A loud crack of thunder startled Anne Elliot awake. Shortly after came low rumbles from farther away. Strong gusts of wind shook at the windows, rattling the glass panes and threatening to break them. Anne climbed out of her bed at Uppercross Cottage, where she had been visiting her sister for the past seven weeks, and walked over to the window to see sheets of rain pouring down from the sky. Shivering, she pulled her night jacket closer around her body and watched as lightning flashed in the sky and tree branches swayed wildly in the wind. It had been perhaps ten years since such a fierce storm had come upon the area, and she remembered how much damage the last one had caused at Kellynch Hall.

A timid knock sounded at the door.

"Aunt Anne?" A small voice sniffled.

Anne lit a candle, walked to the door and opened it. Two short, shadowy shapes stood in front of her - they were her young nephews, Charles and Walter Musgrove.

"Can we stay with you?" Charles asked. "Walter is scared."

Walter was clearly terrified as his little body trembled and he gripped his older brother's arm, but Anne could see in the flickering candlelight that Charles was afraid as well.

"Yes. Come in, boys."

The two children hurried inside, climbed into Anne's bed and immediately pulled the covers over themselves. Another roar of thunder sounded and Walter shrieked. Anne set the candle down and hugged her two nephews. She was not surprised that they sought her comfort rather than that of their mother down the hall. Whenever Anne visited Mary, the latter alternated between yelling at the boys and putting them in the care of their nursery-maid, Jemima, or their grandmother, Mrs. Musgrove.

"There is nothing to fear," Anne said soothingly, but the boys disagreed and remained firmly under the blankets. She recalled how Charles and Walter enjoyed pretending to be soldiers or sailors who travelled the world. "Is this not an exciting adventure?"

The boys uncovered themselves and their eyes lit up.

"An adventure?" Charles asked.

"Yes! We are on a third-rate ship with 74 guns, sailing through a great storm in the Atlantic Ocean. Who shall be our brave captain?"

Charles and Walter both called out and began to argue. After some skillful negotiation by Anne, it was settled that Charles would be captain, Walter would be first lieutenant and Anne would be second lieutenant. Over the next twenty minutes, their adventure unfolded as they avoided capsizing and fought of a surprise attack by a larger French ship. Soon after, the boys grew tired and fell asleep, no doubt continuing the adventure in their dreams.

Anne pulled the covers over the boys and sighed. Though she wanted children of her own, she had resigned herself to life as an aunt. It was not a matter of her age but her heart. Five years prior, she had turned down the opportunity to be in Mary's position as Charles Musgrove's wife. Her godmother, Lady Russell, had lamented her refusal, but Anne never regretted it. Anne had already been persuaded to relinquish the one man she ever loved, and though he was indifferent to her now, her affection would remain his forever.

Anne placed a kiss on the top of each boy's head, then blew out the candle and went to sleep.

~~OOO~~

Three miles away in the neighbouring village of Kellynch, Captain Frederick Wentworth lay in bed at Anne's childhood home, Kellynch Hall, where his sister and brother, Sophia and Admiral Croft, were now residing. A naturally light sleeper, Frederick had awoken from the thunder and lightning. Propped up against a pillow and with one arm bent behind his head, he listened to the howling wind and recalled the particularly bad gale in Plymouth Sound seven years prior, when he and his damaged prize frigate had come dangerously close to capsizing. At the time, he hardly cared whether he lived or died, and had almost wished for a great wave to carry him off to a watery end. But his responsibility to his crew and desire to prove his naysayers wrong won out in the end.

And how did he feel now? He had gained the rank of post-captain six years ago, the war was over, and he had a fine fortune of five-and-twenty thousand pounds. Every success he had ever desired had been realised… save one. Anne's rejection of their engagement eight years ago still stung bitterly - a deep and never-healed wound upon his heart. Though Frederick might have tried to understand her difficult position, his pride would not allow it. Instead, as he did whenever painful thoughts of Anne surfaced, he simply brushed them aside and tried to think of something else.

A bright flash lit up the room, followed by the distant, splintering sound of wood. The lightning must have struck a tree, Frederick mused. He guessed it had occurred within the expansive grounds of Kellynch Hall. Frederick went to the window for a look but saw nothing except rain and blowing tree branches. If anything significant had happened, he would surely hear about it in the morning from Admiral Croft, who in three short weeks was managing Kellynch Hall better than Sir Walter Elliot ever had in the previous thirty years.

Returning to bed, Frederick drew the hangings closed and laid his head on the pillow. Slowly, the sound of rain and thunder lulled him to sleep and brought on a dream of a familiar young woman. She smiled sadly, her dark eyes revealing a deep loneliness that mirrored his own. Feeling an overwhelming desire to pull her closer, Frederick reached for her hand but it slipped from his grasp, and then she turned and walked away.

~~OOO~~

"You look quite tired, Frederick," Sophia remarked the next morning at breakfast. "Did the storm keep you awake?"

"Yes," Frederick lied as he sat down at the table.

Admiral Croft shook his head. "This peace is no good for you. Why, I remember sleeping through a similar storm in the North Seas. A good captain must sleep through any disturbance. One never knows when an enemy ship will approach and one will need all his wits about him."

Frederick drank his coffee and remained silent. Better that the Admiral think he had grown soft than admit he had tossed and turned for hours dreaming about Anne.

"What a storm it was!" Sophia said, taking a bite of buttered toast. "Did you find any damage to the grounds, my dear?"

Admiral Croft nodded. "I took a walk this morning and came upon the gardener, James, who was inspecting the grounds. He told me that the lightning badly damaged a large oak tree. Most of the trunk was splintered and the bark exploded. The tree will have to be felled."

"That is a shame," Sophia replied. "The trees here are so majestic and tall; you can tell they have been around for many generations."

"Even the oldest must give way eventually, and James told me this oak was indeed the oldest tree on the grounds."

"Do you mean that lovely one at the beginning of the avenue, near the lake?"

Admiral Croft nodded. "That is the very one."

"It was one of my favourites. Why, Frederick, you suddenly look quite pale. Are you well?"

Sophia and Admiral Croft fixed their eyes on Frederick, who realised he had been sitting in the same position for several seconds with his coffee cup suspended in mid-air. Frederick cleared his throat and carefully set the cup back down in its saucer.

"Perfectly well, Sophia," he said in a measured tone. Then he turned to Admiral Croft. "When will the tree be taken down?"

"The men have started already. I will go after breakfast to watch the progress."

"I have no plans today; I should like to accompany you, if I may."

Admiral Croft nodded and Frederick turned his distracted mind back to his coffee.

~~END OF CHAPTER~~