It had been weeks since he left Bentley Manor. Juliana was a gracious hostess despite the reason he had come. She truly was a Lady in both title and grace, even offering him a ray of hope before he had left.

"Never give up. If you're truly meant to be, she will return to you. She must for she could not possibly survive without you."

He knew Juliana spoke of her feelings for Richard. He only prayed Clara still held him in such regard, but his faith was surely being tested.

"I will take this sullen manner no longer. What is to be done with you?" Mr. Brummell asked looking at his poor excuse for a friend. In the weeks that past Benjamin McAllister had become but a shadow of himself. If things persisted Beau feared his friend would disappear completely.

"It's been weeks without a word. Nothing on the ships, Clara... I can barely stand it any longer and I am trapped here protecting a selfish..."

"Now, now!" Brummell interrupted, not wishing his friend to finish a sentence that would ban him from all civilized society.

Benjamin looked up at him surprised to be stifled but saw the sense to his friend's actions. "You are right of course. Conversing in this manner gets me nowhere."

"Cheer up, Benji. I am certain there will be news soon," Brummell rallied though in his heart he felt, even if there were news, it could not possibly be good. To find Benjamin's elusive Clara, who evidently went to great lengths to be certain she was not found, would be a miracle.

Benjamin fell to his usual standby to get him through. "Any news I should concern myself with?"

"Well, Prinny is not exactly the best with making friends. Mind you many vie for his favor but his over indulgences in just about everything has put many of importance to the side. They are... disgusted with him."

"So, his list of enemies grows, as does the unrest of his people," Benjamin said frowning. The frown had become a nearly permanent feature of his. If he was not frowning he just looked stoic.

"I fear you are correct," Brummel said, despising more and more the time he was obliged to spend with the Prince Regent.

Benjamin pushed his plate away from him. He had no appetite. He wondered why he even chose to meet Brummel at the Savoy except for the fact that he was going mad, being alone with his own thoughts.

Every day his eyes open. Every day she is gone. Dead? Alive? No answers, only more questions with each passing moment. He deadened all clocks in his flat; the infernal tick, ticking became a tormenting reminder of each second passing. He could take it no longer.

If only he could bear to answer the question of why? Why did she leave him? Was life so horrid? Was he so neglectful? He always knew he did not deserve her but surely he had shown by his words and deeds how much he loved her. No, she could not be in doubt of that. So, does she no longer care?

He still had her letter but he still could not bring himself to open it. On one hand, it may contain the answers he seeks and on the other, it may be the end of his very existence. The odds were too great that the contents held the latter and he had a job to do.

Already the Luddites had taken action in defiance of the new law attacking the wool-processing factory of Frank Vickerman in West Yorkshire. Pretty much solidifying the need for the law and shaming Lord Byron for using his first address in the House of Lords in defense of the Luddites.

Mr. Vickerman should have seen it coming. The Luddites destroyed his factory. They tried to set it on fire but their arson attempt had failed. The people are getting tired of their jobs being taken away by machines but to add insult to injury Benjamin knew Mr. Vickerman to be a part of an anti-Luddite committee. The man practically painted a target on his own back.

Benjamin let out a long soulful sigh.

"Wellington was successful in his campaign in Spain?" Brummell asked wanting to change topics.

"Very," Benjamin said, taking a sip of wine. It seemed to Brummell that spirits were all that was fueling his friend nowadays. "With the help of the Anglo-Portuguese Army, he has managed to besiege Badajoz in Spain, and forced the surrender of the French garrison."

"Any news of what the State's plan?" Brummel asked, signaling for the check.

"I fear an embargo is on the horizon. I pray I am wrong," Benjamin stated.

"You are never wrong," Brummell said frowning, as it was true. Benjamin became such an asset to the crown due to his information seldom if ever being false.

When the bill came Brummell was told that he had exceeded his credit with the Savoy and Beau groaned in embarrassment.

"It's fine," Benjamin said, "I will pay for the gentlemen's dinner and his debt."

