Section I, Section II, Section III, Section IV

Part 1

ieutenant Stephen Thomas Wentworth was blessed with bearing the best traits of both his parents. In all his 27 years of life, and in much of his own distinguished military career, he was complimented for retaining the mien and mettle of his father and combining it admirably with the finesse and good sense of his mother. Neither did it discourage the female population of Lyme and Somerset that all this virtuous excellence was also combined with a charming disposition and a smile that felled many an unwary feminine heart.

His parents, Admiral Frederick Wentworth and Mrs. Anne Wentworth (formerly Elliot), were well respected by all who knew them. Their family circle was warm and loving and often humorous. The Crofts had provided ample affection for both Wentworth children, but the death of Admiral Croft had been a blow for Aunt Sophy, and unable to bear Kellynch without him, she took residence with the Wentworths in Lyme. There was the highest degree of affection with the Musgroves and Harvilles as well. Childhood had been a wonderful time for Stephen and his sister as they grew up surrounded by children their age and open minded, warm hearted parents.

But it was Frederick and Anne Wentworth's commitment to each other and their family that Stephen valued most. There was many a look passed between them that remained largely misunderstood by him and his sister, Jessica Marie, until both of them had reached maturity. Even after over 32 years of marriage, Stephen still caught the gleam in his father's eye as he surveyed his wife. And the gentle Mrs. Wentworth, with hair grayed and happy in role of grandmother, still blushed and smiled when receiving that look. Now that Stephen was a man with his earned share of independence and merit, he found his heart resolved that nothing less that true devotion would induce him toward matrimony. The years had seen his sister happily married to the second son of wealthy landowner, yet not one lady had he deemed fit to grace his arm.

Currently, he was comfortably settled for a long visit with his Aunt and Uncle Musgrove, it was inevitable that his persistence to single status was discussed.

His cousins, Charles and Walter Musgrove, had much fun at his expense. Charles, in particular, enjoyed Stephen's aloofness toward the opposite sex. "It lends you an air of mystery, Stephen," he would say, "which I daresay makes you quite irresistible to the local ladies." Charles, having inherited his father's propensity toward portliness, was still the elder son of a wealthy man. Aunt Mary had made a match for him quickly after his graduation from Cambridge, selecting a young woman of good dowry and connections. Luckily, Charles seemed well adapted to the match since his wife was amiable and reasonably sensible. However, Stephen often chuckled to himself as he reflected that Charles had been more blessed by good luck than any rational thought of Aunt Mary's.

Walter, being the younger son, was himself unattached. He had recently taken orders, having no affinity toward the military despite the close attachment between the Wentworths, the Crofts, and the Musgroves. "What is your secret, Stephen?" Walter invariably asked. "Why is it that you are so pursued by the ladies and their mamas?"

"It's the uniform," was always Stephen's laughing reply. "I am quite bereft when I am in my hunting clothes."

The second week of Stephen's visit at Uppercross was highlighted by Aunt Mary's frantic shuffle through the grand manor.

"Boys! Boys! Make yourselves presentable! We are about to be called upon by our new neighbors!"

Dreading the end of yet another delightful debate, all three men abdicated their chairs in the library and headed outside before Aunt Mary knew what had become of them. It was, perhaps, not the most gentlemanly of behavior, but it was the most rational. Since Sophy Croft and the Wentworths had decided to stay in London, all the callers to Uppercross had been twittering, senseless ladies, eager to gawk at the eligible men of the house or compliment Aunt Mary on her fine additions to the manor. Stephen, in particular, found these societal obligation tedious and made no protest when Charles suggested a walk to Winthrop.

They meandered down the lanes and hedgerows leisurely, speaking with the ease of long acquaintance and respect. Stephen could feel the breeze flapping the edges of his coat on his legs as they walked and relished the complete freedom a stay in the country brought. They walked on for some time, stopping so Charles could eat some nuts that grew in the hedgerow, picking up a large branch to lean on when their debate became energetic.

Eventually, their animated talk faded into silence as they surveyed the vista before them. Aunt Henrietta Hayter and her husband had done much to improve Winthrop. It was still a working farm, but the learned husband had taken on many modern improvements and hired hands to turn the property quite valuable. It was enough for the gentlemen to stop and take in the sight before turning to make their way back to Uppercross.

Stephen was absently poking the branch on a bramble patch when a new sound attracted his attention. He stopped and listened intently, straining past the soft conversation of his cousins, and caught his breath as the sweet voice of a lady singing reached him. He turned questioning eyes toward his cousins, who had finally heard the sound, and all three stopped to listen. The singing was getting louder and soon the songbird herself came into view.

Quite unaware of their presence, a young lady of about 24 gracefully walked toward them with bonnet in hand and waves of dark hair carelessly escaping their restraints to curl becomingly against her cheeks. Stephen was quite amused when the lady stopped to pick some wildflowers, improvising verse about the flowers themselves into her melody. Charles, with all the propriety he could muster, coughed discreetly into his gloved hand...once, twice...until the lady noticed. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of them, her song stilled in midstream. She blushed a deep red and bobbed a curtsey, before a self-deprecating, mischievous smile overspread her face.

Charles stepped forward gamely and bowed, "Miss Radcliffe, it is a pleasure to see you. I apologize for our intrusion since it has broken off a most promising piece of music."

A soft laugh escaped the young lady, "I can claim no intrusion, sir. This is a public road after all."

Walter bowed as well, "May I present our cousin, Lieutenant Stephen Wentworth? Stephen, this is Miss Laura Radcliffe."

Stephen bowed politely, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam."

"The pleasure is mine, sir."

"We will see you at the coming ball, I hope?" Walter asked eagerly. "You did not leave room in your dance card for me at the last gathering."

"My mother, sister and I have already accepted the invitation with pleasure. And as you are the first to ask, I promise to save a dance for you."

"Excellent!" Walter said. "There is nothing I like better than a graceful partner. Don't you agree, Stephen?"

Stephen made all the obligatory noises. He was disconcerted when the lady's lips twisted in amusement at his non-reply.

Laura turned to Charles and Walter. "What brings you gentlemen out into the fields?"

"We are escaping the tedious social obligation of calls today," Charles stated proudly. "I find just about any activity more enjoyable than sitting in a parlour room talking of pretty nonsense." Stephen narrowed his eyes at his cousin, fully aware of the impropriety of such a statement.

Apparently, the young lady was of the same opinion as Stephen, for her eyebrows shot skyward as she said archly, "The fault must lie in the conversation then, not the visit itself. And I have always believed that one should make every effort to converse with some degree of intelligence." She cocked her head almost challengingly, "Your mother and wife did not seem adverse to my visit today."

Charles flushed, realizing his error, and stumbled through an apology. With great grace, Laura Radcliffe eased the conversation to safer ground and took her leave. She laughed away all offers to walk her home, claiming that the gentlemen would soon tire of her rambles through fields.

Charles heaved a rueful sigh as they watched her resume her humming and walk away. "Well, there is a young lady with wit enough for the rest of us."

"You certainly put your foot in your mouth, Charles," Stephen said. "You are lucky that Miss Radcliffe had the sense to curtail your ramblings."

"Such a passionate defense!" Walter laughed. "Charles, I think the impenetrable officer has taken an interest in Miss Radcliffe."

Stephen felt himself warming under the amused stares of his cousins. "Don't be ridiculous, Walter. She is pretty enough but not unlike any of hundreds of women."

"Well, I am not privileged to know the hundreds of women you lay claim to," Walter said with mock innocence. "But I am willing to wager that Miss Radcliffe is more than a match for you."

Stephen sighed with impatience, "I cannot imagine why either of you persist with this subject. If you will recall, you are the man to make a point of asking her to dance a full three days ahead of the ball. Perhaps you are a more eager candidate than you care to admit."

