Author's Note: In honor of my wedding anniversary today, I present you with this freshly written one-shot. I love to make Frederick squirm and repent. :) I hope you enjoy it!
~~START OF STORY~~
Frederick returned from another satisfying morning of shooting with Charles, the two gentlemen having caught five brace between them before returning to Uppercross Cottage. After seeing Charles to the door and saying goodbye, Frederick made his way through the cottage garden to begin his walk back to Kellynch Hall. He took a few steps when something white underneath a bench caught his eye. A book lay on the ground, face down and open, having been accidentally dropped and then forgotten by someone.
He walked over and picked it up, closing it shut as he did so. Upon inspection, it was not a book but rather many hot-pressed papers bound into a thick quarto, with a skillfully painted watercolour of harebells on the cover. He remembered that the harebell was Anne's favourite flower - papery and delicate looking, yet incredibly resilient; a symbol of constancy, but often associated with death and grief as well.
The outside contained no other markings, and a part of Frederick said he should simply leave the quarto on top of the bench as the owner would likely return in search of it. But on an impulse, he decided to look inside, telling himself he wanted to identify the owner so he could return it directly. Immediately, he recognised Anne's elegant handwriting and his eyes were drawn to the following passage:
He told Henrietta that I was so altered he should not have known me again. I must submit to this judgement in silent, deep mortification. I can take no revenge. The years which have destroyed my youth and bloom have only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in no respect lessening his personal advantages.
His breath caught and for a moment, his vision blurred. This was Anne's journal! Reading his ungenerous words about her made him ill, especially in contrast to her flattering remarks about him. He had no idea his offhand words would be carried round to her, but should never have spoken them in the first place.
He knew he should stop reading and put the journal down, but the temptation was too great. All her innermost thoughts lay in his hands. Sitting down on the bench, he flipped to the last entry.
Today I walked to Winthrop with Mary, Louisa, Henrietta, Charles and Frederick.
The sight of his Christian name made him pause, and he wondered that she still referred to him on such intimate terms in private. Skipping over some descriptions of scenery, he next read:
Louisa then drew Frederick away, ostensibly to glean for nuts, but after successfully maneuvering Henrietta back to Charles Hayter, I dare say she is now eager to secure Frederick's affections. Charles was pleased that his prediction about which sister Frederick preferred was correct, but he knew better than to gloat over Mary.
Frederick stared at the words in confusion. Anne and Charles both thought an attachment was forming between him and Louisa? Shock came first, followed closely by embarrassment. Louisa was a sweet girl, but he had no romantic interest in her! Yet apparently he had been acting in such a way as to make both Anne and Charles suspect it. He continued reading:
I cannot begin to describe my mortification upon overhearing Louisa and Frederick's conversation as they walked in the hedgerows. He spoke of the importance of fortitude and of resisting interference - he still condemns me for the past and cannot forgive me. Louisa also revealed Charles' proposal, though thankfully she does not know, and therefore could not tell him, the true reason I refused the offer. If Frederick should guess that my affection is still his, when he has transferred his to another, then my humiliation will be complete.
As we returned to Uppercross, Frederick prevailed upon Admiral and Mrs. Croft to take me back in their gig. That he wished to give me relief despite being perfectly careless of me is proof of his warm and amiable heart. He assisted me into the carriage, and though we both wore gloves, the feel of his hand upon mine excited a contrariety of emotions. Pleasure for what once was, and what my heart still desires, and pain for what can no longer be.
Frederick read those passages over and over again before he could accept the truth of them. Anne still loved him! She had always loved him. His heart quickened as adrenaline flooded his veins. The next thought struck him like a tidal wave - he still loved her too. He had tried to forget her, and believed it to be done, but she had never been supplanted in his heart.
His senses overcome with joy, he did not discern the light footsteps approaching until it was too late. Hastily closing the journal, he threw it back under the bench and a half-second later heard Anne's surprised voice.
"Captain Wentworth!"
Frederick jumped up, his face flushed. He bowed awkwardly.
