Section I, Section II, Section III, Section IV

Part 13

essica had been happily surprised to see her brother standing on the doorstep late one London evening.

"Stephen! I did not expect you!"

"I'm sorry Jessie, I received orders rather suddenly and did not have a moment to send you a message. I hope you are not too inconvenienced."

"Don't be stupid. Come in! Have you traveled alone or are we to meet Miss Radcliffe?"

Stephen could not control the spasm of pain on his face at the mention of Laura. He turned his face away, knowing his sister was too astute not to read his emotions. But either he was not quick enough or Jessica had grown more discerning with motherhood.

"What? What is it? The young lady is not ill or in any distress?"

"Not that I know of...no." Stephen could not wish Laura distressed, but there was still that selfish part of him that hoped she missed him as much as he did her.

"Then what?"

"Jessie..." Stephen stalled, "I'm tired, hungry and cold."

She pulled him into the house, barking instructions to her servants to prepare a meal, a room, and a bath. Stephen was escorted to his usual room within minutes and the scurrying of servants quickly produced a steaming tub of water. Stephen sank into the water gratefully, letting the heat and steam ease sore muscles and relax his body. He ventured downstairs again an hour later, stopping by the nursery to peek at his sleeping niece.

Jessica was waiting for him in the dining room, allowing him to sit at the head of the table, and choosing to sit at a chair to his right. Ethan was at his club for the evening, meeting with business associates and she did not expect him home till late that night. Stephen was unexpectedly relieved. He knew it would be difficult enough to shield his thoughts from Jessica without the combined penetration of the couple.

Jessica, either out of preoccupation or a sincere understanding of his weariness, was not asking any awkward questions. She served Stephen a heaping plate of food, but took none for herself, and settled him with a good goblet of Merlot. She chatted amiably about mutual acquaintances, of the challenges of motherhood, of her husband's increasing inclinations toward a political profession, and whatever news their mother had sent from Lyme. Stephen did his best to chat with her, trying to keep his heaviness of heart from spilling over. Eventually, Jessica grew silent as Stephen brooded and picked at his meal.

"You miss her don't you?" She asked directly.

"More than even I thought possible," he was forced to admit.

Jessica nodded with the air of a wise woman and smiled. "Just remember, it is the separation that sweetens the reunion."

I hope so, Stephen thought to himself. I hope there is a reunion at all.

Walter, being the more responsible of the Musgrove brothers, kept a regular correspondence with Stephen. Walter was also the best source for news of Laura, for which Stephen was eternally grateful. And yet he could not be easy of the news that was reaching him.

Cousin, I have done it! I have asked Miss Samantha to marry and she has accepted!

Walter's last letter had gushed.

And thanks to you and Uncle Frederick, her battleaxe of a mother could not complain of my prospects. I begin a curacy in the autumn. My only complaint is that it is in Yorkshire, which is too far away from our families for both Samantha and myself. But we will make do and I do not doubt will be perfectly happy as long as we are together.

Lest you think I have abandoned your cause, fear not. I believe you have cause to rejoice in your absence. Miss Laura has been a very silent and pensive companion of late. Samantha believes it is because of your abrupt departure and is hopeful that a softening of her sister's manner toward you is imminent. So rest easy. I will continue my vigilance with the shrewdness of a brother to be. Samantha and I have not a doubt that she would welcome you back to Somerset as much as we would. Without meaning any impertinence, it would be something of a relief to have you back. It is odd for all three of us that she is now the chaperone to Samantha and not the other way around.

It was with guilty satisfaction that Stephen acknowledged the sign that Laura missed him. Walter's letter had brought some relief, for news of her was eternally better than no news at all. Stephen was not ready to imagine life without word or breath of Laura Radcliffe in it. And judging from Walter's letters, he had reason to believe he could expect success.

Stephen rubbed tired eyes, wishing for the hundredth time that the day's discussions were over. He had been in London for nearly two weeks now. Two weeks of ceaseless naval strategy meetings, sleepless nights and persistent thoughts of Laura Radcliffe. Stephen had wondered at his presence in them at all, for he was the only officer under the rank of Commander present.