Walter smiled at his cousin gamely, "I asked her sister for the same yesterday. They are both pretty girls and I have no intentions of being sidestepped at a ball given by my parents!" Walter looked closely at the discomfited Stephen, "But you are changing the subject. I believe we were speaking of your prospects with the lady."

"I can say with all honesty that I have no designs to that young lady."

Walter snorted and waved that statement away, "I am not talking of designs, Stephen. Don't be obtuse."

"Oh, give up Walter," Charles said laughingly. "When the ball comes around, Stephen will be standing against a wall like a wooden box while you dance past with the lovely Miss Radcliffe. He is quite incapable of making a woman of her intelligence like him."

Stephen found himself more than a little insulted, "What do you mean by that? I do not stand around like a wooden box and there are opportunities enough to meet and charm any number of ladies. I have never been called wanting in that respect."

"Not by the masses of brainless, senseless girls and their scheming mothers. Come now," Charles wheedled. "Admit that you have never had to do more than make polite noises while being adored and flattered for that uniform you wear."

Stephen would admit no such thing.

"What Charles is trying so inadequately to express," Walter interposed, "is that Miss Radcliffe is not the sort of girl to fall for a handsome face or a dashing figure. She has great wit, she is well read and intelligent, she has a comfortable dowry, and she can afford to be picky. You would have to truly earn her esteem."

"And you do not think I could prove myself worthy of her?"

"We do not believe that you could prove yourself worthy TO her," Charles said smilingly.

Stephen drew himself up proudly, drawing on his natural self confidence and command to lend strength to his voice, "Gentlemen, you underestimate me."

"So you are saying that you, in the time you are here, will be able to endear yourself to her?" Walter clarified.

"If I chose to."

Charles searched his pockets feverishly for a moment, finally pulling out a wrinkled bill. "Here it is! Stephen, I hold a five pound note in wager that not only will you fall for the lovely Miss Radcliffe, but that she will want nothing to do with you. Walter, you are my witness to this agreement."

"I have agreed to nothing!" Stephen exclaimed. "I would not stoop to such juvenile bets! The very thought is improper!"

"It is only improper if you are caught," Charles reasoned. "We are three alone on a field. Word need not spread farther than our little circle. With Walter as witness, we make a private wager, that is all."

"I will not wager on the emotions of a young lady."

Charles sighed theatrically and put away his money, "Perhaps you are right. There, Walter, even our beloved cousin knows the limits of his appeal to women. I cannot admire you now, Stephen, since you will content yourself with the attentions of the feeble minded."

Galled beyond belief, Stephen retorted, "Charles, you go too far. You insult every person in my acquaintance. I will have you know that I regularly associate with people of education, sense and taste...and my company is sought by such as well!" Charles and Walter remained unconvinced. "I do not have problems conversing with people of wit and intellect...I quite enjoy it...even if they are on the same pedestal as Miss Laura Radcliffe!"

"Then you claim the ability to win her respect at least, if not her affection?" Charles asked slyly.

"I do."

"Then the wager is on!" Walter said.

And that was when Stephen realized just what he had agreed to.

Part 2

tephen was still attempting to find a graceful way out of the wager the next day while he strolled into town with Walter. In the years since his childhood, a bustling merchant community had grown up around the Kellynch and Uppercross estates, bringing in more trade and goods from other communities in England. Merchant families moved in and soon the district had grown into self-sufficiency as more doctors, teachers, musicians and merchants found opportunity in the area. Unlike the charms of a more sea-oriented place like his childhood home of Lyme, Somerset was gaining in urban comforts without sacrificing the advantages of country life.

"Walter," Stephen said with concern, "I don't think this wager with Charles is a good idea."

"A bet is a bet, Stephen."

"It's in bad taste."

"Are you afraid of losing? Or is the threat of Miss Radcliffe's charms taking your heart too real?" Walter laughed. "Stephen, it occurs to me that you have the easier task. All you have to do is exert yourself to be nice to her. Charles only requires that you gain her respect. We are not talking of marriage, so stop trying to squirm out of it."

Stephen frowned darkly, realizing that there was no support for him in this matter, unless he broke confidentiality and took the matter to someone outside their circle. Ever feeling revolted at such a thought and Stephen decided that a confidence is always best kept.

"There's no better time to get started than the present, is there?" Walter said suddenly, his eyes darting across the street. "Put on your happy face, Stephen, and get to it!"

Stephen followed his cousin across the street where Laura Radcliffe was standing next to another young woman. Upon introduction, Stephen found the second lady to be Laura's younger sister, Samantha, and within moments it became obvious that Walter was quite taken with her.

Walter made every effort to engage Samantha in conversation, managing even to walk slightly ahead with her, leaving Stephen to converse as best he could with Laura. Stephen glanced surreptitiously at his companion, noting with amusement, the curl of suppressed laughter on her lips as she surveyed the couple ahead of them.

"Do you approve of my cousin, Miss Radcliffe?" Stephen found himself staring into smoky gray eyes that shined with mirth.

"I do. He is amiable and intelligent. But perhaps it is not my opinion that matters."

Stephen smiled at her and saw her blink at him in confusion a couple of times. "Perhaps not. Would it be impertinent to inquire then if Miss Samantha approves of him?"

"It would be the height of impertinence," said the lady. "I make a policy of never speaking for another person."

"Even if you know the answer they would give?"

"Especially so."

Stephen's interest was caught despite himself. "Why is this? Is not information, when truthful, of more use?"

"The truth is always a good piece of information. But I place greater value on the keeping of confidences. If someone I know chooses not to make a certain piece of information public, then I would not presume to make it public for them."

Stephen smiled wider, "You are an honorable woman, Miss Radcliffe."

"I should hope so. My parents are honorable people and I hope I learned my lessons well."

"How long have you lived here?"

"A few months only. After Papa passed away three years ago, it became harder for Mama to bear our house in London. Mama spent an enjoyable summer here once and so we moved."

"And do you miss the excitement of London?"

Her eyes misted in reminiscence, "Only sometimes," she admitted softly. "I miss more the people I knew there, my friends." She shook herself out of her reverie to laugh up at Stephen, "But there is a challenge in making new friends, isn't there? And Mama was right, Somerset is a charming place."

"I doubt you will have any trouble making friends wherever you go."

"I thank you, sir. And I hope you are correct."

Stephen found himself admiring her indomitable spirit. Charles and Walter were wise in making their wager. There was danger here for him. There was a strange mix of relief and regret in him as they deposited the Misses Radcliffe at their door. They were entreated to join the ladies for tea, but the absence of Mrs. Radcliffe as an escort soon made itself know. Stephen did not avoid the smile on Laura's face as they bade farewell, matching it with one of his own.

The gentlemen were halfway to Uppercross when Walter finally broke the silence, "Well, Stephen, you acquitted yourself quite nicely today with Miss Radcliffe."

"She is indeed amiable." Stephen admitted. "I found her quite charming. But do not read more into it than there is."

"I glanced back to see you in deep conversation with her. What was the topic that so held you?"

"We spoke of friendships and confidentiality." Stephen said. "And if I am to retain any semblance of the honor Miss Radcliffe holds in esteem, then I shall desist from making further comment."

"Very mysterious." Walter laughed. "Have it your way. I will not pry. I am much too occupied with my own thoughts anyway."

Stephen laughed, "I did notice a marked preference for Miss Samantha in your demeanor."

"She is the one, cousin," Walter said, "I am sure of it. We have every advantage on our side."

"She is still quite young. You must be ten years older than her."

"Yes," Walter said softly, "And I have not yet secured a living for myself. It will be a serious obstacle."

Stephen clapped a comforting hand on his cousin's shoulder, "Have faith. If she is right for you, it will happen."

