him. But, when Edward had told her it had come about because of his connexion to slaving, she had felt physically ill. There was more than enough Quaker blood in her family that the idea of becoming one with a man who could merchnadise in human beings had caused her an inward hardening. She had forced him away from her for several days. At the first, thoughts of him reviled her. She was angry. She questioned that a man could really come away from such a horror untainted. That he could ever be cleansed. . . .

"I know. You are right, it is difficult to predict what the actions of a person will be when they are given such knowledge," she said trying to put her arms around him. He would not allow any comforting from her. He moved away again. "Edward, shunning me will do no good. I will not leave you to mire yourself. I am here and not relinquishing you to this cursed thing," she said forcefully.

He turned to look at her face to face. She would not let go of him and allow his feelings to pull them apart. All he could do was thank God for her. She refused to see him and this affair hopeless. He would, in the end, do what was necessary because she gave him the strength.

"Thank you for that, but my brother has no vow to me as you do, nor does he have religious sensibilities that require bearing a burden not his. As horrible as the slaving was, I do not worry so much his reaction to it, but what it caused me to do to our family. That is inexcusable. Can I actually tell him I had no desire to care for he and Sophy? Can I do that, Catherine?" he nearly demanded of her.

She began to speak, but as she did, she came and unbuttoned his great coat and accomplishing that, opened it and slid her arms about him, she had to be as close as she could. He enclosed her with his arms. "But that was not how things ended. I can tell you what I have told you in the past. You must disclose everything. Not just Barbados, not just your being pulled back to Liverpool, you must tell him about that night. He must know how your seeing the two of them affected you. I do believe, had I been given the entire story in the beginning, I would not have reacted so violently. Perhaps we could have been spared much torment. As it is though, I think that brought our true feelings to the fore sooner."

"I have no choice, I must tell him soon. I see the look in his eyes. He is trying to determine why I am changed. I am sure he counts my marriage to you the reason. I am ashamed to admit, I had thought of just allowing that to cover me. Let him think me totally a new man because of you, my love," Edward said kissing her temple.

"While I am sure that would satisfy Frederick's curiosity, it could never end your pain in the matter. A lie to keep from telling of the past will never hold. You will tell him and he will understand," said Catherine.

"Suppose he does not? Suppose he hears my word and leaves. I shall never see him again."

Keeping her arms about him, but looking into his eyes, she said, "If your brother listens to what you have to say, and does not understand and forgive you, he is not half the man you have made him to be. In my mind he would be lacking in character and intelligence. You have lived twenty years endeavoring to make what amends you are able, if he could not see that, so be it," she said heatedly. She knew Edward loved Frederick dearly, but her allegence was always to him. Taking hold of her feelings, she said, "We are allowing ourselves to speculate too much. This is only going to be solved by your confessing to him. What he will do, we cannot guess."

Then, very slowly, not wishing to cause his shifting again, she gently kissed him. He responded slowly, then more forcefully. She was the only one he could trust and he must hold to that as long and as tightly as possible. As his high agitation subsided, the kiss gentled and he then looked at her, "I am sorry, this has not been the reunion I had in mind for us," he said in a low voice, holding her tightly to himself. He continued, "I do not know how you do this."

"Do what?" she asked as she listened to his heart.

"Take a senseless, hopeless man, ready to cast himself from the highest point in Shropshire, and make him see reason. I cannot remember how I lived before you married me," he said, beginning to realize just how long she had been gone from him.

Catherine again looked at his face and with her fingers began bringing some order to his hair. In the course of their conversation, he had run his hands through it and it was quite disheveled. She chose not to answer, but instead to make him see her need for him was equal. "Your hair needs trimming. You also need a good night's sleep, there are dark circles under your eyes. Had I come home and found you tidy and well slept, I think I would have been very disappointed. For all your talk of needing me, I found I was not myself when I was gone from you. Everything was out of order. But now I am home and we are together."

She kissed him again. This was not as the earlier kiss, one of agitation. This was the kiss they had both thought of exchanging for a fortnight. Reluctantly, they ended it, knowing that there was time now, for she was home.

