Anne kept going through the motions with her life, all the while feeling removed from any true concern in the things that happened around her. Sometime it felt as if she was looking at her own life through a deep tunnel, or glimpsing a reflection of it from a distorted mirror. She felt very little attachment to those who should mean the most to her; they were as simple acquaintances. Though she said and did all the right things, it felt like her life should belong to someone else. If she were more like her sister Elizabeth or her sister Mary, maybe she would fit better in her own life. In some ways she wished she was more like them as maybe then Lady Russel would leave her to her own devices, would not try to engage her in things and make her care.

There was one small seed of brightness in her life. A way she could plan and prepare for the future that would never likely be hers. She remembered Frederick telling her that once aboard his ship as his wife, he hoped she would nurse any injured or ill men. She noted that in Mr. Wentworth's recitation of what Mrs. Croft's life was like aboard her husband's ship that Mrs. Croft tended to the wounded after a battle. Anne determined that she would do all she could to learn this art.

It was not easy to pursue this goal. While there were certainly women who served as nurses, they were highly unlikely to be members of her social class and, if perchance there were a few hardy individuals of her class that humbled themselves in such a way, their lives were not ruled by those who would never approve of such activities.

Anne started small. When her sister Mary returned from completing her schooling, she again began suffering from many imaginary ailments. Sometimes Anne could comfort her simply by tending to her, but when that was not enough they sent for the apothecary. When Mr. Robinson visited, Anne first carefully observed all he did and the later began questioning him about his knowledge. It seemed that he was visiting at least once a week, each time bringing draughts for Mary's various ailments. While Mr. Robinson answered her questions, she had the sense that her questions bothered him but could not tell why. Finally, his exasperation spilled out when he was treating her sister for once again one of her imagined ailments, though he said nothing until she walked with him to the front door.

"May I have a word with you, Miss Anne?" He gestured with his head to the outer doors of Kellynch Hall.

"Certainly," Anne responded, finally raised from her apathy (though she was not apathetic when trying to learn his medicinal secrets) by some genuine curiosity.

Once they were both outside, Mr. Robinson (who was not a young man and rather grizzled and arthritic) paced back and forth a few times energetically before beginning. "Do you want to know why your sister is not better?" He questioned sternly. "There is nothing the matter with her that any of my draughts can cure. I used to treat her imagined symptoms with the appropriate medicines but it was all for naught. Now I only give her true medication when I see indications besides her described symptoms that confirm to me she is actually ill. I try to discourage her behavior by preparing the nastiest concoctions I can make that have the least ill-effects, which are equivalent to foods. Then I give her every sympathy and take joy in the fact that she will willingly drink such brews and I can charge money for these draughts as I cannot for my services. I believe I should be paid for the time my attention takes, if not for my (in this case) sham medicines. But you, Miss Anne," he pointed his finger accusingly at her, "you are too sharp by half. I believe you already know all of his. Why can you just not let me be? Dismiss me if you want, I am not sure the remuneration I receive is worth the aggravation, but please stop hounding me about everything."

Anne colored. She had not thought how her questioning of the apothecary would seem to him. She regretted that due to their relative stations in life he had apparently been suffering for months under this misapprehension but could not bring it to her attention.

"Mr. Robinson you misunderstand my purposes completely, though as I have not been forthright about them that is hardly your fault. I regret that I have caused you such frustration. Yes, I know that all of my sister's illnesses are imagined. While I did not know that the draughts you give Mary have no true medicinal value, your purpose in giving them to her does seem proper under these circumstances and I have no objection to you continuing to do so. If I believe she is actually ill, I will do my best to inform you of that so you can treat her properly. I simply wish to gain more knowledge of your profession and glean what details I can that would be helpful if I needed to treat someone who truly had an illness."

He looked at her curiously, "Why should the daughter of a baronete want such knowledge? You shall never lack the money to pay another to distill such concoctions."

"I . . . I would prefer not to say," Anne choked out. "However, there are remote locations where such knowledge could prove valuable."

He considered. "I have an apprentice that I pass on my knowledge to, but he pays for that knowledge by assisting me in my shop, though I pay him for his labor as well. You could not work for me, should not even be here out alone talking to me. I would be willing to pass on my skills for a fee if we could determine a way for me to train you which did not breach proprieties."

"I would be most grateful," Anne responded.

Mr. Robinson considered further. "I know that at times you visit the poorer families of the parish. Do you suppose when you are doing so you could come by my home after you visit Widow Munro? My wife and her mother are almost always home."

Anne was pleased with the suggestion. They negotiated a price and time, and he instructed Anne to bring a journal to record what she learned.

They then discussed what she knew. He asked, "Do you have any skill in the still room? I would like a measure of where we should start."

Anne did not, so he told her that this was where they would start, with the earlier lessons in this to be given by his wife.

When Anne wrote in her journal that night she wrote, "I am finally doing something to learn to aid Captain Wentworth's crew and shall have my first lesson with the Robinsons on the morrow. I cannot start with learning about his apothecary work until I learn still room work, however doing something, anything, is better than standing still."