The Royal Navy, having no recent wars in which to fight, was making its way by patrolling the English coastline and English territories. But two new schemes had emerged that would occupy the hundreds of sailors and officers that drifted on land. The first was a routine transport of prisoners to Australia. It was a dangerous assignment, for enclosing criminals into small cargo holds during long voyages created opportunities for mutiny, disease, and death. This was the scheme demanded by the crown, for English prisons were overflowing. But it was also expensive and uncertain, and the British Admiralty was showing remarkable foresight in planning another such expedition.

The second scheme was a tenure in India, where the Royal Army had already made inroads into land and jewels. The Navy wanted their share of the riches and offered her officers a chance to increase their personal wealth by participating in the venture. Stephen had been thrown into discussions with Admiral Gerald Trent and Captain Stewart Cahill, both excellent men and officers.

The Admiral and Captain were the largest proponents of the India Expedition. As the debates continued, Stephen found these esteemed gentlemen increasingly interested in his participation, asking numerous questions, and encouraging Stephen to venture suggestions and opinions on one subject or another. Stephen had no illusions that these men had their own agendas in soliciting his support. The only retarding weight was the knowledge that he would not be able to bring a wife on either expedition.

As the end of the second week was reached, the assembled officers seemed to favor the India expedition, for there were few who preferred to carry criminals when they could carry gold. Stephen was happy to see the end of the week and counted on a Sunday of rest and peace with Jessica and Ethan.

He was about to walk out of Navy headquarters when he heard his name reverberating the walls of the building. Admiral Trent and Captain Cahill were smilingly bearing down on him, and with all his learned diplomacy, Stephen squashed the grimace before it could surface.

"Where are you off to, boy?" The Admiral's voice boomed. "Damned near running out those doors!"

"Don't heckle the young man, Gerald," Captain Cahill interrupted humorously. "He might have some plans for the evening."

"Hhhrrumph! Probably some silly young lady or another..."

"Actually, just dinner with my sister and her husband." Stephen said.

The Admiral beamed at him and thumped him vigorously on the back. "Excellent! Then they won't mind if you change your plans. Come on, boy, we are dining at White's!"

Stephen felt as if his eyes were about to pop out of his head in astonishment. Had that truly been an invitation to dine with one of the Admiralty's finest?

"Put your jaw back in its place, Lieutenant, and send a message to your sister," Captain Cahill said softly. "The Admiral likes his dinner served promptly."

Stephen knew a command when he heard it and there was no mistaking the seriousness in Captain Cahill's countenance. He quickly sent a message to the Munroe household and made his way to White's with his illustrious company.

An evening at White's was an experience all in itself. From the moment Stephen entered, he was assailed with the strong smell of the finest spirits, imported cigars, and societal power that permeated the building. The creme de la creme of society spent many hours here in countless card games, meals, and drinks. The atmosphere was generally jovial, but there was always an undercurrent of awareness through the occupants. As Stephen looked at the thick, stiff leather chairs, mahogany tables, and alert servants in full livery, he could not but imagine what monumental agreements and discussions had taken place within these walls.

His companions made their way to the dining hall with supreme confidence and Stephen sought to outwardly match their self assurance. It would have been a stupid man to miss the signs of a life changing opportunity. And Stephen was far from being an imbecile.

They were settled at a private table with all the obsequiousness proper to an Admiral and his guests. The Admiral made several pointed suggestions about the menu, which both the Captain and Stephen heeded, and ordered a bottle of French Cabernet Sauvignon.

"I am glad we haven't been fighting with the French for some time," Captain Cahill remarked after a sip. "They do have a way with wines."

"Yes, well, so they do," the Admiral commented, locking his amber colored eyes on Stephen. "What do you think, boy?"

Stephen nearly choked on his sip, "It is very good, sir."

The Admiral smiled at his cautious reply, "How does your father? Is the old goat still languishing at Lyme?"

Stephen smiled, "He is doing very well, sir. Lyme has grown into a much larger place since he and my mother settled there, and they both thrive by the sea. They were in town not quite two months ago."