Part 3

tephen surveyed his reflection with satisfaction. The cut of his black formal suit was perfect and as he adjusted the tie and tails himself, he thought with amusement that Charles would be hard pressed to argue that he had not merits outside of his uniform. He was eager for the night's entertainment and could already hear Aunt Mary's voice calling out last minute instructions to the servants.

The guests began to arrive and he was invited to be a part of the receiving line. He stood next to Walter at the end of the line and wondered if the entire neighborhood had been invited. The greetings, small talk and hand shaking seemed interminable. Walter kept making comments under his breath about that lady or this gentleman and Stephen was often on the brink of bursting into laughter.

When Walter caught his breath, Stephen knew the party they most wanted to see had arrived. He glanced down the row and saw his Aunt and Uncle speaking to a handsome, older woman he assumed was Mrs. Radcliffe. Beside her stood Laura, resplendent in an emerald silk gown. It was cut a little low on the shoulders, exposing their creamy softness to his admiring gaze. He glanced down toward Walter who was gazing with frank admiration at Samantha as she smiled prettily at Charles junior and his wife. Unable to stop himself, his gaze flew back to Laura and found her smiling at him. She stepped closer.

"Good evening Lieutenant Wentworth." She smiled at the older lady, "May I present my mother, Dorothea Radcliffe."

Stephen gave a deep bow, "It is a pleasure, madam."

Dorothea Radcliffe gave a shining replica of her daughter's smile before saying, "I have heard many good things about your parents, Lieutenant Wentworth. Your mother, especially, seems to have been a favorite among the locals."

"I believe you are correct, ma'am. My mother and Aunt Mary grew up in Kellynch Hall."

"They are related to Sir William or Lady Elliot?"

"Both, ma'am. Lady Elliot is my mother's oldest sister and I believe Sir William is their cousin."

"Extraordinary. Such long ties with the community. It is no wonder both she and your father are much admired."

Stephen smiled as the older woman pondered the information. "Unfortunately, business has extended my parents stay in London. But they will be here in a few weeks. I would be happy to introduce them to you and your daughters," he glanced up at Laura, "if it would not be an imposition."

"That would be delightful." Mrs. Radcliffe stated. "I would be honored to meet two people who raised such a charming fellow as you!"

Stephen felt himself flush as Laura's eyes laughed up at him. Her mother strolled away from them at that moment, spotting another acquaintance, and Stephen took the opportunity to offer his arm to Laura. She took it gracefully, still biting her lip to stop the laughter from bubbling to the surface.

"You are laughing at me, Miss Radcliffe."

At the sound of his amused comment, the laughter did emerge and wrap itself intoxicatingly around his senses. "I did not know that men blushed." She said softly. "My mother is known for being forthright. And she must approve of you if she handed out a compliment!"

"I am flattered." He saw her arch sideways look. "And I am embarrassed. I do not always know how to accept a compliment." He filled a glass of punch for her. "Perhaps you can teach me the art of being gracious."

"And pray, how would I teach you something so...tenuous?"

"By example of course." Stephen grinned at her. "I will provide compliments and you will demonstrate the proper way to accept them. For example, I may say that you look particularly lovely tonight."

One eyebrow arched upward, giving her a skeptical look. "If you were to say that, I would curtsy, as required," and she dropped a short curtsy, "and reply, 'Thank you very much.' Is that what you mean?"

"Precisely. Then I suppose I would deign to ask you for the first two dances. If you dance card is not full, of course. And wait in dread as you checked your card."

Her lips moved as she suppressed a smirk, "A true lady would already know the contents of her card. She would not mortify her companion by making him wait for an appointment."

He laughed. "So does he get the first two dances?"

"He will have to ask more directly, if he truly wishes them."

Stephen heard the first chords of the first dance begin and stepped closer to her, "Miss Radcliffe, I would be honored if you would dance the first two with me."

Stephen ignored Charles' wink as he escorted Laura to the dance floor. They stood across each other in the quadrille, he intent on seeing every expression on her face as they awaited their turn, she alternating her gaze between the dancers and his face. When their turn came, he watched her glide through the moves, coming closer then stepping away as the choreography demanded. They moved down the row in silent awareness of each other, each a perfect mirror for the other.

As they moved up the line a while later, Laura broke the silence. "I suppose that I would be remiss as an instructor if I did not test my pupil. Having demonstrated the art of graciousness, I must now require you to pass muster."

Stephen took the turn around another lady before coming close enough to say, "Test me then, my teacher."

She smiled becomingly at him as she circled the gentleman next to her, "If I were to comment that your dancing is exemplary in grace and dignity, what would be the appropriate response?"

"Well, according to my instructor, I must curtsy and thank you very much."

He could hear her laughter rise above the other conversations as the dance parted them again. They came closer again and circled each other, back to back, and he turned his head in her direction as she said, "I dare you."

He took her hand as they joined their quartet, "To what?"

"Curtsy."

Stephen laughed out loud, delighted with her playfulness, "Perhaps some other... less public... occasion."

They reached their final positions, gave the final obeisance and applauded the musicians. Stephen was happy that the second dance was a waltz, for it afforded a more private opportunity for conversation. He took her hand in his and felt her other arm slide up to his shoulder as he lightly held her by her small waist. Yet as she looked up at him when he stepped back to begin the dance, he found all sources of conversation had dried up at the sight of the sudden shyness in her eyes. Never before had he been so aware of another that the rest of the room faded away. Though her eyes did not waver from his, he watched a blush spread over her cheeks and realized she was a tongue tied as he. And so they contented themselves with a comfortable and intimate silence as they circled the dance floor amid other, more animated, couples.

Charles approached Stephen as he stood watching Laura dance as promised with Walter.

"Do not think you can make me nervous by monopolizing that young lady, Stephen." Charles said softly so no one could overhear. "Remember that if you lose your heart, you also lose your wager."

Stephen felt his cousin's words wash over him like a cold wave, dampening the sweetness of his dance with Laura. He was spared a response however as the room hushed suddenly, the musicians notes fading into silence one instrument at a time.

The Elliots of Kellynch Hall had arrived.

Charles sent Stephen a significant look as they stepped forward to greet their relatives. Lady Elizabeth was looking coldly regal as always, surveying the room with a twist of her lips that was more sarcasm than smile. Stephen gave her the obligatory peck on the cheek and stepped away.

"Stephen, I did not know you were here." She reprimanded.

"I left my card when I first arrived but did not wish to intrude."

"Family is never an intrusion." Elizabeth said with every appearance of sincerity. "And I cannot imagine it would do your career any harm to be connected with a baronetage."

Stephen inclined his head in response, declining to verbally agree with his icy aunt. Instead he turned to the man who had once wanted to marry his mother. Sir William Elliot had long ago lost any pretention that he liked his wife. There was an innate boredom in his expression that belied any polite attempt to appear the happy couple. He gave a polite bow to his uncle and one to his cousin.

Samuel Elliot was, without a doubt, a very handsome man, having inherited the best traits of both his parents. Unfortunately, he had learned their worst vices as well -- a propensity to gamble and a fervor for rank, class and connection. It was never lost to Stephen that the Elliots considered the Wentworths an obligatory connection, one of blood rather than usefulness, for they had never acknowledged Admiral Wentworth's successes in the Royal Military. That Stephen had followed in the footsteps of his father and Uncle Croft had been another source of pain for his status conscious relatives.

Samuel himself was a source of amusement for Stephen. Samuel was born less than two years after he and remained the single offspring of this strange marriage. The two cousins had nothing in common for Samuel was the type to do what was easy rather than what was proper and claim it was his God-given right as a member of the nobility. There was no sense of respect between them, rather, Samuel preferred the challenge of taking away anything that Stephen even remotely became interested in.

