The knowledge that she had done what she could bolstered Marianne's spirits for the rest of the day, but when several more days passed without word from the colonel, she began to grow anxious for news of him. The Middletons and and Mrs. Jennings, who could not be kept from them long and had soon revived the usual visits between Barton Cottage and Barton Park, had no news to give. “I have had nothing from him,” said Sir John one afternoon, “besides the briefest note: 'Dear Sir John, I am just arrived. London is as usual. Yours sincerely,' etc., along with another apology for ruining our outing.” Despite the brevity of the message, Mrs. Jennings had much to say regarding it, and much more to conjecture, and Marianne felt keenly her shame in having once found the colonel's company as wanting as that of his friends.
One morning, about a fortnight after Colonel Brandon had left the country, Marianne joined her sisters for their usual walk. They had been out half an hour or more when they saw a rider travelling in their direction.
“It is he!” Marianne cried. “It is...” But it was not! She soon saw her hopes had led her eyes astray, and she turned away, frustrated and disappointed almost to the point of tears. Elinor and Margaret looked at her, but she only shook her head.
“The colonel? No, I do not think it is,” Elinor said, her voice trailing away.
Marianne turned to watch Elinor—there had been something odd in the latter's tone—and she looked again at the approaching rider. Ah, that would explain it! Edward Ferrars, the only person Marianne could at all forgive for not being Colonel Brandon at that moment, was nearly upon them!
Marianne's sadness was swallowed up in the joy she felt at the imminent greeting. She was thrilled for Elinor! In such a state of happy expectation, she could not have been more astonished when that happiness was dashed by Edward's indifferent manner towards them all, not excepting even Elinor. So reserved he was, as if he wished he had not come, as if their company had been forced upon him! Marianne recalled how tepid their parting at Norland had been and felt this behaviour of their guest was of a piece with it—nay, worse! She stared and wondered, saying as little as necessary as they went back to the cottage. The beautiful views, the new prospect they had discovered on their walk, every delight was dimmed by the shroud of coldness Edward had so unkindly and inexplicably cast over them all.
When they entered the cottage, Mrs. Dashwood's surprise gave way to genuine and voluble pleasure. Edward's coldness could not long withstand such an affectionate welcome. Marianne was relieved to see it, and further relieved to note with each passing hour Elinor's charms wielding their natural influence on their guest, though Edward never fully set aside his reserve.
With no beau of her own present to distract her, Marianne paid more attention to her elder sister than was her wont. She noticed the smiles and blushes, the glances, the unguarded eagerness in listening to whatever Edward had to say, the slight hesitation in probing for more when silences threatened. Elinor's feelings were definitely warmer than esteem, Marianne thought with great satisfaction.
Not long after Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret had taken themselves off to another part of the house, Edward happened to wish for more tea, and Marianne happened to provide it. As he reached for the cup, she saw something that made any remaining concerns fade to nothingness: a ring on his finger, a ring containing a lock of hair of a very familiar shade!
“Edward,” Marianne said at once, interrupting the conversation between him and Elinor and pointing at the ring, “I would say that is Fanny’s hair, but I am certain hers is darker.”
Edward paled.
“Have you truly been so sly?” she asked him, glancing between him and her elder sister. “Why the secrecy?”
“You suspect me of keeping secrets?”
“How ever did you manage it? Elinor looks just as surprised as I am to see that ring on your finger,” she said.
“Marianne!” her sister reprimanded.
“It is true! Or are you not as surprised as you seem?”
“I knew nothing of it, Marianne. Do not press for details.”
“You cannot tell me you do not want to know!” Marianne thought Elinor did not look truly alarmed, only embarrassed, and she grinned at her.
But when Marianne turned to Edward, what she saw caused all playfulness to fade from her thoughts. Elinor's embarrassment turned to confusion and apprehension.
They all looked at one another in silence for several seconds, none of them comfortable.
Suddenly Edward rose to his feet. “What would you do,” he whispered, “if you had made a promise you were loath to keep?”
“The honourable thing,” Elinor said.
“There is so little honour in the world, as I have lately learnt,” Marianne added, wanting and yet not wanting to understand the cause of the tension.
“What if,” Edward said, his voice becoming agitated, “in keeping that promise, you would assure your own misery?”
“Surely you would not be miserable forever,” Elinor told him. Edward’s uneasiness seemed to deepen her own. “Who would extract a promise of that nature from you?”
Marianne could think of more than one person who might, and by the expression on Elinor’s face, she had similar ideas on the matter. Fanny would not hesitate to sink her brother if she would rise in doing so, and all that she had heard of Mrs. Ferrars suggested the matron would have no qualms discomfiting Edward in quest of her own comfort.
“I am not at liberty to say,” he said, looking at the ring. He shook his head and sighed. “Perhaps the more honest answer is that I have always been at liberty to say, but there are others with whom I ought to speak of it first. There is something I have kept to myself. If I reveal it, it will only cause grief and damage my prospects. I am less concerned with the material loss than with the loss of something much more valuable.”
Marianne did not miss his glance at Elinor, fleeting though it was. Pain and love were in it, but Edward’s face showed nothing but despair as he turned away.
“I imagine it cannot stay hidden forever,” Marianne said, thinking of Eliza’s letter and Willoughby and closing her eyes for a moment against the memory. “Some things have a way of getting out.”