"Yes, well, I was in Sheffield visiting an old school chum. Can't stand the country, nothing to do but shoot at animals and fend of bored women." The Admiral leaned back to allow the waiter to serve the soup. He caught Captain Cahill's discreet chuckle. "And what do you find so amusing?" He demanded, not noticing Stephen hiding his own smile in his glass. "I may be old, but I'm not dead! I suppose young men like you two think a head of white hair stops a man from noticing the fairer sex...or from being noticed. I can still turn a few heads, white hairs and all."

Captain Cahill laughed outright, "Don't mistake me, Gerald. It was the picture of you dodging from pillar to pillar in a ballroom as Lady Dowager something or another chased after you that drew my mirth."

The Admiral harrumphed again and dug into the first course. "You may laugh as you will Stewart. Don't think for one minute that being an old married man saves you from the same intentions from widows."

"I make a point of standing by my lovely wife through the evening. And if she cannot attend, I will only have to stand next to you. Who would bother with me when a high ranked bachelor graced the room."

"You've been kissing the blarney stone again, as the Irish would say," The Admiral huffed, but without a trace of rancor. He grinned boyishly at Stephen, "Don't be fooled, boy. I didn't become an Admiral by listening to the ramblings of a feeble married mind like Stewart's. He has to be nice to me. The wife he speaks so highly of is my niece."

The meal continued with the same bantering between the old friends. Stephen laughed a good deal at the conversation and grew in confidence with them. He touched little of the alcohol after the first glass, knowing that the serious discussion would commence after dinner.

The evening wore on and the trio strolled toward the back of one of the parlor rooms. Stephen was offered and accepted a cigar and a snifter of Cognac, relishing the comfort of a well-made leather armchair. The Admiral and Captain Cahill settled on similar chairs around him. They were removed enough from the other occupants to signal a wish for private conversation and there was enough conversations going on to mask their own quiet words.

"You must be wondering why you've been pulled into these talks." The Admiral began. Stephen nodded once and leaned forward in attention. "Your father is a smart man and highly respected in the Navy. We, of course, have hopes that you will prove the same."

"You certainly held your own during the strategy sessions," Captain Cahill remarked to Stephen's satisfaction. "Some of your observations were quite acute."

"Thank you, sir." Stephen acknowledged. "It helps, of course, to have grown up in the midst of such discussions."

"Of course, of course," The Admiral dismissed. "It also helped that you favored the India Expedition." He smiled wryly. "We may be military men, but we are not short on political maneuvers, are we?"

"The point is that Admiral Trent and I are assembling a team of officers to sail to India. We have the discretion of choice. There will the three ships sailing in just under four months. The Admiral will have command of one, I of another, and we are considering you for command of the third."

Stephen could not stop his eyebrows from rising at the honor. The Captain smiled at his surprise and continued.

"If you accept this position, you will have full command of your crew, but your rank will rise only to Commander, not Captain, so as to preserve our authority structure on the mission."

"If you do well, and you had better," the Admiral interjected, "we will discuss another promotion to full Captain."

Stephen was speechless and more than grateful to his companions. It was the professional opportunity of a lifetime. "I am...honored...sirs..."

"Good! So you should be!" The Admiral said. "This is a grand chance to make a name for yourself, young Wentworth. There is quite a bit of wealth to accumulate in India and the prize money on the voyages there and back are not trifling either." The Admiral twisted around at the sound of a voice and excused himself. "There's Lord Granby, I was hoping he'd be here tonight. He's financing part of this voyage."

Stephen was still sitting in stunned silence as the Admiral left him with Captain Cahill.

"Are you up to the challenge, Lieutenant? Or should I say Commander?" The Captain said softly.

"Yes, sir," Stephen said confidently. "And I have been itching for a real expedition for some time."

Cahill laughed, "Most dedicated sailors do. This promises to be a very diverting voyage. The sailing itself will take a couple of months each way. Then there is the year in India itself..."

"A year?" Stephen suddenly said with alarm. He had not anticipated such a long absence from England.