It had galled Stephen until his father had laughingly put it all into perspective. "Do not distress yourself, my son, by the antics of your half-witted cousin. He has the misfortune of knowing that his conception and birth was achieved only to prevent YOUR inheriting Kellynch. Sir William must have cheered to know he had a son and that a Wentworth would not be taking residence at the Hall after his passing!"

However, all the anxieties of their constant competition resurfaced as Samuel sought an introduction to Miss Laura Radcliffe. The dancing resumed and Stephen breathed a sigh of relief as Laura continued her dance with Walter. Knowing he would be watched, Stephen walked away from the dance floor and got himself a cool drink. It was no surprise when Samuel appeared at his elbow.

"How is the life of an officer treating you?"

"I cannot complain."

"Frightfully dull, I imagine. Perhaps the peerage should start another war with France. That would at least afford you with the opportunity to advance in rank."

Stephen refused to give release to his ire as Samuel goaded him. "I am perfectly settled in earning my way through the Royal Navy. There is enough interest in my career to move me up the ranks. After all, I am related to not one, but two, Admirals, both of whom are decorated war heroes. No, Samuel, I am not wanting for opportunity. But I thank you for your concern. It warms my heart."

Samuel gazed at him narrowly and Stephen schooled his features into stoicism, using every tactical lesson learned over the years. Stephen merely smiled calmly at his calculating cousin and wondered at the fickleness of nature that could produce such a person.

Samuel's teeth bared in an answering wolfish grin as he turned to survey the dancers. "You were never one to be idle. All this free time must be being put to good use...perhaps in finding an amiable woman with a suitable dowry? Let us see what our prospects are, shall we?" Samuel began to name some of the eligible ladies in the room. "There's Miss Plymouth, she seems to have gained weight -- most unattractive. And Miss Stewart, imagine waking up to that face every morning. Now Miss Belton is quite the looker, but she is rather stupid and I doubt you would waste your time with her. The Radcliffe girls are quite attractive and intelligent. Their dowries are not large by any stretch of the imagination, but enough to be tempting. Yes, if you were to raise your sights toward matrimony, it would be one of them."

"I have no interest in marrying right now, thank you."

Stephen could feel Samuel staring at him with all the penetration he could muster. The mention of the Radcliffes had made his blood run cold and he desperately clamped down on his anxiety so as not to give away any hint of interest. Samuel was grinning unrepentantly as Stephen met his gaze with one of his own.

"Of course not," his cousin answered smoothly. "You want the grand passion that everyone assumes your parents have. Stuff and nonsense."

"Spoken like a man who wouldn't recognize true devotion if he stepped on it."

Samuel laughed harshly, "You were always the sentimental type, Stephen. I believe you would marry the scullery maid if you though yourself in love with her."

Stephen shrugged unrepentantly but refrained from comment. Samuel soon tired of the game and headed away toward the gentleman's gaming rooms. Stephen watched him leave gladly for the dance was ending and Walter was escorting Laura to where he was standing. Her cheeks were flushed with the exertion of dancing four dances in a row. She smiled gaily at him as she picked up a refreshment for herself and her sister who had joined them almost immediately.

Walter winked at Stephen before declaring, "So much dancing has worn me out. Would you ladies care for a short stroll through the gardens before we resume dancing the night away?"

Samantha agreed immediately and by the necessity of providing a chaperone, Laura did as well. Walter and Samantha again outstripped them once in the gardens, disappearing around the bend. Laura was looking somewhat tired.

"Would you care to sit down, Miss Radcliffe?" Stephen asked with concern. "There is a bench just down the way."

She agreed with alacrity and he led her to the stone bench. There was a mild breeze blowing and she turned her face upward to it, closing her eyes as she rested calmly. Stephen found his gaze roving from her moonlit profile down to the long curve of her neck till it seamlessly flowed into her rounded shoulders.

"Yes, she is beautiful, is she not?"

Stephen's heart began to hammer as he recognized Samuel's voice. His cousin joined them, standing over the startled couple with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"I prefer not to be spoken of as if I am not here, Mr. Elliot." Laura's quiet reproof was a welcome sound when compared to the rushing of blood past Stephen's ears.

Samuel was not a man easily embarrassed, however, and her comment only served to heighten his amusement. "My apologies, Miss Radcliffe. I could not help but recognize the admiration in my silent cousin and agree with his excellent sense of taste."

Laura frowned slightly and Stephen imagined that she saw right through the easy compliment. She only thanked Samuel, however, and did not reply again.

"I fear I am intruding on a private moment," Samuel insinuated.

Laura flushed and threw a disconcerted glance toward Stephen. Stephen concentrated on watching his cousin, forcing a look of pure amusement on his face.

"Don't be ridiculous, Samuel," he said smoothly. "Miss Radcliffe has spent the last few hours dancing and require some rest and fresh air. Would you have me be so ungentlemanly as to leave her unescorted?"

"Perish the thought!" Samuel agreed with the same casualness Stephen had injected into his voice. "I am lucky then to come before my cousin had turned on the charm." He said to Laura. "For I came to collect the dances you have promised to me."

"She has barely had time to sit down!" Stephen protested, more emotion in his voice than he anticipated.

"I am prepared to wait," Samuel replied with a smile for Laura. "As long as you assure me that I am not interrupting any private tête-à-tête."

Stephen submerged all emotion under a stoic facade. He met Laura's questioning gaze with apparent calm, raising one eyebrow in seeming question, yet feeling the boil of frustration and fear within. At all costs, he must not set her up as a target for Samuel's attentions.

Laura Radcliffe searched his face for a few moments before replying, "As the good lieutenant stated, there was nothing worthy of suspicion in our foray out to the garden. I have had my rest and am quite able to resume dancing if you are ready."

She did not spare a glance back for Stephen as Samuel smilingly lead her back into the manor. Stephen was unsure if Samuel had indeed penetrated his motives for protecting Laura. But he was unwilling to take chances. The thought of Laura's time and company being monopolized by his cousin's practiced demeanor was abhorrent. If he could deflect the attention to another young lady or perhaps a game of cards, he would do so. And so Stephen spent the rest of the evening determinedly ignoring Miss Laura Radcliffe.

Part 4

t was a few days before Stephen caught even a glimpse of Laura Radcliffe. He had strolled through the surrounding fields hoping to run into her, but always returning to Uppercross unrewarded. The remembrance of her expression the night of the ball haunted him. There had been confusion and hurt in her glance as he stayed away. But as the night wore on a new stoicism commanded her and even when he tried to catch her eye, she paid him no mind. He could not blame her, but neither could he bear it.

Stephen was looking out the carriage window as he, Charles, and Walter left town. Absently people-watching, his heart leapt to see a familiar figure gazing into a dress maker's window.

"Stop the carriage!" He cried, banging a fist on the top cover.

"Are you mad?" Charles asked as the carriage came to a stop with a noisy clattering of hooves.

"I forgot to do...something," Stephen improvised badly. "I'll find my own way back." He climbed out of the vehicle and shut the door, indicating to the driver to begin again before Charles and Walter could guess his destination.

His speedy descent had excited the attention of many an onlooker, including the erstwhile Laura Radcliffe. He stood on the street looking at her for a moment, seeing her watching him with bemusement before turning quickly away in embarrassment. He heard coachmen calling out warnings to him as he hurried across toward her.

"Miss Radcliffe..." he huffed as he tried to settle his breathing. "It is good to see you."

She smiled at him tentatively and again averted her eyes. Stephen was surprised at the action for she had never seemed shy before.

"You will think me impertinent, but I could not drive by without saying hello."

"You are very kind." She said, still not meeting his eyes. "Although I am sure you have business to conduct and so I will not keep you."

Stephen was surprised that she was eager to hurry away. Surely his conduct at the ball had not warranted this great a snub. "My only business is to walk with you, if I may. Do you have many errands to run today?"

"I was on my way home, actually." She flushed and bit her lip.

"Are you all right, Miss Radcliffe?"

