Persuasion

nne's journey continues as she navigates encountering a former love. This chapter explores themes of awkwardness, memory, composure.

The moment Anne has been dreading arrives: Captain Wentworth is at Kellynch, visiting the Crofts. He's coming to dine at the Great House. They will meet within days. Anne has a week to prepare for the encounter that will define whether eight years of regret can be survived. Then fate intervenes—Mary's eldest son has a terrible fall, dislocating his collarbone. The household erupts in crisis. Anne, as always, manages everything: summons the apothecary, calms the hysterical mother, tends the injured child. The visit to the Great House is cancelled. Anne has escaped the meeting, at least for now.

But only briefly. The next day, as the child improves, Charles decides he'll attend the dinner after all—meeting Captain Wentworth is too important to miss. Mary, initially dramatic about abandoning her poor suffering child, quickly decides she'll go too once Anne offers to stay. "You, who have not a mother's feelings, are a great deal the properest person," Mary announces, managing to insult Anne while accepting her sacrifice. They leave Anne alone with the sick child.

But Wentworth comes to the cottage first—a brief courtesy call before the shooting expedition. Two minutes. A bow, a curtsey, half-met eyes. He speaks to Mary, acknowledges the Musgroves, and leaves. "It is over! it is over!" Anne tells herself. "The worst is over!" She tries to rationalize: eight years is nearly a third of her life. Everything changes. Surely the agitation should fade. But "to retentive feelings eight years may be little more than nothing."

Then Mary delivers the killing blow, casually: Wentworth said Anne was "so altered he should not have known her again." The years that destroyed her youth and bloom have only made him more handsome. And worse, Anne learns his perspective: he hasn't forgiven her. He thinks she showed "feebleness of character" in breaking the engagement. He's looking to marry—anyone with "a little beauty, and a few smiles"—anyone but Anne Elliot. Though when describing his ideal woman, he says: "A strong mind, with sweetness of manner." He's describing Anne without realizing it. Or perhaps knowing it perfectly well.