The Captain's gaze sharpened on him. "Yes, Wentworth. There is much to be settled in terms of the cargo to be brought back. Conservative estimates say it will take a year to settle disputes with local landowners, collect tributes and valuables, and generally wrestle with the Army for the Navy's share of rewards."

"I had not realized it would be so long..."

"Do you have something keeping you here?" The Captain frowned as Stephen failed to reply other than to blush deeply. "You do, don't you?"

"Sir...it is only that...I had hoped to marry soon."

The tenseness held for a brief moment before Captain Cahill began laughing, "Is that what put that stricken look on your face? For heaven's sake man! I thought I'd have to thrash you for being soft!" He kept laughing. "You will have command of your own ship! Bring your wife along. I am bringing mine. Nothing in the world would induce me to leave her for almost two years. And I dare say she would welcome the company of another woman!"

Stephen was still reeling with the decisions he had to make and scarcity of time in which to make them. "Things are not yet...settled...between us."

Captain Cahill leaned forward and looked intently into Stephen's worried eyes. "Then settle them. Marry the girl and bring her along. Or leave her behind if she decides differently. You have your orders and four months to prepare for them."

Stephen heard the steel in his commanding officer's voice and understood the message. He was bound on this voyage to India, with Laura if she would marry him or alone if she refused. And he would lose his commission in disgrace if he refused the mission. He nodded his understanding.

Seeing that his message was received clearly, Captain Cahill began laughing again, teasing Stephen for his lovestruck sentiments. Stephen smiled gamely and played along, knowing it would take time for his heart to rejoice. He was proud to be a part of the mission, but he knew that pride would fade if Laura would not come with him.

The Admiral was not one who like being left out of a joke. Hearing Cahill's laughter, he ventured back and demanded to know what he had missed. Cahill recounted the conversation with alacrity, yet managing to remove mention of Stephen's reprimand.

"You have it in your head to marry?" The Admiral bellowed. "Blast and damnation! And here I was looking forward to having some company when this fool," he indicated the Captain, "ran home to his wife at night!"

The next few days brought greater understanding for Stephen of the import of this mission. The crown was depending on the riches of the Indian colony to supplement the depleting wealth of the English nobility. The population of the country was increasing, crops were yielding less, and there were fewer colonies from which monetary support could be collected. The British Empire was shrinking.

The planning of the mission proceeded smoothly and the date was set for the small fleet to sail from Portsmouth Harbour. Stephen found Admiral Trent and Captain Cahill to be liberal, like-minded men in whom he could confide and trust. In turn, they listened to his suggestions and counsel. The command team was firmly in place by the end of the week.

Stephen was eagerly counting the days before he could return to Uppercross. He had written to Walter and his aunt to inform them of his imminent return. The last few days had energized him and his natural confidence reasserted itself. He made plans with the knowledge that Laura would be with him.

The day before he was scheduled to leave, Stephen received a letter from Walter.

It is good news that you will be coming back soon. I have not wanted to alarm you, but your absence has been used to advantage by Mrs. Radcliffe and Samuel Elliot. Mrs. Radcliffe has made a point, even in my presence, to denounce the length of your absence as a sure sign of your acceptance that the engagement is broken forever. Samuel Elliot has made a point of renewing his attentions to Miss Laura. Samantha fears, and I must believe her to be correct, that an engagement between Samuel Elliot and Miss Laura may be announced soon.

Do not tarry on the road to Somerset, cousin. Samuel gives every indication of being in love with Miss Laura and it will be his sincerity that may yet win her hand.

Stephen was shaken to the core by Walter's letter. The very thought of Laura in Samuel's arms made him shudder with distaste. He cursed his own stubborn refusal to smuggle letters to her via Walter. He had believed his silence and absence would convince her that she cared for him. Instead it had turned her toward another man. Not just another man, Stephen thought with misery, Samuel Elliot.

Every doubt and misgiving he had thought over the last three weeks flooded back with intensity. Would Laura refuse him again? Would she refuse to come to India? Did she still love him or had his absence made her forgetful? Would it be smarter just to stay in London and heal himself without risking his heart and his pride again. Stephen subsided into a trance-like state as his tumultuous thoughts raced round and round.

Night had fallen when a hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality.