"I'm fine...I just..." she stopped and took a deep breath, "you surprised me, that is all."

He offered his arm and frowned slightly when she hesitated before taking it. Slowly they strolled down the lane toward the Radcliffe home. Stephen was at a loss for conversation. He could feel the tension in Laura's arm as he held it securely to his side. She remained silent and his sideways glances only revealed a perturbed expression on her face. Her thoughts seemed a hundred miles away when he wanted them very much on the here and now. They were quickly approaching her home and Stephen's mind scrambled for something to say.

"Miss Radcliffe? May I ask why you would be surprised that I would greet you?"

She turned bright red and turned her face away from him determinedly. "I do not expect any special attention from you, sir."

He did not understand the alarm that raced through him at her response. "Why not?" He asked with unguarded frankness.

They reached the front garden of the Radcliffe home and she unlatched the waist high iron gate. Her hand stilled as it was done and with a deep sigh and turned to face him. Stephen searched her expression for some hint, but only saw a touch of sadness and restraint.

"Your cousin, Mr. Elliot, was most curious. He was quite pointed about the impropriety of our walk in the gardens."

Stephen frowned darkly at the mention of the other man's name. He was angry at his cousin's presumption and the fact that he had callously hurt the feelings of this special lady. So involved was he in his thoughts that she was well into her sentence before he realized what she was saying.

"Lieutenant Wentworth, may I apologize for any uneasiness or embarrassment I may have cause you that night...the night of the ball." She gave a short, humorless laugh. "My sister often tells me that I have inherited too much of my mother's bluntness and none of her tact. I fear that my spirits sometimes get the best of me. You have my word that it will never happen again."

Stephen listened in shock. She had assumed that he was embarrassed to be by her side. Never had he expected his actions to cause harm to this charming young lady. He opened his mouth to deny any such feeling, but was silenced by her wince.

"Thank you for escorting me home," she whispered as she ran into the house.

It took Stephen a whole day to convince Aunt Mary to invite the Radcliffe's to tea. But the invitation was at last sent and accepted and Stephen paced his room restlessly waiting for her to arrive.

When the time came, he forced himself to wait till he was called, knowing that the ladies always enjoyed a good gossip before the gentlemen were summoned to join them. He walked in eagerly but his smile faded when he realized that only two of the Radcliffe ladies were present. He bowed to them and exchanged pleasantries, all the while fighting to keep the disappointment from showing on his face.

Samantha looked at him particularly and made a point of refilling his tea cup. "My sister was not well today, and could not come." She said softly, watching him closely.

Stephen allowed some of his disappointment to show for her sister. "I was looking forward to her company. Is she very unwell?"

"A headache, I believe."

"Please tell her," Stephen began before swallowing hard, "Tell her I hope she recovers speedily."

Samantha only nodded somberly and thanked him for his kindness. Stephen felt nothing of the sort. He wanted to run out of doors to the Radcliffe house and demand that she let him in. And the feeling disturbed him greatly.

If the rest of the family found him uncommunicative for the rest of the day, he did not notice. He gaze was turned inward, searching for answers as to why, after so short an acquaintance, this young woman could make him feel so out of his depth. Stephen was a man used to handling the most critical of situations with aplomb. And yet one young lady rendered him quite useless to society.

"I can feel myself becoming five pounds richer already," Charles said over port, earning himself a glare from Stephen.

"Shut up, Charles. I am not in the mood."

"No, you've been out of sorts since a certain lady failed to appear at tea." Charles said laughingly, not realizing how close to home his remark came. "If I had realized this would be so easy, I would have wagered ten!"

Stephen shuttered at his expression, "You mistake me, Charles. I have had news from London and must travel there tomorrow on business. That is all I am thinking of. Remind me to inform Aunt Mary so that I may deliver any letter she has for Mama."

Stephen was aware that his cousins did not believe him. No messages had arrived for him from London, save personal letters from his parents and sister. It was a lie, told to save his pride and provide a means of escape for himself. Charles merely smiled to himself and murmured some more about how he could spend five pounds. Walter, however, was starting to show signs of promise as a pastor, for his expression remained sober and sympathetic.

Aunt Mary, indeed, had a letter for delivery and went off to add many more pages since she would not have to pay for postage. By midmorning, Stephen set off for London, taking one last glance at the Radcliffe house as he passed it on the way to the highway.

His mood was not improved by the cheerfulness of the company in London. He was staying in his sister's townhouse in London, just doors away from the residence his parents and Aunt Sophy had taken. Jessica and her husband, Ethan Munroe, had recently purchased the property. Stephen saw his sister made happy in her marriage, and Ethan was a welcome addition to the family. He held a lucrative and respectable law practice and was already rumored to be a favorite for the House of Commons. The addition of a daughter to this household made Anne and Frederick Wentworth frequent visitors as well.

London was hot and bustling as always. Stephen chose to spend another day indoors while his father and Ethan ventured out to a gentleman's club. He was seated comfortably in the terrace, looking into the parlour doors at his mother. Stephen watched his mother fan the baby in her arms, smiling down gently as the infant gurgled her appreciation. He was startled by a glass being thrust under his nose.

He accepted the lemonade with a smile at his sister. She took a seat opposite him with a glass of her own.

"I have been sent here for a purpose," she began, her green eyes smiling at her younger sibling.

"Oh?"

"We're all worried about you. First you show up unexpectedly, which is fine," she said holding up a hand to forestall any protest, "then you sit around and brood for days. So I have been elected to pick your brain for an answer."

Stephen summoned a weak smile for his perceptive sister, recalling all the moments in his childhood when she had been there with a comforting shoulder or a sympathetic ear. He glanced back toward his mother and found her regarding him with concern written plainly on her countenance. She rose gracefully and wandered out of the parlour with his now sleeping niece.

"Stephen." His sister's soft voice commanded his attention again before it could wander away. "Will you not confide in me?"

He looked down at the glass in his hands, rubbing the moisture from the surface with his thumbs, unsure of where to start.

"Are you happy, Jessie?" The question startled her. "I mean, do you have any regrets about getting married?"

"I have no regrets," Jessica said carefully. "But happiness...well, yes, for the most part. I don't think happiness is a sustainable, constant state to be in. But I have more than my share of moments, I believe. Why do you ask?"

"It just seems like such a big thing. To put all your hope into one other person."

Jessica was silently contemplating him and Stephen could not meet her eyes. This was the person who knew him best in the world. No secrets could be kept from her.

"You are right, Stephen. Marriage is a daunting prospect. I always thought so, until I met Ethan."

"What changed?"

"I did. The institution itself did not, lord knows! And no one ever warns you how hard it is to maintain a marriage. You can get along famously with a person when you meet them, but once you start sharing a household...that's when the real test begins."

"So how do you manage?"

"One day at a time with as much honesty and humor as you can muster. And everyday that you get through is another day that strengthens the bond."

"Did you know all of this before you got married?"

Jessica shrugged, "Some of it."

"I'm surprised you weren't living in fear."

"I was terrified! But it stops being intimidating when you meet the right partner."

"How do you know when you've met the right partner?"

Jessica leaned her head back on the terrace chair in thought. "I don't think I can answer that for you, Stephen. All I can tell you is how I decided." Stephen leaned forward in earnest interest as she continued. "I suppose I was lucky. I fell in love. I can't pin down a single incident that made me stop and say, 'Yes, he's the one.' Ethan and I always got on together and we respected each other. I knew I loved him long before I had any idea that he felt the same. It was almost inevitable how we drifted together. And suddenly, I knew."

"But how?" Stephen persisted. "How do you know that you've met the person you cannot live without?"

"Don't be melodramatic, Stephen. Unless you do away with yourself, you can always live without someone or something. I'm talking about choices. I'm talking about knowing that the quality of your life will be enriched by having this other person in it. I'm talking of making a resolve for yourself that from one point forward, you will do everything in your power to make another person happy."