"Before we go back, would you care to tell why Mrs. Graham is here?" Edward asked, not really caring about the answer.

"Suffice to say, she is with us for a while. I will explain fully, later. We should go back. Frederick will be done with the horse by now and I am sure you are both hungry. I love you Edward, do not forget that," she said beginning to walk to the house. She took his bare hand in hers and slid them in his great coat pocket. They were still together in all things.

Chapter 6

"A hundred men may build an incampment, but it takes a woman to make a home." Chinese Proverb

Frederick had put the gig and harnesses away, brushed Edward's excuse for a horse and brushed his own for good measure. He then cleaned the stalls. It amused him to think that only a few months ago he had been in command of several hundred men. Responsible for maintaining a standard of behavior for his officers, hoping it would be picked up by the midshipmen, then down to the seamen themselves. Making decisions that in times of battle could bring victory or possibly cause death. All that experience and knowledge now being put to use in cleaning a small stable in Crown Hill Parish, Shropshire. One more scoop-- finished. He leaned on the handle of the shovel, looked about. There is an odd sort of satisfaction in a newly clean stable, a satisfaction nearly equal to command.

"So, you have found something to put your hand to doing, I see. Joseph, the boy who comes to do that, should thank you. If I know Edward, he will pay him, though, now he has nothing to do. If you were to but ask, I am sure he would give you a little something as well," Catherine said with a smile.

"Well, as I am put ashore, I am only at half pay, perhaps I should think of changing my career," Frederick said matching the smile.

" I would put much thought to that question before tendering a resignation from the Navy. I am sure that the life of a stable boy in Shropshire differs greatly from that of captain of a ship," she laughed.

"To be sure."

"Edward has gone on to the house, I am to collect you and then we shall have luncheon. From what I have been told, breakfast was very scant," she said.

"Yes, it was not much, but Edward seemed anxious to make way. I was very impressed with him this morning. He cares very much for the people in his charge. Especially Mr. Junkins. They seem to have a very close bond," Frederick said as he shelved the brushes and hung the shovel.

"Yes. They are very close. Edward is thankful to have a friend such as Joshua, particularly since you are not nearby," Catherine said.

"That is the second remark today of how much Edward cares for me. I am rather surprised. His attitude toward me in the last years has been one more of distance than close, brotherly love." He had taken down his bridle and began examining the buckles, feigning ease. All the while wanting an answer to his puzzle. "Why was I never treated to this loving and kind brother I see now?" he asked as he hung the bridle back on the wall. He looked at Catherine expectantly.

"Edward's reasons are his own. I am not at liberty to speak for him." She stepped closer. "I will tell you, I believe your questions will have answers soon, very soon. Now we must go in and see that the two of you are well fed." She smiled and turned, exiting the stable. Frederick stood a moment longer, puzzling still about Edward.

Luncheon went uneventfully. Catherine had rearranged the place settings so that they were all seated at one end instead of a more formal one at head, one at foot and one in the middle. Her reasoning was that when seated as such with Edward alone, she felt herself to be in a foreign outpost. She teased that perhaps they should attempt it once more with Frederick relaying messages between them.

When Edward and Catherine began talking of parish business and people, he felt free to allow his mind to wander and not attend. As was his habit when dining with others, Frederick watched more than participated. Exceptions occurred occasionally, such as dinners at Uppercross. The questions and interest shown in him, his career and sailing in general had drawn him into conversation, but the knowledge gained in just listening could be much more satisfying--or plaguing. This had been the case in Lyme. He remembered a discussion around another dining table, this one between James Benwick and Anne their first evening. They had spoken of heartache and suffering. Anne had listened as Benwick unburdened himself about Fanny Harville and his feelings of despair. It had struck him as a rather intimate conversation between strangers, but Anne had reached out to him in kindness and offered advice on authors and books from which he might benefit. He could not help thinking that, perhaps she was familiar with this subject on account of him.

His thoughts shifted from then to now. He knew she would still be with the Lady Russell at Kellynch Cottage. They were not journeying to Bath until after the new year. As he sat, pushing potatoes about on his plate, he wondered what she might be doing at this moment. It was cold so perhaps she was warm, by a fire, reading. Taking tea with Lady Russell? Does she think of me at all?