"Stephen?" Jessica said, "What is wrong with you? I have kept my silence for the last three weeks because I knew you were busy, but to find you like this?"

Stephen sighed and buried his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do, Jessie. I just don't know."

"Perhaps I can help you if you tell me."

"Laura...Miss Radcliffe has broken our engagement."

Jessica looked stunned. "When? Don't tell me she wrote you a letter? That's shameful!"

"No, she broke it off two weeks before I came to London."

Jessica sat down heavily on a seat opposite him. "That was five weeks ago! Have you told Mother and Father?" He shook his head. "Why not?"

"Because I haven't given up hope...at least I hadn't. I thought...I think...I could still make things right between us. Make amends."

"What do you mean 'make amends'? What happened to end the engagement?"

Stephen drew a deep breath and told his sister of the wager and Laura's discovery. He did not spare any details or try to cover his involvement. He did not look at her as she gasped in mortification over the incident. Jessica stood up and turned away from him as the last words faded into the night air. She crossed her arms in thoughtful silence for long moments.

"I can see why she is angry." She finally conceded. "You behaved very badly, Stephen. I am ashamed of you."

"No more than I am ashamed of myself. I tried every way I knew to reach her...to convince her that I was sincere. She would not hear me."

"No...I can see that she wouldn't." Jessica said softly. "How did you leave it with her?"

"I asked her to consider my absence as a test. I was confident that being apart would prove that she still loved me...enough to renew our engagement when I returned."

"You gambled."

"I lost." Stephen whispered brokenly.

"Have you? How can you be sure?" Stephen handed over Walter's letter. Jessica read it carefully. "Good heavens! Samuel Elliot? She would have to be a martyr of some kind to throw away happiness with you in favor of being MRS. Samuel Elliot. Though Walter seems to believe Samuel is genuinely smitten with her."

"You see now? I am too late! Instead of missing me, she has moved on with her life."

"Why do you say that?"

Stephen gestured to the letter with impatience, "It's right there in black and white!"

Jessica's eyebrows rose, "All I read is the attempts of a rich suitor and an ambitious mother to persuade a woman to marry where her heart is not inclined. If she were engaged, Walter would say so outright. She is not and therefore all is not lost. Provided you get to Uppercross post haste!"

Stephen continued to frown as Jessica handed the letter back to him. "I cannot be so sure."

"You will never be sure until you ask her again."

"It will kill me if she refuses me."

"It will kill you faster to have never tried...and to never know." Jessica sat back down and took Stephen's hands between her own. "Your time is running short, Stephen. In four months you will be at sea. Do you really intend to leave England without ever seeing Miss Radcliffe's face again?"

Stephen swallowed painfully, "No..."

"Then go to her tomorrow. Let her make her choice. Then, at least, you will know and can plan your life accordingly. I will pray for your success."

Part 14

tephen reached Uppercross in record time. Walter was not at home to greet him and Stephen lingered only long enough to remove the smell of horses and travel from his body before donning a clean uniform. Aunt Mary was gaping at him as he bid her farewell a scant hour after his arrival and made his way out to the Radcliffe house.

Dusk was rapidly approaching, and with it all of Stephen's plans for a resolution. His heart was mercilessly pounding against his chest. It has started so the moment he recognized the town. He rode quickly on a fresh horse from Uppercross stables and within moments was outside the iron gates of his destination. There was a chestnut stallion already tethered there, and Stephen could only surmise that it was Samuel's.

Don't let me be too late, he prayed silently.

The gate creaked as he pushed it open and he stepped into the pathway. He was prepared for opposition, for Mrs. Radcliffe to soundly rebuke him, for Samuel's snide remarks, even for Samantha's silence...but he could not prepare himself for Laura's rejection. He could not lose his nerve that way.

He was almost at the steps of the house when raised voices were heard from behind. He knew Laura's voice immediately, though he could not distinguish the words, and she was speaking heatedly to a man. The blood began to rush past his ears as his feet instinctively began moving toward the pottery studio in the back garden. He could hear the man insisting and Laura denying vehemently and his feet began to run. The entrance of the studio seemed miles away.

