Anne passed a nearly sleepless night. The sleep she did have was half memories of her last conversation with Frederick and half imaginings. In some, their conflict was resolved with a kiss; in others he was far more angry and said the most terrible things to her.
When she finally determined that she would sleep no more, she resolved that she must see him but stayed abed until the sun rose. While she could have summoned her maid then, she felt it would be wrong to get the girl from her bed. Too, Anne was waiting to see if her resolution to see Frederick would hold firm or if she would think the better of it upon reflection.
As she waited for her maid to arrive, she tried to decide what she would say to him, but everything she imagined seemed wrong. She could not decide whether she should beg his forgiveness or beg him to understand, say she was wrong or say she was right.
When her maid finally arrived, Anne's morning routine seemed to stretch on and on. First she needed to attend to her morning ablutions with the water her maid poured in the basin, then she needed to decide what she wished to wear that day and then her maid assisted her in dressing and styled her hair. Anne was slow to decide on a dress and slow to decide on a hairstyle. She felt indecision about everything, even whether she would indeed seek Frederick out after she was ready for the day.
She considered breaking her fast, but could not bear the thought of eating and knew she needed to decide whether to walk out or remain at home. Her indecision finally was broken when she resolved that she need not decide in advance what to say. Instead she would simply find him and trust that in the moment the right words would come.
When Anne set out she was hoping, perchance, that she would see Frederick walking toward Kellynch Hall to see her; in fact as she approached Monkford, she considered whether her earlier indecision about setting out had to do with her hoping that he would make the decision that they needed to see each other for her.
However, it was not to be. When Anne finally approached the vicarage, a bit out of breath as she was not used to such a lengthy excursion, she saw Mr. Edward Wentworth instead of Frederick. He was sitting on a rock outside, a pensive look on his face. He rose when she approached.
They exchanged greetings, but almost as soon as those were exchanged Anne asked, "Is your brother awake? I should like to speak to him."
"Awake, dressed and already departed." Mr. Wentworth responded.
"Departed?" Anne asked, knowing even before she received clarification that he was gone, really and truly gone.
"Yes, he left to seek his first command."
"I . . . I . . . thought there was more time. I did not want it to end like this." Anne lapsed into silence.
"He could not stay with how things were."
Anne was silent. She was reflecting that the choice she had made could no longer be taken back. An odd sort of calm settled over her. She did not have to decide what to say to Frederick because there was nothing to be said and no one to say it to. She must have been right before or at least his quick action must have shown that he accepted her decision.
"I write to him regularly," Mr. Wentworth said. "Is there any message I should pass onto him?"
"No," Anne replied, not trusting that she could come up with anything appropriate for this situation. "I must return home now." She did not add, as she had no reason to believe it might be true, that her family would be worried.
"It was nice to see you," she said and turned away from him and toward home.
Anne trudged home slowly. She had to make an effort to make her legs move. She felt as if she was walking through a heavy syrup. In the weeks that followed, it was hard for her to even feign an interest in the things she had previously enjoyed. Everything felt dull and bland. She had no enjoyment in balls, or new dresses, or in spending time with her friends. It was as if widow stuck in mourning had replaced the formerly vibrant young woman of nineteen.
Although Anne felt hopeless, she was not so sunk as to consider taking her own life. She knew that somewhere in the world Frederick was present and perhaps, just perhaps, one day he might return to her.
When she took the time to write in her journal, it was to state how many days, then months, then years it was since she last saw Frederick and to ponder if some day he might return.