"Frederick! Come back to the table. It is terribly rude wandering away in your mind like that," Edward said looking at him intently. "You were quite gone. Where did you go off to?"

"Nowhere in particular and everywhere in general," he said laying his napkin aside and rising from the chair. "I feel the need to walk a bit. It was a lovely luncheon Catherine, convey my thanks to Mrs. Graham."

"Yes. I will, Frederick," she said as he left the dining room. She turned to Edward, "He made quite a mess of his plate, but I do not think anything passed his lips. I would have thought after being out all morning and the cleaning the stable, he would be famished. I know that he is perplexed about you. Surely that would not ruin his appetite," she said, concerned.

"Catherine, Frederick is a grown man and has a life quite apart from me. Perhaps there are other matters he is contemplating. If he is hungry, he will eat. Do not be so worried, he is not your responsibility," Edward said, all the while wondering if it was not his responsibility.

"This is our first opportunity to be alone since I have returned. What did you do while I was away?" She queried while stirring her tea.

"I did as always. Visited and studied. Sunday went well, you were missed by many. I sometimes think that people merely come to see you. It was an uneventful two weeks," he said casually. He stretched his legs under the table and leaned back in the chair. It was good to have her back with him.

"As I said earlier, you do not look as though you slept well. While it is somewhat gratifying to think of you pining for me, I must admit it does not help your looks," she said smiling smugly.

"Well, it was rather difficult to sleep when you consider I quit our room two days after you left."

She looked at him with some surprise, "Why would you do such a thing? And where may I ask did you sleep if not in our room?"

"I have grown accustom to you sharing my bed and when you were not there, well it was frustrating to say the least. The first night I slept in the room Frederick is in. That was nearly as bad. Last night, I fell asleep at the kitchen table. Frederick must have thought me daft when he came in and found me there." He rolled his eyes to enumerate his attempts at sleep. Catherine listened with an fascinated look on her face, such gyrations from her absence. He continued, "I have used, in the same night, both the chairs in my study. I also gave the sofa in the sitting room a go for a few nights. Suffice to say I have found all the uncomfortable places in this house to sleep."

"Perhaps tonight will go better for you, dear."

He laid his head on the back of the chair, "I certainly hope so," he said wearily. "I certainly can hope."

The rest of the day finished untroubled. The evening meal was taken quietly. Frederick ate to Catherine's satisfaction and the conversation while not uproarious was amusing enough to raise a smile or two. Afterwards, each found an occupation equal to their respective moods.

Edward and Frederick settled in the study. They built the fire high and Frederick settled himself with a book of humorous essays concerning military figures long dead. As he began it, he thought of all the living military figures he should like to see squibbed.

Edward was determined to finish some correspondence to friends in parishes he had served in the past. He tried to keep abreast, but as he had moved from place to place, he had collected more acquaintances and it was becoming more difficult to remain current. His wish was Crown Hill would be his and Catherine's home for a good long time.

After Catherine had put the house in satisfactory order, she stood in the entry and breathed the air of home. It had been a long day with much emotion and she felt the need to have her own things about her and rest in her own bed. She went to the study, gave Edward a discreet kiss on the cheek and bid Frederick a good evening. As she climbed the stairs, she felt glad to be home, but there was something troubling in the calm. She hoped that sleep would cast it away.

Chapter 7

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways . . ." E. B. Browning

Catherine studied her face in her dressing table mirror. She turned her head from side to side, tilted her chin up, now down. All the while remembering the face in the book. That beastly book that began all this nonsense. She wished that when Jane Sedgewicke had brought it to the hotel, she had simply not looked at it.

"Barbados, A Character Study of The Island by Thomas Sedgewicke-Hall. Had you never looked between those pages, you would not be in the process of bedeviling yourself now you silly girl," she said to the face in the mirror.