There was an indistinct flurry of movement at the doorway and Stephen came to an abrupt stop as a solid figure collided with him. His jaw clenched when the figure resolved itself into the shaken countenance of Samuel Elliot.

The cousins stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Stephen saw the same calculating expression on Samuel's face, but it was tempered with something new...with disappointment. As ungentlemanly as it was to feel triumph over another man's heartbreak, Stephen could not help but be encouraged. His chin lifted in confidence and defiance and Samuel understood his meaning immediately.

Stephen squared his shoulders resolutely as Samuel slowly stepped close, coming face to face with dangerous intent. "If you hurt her again," Samuel hissed. "I'll kill you with my bare hands." Then he was gone, striding down the pathway toward his horse with anger and heartbreak outlined in every curve of his body. Stephen stared after him, recognizing every emotion and sympathizing with him for the first time.

There was no movement or sound from within the studio as Stephen again made his way to the doorway. He stepped up to the open door, but could not enter. This moment, the enormity of the task ahead of him, was all he had thought about for weeks. To be standing at the precipice, not knowing if heaven or hell lay below, emptied his mind of all practiced speeches and made his hands and knees quiver with fear.

Laura was sitting on a stool by the potter wheel, clutching a familiar vase pensively. She was pensively rubbing a mark on the vase with her thumb, and with a pang, Stephen recognized it as the stop where his thumbprint was fixed. He took his hat off and clutched it tightly, happy to be doing something with his hands, and stepped into the room. The movement startled Laura who struggled to hold onto the vase as her gaze flew up and met with him. Her jaw dropped open in surprise as she recognized him. She soon shut it and stood, turning away to shakily replace the vase on a shelf.

"Hello," Stephen said inanely. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"I've just returned from London."

"Oh," she nodded, not looking at him. "How does your sister and her family?"

"Well, they are all well. Thank you."

We're speaking like strangers, he thought desperately.

She nodded again but could not look at him. Her lips pressed together in a familiar, nervous gesture and she hid her hands in the folds of her dress. It was this familiar movement that brought warmth back into Stephen's body and life back to his limbs. He moved forward, quickly taking her hand before she could pull away.

"What are you doing?" She asked with alarm, glancing behind him at the open door.

"Looking for leftover clay," he replied with an uncertain grin. There was indeed some streaks of the matter on the palm of her hand and before she could protest again, he fervently pressed it to his lips. He heard her gasp as he whispered into the warmth of her skin, "I have missed you so much."

She pulled her hand forcibly away and stepped back. There was wariness in both eye and voice as she said, "You have been away a long time."

Stephen feared that this was her way of saying she had grown used to his absence. Perhaps he had misread Samuel outside. Perhaps he was not a refused suitor, but one who intended his bride to sever all ties with former lovers. But Laura did not have the look of a bride. She was weary and strained, her eyes dull and her gestures nervous. She looked burdened, as if too much was being set on her shoulders.

"Why are you staring at me?" She asked with a small frown.

"You have not been taking care of yourself," he said softly. "Why?" She only shrugged. "Has your mother forced you to do something you did not wish?" He asked carefully. She shook her head tiredly. Stephen felt all his protective urges rise up and he led her to a more comfortable chair and made her sit. He drew the stool close to her and took her hand again. She did not pull away.

"Laura...I must know. Are you engaged to Samuel Elliot? Walter mentioned the possibility to me."

"I am not." The relief that swept through him was immense. He was overjoyed that she would not be tied to such a man, but it still did not mean she would marry him either.

"It must have made things...awkward for you here."

She issued a bitter laugh that jangled through him. This was not the joyous sound he was used to hearing. "My mother is not speaking to me. Neither is my sister. So I hide here, until one or both of them decide that I am fit for family company again."

"Why is Miss Samantha angry?"

"She thinks I am a fool for driving you away." Laura replied. "You were absent for a very long time."

"I know. It could not be helped. But I have returned as promised."

"For how long?" She asked softly. "You did receive new orders did you not?"

He nodded. "It all depends on you, really."

"Me?" She asked with astonishment. "How?"

