Anne walked out around Kellynch frequently. Although it was late fall, she felt better frequenting places she had shared with him. Better, when thinking of him. At the same time, she felt better being away from her father or eldest sister, both of whom were ignorant of, as well as uninterested in her pain and misery. To them, she was irrelevant. She had, according to them, no great beauty, nor any other qualities which might attract a man of standing, connections or fortune to her. To them, she was only Anne.
As far as her father was concerned, she had also demonstrated a shocking lack of insight as to how to make an advantageous match. Her father had not thought much of him, and had therefore refused to even contemplate offering them anything of value, of aiding them to start a life together.
As she went around Kellynch Lodge in a wide circle, so she would not be seen or hailed by Lady Russell, she thought about where he might be. She had procured a Navy List stating all commissions for this last quarter of the year and had spent some time poring over it, not knowing exactly how to read it or how to find the required information in the quickest way.
As she came into view of Monkford parsonage, she observed a small carriage approaching the house. For a moment, she felt her heart hammering in her chest. Could it be? Could he have returned to his brother's home? She held her breath as she watched the carriage come to a stop, then slowly expelled it as she watched a lady descend from it.
As a gust of wind ruffled the last remaining leaves on the branches around her, she pulled her pelisse tighter and turned away from the parsonage. There was nothing for her here now, not anymore. With sadness, she looked about her and remembered those days filled with sunlight and laughter, when he was still here and she was still deserving of his love.
As she slowly walked back towards Kellynch Hall, she thought about that final day. That day when she had followed advice she shouldn't have, when she broke her own heart as well as his, when she broke their engagement and with it ended all her own hopes of marital felicity forever. She flinched as she thought of his anger, the strength with which he had expressed his resentment, the disbelief and hurt in his eyes and the grim set of his jaw, when he realized what she was telling him. Had she not imagined herself consulting his good, even more than her own, she could hardly have given him up. The belief of being prudent, and self-denying, principally for his advantage, was her chief consolation, under the misery of a parting, a final parting; and every consolation was required, for she had to encounter all the additional pain of opinions, on his side, totally unconvinced and unbending, and of his feeling himself ill used by so forced a relinquishment.
He had departed his brother's home almost immediately after, seeking a commission and seeking to be away from her. She had watched him leave, unobserved, believing not to deserve to go near him again. Still, she had felt, she had known as soon as she had spoken the words, that it was the wrong thing to do. She had seen his pain and she had known he had no desire to be set free, that he would rather face their future together, come what may, then alone. He had stalked away from her, before she could even think of speaking any words to this effect and he had not seen her again.
Anne had spent hours, days, weeks even thinking about all that Lady Russell had said. That Anne, with all her claims of birth, beauty, and mind, should throw herself away at nineteen; involve herself at nineteen in an engagement with a young man, who had nothing but himself to recommend him, and no hopes of attaining affluence, but in the chances of a most uncertain profession, and no connexions to secure even his farther rise in the profession, would be, indeed, a throwing away, which she grieved to think of! Anne Elliot, so young; known to so few, to be snatched off by a stranger without alliance or fortune; or rather sunk by him into a state of most wearing, anxious, youth-killing dependence!
It had been sobering to realize that for all Lady Russell's professed motherly love, her advice had been rooted in pride, abominable, officious pride and not in any sentiments more noble than that. It was Lady Russell, not Anne, who desired connections, wealth, guaranteed prosperity. It was Lady Russell, not Anne, who despised Captain Wentworth's youthful bravado and self-confidence. It had been Lady Russell, not Anne, who wanted to break the engagement. Anne had learned to be ashamed of herself in listening to this advice, so clearly not given for her own happiness, nor with any of her own wishes in mind. "And that," she thought, "is the heart of the matter. My happiness is of no import to any of them, regardless of their affection or lack thereof for me. Only Frederick had ever vowed to take care of me and make me happy. And I let him go. Foolish, foolish girl."
Weeks had turned in to months, months in which Anne had had much opportunity to feel her despair, to dream of what if and to regret her earlier choices. He was lost to her forever and she began to feel that she may never love another. Dances, outings held no allure for her. Other men she barely noticed. There was nobody to console with, very few knew and none of them cared about her disappointment.