She and Jane Sedgewicke had been three years together at Cleveland School in Shrewsbury. They had kept in touch somewhat over the years. Their meeting in London this past week had been, at the time, a happy accident. Jane had also been friendly with Catherine's sister Emily. Emily was the most artistic of the family and was responsible for her rendering on Edward's desk. Jane had brought her cousin's new book to show and compare the talent of cousin to sister.

When Catherine had seen the title, she had felt apprehensive. For she and Edward, Barbados was a painful subject. His past life there continued to plague them. Jane had insisted she look and see if her cousin was not an exceptional artist. She had thought the pictures would be like many anti-slavery tracts she had seen and that looking upon them would do no harm. What she did not know was that Sedgewicke-Hall had been vilified in nearly all abolitionist quarters for his sweet portrayals of the Indies as a paradise and no real substance of their true nature.

The pictures were indeed beautiful. He captured the landscapes and the towns with superior technique and his colouring was superb. There were no pictures of chains and humiliated people bearing burdens too heavy for them, as in the tracts. These pictures made Barbados a place she could almost wish to visit. As she turned a page, the caption caught her eye, "Mulatto woman at market, Bridgetown." Catherine looked closely at the woman. She was beautiful. If the man were a faithful copyist, she had a remarkable look. Dark hair, large dark eyes, full graceful lips. But her skin. It was cafe au lait. She had seen that term used elsewhere in the book. Coffee with milk it had said. Bridgetown was the place Edward had lived for three years and these must be the kind of women he had seen all the time. Perhaps the kind of women he had . . . She had closed the book and put it aside, muddling through the rest of Jane's visit as best she could. She had never felt so old, so dull, so plain.

As she looked in the mirror, remembering the woman in the picture she could not help feeling that way again. Her coming home to Edward lamenting his past and his need of her had brought this to her thoughts. As she had comforted and told him she loved him, all she had wanted was to ask, "Were they all that beautiful?" She had been able to put the whole thing aside as they had gone about the rest of the day, but here, alone in their room, it had returned to her.

Edward's past was something she struggled with from time to time. Her chief conflict had always been the slaving. She never told him because he wrestled with it quite enough without adding her battle to the fray. Until she saw the picture, his intimacy with someone else had not captured her thoughts. It was more than twenty years ago. He had been abstentious, had sought no wife, until her. It angered her that this affliction was getting the better of her. She was allowing it to challenge her trust and her confidence in the place only she held in his heart. She could not allow that. She must control her own thoughts. He told her he loved her, he told her she was beautiful. Chiefly, he had shown her his love in a myriad of ways and that was what she must believe. Pictures in a book could not be allowed to supplant his demonstrations to her.

"What are you about my lovely?" Edward asked, laying his hands on her shoulders. She started. Her thoughts were so deep that she had not heard him enter. She tried to collect herself, she let out an audible sigh. "Are you all right, Catherine? You look troubled," he said, kneeling beside her chair.

"I am very tired. The trip home was more than I anticipated. I think I should go to bed and not spend my time brooding before a mirror," she said, trying to sound light.

Edward was having none of the lightness. He could see the set of her brows and hear the quaver of her voice. She had been well at dinner. Frederick had even remarked, after she had retired, that she was a welcome addition to the Wentworth 'clan'. He mentioned how, though she must be tired, she was still cheerful and easy to be about.

"Catherine, tell me what is wrong. Have I done something?" he said, entreating her to reveal the problem.

How do I say that you did something wrong twenty years ago and I am now suddenly haunted by it?

"I told you, I am merely tired. I need to sleep in my own bed," she said wearily. Ask me again, please find me out.

"I think this is more than tiredness. Did something happen in town?"

"No! Nothing. I only need some rest." I need you to tell me I am not just tolerable compared to those beautiful women.

"Can I tell you something before you go to bed?" he asked trying to coax a smile.

"I suppose, if you must."