"I am being sent to India. It is a long mission, likely to last almost two years. Two years will change us both if we live them apart. We will be very different people at the end of that time." Stephen watched Laura pale as the import of what he was saying.

"India? So far away?" He nodded at her, silently giving her time to adjust to the information. "When do you leave?"

"Four months from now. In Portsmouth."

"So soon." She whispered sadly. She stood up and walked past him. "It will be a grand adventure for you, Lieutenant."

"Actually, it's Commander Wentworth, now." She smiled tremulously at him. "And yes, it is an incredible opportunity...one that promises promotion and wealth. As it is, the officers in charge have given me a ship to command." He stepped up close behind her, taking a moment to inhale the intoxicating scent of wildflowers from her hair.

"You will be too busy to think of any of us, then." She said softly.

"I hope I do not have to think about you," he replied teasingly. He felt her stiffen and reached up to hold her arms and pull her back to rest against him. "The Captain is bringing his wife," he whispered. "With command of my own ship, I may bring mine as well."

"You have no wife."

"Not yet."

"Then you mean to marry before you leave?"

"Yes, if you will have me." He turned her around and was shocked at the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks. She had not made a sound or a single gesture that indicated her sorrow. His grip of her arms tightened with the strength of his pleas. "Come with me," he begged. "Marry me and come with me. I don't want an ocean to separate us."

"Neither do I," she admitted and buried her face against the silk of his cravat. Instinctively his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her as close as he could for fear that none of this was real. He shuddered as her arms crept about his waist. No one could be this happy and live, he thought. But they could, and he did, savoring to sweetness of holding her again.

"When?" He needed to know. "When did you change your mind about me?"

"Within hours of your leaving. It was unbearable to get through the day knowing there was no chance of meeting you. Then time stretched on and I was sure that you had forgotten me. I know the social whirl of London. I imagined you sought after in one ball after another."

"I didn't go to any of them. Truth be told, I was cloistered in meetings all day and at night, all I wanted to do is sit in silence and think of you."

"I thought you had reconsidered. And I could only blame myself for having sent you away."

"If I had known..."

"Would you really have left me if I had refused?" She asked.

"I would have run to the far corners of the earth. I could not bear to stay and watch you be courted and won by someone else."

She was still sobbing softly as she whispered, "Everyone has been so angry with me. Mama, for my refusing Mr. Elliot. She called me a fool for waiting for you and told me that you would not be coming back. And as the weeks passed and there was not a word or a sign from you, I began to believe her. I began to feel that my harshness had penetrated, that perhaps you began to think yourself lucky to be free of such a harpy."

Stephen began to laugh softly, "And all the while I was pining for you in London, begging Walter for every shred of information of you that he could gather. I did not dare smuggle a letter for you. I though you would refuse it." He held her tighter, pressing his lips against her hair. "I will never be able to make amends enough for hurting you. Have you forgiven me?"

She sighed deeply, "I forgave you long before I admitted it to myself. Perhaps you will reconsider your proposal when I tell you that there was a perverse pleasure in being angry with you."

Stephen pulled back and saw the arch smile on her lips as she looked up at him. He was not fooled by her light remark, however, for he could see the remnants of pain in her eyes. "I deserved every rebuke."

She shook her head, "I regretted every one in your absence." She rubbed her cheek against his chest again. "You had a brilliant strategy to bring me to my senses. I was bereft when you left me, and broken hearted when you did not return."

"I was convinced that I had made a mistake. That my absence made you move on with your life and agree to marry Samuel."

She sighed and pulled away completely. "I don't know what I would have done if you had truly not returned. But I could not marry Mr. Elliot. I could not marry someone I did not love, regardless of his affections. And despite our estrangement, I could not do that to you."

Stephen reached forward and touched her face with the tips of his fingers. He ran them lightly down the tear tracks on her face. Her eyes closed as he softly passed over them with his lips and her lips opened as he pressed his against them. He felt her arms slide up and around his neck as he kissed her, pouring all his love and passion into their embrace. The last traces of resentment, of anger, of fear melted away in the completeness of their reunion. She was his once again, and he would keep her.