The next day was another fine autumn day, blustery but clear and with a bit of sun shing down on her, Anne had sat down, shielding herself from the wind. She had brought her Navy List out and spread it, continuing to look for his name, hoping and despairing of finding him. As she carefully scanned the pages, she was unaware of being observed herself. So intently was she focused on the parchment, that she failed to hear footsteps come near her and then stop.
Suddenly she saw his name and started. "Oh," she gasped.
Then she looked closer and read the words. He would sail. He had been given a ship. "The Asp," she said, as if tasting the word.
"Yes, the Asp," she heard someone say and she looked up in puzzlement.
Anne found herself looking at a handsome lady, a bit older than herself. The lady looked at her intently for a while, and Anne was reminded of the way he might sometimes study her. Finally, the lady smiled and came forward. "I am Sophia Croft," she said. "I am visiting my brother at the parsonage, Mr. Wentworth."
Anne was so surprised, she did not know what to say.
"You must be Miss Anne," continued Mrs. Croft. "Freddie has told me much about you."
At those words, Anne paled and suddenly jumped up. "Oh," she cried, "What must you think of me? How you must hate me! I will leave you. I am so sorry."
Mrs. Croft grabbed her arm and held her, while saying "Do not leave, dear. I have come to speak to you, after all."
Upon hearing such an extraordinary speech, Anne could not but sit down again. "You, he… ehm," she was unsure what to ask first.
"Frederick sent you?" Anne was almost afraid to learn.
"Yes he did," smiled Mrs. Croft. "Well, I did offer first, if you must know."
"Why?" Anne's mind was in a whirl. He wanted his sister to speak with her?
"May I sit?" enquired Mrs. Croft, as she gestured at the bench upon which Anne was seated.
Anne hastily cleared away the Navy List, while murmuring "Of course."
As Mrs. Croft sat down, she remained silent for a while, thinking over her options. "I had originally planned to observe you first, not to approach you," she finally said. "My brother explained that you are gentry, your father is a baronet, that you live in a large manor with many servants and that you know next to nothing about life at sea."
Anne flinched at those words. "Well, much of it is true," she replied hesitantly. "I am learning about the Navy," she added somewhat defensively, waving the Navy List in her hand.
Mrs. Croft smiled, and Anne gathered her courage. "Are you saying I am unfit to be his wife?" she asked.
"That was what I expected," replied Mrs. Croft. "Freddie was sure you would do well, that you're not a pampered gentlewoman and that you would adapt. I admit, I was unconvinced."
She smiled enigmatically at Anne. "It was my other brother, Edward, who could substantiate this claim about you being sensible and practical, not pampered, spoilt or entitled."
Anne gasped in silent indignation at such a characterization of herself, and Mrs. Croft reached for her hand. "No insult was intended, I assure you," she smiled. "But my brother is my first concern. He may have fallen in love with you, but that does not make you necessarily a good fit."
She squeezed Anne's hand and continued: "I was very pleased to find you with a current Navy List and even more so to know that you were looking for Freddie. I dare say you are not indifferent to him after all and were not toying with his heart, were you?"
"No!" Anne cried. "I would never!"
"I am glad to hear it," said Mrs. Croft. "My task in coming here was twofold. First, I had to be convinced that you would be a suitable bride and a good Naval wife. Second, I would have to convince you to come away with me to Frederick, marry him and depart our shores almost immediately."
Anne gasped and looked at Mrs. Croft with wide eyes. Mrs. Croft chuckled, let go of Anne's hand and said "My husband and I have returned to England only two weeks ago. We were away for months before that. My brother has been in port for many weeks already, while his ship is getting fitted for a new tour. He only unburdened himself to us last week, though."
"Time is of the essence," she continued. "My brother will sail before the end of this month. If you wish to go with him, you must marry and you must do so before you both depart."
She looked at Anne pensively, then added: "Of course you could also remain engaged and wait for him at home, however, I would advise against it."
"How so?" asked Anne.