"NO!" Brummell said a little too forcefully, drawing many a curious eye to their table. "I will handle my own debits but would be obliged for the dinner."

Benjamin nodded and paid for the bill.

"Gambling again?" Benjamin asked, worrying now for his friend.

Brummell looked away. "It is a weakness I do not like to admit to, but yes."

"It will bring you to your end," Benjamin prophesized. "You deserve better."

Brummell smiled at his long time friend. He could love no one more. "You have enough worries. Let this one pass you by."

They went their separate ways after dinner. Exhausted Benjamin headed for home.

He no sooner got into the door that his butler had approached him. "A letter for you, Sir."

"Give me a moment will you. I have not even taken off my coat," Benjamin grumbled.

"It is from the Port Master," his butler persisted.

Benjamin quit trying to shrug out of his coat and shifted it back to his shoulders taking the proffered letter and tearing it open. With only a brief look at its contents, he instructed his butler to hail him a carriage.

Within minutes he was on board and on his way. The Port Master was surprised to see Mr. McAllister suddenly in his office. "You have news of the ships? You have news from Commander Redgrave?"

"Ye...Yes," the Port Master stuttered. "The Captain has written. He sent word that he is under the belief that the Falcon has been lost at sea. It would seem that they were hit by a storm and the Whispering Wind had taken some heavy damage. Four had died and several were injured."

As the Port Master spoke, Benjamin could feel the bile from his undigested dinner rising in the throat. "Do you have names?"

The Port Master rose and pulled out a tome. "The sailors that were aboard the Falcon are listed here. Commander Redgrave has instructed that the families be compensated. If the Falcon has only gotten separated, the news will be received soon enough and compensations can be adjusted."

Benjamin scanned the hundred or so names in vain, again. Clara would have used an alias of course and what name she would choose? Was she even on the Falcon or was she on the Whispering Wind?

"And those that died on board the Whispering Wind?"

The Port Master handed him the letter, which listed the four names. "Was there a list of the injured?"

"No, Sir. If they were severely injured they would most likely be left at the port where they docked for repairs. Otherwise, they would have been kept on board."

What if Clara was among the injured? What if her sex was discovered? What would that mean, imprisonment? Death? Benjamin paced the office like a caged animal.

"What of the Tempest?"

"Unscathed, by the Commander's report."

"Please be aboard the Tempest," Benjamin silently prayed. "Please."

"Where did they make port?"

The port master gave him the name and the location.

The port... it was not far. He could reach it in about a month, month and a half. Should he go? He must go! What if she needed him? What if she was hurt? What if she were imprisoned? The only hope he had was that the last question held no truth. Certainly, the Commander would have mentioned finding a female on board his ship. Wouldn't he?

He thanked the Port Master for his time and gave him a financial bonus to keep him informed of any additional news. The Port Master agreed that he would.

Upon arriving back at his flat in London, Benjamin went immediately to his study to pen a letter to Lord Bentley of the news that he gleaned this evening. Of course, it did not tell much. On his desk sat Clara's letter. He picked it up. Should he end his torment and open it. He sighed and tossed it back on his desk. It was then he noticed the letter with the seal of the Royal's placed upon it.

Benjamin slid into his chair and he broke the seal scanning its contents.

We expect you at noon on a matter of National Importance. A carriage will arrive to bring you for an audience with the Queen.

Knowing all the comings and goings of court and beyond, Benjamin could not fathom the reason such an audience would be required. Well, he will be finding out soon enough. He gave the letter for Richard to his butler to be certain it was handled in the morning.

He retired for the evening and having dressed for bed, he laid in bed and prayed for Clara to be returned to him. He knew it was fools prayer but it was all he had left.

What he wouldn't give to see her once more. To hear the melodious sound of her voice, especially when she chose to laugh at him which she had done often. His heart ached, for her, but there was no sense in pondering the matter any further. He had a duty to the Queen and he would be ready for whatever her demands may be.