“I think,” Elinor said, looking quite desirous of getting out of the conversation if not the room, “we have meddled too much in matters that are solely the business of Mr. Ferrars.”
“Your sister is right, Miss Dashwood,” Edward countered, and Marianne’s mouth opened in surprise; she certainly had not expected him to take her side over Elinor’s. “It cannot stay hidden. It must be revealed, or the promise must be dissolved. Since I have little hope of the latter right now, I must carefully consider how the former is to be accomplished.”
“What if the worst does happen?” Elinor asked him. Marianne was shocked to see how very much her sister struggled to maintain her composure—Elinor, who so rarely was anything but calm! “You will rally,” Elinor insisted. “You will still have your friends.”
“Ah, but which friends will I have, and which will I lose?” Edward's look grew even more intense. “I could not bear to lose the friendship of some.”
Marianne had once thought Edward devoid of passion. She had been wrong. She began to feel in the way. Edward was her friend, too, however, and concern and interest kept her where she was.
Elinor glanced at Marianne and then turned back to Edward. She still looked shaken, but her voice was quite steady when she spoke. “We will be your friends regardless of what happens,” she assured him.
“You are kinder than I deserve,” Edward replied, his voice breaking. He held his head down for a moment and then looked up at Marianne as if waiting for her to speak, as if he had not taken for granted that Elinor's sentiments applied to them both. She loved him for it.
“I hope...” Marianne began, looking from Edward to Elinor and back again. What did she wish? That Edward had never worn the ring to Barton? Not quite. That he had never had cause to? Of course, but there was nothing to be done for that now. “I hope you will do what is right,” she said, thinking again of the day when everything fell apart for her. She took heart, for Edward already was showing the fortitude and contrition that Willoughby lacked. “And I hope you will have no cause to regret it.”
“I hope so too,” Edward replied, looking as though he had no hope at all.
“Elinor,” Marianne called out quietly as she let herself into her sister's room that night.
Elinor sat on her bed, staring at the single lit candle. She mumbled a greeting but did not look up. Marianne sat next to her and took her sister's hand in her own.
“Elinor?”
“Who would have thought,” Elinor said, laughing a sad sort of laugh, “that the mere mention of a ring would have led to this?”
“Oh, why did I ever bring it up? If I had known...”
“We still do not know.” Elinor turned to face her, eyes brimming with tears. “Whatever tangle he has got himself into,” she said, and then she shook her head without finishing the thought. “He is such a kind man. I should not be surprised I was not the first woman to discover it.” She smiled through the tears that had begun to fall. “Considering Mrs. Ferrars's ambitions, it was always a hopeless business in any case.”
“It cannot be hopeless! Something has gone wrong, but not because Edward wished to do wrong.” Marianne threw her arms around Elinor's neck. “Do not give him up!”
They wept together for some moments before Elinor pulled away. “He is not mine to give up,” she said. “That much is clear.”
“He must be! He is not yet married, Elinor!”
“You would have him break his word?”
“It does not matter what I would have him do. He would not do it. He is no Willoughby,” she spat. “Whoever this person is, this woman, she does not have his mother's favour, or surely Edward would have married her already. And she no longer has his favour either. Something must change.”
“But she has his word, and he has her ring, even if it is not a wedding ring.”
“There must be a way out of it.” Marianne got up and walked about the room. “There can be nothing official, or Fanny would have crowed about it or lamented it at Norland.”
“I would have to agree. Fanny cannot know.”
“This person, whoever she is, must be horrid.”
Elinor looked up. “What makes you say that?”
“To have won the affections of a good woman would hardly make him so sad! He was positively morose when he arrived. I was furious with him for upwards of an hour!”
Elinor nodded. “He was awful.”
“And he grew warmer by the minute once he came into the house.” Marianne walked back to the bed. “Think about it! If he were truly loved, he would have that knowledge to support him, even if he might regret not having met you first. And if he truly loved this woman, could he even be vulnerable to your charms? Oh, he would admire you, but his heart would not have room for another. And do not try to tell me he does not love you, not after what he said today.”
Her sister just sighed.
“This woman has to know,” Marianne declared. “She has to see there is no love to preserve! Why would she force Edward to do what would make them both sorry? How could she wish on him such an evil? Did he not say keeping his promise would make him miserable? There is something terribly wrong with her.”
Elinor smiled and wiped her eyes. “You have cheered me considerably.”
“Oh, Elinor! Have I?” Marianne dropped onto the bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling. “You have had as many hours as I have to dwell on all these things. I cannot have said much that you had not already thought of yourself.”
“Yes, I own that many of the same ideas had occurred to me. And many more besides.” She looked down at Marianne. “But it does cheer me to have someone to share them with.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly.”
“It is not nearly enough.” Marianne huffed, unsatisfied in the extreme. She wondered how on earth Edward would get himself out of this fix with his honour intact. He simply must, for Elinor's sake! She thought of the hardships and reverses she had endured since the day she had learnt her father was ill, and it fired her temper. “Men! If they are not dying far too soon, they are busy doing things that make one want to kill them.”
Elinor stared, wide-eyed.
Several seconds of silence were followed by muffled shrieks of laughter from both girls, and that laughter continued, interspersed with more melancholy expressions, until Margaret peeked into the room to ask what ever could be the matter.
Nice to see this story is still updating. I started reading it when it first came out and today decided to revist and was delighted to see one or two new chapters since I last checked. Still a lovely story.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sticking with the story! I appreciate your comments.
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