"Miss Elliot! Good morning. I… I have just returned from hunting with Mr. Charles."
Anne's gaze drifted under the bench where her journal lay and his face turned a deeper shade of red. Judging by the distance and line of sight from the cottage door to the bench, she must have seen him unceremoniously toss her beloved possession onto the ground. She probably also saw him reading the pages. The colour of her face matched his and she remained rooted to her spot.
Seeking to rectify his ungentlemanly behaviour, Frederick reached down and picked up the journal. He gently brushed off the dirt and held it out to her.
"I believe this is yours, Miss Elliot."
She made no move to take it back and simply stared at it, perhaps hoping as he did that the embarrassing scene unfolding before them was simply a bad dream. He continued with his arm extended to her, refusing to retract it until she unburdened him.
"I was only trying to determine who the owner was," he said. Her eyebrow twitched but she said nothing and he closed his eyes, ashamed at himself. He must own the whole truth. "Once I discovered it was yours, I should have returned it to you immediately. It was very wrong of me to read your private thoughts. I can offer no justification for my behaviour. I am very sorry."
Anne swallowed hard and lifted her eyes to his. Chagrined by his actions, he stiffened and avoided her gaze. After studying him in silence for a minute, she took the journal and whispered, "I accept your apology. Good day, Captain Wentworth."
He looked back at her just in time to see the profound sadness on her face and her eyes watering as she turned away. Good God! She must think his reaction after reading her journal only confirmed his indifference! He could not allow her to continue under such a misapprehension. And when might he have another opportunity to declare himself if not now?
"Miss Elliot! Anne."
She stopped but did not turn around. Her shoulders shook; she was quietly crying. He quickly walked around her and produced a handkerchief.
"Anne, you have shown me how unjust I have been. I have spoken untruths about you, I have ignored you, I have blamed you - all because of my anger and resentment. I refused to acknowledge what was in my heart, and I would still be blind to my feelings had I not read yours."
A louder sob escaped her and she brought the handkerchief to her face. Not caring about propriety, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and was thankful that she did not push him away.
"Anne, Anne, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. I have loved none but you."
Her flowing tears soaked through the thin handkerchief and into his cravat as she pressed her face against him. Drawing ragged breaths, she trembled as he whispered words of love and devotion into her ear. After a few minutes, her body stilled. He held onto her for another minute, then pulled back and dipped his head to see her face. He could not get a good look. Rather than tip her chin up, he dropped to one knee.
"Anne, I have never stopped loving you these past eight years. I offer you my hand, my heart, my soul. Nothing would make me happier than to have you as my wife. Will you marry me?"
A brilliant smile broke through her tear stained face and he thought she had never looked more beautiful.
"Yes. Yes, I will marry you."
~~OOO~~
Anne and Frederick's engagement came as a surprise to their relations, for who would have thought a man who paid no attentions to a woman was in truth violently in love with her? Mary took comfort that while she was wrong about Frederick's interest in Henrietta, Charles was equally wrong about his interest in Louisa. Louisa, meanwhile, was disappointed that as soon as everything seemed to be marked out for her and Frederick, it was completely undone.
From then on, Anne always kept her journal in her bedchamber and in a locked drawer. Though her felicity was credited to accidentally leaving the journal out after Mary had summoned her in a panic, no woman writes down her most secret thoughts in hopes that others will read it.
Anne and Frederick married the following month and settled into a rented house near Uppercross. To make amends for his improper behaviour, Frederick often wrote his own thoughts down and left the notes around the house for Anne to discover.
About six months after their wedding, Anne awoke one morning to find Frederick already gone from their shared bed. When she went downstairs, she encountered the following note sitting by a small vase of freshly picked harebells in the parlour:
Nine years ago today, my life changed forever. I met Anne by chance as I accompanied Edward on an errand to Kellynch. Little did I know the journey that lay ahead of me. I have made many mistakes but have learned and grown from them and, by some miracle, have retained Anne's forgiveness and love throughout. With Anne as my wife, I am happier than I once thought possible.
I love you, Anne.
THE END