He moved very close to her and whispered as if whatever it was, were a secret. Before he began to speak, she felt him touch her hair and inhale the scent of it, "Well, I must. When we were at dinner . . . and your fork fell . . . and I retrieved it for you, . . . when I touched your hand to give it up, . . . all I could wish was Frederick gone. . . . And you and I . . . alone." His hand had rested on the back of the chair to this point, but then moved to her shoulder and gently pulled her to him. He kissed her neck and began to move to her lips. As he brushed across her jaw, he tasted salt. He opened his eyes to find her crying. "What is this? Catherine, you must tell me, what it is I have done. You do not cry from tiredness." He was becoming alarmed and his nerves were still tight from the visit to Junkins her unexpected return and now this.

"I need you."

"You need me to what? Catherine, please, may we sit on the bed, my knees are too old to stay down here much longer," he said taking her by the arm. They sat down, arranging themselves to face one another. "What do you need? I shall do whatever it is that will end this," he said as he leaned to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

"I have done a very foolish thing,"

"Knowing you, any foolishness you might engage in will look as perfectly rational behavior compared to anyone else." He could see that jest was not needed and must refrain from trying to bring her out of this. Better he let her tell and wait to act.

"Not this time, I am afraid. I have allowed silly and petty fears to come into my head. The most galling part is that I put them there with my own eyes," she said with annoyance.

"You saw something that excited this kind of feel? What could it have been?" he asked pointedly

"I met an old school friend in town. Her cousin is authoring a series of books. They are on . . . the West Indies." On her saying this, Edward inhaled sharply. "His latest offering is of Barbados. She wanted to show me the art work. He does his own renderings and she wanted me to give an opinion." She began to look at her hands as the true subject came closer to them.

"Which you did. May I ask, what was that opinion?" Edward said, watching her face, hoping to see some feeling he could recognize.

"The pictures were beautiful. It is a lovely place," she said looking up to see his face turned from her and in thought.

"Yes. I suppose it was, . . . is rather. I would not know. My time was spent in less than beautiful surroundings."

"Well, it is." Suddenly, it all came pouring out, "I saw a picture of a mulatto woman, the book said she was from Bridgetown. She was so lovely all I could think was this was the kind of woman you must have known. To look at myself in comparison is--laughable," she said looking to his ring on her finger.

Edward was stunned at this kind of revelation from her, of all people. Catherine was not a woman given over to the common fears. She did not fear small rodents and insects. She did not fear social gatherings. She feared hurting people by saying something careless, so she guarded her tongue. She feared wasting time so she kept herself to daily habits that were chiseled in stone. What he had never seen was a fear that she lacked in personal charms. Her remarks about sonnets came to mind.

He proceeded quietly and cautiously. He wished to stop the beast from consuming her as well as himself. "Catherine, I am not sure this will comfort you in any way, but many years ago, before Frederick was even grown, I set my mind to trying to remember the women in Barbados. I could not." He looked her in the eyes and shook his head, "Half of the time I was so sotted that I could not tell you who I was with, or who I was for that matter. The other half, I was merely trying to keep what little sanity I still possessed. Every woman I have ever known, mulatto, white or any colour you chuse could come in here now and I would not know them." He took her gently by the shoulders and continued, " I told you earlier that I did not sleep in here while you were gone, did I not? She nodded. That was because you took the sights and sounds of you in going to town."

"What do you mean, ‘sights and sounds of me'?" she asked, puzzled.

He smiled a half smile. He had lifted his head and closed his eyes as though he were living each one. "The sight of you bending to unlace your shoes at night. The sound of you bumping that stupid umbrella you insist on keeping in the dressing room. The sounds of your hair pins being dropped in the dish on the dressing table." He opened his eyes and looked squarely at her. "How the bed shifts and sounds as you settle into it for the night. You took all those with you when you left so I was forced to find refuge elsewhere. It was pointless to spend much time here."

"I have never been so totally undone by anyone in my life. You permeate everything I am or do. No woman in my past has a claim. I don't see them, hear them or even remember them. When you and I stood in the vestibule of the Keystone, I got quite lost in you and I have yet to find a way out. In fact, I am not even trying." He was looking at her and could see a change coming to her eyes.

She smiled a small, relieved smile. She moved closer and put her arms about his neck. Bringing him to her, she whispered, "That is what I needed." They realised how close they were and how high the feelings. It is difficult to say who stirred first, suffice to say, they did.

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