Laura laughed breathlessly as they pulled apart. "My mother will not be happy with either of us."

"She will find me intractable. I will not be separated from you again." Stephen kissed her cheeks and nibbled her ears as he whispered. "I will make you happy. I promise I will make you happy."

Laura let her own lips rove his face as her hands made inroad into his dark hair. "And what are you willing to wager, Commander?" She whispered saucily into his ear.

"Heart and soul, my love. Heart and soul."

Part 15 Conclusion

Ten Months Later

tephen dipped his pen again, still stunned at how the heat of Indian nights managed to dry ink so quickly. He was sitting on his desk with shirt sleeves rolled up and collar unfastened.

Dear Mother and Father,

I hope this letter finds you both well and happy. The slowness of the mail takes some getting used to, since I still sometimes forget that there is a greater distance for our letters to travel.

He looked up at the rustle of sound in the room. Night had fallen outside but the house was bright with candles and lamps. He smiled as saw Laura examine yet another piece of Indian pottery in her corner of the workroom. While maintaining the image of the proper English lady during the day, Laura had grown fond of the more comfortable sari for their private evenings together. Her hand held fan stopped its movement as some design intricacy caught her attention. Stephen smiled again.

Laura and I have settled quite happily here in Bombay. The Admiral still rants about how little company he has at night, but he seems quite engaged with the Army generals he debates with. Mrs. Cahill and Laura have become fast friends, for which I am grateful. Captain Cahill and Admiral Trent send their regards, though he still refers to you, Father, as "that old goat". If you should ever slip and reveal your knowledge of this however, I shall vehemently deny every word!

Laura and I have a small cottage in the outskirts of town that is completely our own. I suppose it would be considered rustic and perhaps exotic by English standards. But we like the abundance of wood and silks. I imagine roasting to death every time the image of English stone houses pops up. The native people are friendly and affectionate once you get to know them and respect their customs. Laura, ever inquisitive, has been learning native pottery techniques. She has become friends with what looks like the oldest woman on the face of the earth. But apparently she is a master potter. I say apparently because the woman does not speak any English, and Laura knows only a smattering of Hindi. It is an amusing spectacle to watch the gestures and repetitions as they try to make sense of each other. But they manage to communicate all the same. And I am rather proud that Laura teaches this master craftswoman as much as she is taught.

A sigh caught his attention and he watched Laura rise from her chair and make her way to an open window. She was still fanning herself slowly, though the air was growing more soothing. He watched her eyes closely as a breeze ruffled her unpinned hair, a small smile playing about her lips.

Jessica writes that my niece is growing rapidly and that I will hardly know her when I return to England. And now that you also have a grandson in that household, I am amazed that you still keep house in Lyme. Are not two grandchildren enough to keep you both in London?

But I am withholding information of my own. A few months into our stay, Laura became very ill, and I had nightmares of her contracting a tropical fever of some sort. But she is better now and improving daily. We expect to be here in India for at least another year or more, but when we return to England, we would be happy to introduce our son or daughter to the family.

"What are you doing so quietly?" Laura's soft, teasing voice broke into his thoughts.

Stephen smiled and leaned back as his wife stepped close to him. "Writing a letter to my parents."

She allowed herself to be pulled onto his lap, knowing the evenings afforded them the utmost of privacy. Stephen laid one hand on the increasing swell of her stomach, astonished at the life growing within. His child, their child...already so loved and anticipated by them both. Laura wound one arm around his neck and caressed his cheek with her other hand.

"Have you told them our happy news?"

"I've just finished writing of it. Have you told your mother and Samantha?"

"I have written to Samantha and Walter, but not mother. I will do so tomorrow. I find myself growing tired quickly of late."

"Mmmmm," Stephen replied, stoking his lips against the skin of her neck. "And I suppose you are not procrastinating your correspondence with her even a little bit."

Laura laughed softly, "Maybe just a tiny bit. I find myself continually distracted by a rather dashing sailor."

"I will have to find him and thrash him unmercifully."

"Yes, you will. But later," She responded, taking his face in both her hands and kissing him deeply. "Much, much later."

The End