"Let us be honest and blunt for a moment," said Mrs. Croft. "We are a country at war, and even were we not, sailing is a dangerous profession. If you were at home, unmarried, waiting for Freddie to return to you, it would eat away at you, would it not?"
Anne nodded immediately. She did not need to think about this, the previous weeks had been agony, not knowing where he was. Knowing he was promised to her, but still having no certainty, would indeed be torture. Even more so, if there were another choice that would allow her to be with him.
"Both my brothers say that you are a sensible young lady. Edwards lauds your efforts for the poor in his parish, your charity works and the way you support your family, humbly and unfailingly. Freddie says you're not necessarily used to luxury or pomp, but you are smart and reasonable and not afraid of hard work, or even harsh words when necessary. He believes you will aid him in his position."
"How can I be of aid to him?" asked Anne. "Surely his men would not listen to a mere woman, not even the Captain's wife?"
"Some will not, precisely for that reason," chuckled Mrs. Croft, "Some will not, because of your youth. However, you will be the one person closest to the Captain. You will be able to influence his decisions, and that in and of itself will be a powerful position to hold, and will induce crewmembers to curry your favour, rather than your wrath. You will be respected, have no fear on that account."
Anne thought about this, and Mrs. Croft looked at her. "My husband, Admiral Croft," she continued, "has lately commanded a fleet of ten men-of-war. We were engaged in several actions, especially around the Peninsula. Of course I am not a trained military mastermind, I am however smart, I know the strengths and weaknesses of our ships as well as my husband does and he likes to talk things over with me to sort out his thoughts. I was in charge of supplies, and of the infirmary while on board. Besides that, my main task was to keep the Admiral unencumbered and free to concentrate on his tasks alone."
"Would he rely on me?" asked Anne. "Frederick has seen what was possibly the worst decision-making on my part, what reason does he have to trust me?"
"He is not pleased that you yielded to persuasion of others, without discussing any of the arguments they gave with him first," replied Sophia. "That is what held him back, every time he considered reaching out to you. Even so, he recognizes that his own anger did not help in the least, and he hopes that in the future you will both learn to consult with one another, before making any decisions."
"That is reasonable," admitted Anne. "I have had much time to think about the arguments that swayed me, and their lack of validity when observed dispassionately. While it is true there is no great fortune for either of us, we need very little. Frederick is confident he will do well in his career and as he had been successful before, there is no reason to doubt him. Again, we will not need fortune, we will need enough to live on and my needs are quite humble, especially when compared to those of Lady Russell or my family. While it is true that Frederick had no command at the time, just these past weeks have already proven Lady Russell wrong in claiming that he would not advance, for he does have a ship to command now."
After thinking for a while, she continued: "My father did not intend to support us last summer, so he will not do so now. There will be little point in asking him for anything."
"Pray, what is your age?" Mrs. Croft asked.
"I am nine-and-ten," replied Anne. "When Frederick asked my father's consent to marry me, he did not object. He did, in fact, not offer any reply at all. I choose to explain that as equal to no objections were made."
This made Mrs. Croft laugh out loud. "I like you more and more," she chuckled. "That will be a useful argument, should your father choose to be a bother this time. Now before you commit yourself to anything, you must read this letter my brother wrote to you. I will walk the grounds for a little bit and return to you in a quarter hour."
Anne accepted the letter Mrs. Croft held out to her, and watched as Mrs. Croft walked away. Only then did she turn her attention to the letter in her hand. She opened it and her eyes devoured the words, sometimes scarcely understanding them for her need to know all.
'To Miss A. Elliot,
Please forgive me. Forgive me my intemperate words and my resentful anger. I can no longer bear the silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, a few agonising months ago. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to tears. For you alone, I think and plan. Will you ever see this? Can you fail to understand my wishes?
I would not have waited even ten days, could I have been certain of your feelings, as I know you must now have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hoping for something which wholly overpowers me. I wish for your voice, for the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Speak to me once more, my dear. Too good, too excellent creature! Will you do us justice at last? Will you believe that there is true attachment and constancy for us? Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in
F. W.
I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall wait for you, to follow me hither, as soon as possible. I beg for you to leave your father's house forever, to join your fate to mine, to be my bride at last.'