Stephen stared down at his drink, wondering how he would know if Laura Radcliffe was the person for whom he would sacrifice all. Her image floated before his eyes bringing a pang to his chest.

"Have you met this person, Stephen?"

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"Did you come here looking for answers?"

Stephen flushed, "I don't know why I came, to tell the truth. Charles was teasing me as always and before I knew it I was announcing my departure."

Jessica began laughing, "You ran away."

Stephen laughed unwillingly, "Shut up, Jessie." He sobered soon enough. "There is a young lady, but things are strained between us...for so many different reasons. I can't tell her some of the reasons and she's misunderstood my intentions."

"Misunderstood? How?"

"She thinks I am embarrassed by her."

Jessica inhaled deeply, "Are you?"

"Of course not!"

"But Stephen, are you embarrassed by how she makes you feel?"

The question gave him pause. "I don't think so. At least I hope that I have not given that impression." Jessica didn't answer, merely tilted her head to one side as she watched him mull over her question more. It was possible that he had overreacted during the ball. Perhaps Laura was correct in assuming that Samuel's perceptiveness had caused him a measure of shame. He could not account for her taking on responsibility for it, however. Was there more to her conversation with Mr. Elliot than she revealed? Suddenly it was paramount that he discover the truth.

"I need to get back to Uppercross. I will leave today."

"Sit down!" Jessica interrupted. "I warned mama and papa that you would go tearing off into the sunset like a knight after this conversation."

"Well then, you can crow to them that you are right."

"Mama and papa will be going back with you, if you will wait a few more days."

A few days seemed like an eternity to Stephen at that moment. Jessica watched the consternation flit across his face with amusement. "Stephen, you are no longer a child and tearing about England will hardly add to your reputation. I want you to think on what we've talked about today. Emotions are good to understand, but they provide only a starting point. If you have met the woman you wish to share your life with, and I strongly suspect that you have, plan your way carefully and remember that she is more innocent of these matters than you are aware."

Stephen reached over to hug his sister tightly, "When did you get so wise?"

"I was born wise. It helped me keep up with my pesky younger brother." Stephen laughed in appreciation. "Promise me one thing." she continued, "Try to be more pleasant to the family. Papa is ready to sit on you until you learn to smile again."

Stephen kept his promise to the relief of his parents. A letter was dispatched to Uppercross of the coming arrivals and within days, Anne, Frederick and Stephen Wentworth were on their way to Somerset.

This section of the story makes reference to Traci's story, "A Stormy Sea" which can be found on the Republic of Pemberley web site.

Part 5

nne and Frederick Wentworth were welcomed into Uppercross with much affection. Word soon spread that they were visiting and the invitations and callers came pouring in. Stephen had not counted on such an overflow of societal requests when he had planned to introduce his parents to the Radcliffe family. He despaired of them ever being free. So he sought reinforcements.

"Walter!" Stephen called to his cousin as he rambled in the garden. "I need your help."

Walter looked toward his cousin questioningly.

"Do you think you could convince Aunt Mary to throw a dinner party and invite the Radcliffes?"

"Mother is already planning some sort of thing, I believe. Just a few families. I have mentioned that I would like to see the Radcliffes. Mother and Mrs. Radcliffe had become quite good friends...I think it likely they will be invited."

Stephen saw more in his cousin's cool response. "How are things with Miss Samantha?"

"Progressing well. I think her mother knows I have intentions toward Samantha. But I cannot make a move yet."

"Why not?"

"What do I have to offer her? I have not secured a position for myself and am living with my parents." Walter scowled. "I will have to wait."

Stephen did not know what to say that would ease his cousin's mind. But a faint idea began to form in the back of his mind that might assist.

"It's a good thing you've come back, Stephen." Stephen glanced curiously at Walter, unused to seeing him so serious. "Samantha tells me that Samuel has been sniffing around the Radcliffe house. He seems attached to Miss Laura."

Stephen felt the cold grip of fear at the news. He had been gone too long, perhaps. He knew Walter was watching him carefully, but could not stop the manic flow of thoughts that tumbled one after another.

"You're much more serious about her than you've let on," Walter suddenly commented. "Aren't you, Stephen?"

Stephen could only look at him, too unsure of himself to reply one way or another.

"You need to decide soon...because if you are serious about Laura Radcliffe, you'd better charm her away from Samuel and break off this stupid bet with Charles."

"The bet can be damned!"

"I agree. But think of how Miss Radcliffe would feel if she ever got wind of it...even if she hears of it years from now."

Stephen swallowed painfully, seeing the truth in Walter's words. "Charles is being idiotically stubborn about this whole thing."

"Charles is bored and has nothing to lose in this. The stakes are rather high for you, I think." Walter began walking back toward the main house. "Let me talk to mother again about this guest list. If I need to, I will ask Aunt Anne's help."

Stephen turned and stalked off in the other direction. Everyone seemed to see more than he did. Even Walter was convinced that he was in love with Laura Radcliffe. Why could he not decide for himself? With half angry energy, he strode up past the property line, toward the highest point of the hill. There he stopped to catch his breath and think.

This was the same spot where he had met her. The memory was still clear today as it was at that moment. She had looked almost wild, with her hair tumbling carelessly down and her bonnet in hand, singing that ridiculous, made up song. And he missed her terribly. He had not realized what it meant to miss another person so much. He continued walking down the path toward town, not entirely cognizant of his direction.

He was almost ready to turn back toward Uppercross when a cry of distress rent the air. He rushed to find the source of the sound calling out, "Hello? Does someone need assistance?"

"Oh please! Help me!"

The pain in the familiar voice was obvious and with added speed and strength, Stephen raced forward. He found Laura sitting by a crumbling wall. There was surprise in her countenance when she realized who had come to her rescue. She had her left hand pressed against her upper right arm and between her fingers, Stephen could see some blood beginning to seep. He knelt next to her in concern, seeing her bottom lip tremble with the effort not to cry.

"What's happened?" He asked urgently.

She took her hand away and he saw the stain of blood on her sleeve. "I stumbled on the path and fell against this wall and something pierced me." She said, the final words muffled.

"Forgive me," Stephen said before he ripped the sleeve open. He examined the wound, which was surprisingly wide but not deep. "There are pieces of shale embedded in your arm. I can take you home and summon a surgeon, but I think they are large enough for me to remove now."

Laura turned her head to look at the wound. She was breathing deeply in and out, trying to calm herself and control the pain. Stephen watched her carefully, guiltily relishing being in her company again, though he had hoped for better circumstances. As he watched her eyes fill with tears, he knew at that moment that he would do anything to protect her from further harm.

"Will I require stitches?" Laura finally asked.

"I don't think so. But you will have to be careful about letting it heal."

She nodded. "Please take it out. I fear I cannot do it myself."

Stephen permitted himself to briefly caress her with his eyes. "It will hurt, but only for a moment."

She nodded again and turned her face away. Stephen took out his handkerchief and folded it neatly, then undid his cravat. He firmly took hold of the injured arm and gingerly worked the shale pieces out of her skin. Laura whimpered but did not cry out. Every soft gasp tore at him, making him by turns fearful and determined. He stole a glance at her face, though it was turned away from him. Her eyes were closed and she bit her bottom lip to stop any audible sound of her distress from escaping. Most women in Stephen's acquaintance would have been in tears for much less. But Laura was dry eyed and resolute, her entire profile and posture speaking of courage rather than frailty. Finally, it was done. Without the shale, the wound did not seem too frightful. He took his handkerchief and pressed it firmly against her arm.

"Hold this for me," he whispered to her. "Press down on the wound, it will stop the bleeding."

