Portsmouth, September the 5Th 1814
My dear Miss Elliot,
Anne,
I hope you will be pleased to know that my sister has
been totally conquered by you.
How could it be otherwise?
I envy the wonderful conversation I am sure you have
had, and I hope there can be more; I hope I can take
part in it.
I know that many divergences between us need to be
resolved but I am not willing to let your shoulders alone
carry the burden. I do not intend to shirk my responsibilities.
You claim to have provoked my inappropriate behaviour
and that it was perfectly excusable, but I disagree.
I cannot and will not deny that I was hurt, almost fatally,
by your change of intentions. But, equally, I cannot and I
do not want to deny that I was probably too weak and
unjust to recognise those merits and virtues that I have
accused you of lacking, too hastily.
Please, Anne, do not say you do not deserve my friendship;
no one deserves it more than you.
No one has ever been dearer to me, than you.
No one has ever hurt my heart like you, yet I have not been
willing to give it back to anyone like I am to you.
I live in anticipation of the moment you will do me the
honour of explaining to me the reasons that led you to
separate our paths eight years ago.
But also, in the determination to fight to win back your heart,
the only one, for me, deserving to be won.
Since ever, for ever,
your
Frederick
At the Harville home, this close correspondence was viewed with growing curiosity.
Frederick was torn between anxiously awaiting Anne's letters and preparations for moving to Kellynch Hall.
Sophia had insisted on extending the invitation to Benwick and the Harvilles as well, in the hope that the removal from the place so inextricably linked to the memory of Fanny would benefit them. And in fact, Frederick's enthusiasm for the upcoming trip, as well as the curiosity to finally meet the famous Miss Anne, had ended up infecting them and alleviating, at least in part, their pain.
In Kellynch, on the other hand, a decidedly different atmosphere reigned.
Sir Walter and Elisabeth had made their move to Bath, as in their style, as demanding and stressful as possible, for the servants and for Anne herself, whose situation had not improved even with the move to Uppercross. There, Mary was waiting for her to be able to entrust her with the care of her children, as well as of herself.
But the worst was the excitement that had arisen between the young daughters of the Musgroves and their cousins, around the arrival of Mrs Croft's long-awaited brother.
The fame of Captain Wentworth's fortune had immediately made him the most coveted bachelor in the district and sparked a real competition between the various families, to be able to have him as a guest at dinner, to any mundane commitment and of course to grab him as a son-in-law.
All this could only increase Anne's anxiety, who felt she could absolutely not compete with those young beauties and was afraid of being condemned to having to watch helplessly as a bond was formed between Frederick and some other young lady, while she was relegated to her role of a simple friend.
Until she received his last letter and she needed a whole morning, shut up in her room, to recover.
Even more at the thought that by now, Frederick must have already started the journey to Somerset.
The change in his tone had been sudden.
His cold, almost detached education had given way to his usual passion and frankness.
In short, he had declared himself.
He demanded explanations, of course. Nonetheless, he defined himself determined to win her back, and signed himself as 'hers'.
Could this have left her indifferent?
No.
Everything else became indifferent to her. Mary's complaints, the other young ladies' plans to conquer, but not Frederick's words; not his passion for which she had to answer with equal sincerity.
Uppercross, September the 12th 1814
My dear Captain Wentworth,
I am sure there will be opportunities to entertain those
beautiful, lovely conversations that we once used to
share. If you still want to be so generous as to tell me
about your adventures at sea, you know with how
much interest and enthusiasm I am ready to
welcome them.
Nonetheless, other conversations, more private and
certainly, more painful, will have to happen between
us, Frederick.
It still hurts me to know that I caused you pain.
Please, do know that I have always felt that sorrow,
since the moment I made that fatal decision, to today.
It was not with a light heart that I changed my intentions,
but after long painful considerations. I know I broke your
heart and I am aware it cannot be any comfort to you to be
informed that by doing so, I also broke mine.
What guided me was not a whim but a sense of duty, and
I am sure that you, most of all, can understand what I
am talking about. Your life as a man and as an officer
in His Majesty's Navy is made up of duties towards our
country, and our King. My life as a woman is made up
of duties towards the family which, then more than ever,
was the centre of my life. You know well that without the
support and sustenance of my family I would have been
nothing but a burden on your shoulders. I would have
been the anchor that would have kept you ashore, far
from that sea you love so much and from the career for
which you had worked so hard. To my credit, I can only
say that despite the courage I have forced myself to
have to break my pledge to you, and remain inertly
seeing you go away, it was not enough to prevent me
from regretting my decision at the very moment in which
I had the certainty of having lost you when your eyes
looked at me with all the contempt I knew I deserved.
I had to use all my strength to resist the urge to follow
you, to ask your forgiveness immediately, to run away
with you.
But would you have become what you are today if I
had done it?
Or would the uncertainties and worries had consumed
us both? Today, I know, with certainty, that I do not have
a family that deserved my sacrifice, but I know that you,
deserved it, that you deserved not to have a burden on
your shoulders.
As for winning my heart, it is a mission that you have
accomplished only once, it does not need to be repeated.
Forever yours
Anne