Anne's hands shook as she finished the letter and read it again, and again. Tears fell, unbidden. Finally, she stood up. He had poured out his heart in those words, those beautiful words. He still wanted her! He was not lost to her after all. As soon as she spotted Mrs. Croft, she ran to her.
"Yes!" she cried. The two women hugged and cried. "My dear new sister," smiled Mrs. Croft, "Please call me Sophia."
Then she looked at Anne sternly and continued: "As I said, we have little time. You need to pack, and pack sturdy and warm clothes first, as well as any rain clothes or oilskin you have. Sturdy boots and plenty of good stockings. Bring a diary or two and ink and pens. Your clothing will be the most important. Pack as much as you can, as your wardrobe will need to suffice for many, many months. A few good shore-dresses, but the main part needs to be practical and durable."
With such discussions on what to bring and how to bring it, another half hour passed and then the two women said goodbye. "I will collect you at nine," said Sophia before they parted.
Anne darted home, glowing with happiness. As she passed Kellynch Lodge, she thought Lady Russell deserved to hear the news in person, and deserved a personal goodbye. After knocking however, she was told the lady was from home and would not return until late that night.
Anne decided to write to her Godmother instead, knowing she would have little opportunity to see her again before Sophia would collect her tomorrow morning. At Kellynch Hall, she was not greeted by either father or sister, and decided not to bother them for now. Instead, she went to her own rooms and securely packed up her belongings, the ones she intended to take. Sophia had suggested she would also pack whatever items she wanted stored, and have those brought to the Monkford parsonage for the time being. Mr. Edward Wentworth, her future brother, would take care of them until she would be ashore again.
That night after dinner, she approached her father. "I am leaving with Mrs. Croft on the morrow," she began.
Sir Walter Elliot barely looked up from his favourite book.
"I will join Captain Wentworth, we will marry and we will depart afterwards," Anne told him.
Sir Walter stared, but did not reply. When he returned his attention to his book without a single word, Anne felt all her duties to him discharged. She would join her life to a better man, and she would not regret anything she left behind. She went back to her room, composed her letter to Lady Russell, read it twice again to make sure there was no resentment in her words, then went to bed and dreamt of Frederick.
Before nine o'clock the following morning, Sophia's carriage rode up. Anne had broken her fast alone, neither her father nor her sister had been there. Now, as her trunks were loaded onto the carriage, her sister Elizabeth appeared. She looked on in astonishment. "You are really leaving?" she asked, but did not listen to any replies.
As the footman assisted Anne up into the carriage, Elizabeth waved and then turned and entered the house. Sophia looked at the closing door with some surprise, and then said to Anne: "I am very pleased to gain you as a sister. Just be sure to make my brother happy, and I will love you fiercely."
Anne hugged her, gratefully.
It took the ladies several days to reach the port. Late at night they arrived at the boarding house, where Anne met Admiral Croft, her future brother. He pulled her into a hug. "I am very pleased you have come," he told her. "Tomorrow morning I will bring you to Frederick."
The following morning just after dawn, she stood on a cay and looked at a ship. This would be her home from now on, The Asp. She thought she had seen better looking ships, although it was clear much work had been done on it. As she stared, a door opened and Frederick stepped onto the deck. She gasped but could not speak. She watched him look at her, close his eyes, then look again. Then he yelled "Anne!"
He was before her almost immediately, grabbed her and kissed her. "Marry me. Marry me today, my Annie. I have missed you so."
She was crying on his chest, in big, heaving sobs. "I am so sorry! I do want to marry you! Do not leave me!"
"We sail the day after tomorrow, so we will have to get married today or tomorrow at the latest. Tell me my love, do you want a church wedding or a wedding at sea?" Frederick inquired.
Anne looked surprised. "Can we do a church wedding?"
"You can,"
Admiral Croft assured them.
The Crofts had stayed back while they reunited, but now they took charge. The Admiral had in fact received an express from his wife, suggesting he make arrangements for a church wedding. The Admiral had done so immediately, and so at eleven of the clock that same day, Miss Anne Elliot was walking down the aisle on the arm of Admiral Croft, towards the one man she loved, the one man who did not take no for an answer.