She did as she was bid and he used his cravat as a bandage around the handkerchief. He sat back on his heels when it was over, staring at Laura as she examined the dressing and calmed her agitated breathing. He wanted to reach forward and caress her cheek, but his hands were dirty with his efforts. He wanted to hold her close and comfort her, but was afraid she would not welcome him. So he settled for stroking her hands as they lay on her lap.

"It is over now," He soothed. "This must have been distressing for you. We will sit here for as long as you like and then I will take you home."

Laura nodded and kept her head down for several long minutes, neither allowing nor protesting as he continued to caress her hands. "Thank you," she whispered, looking up at him with those brilliant eyes of her. He almost sat on his hands to stop them from breaking with propriety and drawing her close. There was a hint of a tremulous smile as she looked at her bandaged arm and whispered, "Thank goodness long sleeves are in fashion." She resolutely wiped her face. "You must think me a child," she said softly, "crying over a scratch."

"No," he replied in the same tone, "I do not. I could never think such a thing of you."

There was an odd expression on her face as she regarded him, at once relieved and alarmed. He could not look away and believed at that moment that he would be happy to look on her face for the rest of his life. But first he had to dispense with her misgivings.

"Miss Radcliffe...I know my actions were peculiar the night of the Uppercross Ball. But you must know that I have never been ashamed to be near you."

Laura looked up at him quickly, realizing to what he had referred. Now that the crisis was over, he could see her reserve building around her again, pushing him out and away. It was the last thing he wanted to happen. He sprang up as she began to move, and assisted her to her feet.

"Are you sure you are ready?" He asked, hoping that she would linger a while with him. "Do not push yourself."

"I am fine, thanks to you." She replied. "And Mama will be worrying."

Again she hesitated when he offer his arm in support, but she took it and he warmly curled his other hand around hers. They wended their way slowly, for Stephen was still afraid for her health. It was a moment to themselves that Stephen feared would never be repeated and he resolved to make the best use of it.

"Miss Radcliffe," he waited until she turned her eyes to his. "I need to know. Why do you think I would be embarrassed by you?" She blushed deeply and he could plainly see her mortification in even speaking of it. He pressed again when she did not reply. "Was something said to you?"

"There was a suggestion made." She admitted softly.

"By my cousin, Mr. Elliot, I suppose." She did not verify his suspicion in words, but the way her brows drew together while she bit her lip was confirmation enough. He silently cursed his meddling cousin.

"He ... mentioned... that you were too gallant to refuse even the most forward of suggestions," she whispered and tried to pull her arm out of his. He gripped it tightly, refusing to let her go for fear that she would run away and disappear.

"There was nothing forward in any of our actions or conversations," Stephen said firmly. "I hope I am not so prudish as to confuse wit for impropriety."

She stopped struggling and relaxed her hand against his arm. "I never thought so," she offer. "But when you would not speak to me the rest of the evening..." her voice trailed off. "Forgive me...there was no reason for me to assume that we had stopped being friends because you were occupied with other acquaintances."

"I would have preferred to be with you," Stephen said with all sincerity. She resolutely kept her face turned away but he thought he spied a small smile turning her lips upward.

"There is something you need to know about my relationship with Mr. Elliot."

She glanced up at him in alarm. "Please do not suppose I require any explanation, Lt. Wentworth. I am not deserving of any confidences at this moment."

Yes, you are, he thought with a smile. "I do not agree. Of all the people in the world, you deserve to understand what you have been inadvertently mired in. However, I will ask for your discretion on the matter."

"You have it, sir."

Stephen bent his head in reflection for a few moments. "I supposed I must start at the very beginning...with the senior Mr. Elliot. You are, perhaps, unaware that he wanted to marry my mother?"

"He did?"

"Yes. The courtship of my parents was not a smooth one and Mr. William Elliot was very much in love with her. So much so that even after her engagement with my father, he...attempted to part them."

Laura looked confused, "Part them? How?"

Stephen smiled sadly, "The details are not pleasant, I'm afraid. Suffice it to say that it left a great divide in the family. When my grandfather died and Sir William inherited, my aunt Elizabeth, somehow, convinced him to marry her and make her Lady Elliot. Forgive me for my bluntness, but I cannot believe there is any affection in their union."

"I must agree with you," Laura sighed. "It is a pity to see such an unhappy couple. But I am afraid I do not see the connection to you."

"There was a deep estrangement between my parents and the Elliots for many, many years. Then I was born and the Elliots took notice. You must understand that they remained childless for a long time. My birth meant that if they did not have a son, Kellynch would not have passed to Charles or Walter, but to me as son of the elder Elliot daughter. While Aunt Elizabeth did not much care beyond her comfort, my family and I are quite sure that Sir William abhorred the idea of a Wentworth inheriting Kellynch."

"And so came Samuel Elliot..." Laura said in comprehension. He waited for her intelligent mind to make the logical connections. "Is it possible that he was wanted? I cannot believe in such a cold reason for conception."

"I am sure he was wanted...as an heir. But Samuel did not have the benefit of growing up with loving parents. Instead, he was always taught his place in the grand order of the world and told that he was better than all his relations, particularly one Stephen Wentworth." There was more bitterness in his tone than he realized and he felt her hand tighten on his arm in sympathy.

"Do you regret the loss of Kellynch?"

Stephen laughed lightly. "Not at all. I am a military man. I cannot imagine myself saddled with a title and land and tenants to look after. No, my regret is that Samuel and I have never been able to get past the anger of our parents. We became, very early on, habitual competitors."

He looked down on her face and was rewarded with the first genuine smile since the night of the ball. He took a deep breath, feeling the strength of her gaze as she regarded him. Her face soon fell into solemn lines, however.

"I can understand how competition would breed animosity between you. I am sorry."

He smiled his gratitude at her. "Yes, unfortunately Samuel feels the need to compete with me for anything that I admire."

She shook her head in bemusement and stopped to look at him. "But why would he say those things to me at the ball?"

Stephen let the smile fade from his face as he regarded her intently. He did not answer, merely twined his fingers through hers as he held it tightly to his side. Her eyes widened briefly before dropping away from his. He gulped in nervousness, knowing that this was not the time to press his suit. Slowly, slowly, he cautioned himself. Be gentle with her. She deserves your kindness and regard. Do not frighten her.

She was silent as they resumed walking. Stephen turned the conversation to less emotional topics, trying to reconstruct their former ease with each other. He was only partially successful for though she was drawn into conversation, there was now a tingling awareness between them. Stephen could not wish it away, for painful as it was not to be at ease with Laura, there was a sweet anticipation in the touch of her hand and the glances they accidentally exchanged that lent itself admirably toward the making of memories.

He took her home and stayed long enough to see her fussed over by sister and mother. Then he took his leave, strolling back to Uppercross with a lightness of heart he did not have when he left it that morning.

Part 6

tephen arose the next morning early. He took his breakfast with his parents, for the Musgroves did not frequent the early morning hours, enjoyed a ride around the countryside, and impatiently waited to the hour when he could visit Laura Radcliffe.

He had decided on inquiring after her heath even before he left her. Having seen the cut, he knew she was in no real danger and would recover nicely. But the pretense of his visit was somehow comforting, for he wanted to keep their intimacy to himself for a little longer.

He knew only enough to have hope. Laura Radcliffe was forthright enough to have put a stop to his unspoken intentions if she did not want them. He had no guarantees that she returned his regard. But he intended to foster any kind feelings she might have for him. He would do everything he could to woo himself into her good graces.

These thoughts occupied him most as he paced the morning room. He was only vaguely aware of the amused glances passed between his parents as Frederick tried to read the paper and Anne wrote some letters. He stopped to stare out the window, checking for the hundredth time that the weather remained fine enough to venture out to the Radcliffe house.

"Stephen," Anne's soft voice arrested his thoughts, "I have an errand for you today." She laughed as he expression turned sour in anticipation of his plans being ruined. "Don't look at me like that, young man. You will like this task."

Stephen thought he heard a chuckled emanate from behind the newspaper, but other than a vigorous shaking of the paper seams, he could discern no other traces of amusement in his father.

"I will do whatever you ask me of course."

"It is none too difficult," Anne said with a smile. "Please deliver this invitation as soon as is proper. Your aunt has been somewhat remiss in her guest list." She handed forward a small white envelop. "Extend my best wishes and hopes that they will attend."

Stephen took the envelop half-heartedly until he read the addressee. A smile split his face and he leaned forward to thank and kiss his mother's cheek before bounding out the door. As he went out, he heard his mother speaking.

"These are the best moments of courtship, aren't they, Frederick?"

"Oh, I don't know." Frederick replied sanguinely. "You still make me feel like that."

Stephen thought he would never get to the Radcliffe house. He was walking quickly, but not quickly enough to soothe his impatience. The town was bustling with activity as always and Stephen tipped his hat at many familiar folk. But he did not stop until he reached her gate. There he waited for long moments, trying to steady his breath and calm his agitation. It would not do to appear rabid. He felt his pocket for the invitation, taking heart in its presence. Then he pushed the gate open and stepped into the path.

There was a hint of movement in the household as shadowy figures moved through the windows. He could see Samatha bending over some sewing and Mrs. Radcliffe conferring with a servant. But Laura was nowhere to be seen.

The thought that she was out stilled his progress. How long was it proper to stay and wait for her if she was not home. He could not bear the idea of leaving without seeing her. He stood in contemplation for a moment, until a sound around the house alerted him. It was a strange grinding that was unidentifiable to him. But above that came the sweet hum of a familiar voice singing.

His feet hurried over the garden and around the corner of the house to where he knew Laura would be. There was an old shed in the back and he entered softly, not wanting to interrupt her.

Laura was sitting on a small stool, her foot determinedly pedaling a potter's wheel as it spun round and round. Stephen got a tantalizing glimpse of a slender ankle as she hitched her skirt away from the pedal. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and there were numerous curls that once again escaped their pins to frame her face. Beside her was a bowl of water in which she continually dipped her hand to wet the clay on the stone. He watched in total fascination as her hands molded the clay, running them up and down its length as she willed it into the shape of a pitcher. Delicately, she curved one hand in the middle, defining the rim and spout, gray colored water flowing between her fingers and down to her wrist.

She sighed as she stopped pedaling and surveyed her work critically. He sighed with her, realizing that he had forgotten to breathe. She started at the sound and spun around to face him.

"How long have you been standing there?"

He flushed guiltily, "Only a few moments. I didn't want to disturb your concentration."

She smiled at him, "I do get somewhat involved in it, I suppose." She splashed her hands in the water bowl and rubbed them vigorously on the apron that covered her. There were streaks of clay all over her dress and apron, and on beguiling one on the tip of her nose down her cheek. She laid a wet cloth over the unfinished pitcher and awkwardly climbed to her feet.

"It is fascinating to watch you work," he said softly, looking around the shed at the shelves lines with pots and pitchers of every size and description. He approached one set, where delicate designs had been carved into the clay.

"Those are to be sent to the potter in town. He lets me fire my pieces along with his and I allow him a commission from what he sells."

"And what is your success?"

She shrugged modestly, "No one has returned an item yet. But, the arrangement is recent."

Stephen leaned closer to peer at some of the pottery, "Do you carve and paint it yourself as well?"

"Yes."

He reached forward to touch one exquisite carved rose and hear her call, "DON'T!", too late. At the center of the rose lay a distinct fingerprint. Stephen grimaced as he turned to look at her.

"I'm sorry!"

She was laughing up at him in amusement, "You poke it, you bought it." She replied serenely. "Mr. Adamson, the potter, thanks you for your business."

Stephen laughed with her and acquiesced with as much dignity as he could muster. They stood quietly for a moment regarding each other.

"I came to see that you were well. I've been worried about you after yesterday's incident."

She patted the afflicted arm, hidden in her sleeve. "I am almost ashamed at how I acted. It is a scratch really. I am fine." She smiled mischievously, "I will have the pleasure of keeping my arm a little longer."

"I'm very glad to hear it." Came his dry remark. "Although many works of art are conspicuously missing a limb or two."

She laughed and led him out of the shed toward the house. "Is this the only reason for your visit?"

"It is the primary one," he said. "But I have also come bearing an invitation for your family."

She glanced at him curiously as she announced his arrival to her mother and sister. The two ladies jumped to their feet, the mother with surprise evident in every feature. Stephen though he caught the exchange of smiles between the sisters as Samantha led him to the parlour and Laura excused herself for a moment.

He fidgeted under the gaze of her mother, who was obviously assessing his intentions and worthiness. Samatha quickly offered tea and Stephen accepted gratefully as a means of not meeting Mrs. Radcliffe's penetrating gaze. He looked about him curiously. While not a large house, it was comfortably outfitted with many heirlooms obviously present and displayed. Laura reappeared in the parlour and accepted a cup from Samantha. Stephen's eager eye caught her change of clothing and the absence of the clay smudge from her cheek. Her hair was again caught back severely in its bun and Stephen found himself longing for the errand strands to reappear.

Mrs. Radcliffe conversed with him with the ease of the well bred and educated. Stephen responded in kind, knowing he must endear himself as much to the mother as to the daughter. Finally, the reason for his visit was introduced.

He reached into his jacket pocket and produced the invitation.

"I made you a promise, not long ago ma'am, to introduce my parents to you. They are in Uppercross now and my mother and aunt send their compliments and hope you will dine with us the day after tomorrow."

Mrs. Radcliffe smiled gaily as she opened and read the invitation and note from Anne. "Your mother has a charming hand, Lt. Wentworth. We are delighted to accept. Please return my compliments to her and your father."

Stephen stood and bowed, "I will ma'am. We are looking forward with pleasure to your company. I will not trespass on your family any longer."

"Not at all!" Came the reply from Laura, who had been silent since her entrance. She blushed as her sister giggled. "Friends need not feel as if they trespass, do they mother?"

Mrs. Radcliffe looked at the heightened color on her eldest's face before replying, "Certainly not."

Stephen bade farewell and was escorted to the door by both sisters. Samantha smiled at him and quickly stepped away from her sister as they walked toward the gate. Stephen found himself blessedly alone with Laura again, slightly protected by the vines that climbed around and over the trellis above their heads. He put his hand forward for hers and frowned as she pulled her arms back and hid them in the folds of her dress.

"Miss Radcliffe? Have I offended you?"

"NO! No, of course not..." she could not meet his glance. "It is only...the clay doesn't always...wash off...completely."

Stephen realized her predicament with a pang. Boldly he stepped closer, reaching forward to run his hand from her elbow to wrist until he felt her warm fingers. He drew the unwilling hand up into view between them and encircled it, palm down, with both of his hands. They were slightly reddened and Stephen realized she had scrubbed them vigorously...for him. There was indeed some remnants of clay on her hands and he stroked his thumbs against them, feeling the softness of her skin, the heat of her fingers as they trembled in his grasp. He bent down slowly, relishing the anticipation and then the sweet contact of his lips against her hand. He heard her sharply indrawn breath at the moment and straightened to find himself staring closely into her face. Just inches apart, just a small drifting forward...

"Why?" She whispered, "Why do I feel like we are the only two people in the world right now?"

He heard the confusion in her voice and stopped. He remembered his sister's caution about her innocence and saw before him all the proof he had never needed. "Perhaps, just for right now, we are." He whispered back. He gazed at her for a moment more before straightening up to his full height.

Their hands parted reluctantly as he stepped backwards, past the gate out into the street. There he turned and made his way home, stopping to look back and seeing her still watching his slow progress home.

Continued in Section II